Ashley Fox - Ninja Orphan
Chapter 22 – Assault Rifles and Rubber Bullets
Wednesday, September 21, 2310
Per the colonel's orders, the cafeterias were closed. However, with guards manning only half their usual posts, there was nothing to prevent the hungry children from breaking into the chow halls.
Every third or fourth cafeteria was full of kids; no guards were anywhere to be seen. The zeros who'd been beaten sported casts over broken bones, stitches, and red-blue stained bandages.
Despite the fact that the interrogators had been told that extracting information about the ringleaders was not a priority, old habits died hard. They had spent the night beating the story into and out of the kids, but all the orphans remembered was pain.
Hambone, Kaz and a few other members of the fist entered a liberated cafeteria. Kids everywhere looked up. The recognized him. Since Ashley had been taken, Kaz and the Iron Fist were all the orphans talked about.
A bandaged child approached them. He had one arm in a cast, his face and lips were cut and bruised. He stared at Kaz.
Kaz thought the perhaps the young orphan was angry with him. After all, it was his attack on Hodges and crew that had caused this latest mess.
The boy raised a single fist. The kids who could cheer and clap did, applauding Kaz and the other members of the Iron Fist.
Hambone rolled his eyes and headed for the limited breakfast fare.
Later, as they sat at a table, Hambone spoke over tightly clenched fists. "I still can't believe they took a hundred kids!”
Tanaka leaned back, "What do we do about it?”
Drews sat up, "If they separate us, get us all fighting each other again, they'll kill us, slowly. We have to stick together. So far, our plan is working; they're panicked. Now we gather resources, weapons, prepare for the next attack. It will be soon and it will be heavy. We have to consolidate our strength. Make sure everyone eats. We'll all have to fight, and soon.”
Hambone smiled, "John Paul Jones to the rescue over here.”
Yama and Frost stood quietly as a senior devil, disguised as a teacher's assistant, met with Dante. They were to see to it that no one interrupted the meeting.
When Sergeant Wulfgar and Harrison showed up, Yama and Frost managed to hold them off long enough for Dante at least to be informed.
Wulfgar and his sidekick entered the devil's wing and found Dante sitting at a huge desk, signing a series of checks. They walked up and stood directly in front of the preoccupied teen.
The block had a lot of open space, interrupted by an occasional wall, and spotted with couches and vid stream sets.
The racks were loosely clustered around the areas with more intact walls, but every thing had been so shifted and rebuilt, the area no longer resembled a prison at all. Each living area blended into the next. Some spots had been converted into kitchens, the ventilation so artfully blended with the existing infrastructure, as to be nearly invisible.
Dante was dressed in an immaculately white linen suit. He tried hard to ignore the soldiers standing before him, but that was impossible, so he simply made them wait while he finished signing the checks.
"So?" Sgt. Wulfgar snapped.
"So, what?" Dante asked without looking up.
"Some lucky bunny lost his shit and declared war on the State. I'm taking it personally.”
"Then why are you talking to me? I'm a peaceful resident with a record of cooperation.”
Wulfgar stepped forward. "Far as I'm concerned you shamrocks would all be better off shifting six feet of dirt. But it isn’t up to me. I'm here to tell you, lucky rabbit, that we want the gats. We want the batons, the badges, the shields, armor and every other piece of stolen gear, all of it, back by noon tomorrow, or you're all burning.”
"Promises, promises," Dante replied.
Harrison stepped forward. "It's called amnesty. Tomorrow at twelve oh one, it ends.”
"Did you just learn that word?" Dante asked.
"Bite me," Harrison answered.
Dante laughed. "Do you think I'm happy about this? Are you even slightly aware of what this shit is costing me?”
"It's going to cost you your life if your not careful," Wulfgar said.
"Is that what you were sent here to tell me? To make myself useful?”
"No. We were sent here to tell you that you have amnesty until noon tomorrow. We came to you, specifically, because we figured we might get through the conversation without killing you.”
"What about announcing it on the vid screens, the same way you fuckers do everything else? You own the feed, why not use it?”
"Don't be stupid.”
"Kind of like trying to piss into the wind, isn’t it? You can't broadcast the amnesty because you'd have to admit there are half a dozen loose nines in the block. It would be all over the news in less than an hour. So instead, you come down here like you own the place. You want my answer?
