Saginaw, MI Arson Investigation

[Willie Long]

10 days after Devil's Night, Saginaw still burning

SAGINAW, Michigan (AP) -- Dozens of vacant homes have been set ablaze since a pre-Halloween arson spree last week, causing hundreds of thousands of dollars in damage....

Widespread arson fires on the night before Halloween, dubbed Devil's Night, started years ago in Detroit. Saginaw, a city of about 60,000 residents, later began seeing copycat arsons...

I wondered if the arson was just teenage punks, or the Demon Fist gang making another play for territory. Only one way to find out. So I called my posse, see if they were up for a road trip.

Nope. Frog wanted to spend the holiday with his tadpoles, and Red was waiting for some fugitives to take his cyberbait.

So I packed my gear in the SUV and after nightfall, my student and I made the four hour drive to picturesque downtown Saginaw. Stayed at Tom Bodett's joint, the one advertising "safe, clean, vampire-free rooms."

I ever meet the dude, I'll tell him, "Two outta three ain't bad, jack."

[Ron Caliburn]

I'm glad somebody went to check that out.

It's been a week since Thanksgiving though, any reason for the delay in positng? Everyone make it through in one piece?

[Celeste Darken]

Just making sure we . . . got everything. You, of all people, know how dangerous loose ends can be, Ron.

[Ron Caliburn]

Of course

[Willie Long]

Before we left Gary, we discussed dining arrangements. A subject of no little importance, since I am a vegitarian. I tossed Miss Darken the keys once she assured me she'd already had one for the road, and could handle a few days dry.

***
I asked the desk clerk for a room on the east side; with two beds, since I was with my sister.

"Oh, going home for the holidays?"

I smiled, shrugged and said, "Visiting family."

***
My student didn't seem overly thrilled with the room, but that was before I worked my magic. I turned the mattresses on both beds sideways to bridge the gap, creating a tunnel for her to relax in, watch some TV.

***
Miss Darken had picked up a city map along the way and even lucked out with a newspaper graphic showing where each fire had occurred. After careful consideration of her research materials, I told my student, "Now we find some hookers."

[Ron Caliburn]

In this line of work, the hookers are always the best to start with.

Them and the bums.

[mossburg1000]

i live in detroit and i've beed working the arson case for some time,and it way deeper then gangs or punks.i have a hard line and some good leads about this odd demonic fire cult that goes back to the late 80's.i'll hit u guys up when i have more info.

[KonThaak]

Hey, Willie, if you haven't come home yet, I'd postpone a day or two. Nasty, nasty, nasty snowfall. Sit tight if you haven't come home yet.

If you have...well, guess you're used to this kinda stuff, right?

[Willie Long]

Good to see a new name around here.

Gangs and cults aren't mutually exclusive, Jack. Rumors were that the Demon Fist was a Columbian gang run by Satanists, and what evidence the Society's uncovered hasn't disproven it.

In this line of work, the hookers are always the best to start with.

Them and the bums.

Great minds. Caught my student off guard, though.

[Ron Caliburn]

It always surprises the neophytes.

Half the hookers in town know my name, and I've never once used their services.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Anyone that operates at street level (especially at odd hours) is pretty good to hit up for info. Bums, Prostitutes, Cab Drivers, Newspaper Delivery Guys, street Cops assuming you can get them to admit anything wierd is going on, etc.

[Celeste Darken]

It always surprises the neophytes.

Half the hookers in town know my name, and I've never once used their services.

Surprised? No. What surprised me was how easily the lies came to Willie's lips. I always thought Buddhists didn't lie. But then, there was a way around that.

I wasn’t sure if Willie was joking or not about the hookers . . . he has never done so before, but I suppose there is always a first time. I would have preferred to study the maps closer; looking over it on a computer is one thing, but really being there is another as well. I was lying on my stomach on the floor with the map spread before me, mentioning the comment in an offhand way, not even looking at him; I had thought it a rhetorical question. When he answered, and I turned to look at him. I tried to think of a response, but one didn’t come for several seconds.

“Are you serious?” I asked finally. He nodded. I rolled on my side and took on a seductive poise. “Is this a Buddhist ritual you neglected to mention?”

His brow darkened. “No. They’re from the streets. They see things normally not meant to be seen. They know things others won’t.”

“I see,” I stretched out to a more sisterly position, suppressing my emotions. “Well, I guess we can always go with the presumption that you were an adopted brother. Seeing as Buddhists don’t lie.”

