Kings of Hell

Alyssa’s POV

Blue is dancing with strangers and getting more drunk, while I’m with my beasts… and it’s tense, to say the least.

We haven’t said much, just ordered drinks so far.

“Who are they?” I sit in the booth with STRIKE, as we watch two strange men walk in the front of Club Oblivion. They are obviously from out of FC –I suspect Avalon by their uniform appearance. Basic suits and with Kane’s mark of employment, a blue stripe along their shoulders. Their tall, with dyed night blue hair. They look like officials.

They locate us and come straight for us.

All of STRIKE are confused, so am I.

Standing before our booth, they look straight at me but nod respectfully.

“Excuse us, ma’am, we’re hired security – Kane has sent us to work for you. My name is Marshall, this is Alton. We’re a gift, but before you decide if you’d like us to remain or to dismiss us, Kane would like you to read this first,” Marshall holds out a piece of paper toward me, folded in half.

I take it, while considering their stance.

“Are you cyborgs?” I ask, before I read the letter.

“No, just regular humans ma’am,” Marshall and Alton are proud of this, by the way they lift their chins and square their shoulders.

My beasts, luckily are too shocked to respond, so I take the lead.

I open the letter and read it in my corner privately.

I expect to read a bombshell announcement or perhaps some news of a danger.

Instead, the letter from Kane is… endearing, almost.

Dear, Alyssa. Until you are fully content with your new perspective, I would feel more comfortable if you had personal security around you at all times for the next four weeks. Specifically, the threat lies with Dale alone. Do not consider him humane as your empathy expands – remember at all times he is beyond a gentle nature and never will concede to human nature nor will he forgive. Be careful. You may wonder why I would care so much about you, when I am in all regards another version of him, but I see clearly all the traumas he has locked away for decades. Do not underestimate the damage done to him as a young boy and a young adult growing up in DynaPrism. Stay vigilant until you understand what I mean.

“I accept,” as I’m done reading it, I push my hands into Ace’s pocket and pull out a lighter to burn the paper.

Over the flames of the note, I see Dale and Serge watching me. While Serge is generally suspicious of the newcomers more than the note, Dale is fully focused on my eyeballs – trying to read my expressions.

“We will keep distance enough so that personal space is respected,” Alton adds, and he is quiet and polite as he turns with Marshall and they walk off to another area of the club.

The silence at the table could cut, as I see Jose’s knuckles white and clenched – tense for the boss’ reaction.

Ace on my right is twirling his whiskey around his glass, eyes also downcast.

Dale chooses silence – which may be more worse than a sharp remark.

Serge slowly shakes his head at me, but more from frustration than anything else.

The saving grace is Casey – who comes over and slides in next to Dale, immediately breaking the ice.

“I like seeing you all so quiet,” Casey smirks, “What a nice change – who the hell were they, mum?” Casey gets straight to the point.

“A gift from Kane, security, it’s good to have an expanded social network in this day and age,” I murmur, grateful, “I’ve never had many friends in this city – I should probably get to know FC better.”

“Yeah, I heard about him helping you out, with your head,” Casey shrugs one shoulder, “Sounds like you have a clearer sight?” he seems quietly impressed.

“That’s certainly true,” I nod, “How are you, Casey?”

“Hmm, you know – the usual, made a new… friend, kind of,” Casey goes quiet as his eyes glaze over in thought, “…little shit…”

“That’s our business, Casey,” Dale smoothly puts a hand on Casey’s shoulder and reminds him silently of something.

“Oh yeah, right,” Casey nods and looks at Dale funny, then looks at me, then back to Dale, “Why are we hiding it from her again?”

“Hiding what,” I snap, almost feeling ready to launch over the table.

Jose puts a sly swift hand on my upper thigh, clenching so tight I won’t have a chance to move, but I remain seated, for now.

I think of Sammy – another Alyssa.

Still on Dale’s fucking mind. Another secret.

“Just a side business,” Casey answers me, making me calm down slightly.

Dale keeps his tongue.