”Go fuck yourself.”
Wulfgar’s rage painted his features a hostile red.
Dante remained in his chair.
The sergeant coolly checked the chamber of his assault weapon.
Dante stood and stepped to the side of the desk.
Wulfgar took a step forward. "Whatcha got, Mitsubishi?”
Dante came out from around the desk. The teen walked directly up to the soldiers, challenging them to shoot him. "This is The Devil's house. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?”
"You think you're untouchable?" Harrison switched his weapon off safe. "You're not!”
Out of sight, dozens of metallic clicks and clacks and snaps were heard. Given the number and variety, it was difficult to tell how many were firearms and how many are some other bladed, chained or projectile-type weapon, all waiting nearby.
Devils filled the block, they were all around them, and they were paying close attention. There was no chance Wulfgar and Harrison would be walking out, if anything went wrong.
The teacher's assistant sat quietly. As a representative of The Devils, the adult-professional gang, outside District 13, he didn’t want to get caught up in a shootout, but he smiled at Dante, just the same.
Dante reached into his pocket. Before Harrison and Wulfgar could draw on him, he’d pulled out a pack of smokes.
They’d flinched and regretted it; dozens of teens were heard laughing.
Dante lit a cigarette.
"Let me ask you something." He leaned back against the front of the desk, exhaling twin plumes of smoke.
"Fate and circumstances stuck us orphans here, but you... " Dante leveled a finger at the sergeant's chest. "You chose to be a pig. Maybe you didn’t choose to be stuck in this shithole, but you are, and it’s your own damn fault. My question for you is, do you think that was unlucky or just plain stupid?”
Harrison leaned forward. "We are the ones holding the guns.”
"On children! And they're loaded with pretty-pink rubber bullets. What kind an impotent motherfucker does that make you?”
Wulfgar raised a hand to restrain Harrison.
Dante raised his eyebrows. "Your suggestion that I make myself useful to your superiors is pathetic. What kind of insecure shitbag sends short-bus-riding fuck-tards like you, to enlist the assistance of a child?
"I'm disappointed; your boss is obviously an idiot. But what about you? You could have been a painter, a musician, a fucking Race Car Driver. You chose to be a pig and I just don't get it.”
Dante paused and dramatically took a drag from his cigarette. “You know what I’d do, if I were in your shoes, right now, with everything that’s going down here?
"I'd quit. I'd resign. Today, right fucking now. Before I had to try and defend my life with those pansy-ass rubber bullets. Cause you would lose, and that would suck.” Dante smiled.
The smoke from Dante’s cigarette curled up and obscured the space between them.
It was Sergeant Wulfgar’s turn to smile. “I don’t know where you got your information, but I always carry hot, son. Test me and see.
” He stepped forward, getting directly in Dante’s face. "Maybe we'll just let that little girl loose after all. Bring her down here and let her finish what she started.”
Dante smiled, he took another drag and backed down. "Right. Fine. Whatever. Tomorrow noon, crossroads elevator bank at the center of the mall. We'll be there, with all the weapons and your pretty little badges. You bring her, we'll make a peaceful trade. We'll all go our separate ways.”
"That's a good little zero," Wulfgar said, leaning back.
Dante stepped back and leaned against his desk and took another drag. "I promise you, if you don't give her up, we will take all your guns and run you fuckers right off of this rock.”
The soldiers and the teen stared each other down.
Dante exhaled an impossible volume of smoke. "Here's a bit of news. The Leonas got a hold of one of your guys. Word is they're juicing him on crystal and lapis, making him their bitch. Making him fetch 'em shit, paint their toenails, give 'em rim-jobs, real cowardly bitch-shit. I heard they're selling it, live stream.”
Wulfgar scowled, but didn't interrupt.
"Let me know if he liked it. I hear they're pretty wild, those butch-ass dykes." Dante said, tapping the ash from his cigarette over a golden tray on his desk. "Now get the fuck out of my office or I'll have you skinned alive.”
The guards, having said their piece, turned and left the block.
Dante tossed something shiny over Wulfgar's head. It flashed and glittered before crashing to the ground, where it bounced and slid along the floor.
Wulfgar's hand went to his chest.