He didn’t speak, but twitched his chin toward the door. I refolded the map and put it under the bed, following him out.

[Willie Long]

Surprised? No. What surprised me was how easily the lies came to Willie's lips. I always thought Buddhists didn't lie.

Have I?

As a fellow monk, you're my Shaolin sister; and mankind is one big family.

[Shadowstalker]

Groan!!! I saw an answer like that comeing, Willie you wouldn't by chance be adding a little Toism to the Philosophy mix now would you?

[Bert_the_Turtle]

Groan!!! I saw an answer like that comeing, Willie you wouldn't by chance be adding a little Toism to the Philosophy mix now would you?

I don't know about that, but if he starts calling himself "Brother Long" I'm calling the men in white coats .

[AdamaGeist]

Hey, he's not Long, he's my Brother.

What? Someone had to make the joke.

[mossburg1000]

well frinds i did alot more digging and found that the demon fist thing does't seem to pan out,i'v talked to some of my local informants(cops,hoods,thugs,etc.)and if an outside group came in there would be a ton of buzz(and fighting).i did run across something interesting,its a little more about that odd cult,they refer to themselves as the silnt.i took my sensitive roy to some of the arsons i'v been investigating 4 the last past two months, he says(and feels)that they could be useing "fire sacrafices"to help the forces of evil to cross into are plane.i'm going to lay low 4 a while until i can interview(more like tune up ) 1 of these cult members.PLEASE post something if u guy find anything out,thank u

[Willie Long]

Groan!!! I saw an answer like that comeing, Willie you wouldn't by chance be adding a little Toism to the Philosophy mix now would you?

Chan Buddhism has some similarities with Taoism; nevertheless, that was my answer. Protecting my (very extended) family is why I chose the profession I did.

****
The first hooker we found called herself Snow. She was a young Swedish-looking girl, already high, and not interested in talking. Celeste had implied that she could read minds, but I doubt she could wring any consistency from that poor girl's.

We had better luck with Sherene. It was damn cold and business was lousy, so it didn't take much to persuade her to follow us to a 7-11 and talk about local news.

I didn't want the cashier to hassle us, so I bought her some stuff to appease him. She wanted some magazines, Woman's Day, Good Housekeeping, and Parenting. I brought them back to the booth Celeste had picked out.

Sherene said there hadn't been any fires where she worked, but homeless guys she hadn't seen before started showing up. One of the lucid ones told her they'd been displaced by the arson. That sounded promising, so I asked her if she knew where they stayed.

Before she could answer, we were interrupted by a gaggle of homeboys coming in to shop. Sherene left with her new customers, and my student and I returned to the streets to find more clues.

Unfortunately, the rest of the night didn't go nearly as smooth.

[Celeste Darken]

Unfortunately, the rest of the night didn't go nearly as smooth.

That's one way of putting it. Sifu Long's way, to be exact. In my words, it would be a disaster. I let my emotions and bias carry me away. I kept my self control, and they never were in any danger, but . . . they didn't know that. So I suppose it was just as bad.

The street and sidewalk was riddled with the jagged ranks of light and dark, streetlamps and shadows vying for more space from each other like soldiers from a battle, brought to life with the movement of passing cars and people. Unfortunately, I think the shadows would win this war within the city if nothing changed in the next while. The light of the streetlamps would fade fast without the repairs needed by them. Already the yellow luminance was pale and fragile, pulsing weakly against the continuous onslaught of darkness.

Inside, my emotions were going through the same antics, my memories and feelings thick. I stayed well within the shadows, lest a passerby notice the discrepancy at my feet; ahead of me, Willie walked with the unassuming confidence of a man who had found his place in the world.

Only, between the two of us, there was but one shadow. His gait was wider and longer than mine, but I was quicker and darted in between the safety of the shadows; thus, we were able to keep abreast of each other. At a brightly-lit street corner, Willie suddenly hailed an elderly couple with overly wrought, friendly exuberance, raising his arm and bawling out, “Good evening to you, sir. Same to you, ma’am.” They glanced at him sharply and with suspicion, but the distraction was enough for me to sidle inside the massive confines of his shade.

