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“Good evening, our top story is continuing coverage of the explosion that took place at The Varsity two nights ago. Police deny that there is any sign that the explosion was caused by tampering or incendiary devices. According to the statement issued by the Chief's office this afternoon, they are treating it as a gas main explosion, caused by carelessness when the club was constructed several years ago. The city, pending a complete investigation, may bring charges against the company responsible.
“Fifteen patrons were killed in the explosion, with twenty-seven hospitalized and dozens more treated for less serious injuries. The owner, Mr. John Marcone, was gravely injured in the incident as well. As of this reporting he is still in the intensive care unit of Cook County. According to sources within the hospital Mr. Marcone has been stabilized but has not yet regained consciousness.
“Viewers will no doubt recognize Mr. Marcone as one of the leading figures of our city, a patron of the arts and a successful entrepreneur. His friends in the city have expressed great concern for his health and are looking forward with confidence to his speedy recovery. Bob?”
“In other news, reports of violent crime in the city have taken a sudden jump in the past twenty-four hours. We have received word from sources within the police department that there is unprecedented movement within the gangs, with at least two altercations having taken place that we can confirm. Unconfirmed reports of a dozen more battles have been heard. Those who remember the last time such violence plagued our streets are speaking of gang wars. We can only say that nothing of the sort has occurred in our good city in years. These are no longer the days of Capone and his ilk. When will Chicago stop being synonymous with organized crime and corruption?
“Some of the more cynical commentators have pointed to the explosion at The Varsity as the catalyst for this rising crime wave. They claim that Mr. Marcone, a friend to the mayor, has been the controlling factor in Chicago's underworld for the past decade and that his club was bombed, making it the opening salvo in a bid to take over the city. Though such speculation is no doubt entertaining for those who indulge in conspiracy theories, it is completely unfounded. While Mr. Marcone has had some misunderstandings with the law in the past, he is known to be an upstanding citizen and there are no grounds for this sullying of his name. Especially given his current state.”
~
“Is this really gonna be on the news?”
“Yes, yes it is. Now, just look at the camera and tell me what happened.”
“Right. So, there we are, me and Cathy, coming out of the movies. We saw that new one, the one with the slimy alien thing from- Ow! What was that for?”
“Nobody cares about the movie, dumb ass.”
“You don't know that. It was an awesome movie. So we're coming out of the movies and there's this screech of tires and these cars come whipping around the corner, heading at a hundred miles an hour. So we're just standing there wondering what the hell, and a car comes from the other direction, this huge black SUV. The first car hits the brakes and these guys all jump out and they've got huge fucking guns. I mean, it looked like one of those crazy cop shows where all the bad guys are armed to the teeth, right?
“So then the SUV stops and a whole 'nother bunch of guys get out, only these guys are dressed like fucking assassins, all right? All black, with those vests on and shit. Serious stuff. And they start moving at all the people standing around, making them move back into the buildings and all.
“And then this last guy climbs out of the SUV. Fucking Neo, I swear. One of those huge black coats, all the way to the ground, right? He just steps out, like he's going to the fucking store or something, and starts walking towards the first car. The guy just walks out there and these other assholes start shooting at him and he doesn't even stop. He lifts his goddamned hand in their direction and the bullets start rebounding off the goddamned air! It looked so cool! Like he had a forcefield.
“Then the military guys got to us and shoved us back into the theater.”
“Did you see what happened in the street after that?”
“Uh, no. Those guys shoved us to the floor and by the time we got up they'd blocked the doors somehow. And then there was some more gunfire, so uh..we got back down. Just in case, right?”
“So you don't know how that car got flipped over and crushed?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I assume the Neo-looking guy did it. Who else? Damned thing looks like a tin can, doesn't it?”
“And what about the men, the men from the first car?”
“Well, they were dead in the street when the cops let us out. They've taken 'em away now.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“No problem. This was so fucking cool!”
“We can't use any of that, you know that, right? Kids got a mouth like a sewer.”
“Yeah. Like that's the only problem. 'Neo'? Some guy with a forcefield crunched that car? Men in black? That boy is on something and I've got no story. Dammit.”
~
The Alphas had been hunting a lot lately. With Harry distracted the past couple of weeks some things from the weird side of the fence had moved back in.
There'd been that troll down under the DuSable bridge, and then the thing that had looked a lot like a pretty girl but had way too many teeth and tended to eat her dates. It was a good thing that they were all on break from school for the time being, or they'd be failing their classes, for all the time they spent keeping the magical stuff from spilling over and making things worse.
Harry'd used them for tracking down some thugs a couple of times, but he hadn't let them in on the fighting. Too weird for some gang guys or made men to be found with their throats ripped out. Bullets were much more explainable.
~
“Harry?”
“Murph? Yeah, 's me. Just got a second though, I'm heading into another of these freaking meetings. What can I do you for?”
“I just saw a report that came in last night from Vice. Seems a freighter docked in the harbor exploded. When the Coast Guard got there they found a dozen men unconscious on the ground next to a couple crates of machine guns and another couple that look like they're full of cocaine.”
“Huh. Really? Well, you know those drug guys. They get high and accidentally blow up their own boat. Terrible shame.”
“Harry...”
“Seriously Murph, I've got to go. I think madame secretary is going to stab me in the eyes with her pen if I'm late again.”
“Dammit Dresden! What the hell do you think you're-”
beepbeepbeepbeepbeep
“Son of a bitch hung up me!”
~
“Look, lady, Marcone's done for. He ain't wakin' up again. You're gonna have to have a new boss, might as well be me. I ain't so bad.”
