Kung Fu Karl doesn't waste a lot of time with fists. He's got other things in mind, delights to satisfy anger ten years brewing. As such, it isn't long before he sends the other Action Figures to get his "kit."
He tells me, "I've had time to practice. Cheaters, thieves, and the general gutter trash we can't avoid here. But I was always thinking of you."
"I'm flattered."
Karl chuckles, "What'd you think was gonna happen when you got here?"
Drooling blood, I shrug. Black Jack's Cooler is the one spot in the whole North Pole, probably the world, where any person can hide from Big Red. He sees anyone anywhere any time he wants. This place, though, for reasons no one knows, is off the grid. The cops also tend to make this the last place they check. Black Jack pays them to, though whatever crooked deal he's got with Big Red is beyond me.
Kung Fu Karl glances at his watch. Somehow he looks more sour than usual.
He says, "Where are those idiots with my gear?"
I say, "They can take their time."
A sound rumbles down the hall. It sounds familiar, but my brain is too scrambled to make sense of it. Kung Fu Karl recognizes it straight away. He pulls out a gun. The sound comes again. This time I realize it's a shotgun blast.
The door bursts open. An Action Figure staggers inside covered in blood. His eyes roll up into his head. He collapses, but he's dead before he hits the floor, a gaping wound in his back pouring red.
Karl hurries out. The door swings out before him. The moment it does I hear that shotgun blast. When the door swings back there's blood all over it.
I can hear footsteps. The door opens slowly. Roy Glitterspark marches in carrying a pump action shotgun, and wearing a long trench coat.
I don't know if I've lucked out, or am still in serious trouble. Using a key Glitterspark unfastens one of my cuffs.
He snorts, "I don't see why we need you."
"Me neither."
He throws the key at my chest. It lands in my lap. Then, without another word, Glitterspark vanishes out the door.
Unlocking the other cuff takes longer than I care to admit. One eye swollen shut, and my brain not exactly firing on all cylinders -- I've rarely felt more successful than grabbing hold of that tiny key. After popping free I stand, a little too quick.
My body feels like a stick of butter in an oven, slowly softening into a puddle. It's very tempting to go with that feeling. Following it leads to a black pool, a place I can float without pain, or worries. But there's too much to do.
So I push on.
Stumbling into the hall I find Kung Fu Karl. His head is gone. Not far off is an Action Figure. Not far from him is another body. Following them like macabre breadcrumbs I start wondering if the whole damn casino got massacred.
The trail leads to a basement office. The fanciness of the room suggests the rumors are true. Black Jack liked to have two offices in the casino. The one upstairs allowed him to be seen with those who -- let's say -- elevated his status. Politicians, celebrities, rich folks, anyone whom it'd be good to be seen with in public. However, in the casino basement, a second office went into play whenever Black Jack needed to do business with the North Pole's underbelly.
Still, the room is a magnificent setup. Big Red's got to be the only person with a fancier office. The only thing marring the scene is Black Jack in his desk chair.
Just like with Collodi, Glitterspark didn't fool around. There are four holes each about the size of a fist in Black Jack's body. Coming around the desk I find a gun still in his hand. I can't help admiring that.
But now's not the time.
Quick as I can, which isn't quick enough, I go through Black Jack's desk. I take everything that seems even vaguely helpful. That said, might as well be a vacuum sucking up the desk's contents.
Pockets full I make my way out. Unfortunately, I don't know the underground well enough to risk wandering around. So against my better judgment I take an elevator to the casino floor.
I'm expecting the door to open, and cops, or Action Figures to be there. Guns drawn they unload into me, and I don't have to worry about any of this shit anymore. Too bad my luck holds out. When the doors open, the casino is carrying on blissfully unaware of the bloodbath below.
Outside someone comes running at me. My vision is still blurry.
I say, "Sorry, Cari, guess I ain't coming home."
The person coming at me says, "S'cuse me, sir?"
I blink. What looked like a hitman in a blue coat turns out to be the parking valet.
"Never mind," I say. Fishing in my pocket, I can't find the ticket to save my life.
"Rough night?" he asks.
"What gave it away?"
"Maybe just tell me what your car looks like?"
"Thanks," I sigh, "It's a motorcycle."
"We only got one of those tonight." Like lightning he's gone. In a minute my beautiful ride is rumbling in front of me. Getting on slowly, I wonder how many times the valet's seen this kind of exit. Probably a lot.
The valet says, "Hope things are better tomorrow."
"That's always the way ain't it?"
#
A short while later I'm going into Kaye's diner on Rosemary Boulevard. A waitress named Vera almost faints when she sees me.
Jutting a thumb at my bike I say, "Don't ever ride one of those."
She asks, "Sugar, do you need a doctor?"
"Only to get my head examined." Pointing to the back I ask, "Mind if I sit there?"
"Sit anywhere you like."