We pressed on down the street and down another where the shadows had already won the battle. The bulbs to the streetlamps were all burned out, in some cases forcibly shattered. The starlight and moon were absent, mantled by the shroud of cumulus that dragged across the sky like a wet blanket. The buildings here were tired and worn, broken down by the continuous neglect of the city and its workers. Abandoned apartments and storefronts watched us with dark windows, blank eyes that no longer cared who passed them by. Garbage and litter coated the grimy ground in patches of forgotten disregard.

Clustered amid the shadows, vigilant shapes smelled of cheap wine, stale cigarettes, and bad drugs. The whites of their eyes glinted to my vision; they were watching Willie approach them with apprehension, staring wildly at his clothes for any hint of gang colors. There were seven of them in all, though they might not have been together: three men in leather and denim jackets inhaling pot on the steps of a dead apartment, clutching the necks of broken bottles guardedly once they saw Willie; two ragged figures in the alleyway, one scrounging in a dumpster while the other slept away the hours requisite before the guaranteed hangover came; and finally, two women at the far corner, with necklines so low they might have well been topless, avidly smoking on butts while staring in unbiased shock, poised to flee if Willie showed an inclination to be violent.

They didn’t see me. I was making the effort to be invisible, easy enough in this darkness.

“’sup, Jack?” Willie went first to his “brothers” in the jackets. The sudden drawl and the change in vocabulary took me off guard, but they took Willie’s mass in stride, returning his greeting with ritualistic solemnity. I listened in patiently as my teacher slowly extracted information from the crew. But their streets smart was not focused in the direction of the fires, rather on a range of strategic maneuvering by various gangs in the locality. After a while, we moved on down the street.

“You still here, Miss Darken?” Willie asked out of the corner of his mouth. “You ain’t going out for a midnight snack, are ya?”

“I’m here,” I assured him. “And I’m still dry, with no cravings.”

“Good. You can do the next ones.”

I nodded and materialized. Unfortunately, the scavenging bum happened to look in my direction at just the right time, spotting me in the act; with a hoarse shout, he kicked his companion and fled. But the prone man was too drunk to pee, let alone stand or answer any queries put to him. We played a round of Paper, Rock, Scissors, to see who would take whom. I lost. Willie decided to stay with him and try to sober him up.

That left the two harlots to me. I tried to sigh and failed. My teacher passed me some money for bribery and knelt by the seemingly comatose man.

The women looked raw and old up close, prematurely aged from hard living and tough breaks. With Willie so far down the street, they were a little bolder to me than they might have otherwise been. But his training me in presenting myself in a non-threatening stance, and a couple of Jackson’s exchanging hands, kept them from running too soon. Once they learned I wasn’t there to buy their “services,” they slowly loosened their lips. But their talk was expensive and beat around the bush like a blind weed hacker. My teacher was longsuffering and willing to slowly gain others’ trust. Under most circumstances, I would have been, too. But this was not one of those circumstances. I snapped out my hand and grabbed one by the throat, reeling her in until we were nose to nose.

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear,” I growled, removing my sunglasses and staring hellfire at her and baring my fangs. “I’ve spent two hours talking to you, tossed you $120, and I think you know more than you’re letting on. Tell me straight out: what do you know of the fires? Have there been any recent, strange activities that might be related?”

“I . . . I . . .” She was trying to work some spit back into her mouth, staring at me in uncanny fear. “I . . . .”

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you if you don’t tell me what I want to know?” I hissed.

She shook her head in alarm. I brought her even nearer until I could whisper in her ear.

“Absolutely . . . nothing.” I tossed her to the ground and pinned the other in my deadly glare. “But believe you me when I say I don’t have to do anything to make you have nightmares for the rest of your life. I don’t have to do anything to get you to run back to your mama screaming. Now . . . answer me.”

“I don’t kn-know anything,” the first one sobbed. “Honest. But . . . a friend of mine knows. Laurie. He . . . says he’s seen people. People in hoods . . . doing weird stuff.”

“And where do I find Laurie?” I asked icily, taking a step forward.

“Th-there’s going to be a handout tomorrow night,” she meekly replied. “At the Catholic Church. He always goes to those. P-please . . . that’s all I know!” She blubbered, tears streaming down her face.

“All right,” I nodded, ignoring Willie as he approached me from behind, tensed in case I went too far. “Divide the money up equally with Pham,” I ordered, speaking of the other woman. “And not a word to anyone about this. Go.” She scrambled to her hands and knees and then fled. I whipped my attention to the other. “That goes for you too, whore. Get out of here!”