“I don’t even know what it is,” Serge adds, looking sideways at Dale and Casey.

“It’s a father son thing,” Dale explains, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Since when do we all keep secrets from each other,” Serge slowly leans over the table, glaring at all of us, “First you see Kane without telling us,” he scolds me, “Then you start a fucking side show?” Serge hisses at Dale, “Why are we drifting – loyalty will keep us alive, and this personal shit will tear us apart, it’ll be insidious and slow and quiet. Loyalty is everything. What’s wrong with you?”

“Our side business? I was going to share the news with you when Casey and I had everything up and running, it’s a concept at the moment, still being organised,” Dale combats Serge, “Loyalty is a completely separate issue. If you betray us… there is no second chance,” Dale now looks to me, “…and death is the penalty to breaking your loyalty...” a death threat.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“You accepted a gift from Kane before I did,” I ignore his threat, although it strikes my heart, making my hairs stand on end, “Me.”

I refer to Alyssa V2.

Fucking asshole.

“I can do whatever the fuck I like,” Dale drawls, his leopard slits focus in on me and my slow burning anger.

“So can I now, asshole, welcome to hell,” I stand up, only managing to loosen Jose’s hand by pressing my nails lightly into his throat. I don’t break my glare with Dale. I spit on him.

On his fucking face.

By the time that’s happened, Casey and Serge are holding Dale into his seat, so he can’t follow me.

My security also approaches, ushering me away from the booth after I’ve jumped out.

“We’d suggest you exit the premises,” Marshall murmurs under his breath.

“I will not exit,” I reply calmly, and push his hand off my arm, politely. I nod at Alton, and I walk to the bar instead, “I’ll buy you two a drink. Do you have guns?” I slip that in quietly.

As I take a seat, Marshall and Alton stand at my shoulders.

“We are armed, ma’am,” Marshall answers.

“Good, how much training do you have?” I want to know.

“We don’t come cheap,” Marshall leans back on the bar, “We know how to keep you safe and how to defuse a confrontation. We will not engage beyond what is required.”

“Good, but also, I won’t be needing you for four weeks,” I add, “Only for a few days... and maybe only a few more minutes.”

“Ma’am, we –” Marshall begins to protest.

“I’m going to have him detained,” I add, “I’m going to lock him away indefinitely.”

“…Dale…?” Alton whispers, curious.

“I’m going to train him to respect me, then I’ll let him go,” I explain, joyful and spiteful, “After that you won’t be needed.”

“Kane asked us to advise you to not engage with the President until you were adjusted,” Marshall passes on, “We have to do our job.”

“Fine, I’ll find a way to lock him away for a month… and then after four weeks, I’ll train him,” I pass them free drinks, “On the house.”

“How are you going to lock away a President?” Alton asks, under his breath, truly curious.

“Provoke him in front of a crowd,” I say.

“How?”

“How do you think?” I bite my lip as I raise the glass, “Let’s be the best of friends, to Alton and Marshall!” I raise my glass, toasting to the club, turning right around – to see Dale already in his stride, with STRIKE behind him.

Marshall and Alton stand at my shoulders, putting down their drinks, “Protect me,” I ask them, and they step in unison in front of me, and block me from Dale’s view, “Tell him to book an appointment if the President wishes to speak with me.”

“Mr. President, I suggest you book an appointment, if you wish to speak with Alyssa,” Marshall relays the message, which Dale would have well heard the first time.

“And also remind him, please Marshall, that he implemented a violence protection order for all of FC so that all violence outside legal parameters such as licenced fighting clubs, is banned in all forms,” I add, feeling slightly impressed when quoting it. It was one law I would not have expected Dale to implement, but at least now I can use it against him.

And oh – with enough provocation.

It works.

For a second, I see a slice of Dale’s body turn to walk away.

I’m more than surprised.

But it’s just a moment of reprieve.

I knew he wouldn’t be able to contain the pissed off leopard inside.