“My name, you putrid little toad, is Ms. Juno. And you have been sampling far too much of your own product if you think that you can come in here and take even the smallest slice of Mr. Marcone's business. Have you seen what's been happening in this town? Perhaps the corpses found in the rubble of that horrid little crack house yesterday weren't mangled enough for you? Do you know what their crime was?”
“Don't mat-”
“The man running the place was beginning to sell to children. I'm not certain they will ever be able to recover enough of him to identify properly.”
“So there's some loyal moron runnin' around actin' like ol' Johnny's gonna be checking their work later. We'll take care of him soon enough.”
“Clearly you didn't do any research before embarking on this little adventure. Mr. Marcone's people are loyal. We are all operating as he would desire, and those who attack us are dealt with. We are well protected.
“Even if I didn't personally feel loyalty to Mr. Marcone, which I assure you I do, do you have any idea of what happened to my predecessor here?”
“Listen you bitch-”
BAM
buzz
“Yes ma'am?”
“Bonnie, if you could call down to security and tell them I have something in my office that needs to be removed?”
“Of course ma'am.”
~
Dresden set the building on fire.
To be fair, he only did it because the guys inside were threatening to open up with a rocket launcher, but still. That was the fifth building this month.
I won't lie, it was awe inspiring to watch. He cleared our men out first, ordering them back to a safe distance where they formed a perimeter and then Dresden pointed that huge club he carried around with him at the place and shouted something that was almost Latin.
A fireball the size of a volley ball formed and shot through the wall in front of it like the place was made of tissue. Another few, aimed at different spots and the building caught. Dresden just stood there, way too close and watched.
“Uh, Mr. Hendricks?” I glanced at the guy next to me. One of the new guys, Harris or something like that. I grunted at him, questioning. “Shouldn't Mr. Dresden get away from the building? Those guys are going to come running out any second now.” I snorted. Some would run out. Others were too stupid to live. But I moved forward and tapped Dresden on the shoulder.
“What?” He turned to look at me, frowning. The wizard wasn't getting enough sleep. His eyes were shadowed and he just looked exhausted.
“Get back in the line, Dresden. You're no good if the building falls on you.”
“Says you, Cujo. I'm more useful flattened than half the guys here are upright.”
“Huh.”
“Fine, fine. You've impressed me with your stunning argument.” We walked back and stood with the men. A minute or so later, when the roof started on fire, most of the idiots inside came running out, coughing and falling all over themselves. The capture teams moved in and wrapped them up quick, getting them out of the way of any debris in the process.
“How much longer do we have?” I checked my watch.
“Five minutes. Response down here is slow. Bad neighborhood, mostly empty warehouses anyway.”
Dresden nodded and turned away from me to watch the fire.
~
“Yet with one foot on the companion-ladder he turned and looked into Stephen's face. 'I cannot tell you what possessed me to speak so rancorously,' he said, passing his hand over his forehead and looking both unhappy and bewildered. 'I do not think I have ever done so before. Have not expressed myself well – clumsy, inaccurate, not what I meant nor what I meant to say. We understood one another better before ever I opened my mouth.'”
I slid the slip of paper I'd been using as a bookmark in and set the battered paperback down on the table beside me. The chair wasn't the worst I'd ever sat in, but it did not lend itself well to more than an hour or so of comfort, so I rose and stretched, walking around the bed to lift the curtain and look out the window. The sun was up, bright and cheerful. I hated it. It should have been dark and raining, with great huge bolts of lightning tearing the sky apart to echo my mood. Instead I got sunshine, not a cloud in the sky, and there was a damned bird twittering away somewhere.
Growling at the world in general I dropped the curtain and went back to my chair. John was- he was still asleep. He didn't need any machines, not any more, so it was okay for me to come and see him. The first two weeks had been hell. I hadn't been able to get anywhere close to him for fear I'd kill him accidentally. All my information had had to come through Hendricks who got it from the guys who were guarding John in the hospital.
I won't say that this was worse, because I'm not sure anything can be worse than not being able to be with someone you love while they're in danger or in pain, but it was tough. I could see John, I could hold his hand and talk to him, but the lack of...John in him was like someone had my heart in their fist and kept twisting it, squeezing out my life.
“You're an asshole, Marcone.” I flopped back into the chair and picked up his limp hand, rubbing my thumb in lazy circles on his palm. “You left me in charge of this fucking nightmare and I've taken care of it. I've got everyone back in their places, the law, your law, is being enforced. Hell, I learned those damned hand-signals everyone else seems to know so I don't get in the way of your freaky ex-military guys. And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of pulling this city back together. And I'm so fucking sick and tired of meetings! They never show all the meetings in mob movies. It's all shooting and sex and fun. Not sitting for two hours, my ass going numb while I get told about damned profit margins.
“So wake the fuck up.”
~
“You got any clue what this is about?”
“None. But he's got all the heads of the branches here, plus the independent operators there. Something big.”
“Brilliant deduction. I can see how you got your position.”
“Shut up. Here comes Hendricks.”
Mr. Hendricks came through the door behind the head of the table and we all stood up from our chairs. He glanced around, checking with each of the security guys stationed in the room and then nodded and stood aside from the door.
Dresden came through and went to the chair at the head of the table, pulling it out. But he didn't sit down. Instead he remained standing behind it, waiting.
Mr. Marcone came through the door next. He was pale and skinnier than he had been, but he was on his feet, walking. Muttering came from a few corners as people exchanged looks. Here and there you could see some people grinning and trying not to.
The boss nodded to people and made his way into the chair Dresden was holding out. Once he'd seated himself Dresden stepped back and Mr. Marcone rolled himself into position and curled his hands around themselves, smiling out at everyone. We all sat back down as Dresden took up a position directly behind the boss, arms crossed, glaring at a couple of the guys who wouldn't shut up.
“Now then. Mr. Pryce, if you would begin?”