She took off like a jackalope. I watched them flee for a moment before turning my head to look in Willie’s general direction. “What?” I snapped in answer to his grim silence. I hated myself for doing what I did back there. I hadn't been strong enough, I hadn't been ready. I should have taken the bum; I could have been patient with him.

“You find out anything?” he asked; I could detect the sadness in his voice. I think I knew why, too, but it still bothered me.

“Yes,” I turned to face him directly. “There’ll be a soup kitchen tomorrow night at the Catholic Church. We’ll be looking for a man named Laurie.”

He nodded.

“You look disappointed,” I observed, replacing the glasses over my eyes. “Were you expecting something more?”

“No, the information is good,” he replied. “Real good, in fact. It’s just . . . I’m disappointed how you got that information.”

“I didn’t hurt them,” I declared. “I paid them for the information. And I’ll pay you back, if you want.”

“No, I’m straight.”

“Then what is it?” I demanded in annoyance.

“You were bullying people, treating them like they were worthless. That’s what’s bothering me. You were falling back into the instincts of a vampire. Don’t do it again.”

An attempt to sigh failed again. I knew he was right. I knew he wasn’t being judgmental. I knew he was trying to help me. And I knew he was asking for an explanation for my behavior.

“I have a thing against wh . . . har . . . women who sell their bodies,” I said slowly, trying to separate my feelings. “Not the hookers themselves, but rather the occupation itself. Every time I see one . . . I see another accident waiting to happen. I see myself. Sometimes, when I let myself, I imagine what could have happened if I . . . had obeyed my mom that last night; if I hadn’t tried out for that exotic dancing gig. They might still be alive . . . I might still be alive. . . . It just doesn’t make sense to me; do they do it out of desperation? On a dare? Do they think they might prove something?”

Another sigh didn’t come. “I always wonder why women do it,” I continued, just as much to myself as to him. “And I get no answers. The risks involved . . . just don’t seem worth it. The diseases . . . the bad men . . . the degradation. Too many things can go wrong. And that’s not including vampires. That’s why I hate them.”

“Come on, Miss,” Sifu gently put his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s go back to the hotel. You’ve had a busy night.”

So . . . there’s my fang against hookers and prostitutes. No offense meant, Huntress. I just don’t want to see you becoming me. I know you aren’t exactly an ordinary woman, but . . . be careful anyway.

[Willie Long]

“Sometimes, when I let myself, I imagine what could have happened if I . . . had obeyed my mom that last night; if I hadn’t tried out for that exotic dancing gig. They might still be alive . . . I might still be alive.”

You might. And he might've killed some other girl. Who might not have been strong enough to overthrow him. Who might still be out there killing. Not to mention what the cult of Aidacoel would be doing.

Don't lose your focus, reality is what is.

“I always wonder why women do it,” I continued, just as much to myself as to him.

Drugs, mostly. A trick is just a nickel bag of coke to them.

[mossburg1000]

In the pre dawn hours of Friday&Saturday my group and the Detroit police(DPD)went on a joint raid,we turn up nothing my bosses are highly pissed they said "I've spent too many resources & man power" they also told me that "I'm starting to show signs of burn out" i am ordered to hand the case docket over to a out side source,a man & a women. i guess the lady has a "Disease" that keeps her from going out during the day light(that's the official story they give me).i'm going to take some time off,but before i go....David(1 of my meny boss)u cant unfry an egg, u just cant walk away from the truth...u cant walk away from the paranormal.

[KonThaak]

Well, sir, take comfort in the fact that the outsiders you've handed the case over to are completely competent and capable. The problem will be solved, and I'd imagine they wouldn't mind your help in getting things done, hell with whatever your superiors say.

[mossburg1000]

people tell me you guys are some of the best paranormal investigators around, I'm glad you took over the Case, i know it will get solved

[Willie Long]

Now I'm worried. Cee and I finished our investigation on November 26. Who did your chief hand the case to?

[mossburg1000]

that's unknown to me, unless.....somethings not right. I'll talk to you later

[Celeste Darken]

I am not entirely certain why I am writing this at the moment. To keep my sanity, I suppose, and because there is a loll in the battle.