Dale turns back around quickly, using bare hands as he lunges for Marshall, spitting in his face, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

With stunning accuracy, Alton gets in behind and puts an arm around Dale’s neck – choking him off Marshall.

I hold up a hand to STRIKE, hoping that keeps them back.

My hand, strangely enough, stops them.

Serge, Ace and Jose look on at me and my knowing look, I try to tell them with my eyes that I know what I’m doing. I also add, “Trust me,” mouthing the words.

They don’t move.

Alton is about to choke Dale out – when a knife slips from Dale’s pocket and he manages to stab Alton backwards in the ribs.

It’s a shallow cut but blood flows, so Alton backs right off. Dale falls forward retching as he tries to breathe, before launching at Marshall again.

Marshall uses defence only, no offensive moves. Blocking all attacks with his elbows and using a place mat for beer, of all things to throw in Dale’s eyes and catch him off guard.

Dale moves like it’s a lethal weapon, and he’s off balance for a moment, enough to get the public crowd coming in to stop him.

“Wait,” I try to stop them but they don’t listen to me. Drunk and looking for a fight – it’s the beginning of mayhem.

To protect Dale, STRIKE go to hold off the crowd – who in turn have friends launch in to protect their friends, and then everyone is involved.

I watch carefully from the sidelines, slightly panicked more than usual as my heartbeat sky rockets, but my eyes are following Dale’s moves.

He’s fighting off the crowd, but the crowd are winning in numbers.

He doesn’t want to hurt them, but they’re getting too close to overpowering all of STRIKE.

So he does what he’s trained to do.

Seconds later, Dale grabs a younger female and presses the knife against her throat, holding her back to get the crowd to fall off him.

Everyone freezes when they realise he’s got a hostage – and she’s crying helplessly.

My hand is opening and closing, stress overtaking me.

I want him to use her to get out.

And let her go.

But my gut is saying he’s going to send a message.

I just don’t want to believe it. The fight was with me and my guards, not with her, not with the crowd!

“Loyalty to FC is what will keep this city thriving,” Dale snarls at them, “Move another inch and I’ll hunt you all down – or watch quietly and remember what happens to fucking losers who can’t obey their President who protects all of you from all-out war,” he cuts deep.

I close my eyes, my knees almost collapse.

No.

I still didn’t want to believe it – how deep it was, how fatal, the blood pouring so fast.

The scream is a gurgle, and the crowd is traumatised as the innocent girl is dropped in a pool of her own blood.

Dale wipes his face with his sleeve, and turns to STRIKE.

No. I can’t be silent!

“ARREST HIM!” I scream it, “As vice president, I command it!” I scream this too, “Serge, take him down!”

Serge is even sick at the sight of the girl felled.

A second later a bolt of lightning slams into Dale’s chest – and he falls before us all.

The crowd can’t cheer, they’re all shaking, some friends of the girl are screaming or crying, coming forward to help someone who’s already gone.

“Lock him away, I’ll deal with that weapon later,” I refer to him as such in front of the crowd so they know the danger.

Jose is speechless but does as he’s told.

“I’m sorry,” Ace apologises to me, picking up Dale with Jose, carrying the load together.

Serge is pale but comes to stand with me, knowing I provoked it, but knowing Dale’s actions were completely unacceptable regardless.

I lean down to the friends who are crying to comfort them, hugging them hard.

“I’ll deal with her,” Serge pushes people aside and tries to pick up the body, when he’s met with physical resistance he has to snarl, albeit quietly, “She’s dead – move.”

Serge takes her limp body.

People let him cradle the girl and take her away while the friends follow, and Casey organises to clean the bloody mess.

“The club is closed,” Casey announces, “Go home.”

Blue suddenly holds my hand, sneaking up behind me.

She’s so drunk she’s almost swaying off her feet, leaning into me.

“A-Alyssa?” she whispers, close to tears, “Boss? What just happened?”

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” I pull her with me, hoping she didn’t see it but knowing she did and it was just another trauma for her too.

Fuck the President. Dale would get his dues – it was about damn time he faced consequences.