Shuffling my way I'm glad the place is mostly empty. Still, I worry about whatever glances come my way. In a weird way Karl and Jack did me a favor. My face is too messed up for anyone to recognize from the mug shot popping up on TV screens, and newspapers. Even the trademark red nose is probably getting mistaken for a bloody mess.
By the time I sit Vera is already hovering with a cup of hot chocolate.
Setting it down she gently pats me on the shoulder, "Hope you like cocoa."
I tell her, "You read my mind."
She smiles, "I put in something with a little extra kick."
"I'd wink, but I can't." The joke makes her look sadder, so quickly I add, "Thanks. There aren't enough like you in the world."
Placing a menu on the table she tells me to take my time. So I take a few sips. Whatever she put in the mug definitely kicks. When the cup's half empty I start feeling pretty good. Well enough to get down to business.
Dumping the contents of my pockets on the table I frown. A lot of it appears to be nothing more than business papers. Even the illegal stuff doesn't offer any leads.
In an envelope I find several photos. Most of them are faces I don't recognize. However, the few I do tell me this is what I've been looking for. Vixen is in one of them. Some show people gathering in out of the way places: guys in three piece suits meeting with gutter punks; ladies in fancy cars getting dropped off at shady tenements; anxious clusters of folks huddled under a bridge. The last picture is of some kind of face. Not an elf, or a toy, it looks like a horned goat with a long tongue.
On the back of the photo someone's written, "If we figure this out first that fat bastard will owe us big."
My stomach growls. I can't remember the last time I ate. So I wave Vera over.
"What's good?" I ask.
"Not much, but what is is the best."
"Then bring me the best you got."
"Sure thing."
While I wait I spread out the photos. I let my good eye drift. I keep thinking when I'm not looking that's when I'll see what I need to. Lost in the search I jump when Vera returns, plates clattering onto the table.
She's quick to say, "Sorry, honey, didn't mean to scare ya."
"No worries," I say.
She's brought pancakes, hash browns, and a steaming cup of apple-spice breakfast soup. There isn't much room with the photos all over, so I sweep them to one side. However, one catches her eye.
Pointing at it she says, "You looking for that building?"
It's the photo of the goat face. Near as I can tell this picture was taken under a bridge.
So I ask, "What building?"
Vera replies, "There's a building, not far from here. I pass it on my way to the bus. It's got that on the side."
"What is this?"
She shrugs, "Don't know. Kids call it the Krampus mark."
I ask where the building is. She gives me the address. Then I dig into the meal. It's as delicious as she promised, but over too soon. Afterwards I get the check. Fortunately, I snagged a fat wad of cash from Black Jack's desk, so I leave Vera a rather generous tip. It's the least I can do. Then I head to the building with the Krampus mark.
He tells me, "I've had time to practice. Cheaters, thieves, and the general gutter trash we can't avoid here. But I was always thinking of you."
"I'm flattered."
Karl chuckles, "What'd you think was gonna happen when you got here?"
Drooling blood, I shrug. Black Jack's Cooler is the one spot in the whole North Pole, probably the world, where any person can hide from Big Red. He sees anyone anywhere any time he wants. This place, though, for reasons no one knows, is off the grid. The cops also tend to make this the last place they check. Black Jack pays them to, though whatever crooked deal he's got with Big Red is beyond me.
Kung Fu Karl glances at his watch. Somehow he looks more sour than usual.
He says, "Where are those idiots with my gear?"
I say, "They can take their time."
A sound rumbles down the hall. It sounds familiar, but my brain is too scrambled to make sense of it. Kung Fu Karl recognizes it straight away. He pulls out a gun. The sound comes again. This time I realize it's a shotgun blast.
The door bursts open. An Action Figure staggers inside covered in blood. His eyes roll up into his head. He collapses, but he's dead before he hits the floor, a gaping wound in his back pouring red.
Karl hurries out. The door swings out before him. The moment it does I hear that shotgun blast. When the door swings back there's blood all over it.
I can hear footsteps. The door opens slowly. Roy Glitterspark marches in carrying a pump action shotgun, and wearing a long trench coat.
I don't know if I've lucked out, or am still in serious trouble. Using a key Glitterspark unfastens one of my cuffs.
He snorts, "I don't see why we need you."
"Me neither."
He throws the key at my chest. It lands in my lap. Then, without another word, Glitterspark vanishes out the door.
Unlocking the other cuff takes longer than I care to admit. One eye swollen shut, and my brain not exactly firing on all cylinders -- I've rarely felt more successful than grabbing hold of that tiny key. After popping free I stand, a little too quick.
My body feels like a stick of butter in an oven, slowly softening into a puddle. It's very tempting to go with that feeling. Following it leads to a black pool, a place I can float without pain, or worries. But there's too much to do.
So I push on.
Stumbling into the hall I find Kung Fu Karl. His head is gone. Not far off is an Action Figure. Not far from him is another body. Following them like macabre breadcrumbs I start wondering if the whole damn casino got massacred.