Dante laughed as the sergeant discovered his was badge missing.
Wulfgar spun, raising his weapon.
Dante had just picked up his expensive pen.
Wulfgar fired.
The ink-stick exploded with a great splash of black. Dante’s white suit was heavily splattered, instantly a modern art masterpiece.
Harrison laughed obnoxiously.
Dante smiled, "You should be putting those skills to work against our communist friends, don't you think?”
“Naw, I’m not that good; I was aiming for your head.”
Wulfgar retrieved his badge from the floor, exiting with Harrison.
The teacher's assistant smiled and stood. "That was fun.”
"It's a job." Dante smiled and handed over the stack of signed checks.
Lieutenant Grey walked into his father's office building in the executive district. It's not often that his father was on the west coast and he counted himself lucky for the coincidence. Then he remembered he didn’t believe in coincidence, and wondered if his father was somehow tied up in D13. David was shown to a private suite, just down the hall.
The senator arrived rather quickly, considering they'd had so little to say to each other for so long. Danforth, his father, gestured to a nearby set of couches. They sat. After a moment of shared silence, his father got directly to the point.
He gestured to his son's holstered weapon, "Is that it?”
David nodded, removed the weapon from its holster, checked the chamber and handed it to his father. Danforth held it out, switched the safety off, on, off again.
"I asked them to let you have it, you know?”
David's silent reply fit the circumstances, as his father put five rounds into a nearby chair.
The volume and concussion of the weapon unnerved the old man. It had been a while since he'd fired a gun indoors without proper hearing protection.
Neither spoke for a moment.
"That chair cost twenty grand.”
“Probably worth more now,” David said.
They both laughed.
The senator returned the pistol to his son.
David holstered the hot gun. “I wish I could sit our Governor right there.”
“State? Balthazar, what’s he done?” Danforth asked,
“District. Psycho bitch named, get this, Maime.” He watched his father’s expression.
“What’s the issue?”
“That district needs a bath.”
“Ha. That’s not all?
“What do you know about it?”
“I know that the governor of D13 is niece to the mayor.”
“I heard it was cousin.”
“Yeah, well. Point is.”
“Point is, this is an orphanage, not a prison.”
“What’s that?” Danforth asked.
“Well, it’s an orphanage and a prison.”
“I thought it was a gang rehab facility.”
“It is. It’s also a fully functioning orphanage. Kids of all ages.”
“You know your grandfather was there?”
David nodded. “It’s insane. They’re chewing them up. Every way you want to imagine it, they’re guilty. One of the gangs put an end to the sales a few months ago, but the rest is worse.”
“And why are you bringing this to me?”
“The chain of command there is utterly compromised. Whatever I do on my own; reflects on you. I figured, since you were here, the least I could do you the courtesy before I burn it down.”
“You’re going to go back then?”
“Not officially, no.”
“What will you do?” Senator Grey asked. “Career-wise, I mean. How will you square it with the Republic?”
“I don’t think that will be a problem for me. The lawyers will do all that. My part just has to be neat.”
“I can arrange a team for you. I can also check out what firewalls are I place, if any,” the senator offered.
“Thanks, I’d appreciate it. There’s at least a few. I ran a cursory scan at ACB level white and we got four active protocols in play. One or two of them might even be legit, but I’ll need to know which, before I just go off and nuke it.”
“Well, you’re not going to nuke it, are you?” Danforth asked. “I mean, not really, right?”
“The end result will be the same. I think we can avoid the radioactive fallout, though. It might be politically radioactive, but I won’t used DU.”
“Still, you’re talking about blowing an entire district from the horizon. Are you mad?”
David laughed. “I don’t think many people would argue that, and I am certainly not one of them. But if you were there, you’d know, this is not just a head change. This place needs to go. You can’t just wash it clean.”
“Coming from the all-black codec.”
“Yeah, well. I did earn it. Point of fact, I believe I was put there for a reason and I believe that reason is; to handle this issue as I see fit.”
“That’s one way to look at it.”
“That’s the only way to look at it. Anything else could be regarded as treason.”
“Son, at this level, anything you do could be treason, because the winners write history.”
“Ha. Yes, by that logic, only winning is not treasonous then,” David chuckled. “No forgetting that.”