The trail leads to a basement office. The fanciness of the room suggests the rumors are true. Black Jack liked to have two offices in the casino. The one upstairs allowed him to be seen with those who -- let's say -- elevated his status. Politicians, celebrities, rich folks, anyone whom it'd be good to be seen with in public. However, in the casino basement, a second office went into play whenever Black Jack needed to do business with the North Pole's underbelly.
Still, the room is a magnificent setup. Big Red's got to be the only person with a fancier office. The only thing marring the scene is Black Jack in his desk chair.
Just like with Collodi, Glitterspark didn't fool around. There are four holes each about the size of a fist in Black Jack's body. Coming around the desk I find a gun still in his hand. I can't help admiring that.
But now's not the time.
Quick as I can, which isn't quick enough, I go through Black Jack's desk. I take everything that seems even vaguely helpful. That said, might as well be a vacuum sucking up the desk's contents.
Pockets full I make my way out. Unfortunately, I don't know the underground well enough to risk wandering around. So against my better judgment I take an elevator to the casino floor.
I'm expecting the door to open, and cops, or Action Figures to be there. Guns drawn they unload into me, and I don't have to worry about any of this shit anymore. Too bad my luck holds out. When the doors open, the casino is carrying on blissfully unaware of the bloodbath below.
Outside someone comes running at me. My vision is still blurry.
I say, "Sorry, Cari, guess I ain't coming home."
The person coming at me says, "S'cuse me, sir?"
I blink. What looked like a hitman in a blue coat turns out to be the parking valet.
"Never mind," I say. Fishing in my pocket, I can't find the ticket to save my life.
"Rough night?" he asks.
"What gave it away?"
"Maybe just tell me what your car looks like?"
"Thanks," I sigh, "It's a motorcycle."
"We only got one of those tonight." Like lightning he's gone. In a minute my beautiful ride is rumbling in front of me. Getting on slowly, I wonder how many times the valet's seen this kind of exit. Probably a lot.
The valet says, "Hope things are better tomorrow."
"That's always the way ain't it?"
#
A short while later I'm going into Kaye's diner on Rosemary Boulevard. A waitress named Vera almost faints when she sees me.
Jutting a thumb at my bike I say, "Don't ever ride one of those."
She asks, "Sugar, do you need a doctor?"
"Only to get my head examined." Pointing to the back I ask, "Mind if I sit there?"
"Sit anywhere you like."
Shuffling my way I'm glad the place is mostly empty. Still, I worry about whatever glances come my way. In a weird way Karl and Jack did me a favor. My face is too messed up for anyone to recognize from the mug shot popping up on TV screens, and newspapers. Even the trademark red nose is probably getting mistaken for a bloody mess.
By the time I sit Vera is already hovering with a cup of hot chocolate.
Setting it down she gently pats me on the shoulder, "Hope you like cocoa."
I tell her, "You read my mind."
She smiles, "I put in something with a little extra kick."
"I'd wink, but I can't." The joke makes her look sadder, so quickly I add, "Thanks. There aren't enough like you in the world."
Placing a menu on the table she tells me to take my time. So I take a few sips. Whatever she put in the mug definitely kicks. When the cup's half empty I start feeling pretty good. Well enough to get down to business.
Dumping the contents of my pockets on the table I frown. A lot of it appears to be nothing more than business papers. Even the illegal stuff doesn't offer any leads.
In an envelope I find several photos. Most of them are faces I don't recognize. However, the few I do tell me this is what I've been looking for. Vixen is in one of them. Some show people gathering in out of the way places: guys in three piece suits meeting with gutter punks; ladies in fancy cars getting dropped off at shady tenements; anxious clusters of folks huddled under a bridge. The last picture is of some kind of face. Not an elf, or a toy, it looks like a horned goat with a long tongue.
On the back of the photo someone's written, "If we figure this out first that fat bastard will owe us big."
My stomach growls. I can't remember the last time I ate. So I wave Vera over.
"What's good?" I ask.
"Not much, but what is is the best."
"Then bring me the best you got."
"Sure thing."
While I wait I spread out the photos. I let my good eye drift. I keep thinking when I'm not looking that's when I'll see what I need to. Lost in the search I jump when Vera returns, plates clattering onto the table.
She's quick to say, "Sorry, honey, didn't mean to scare ya."
"No worries," I say.
She's brought pancakes, hash browns, and a steaming cup of apple-spice breakfast soup. There isn't much room with the photos all over, so I sweep them to one side. However, one catches her eye.
Pointing at it she says, "You looking for that building?"
It's the photo of the goat face. Near as I can tell this picture was taken under a bridge.
So I ask, "What building?"
Vera replies, "There's a building, not far from here. I pass it on my way to the bus. It's got that on the side."
"What is this?"
She shrugs, "Don't know. Kids call it the Krampus mark."
I ask where the building is. She gives me the address. Then I dig into the meal. It's as delicious as she promised, but over too soon. Afterwards I get the check. Fortunately, I snagged a fat wad of cash from Black Jack's desk, so I leave Vera a rather generous tip. It's the least I can do. Then I head to the building with the Krampus mark.
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