The second night, I drove to find the church while Willie meditated or slept, I’m not sure which, in the back seat. Saginaw wasn’t exactly what I had been expecting. But then, I didn’t know what to expect. For a city boasting 60,000 people, it didn’t look as populous as it should have. But then, seeing as it was nearing six o’clock on a winter’s night and the temperature dropping steadily, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. There were plenty of cars and trucks on the road, so we blended in nicely.

Luck was with us; we found the gathering of street people near the church without trouble. I was a little skeptical about this, but it had been Willie’s experience that the homeless and the “street people” often had knowledge than others that might have a more impressive look about them. But, since there would be no prostitutes, I’d be fine with it. We were both dressed conservatively as to not draw attention. Still out of his temple garb and into well-worn street wear, Willie could have passed for a massive gangster. Of course, he could have claimed he was the ballerina playing “Odette” for Swan Lake, and still no one would have gainsaid him; who would argue with a six-foot-four, three hundred-fifty pound block of obsidian? On the other hand, I wasn’t planning on acting the human, so I only needed to look the part. Willie had suggested I try colored contacts instead of the sunglasses, but my eyes shown through the filmy lens. So I stuck with the sunglasses and wore loose fitting Levis and a dark shirt, covered by an even darker jacket. Handing out soup bowls and sandwiches, the workers at the shelter had the hoboes and the less fortunate were divided into two lines to better serve them the food. Willie took one end while I took the other.

“Oh, and Miss Darken,” Willie touched me on the shoulder before we parted. “Remember, we’re here to ask, not bully. Dig?”

Inside the temple, I was “Miss” or “Miss Darken.” Outside, I was also “Miss” or “Miss Darken.” The name grated and sounded cold, but I could pass it off if it was Willie saying it. He had a natural warmth that reminded me of days when I was human, and I appreciated Willie’s efforts to humanize me, impossible a goal as it was. Inside, he was Sifu Long. Outside, he was Willie. I wanted to reply with a comradely “I dig, yo,” or “Right, dog,” or something else that showed I was making progress from a bloodthirsty monster. Instead, I nodded mutely.

The cold of the air was acute enough most of the people in line didn’t notice the drop in temperature when I approached. I asked politely, but they were guarded and shy, eyeing me warily. Nor did they seem inclined to answer any questions I had. One old man even went so far as to exclaim, “Look, lady, does it look like I have any money to give ya? I’m here ‘cuz of the food. Go get a pimp if you want to get a bed.”

“No, you misunderstand me, sir.” I tried to reason with him, but he cut me off.

“Oh, you want some food, too? Then quit buttin’ in line and get in the back!”

That had done it. Now the others wouldn’t talk to me, either. Had any been disposed to talk with me, they had lost interest now. The old man’s proclamation had quickly typecast me into a role more suited to Huntress, and I was instantly shunted aside and ordered to the back. Reining in my anger and humiliation, I sidled to a corner of the building and watched the proceedings dully. Eventually the meals were all passed out, and after that there was a haphazard crowd of people standing around eating. I tried again to garner some information, with the same results as when they had been in line.

However, one man approached me. He was shorter than me by a few inches and had wasted limbs, a crooked jaw, and eyes that belonged on a weasel. “I heard you were looking for some information,” he offered in a voice gone raspy with constant smoking. The scent still permeated his body.

“I am,” I replied carefully, watching him.

“But it will cost you,” he smirked wickedly, looking me up and down in a way I didn’t find flattering. “But it will cost you. No money? Fine. I also heard you’re looking for a night friend. You good with a bed?”

“Sorry,” my reply wasn’t so much as an apology as a warning for him to watch his tongue. “You heard wrong. Besides . . . I’m with him.” I tipped my head behind me.

The man’s chin traveled up as he took in Willie’s bulk-filled height. Suppressing a squeak, he fled.

“You stood in line to get some soup?” I asked incredulously, catching the warm scent and turning around, seeing him shoveling in several steaming spoonfuls into his mouth.

“I was hungry,” he shrugged. “Besides, I learned a lot. You?”

“No,” I said uncomfortably. I had lost the reflex of blushing along with my sense of humor when my humanity had been lost; otherwise my face would have been red. “What did you learn?”

“That your interviewing skills need work,” he said seriously. “You have to make a connection first, start slowly. Unless you’re Jennifer Lopez in a bikini, you can’t just walk up to someone and expect them to answer all your questions.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” I said sulkily, trying to keep the image of a scantily clad singer from cropping up in my mind.

“And yet you have, Miss Darken,” he told me soberly. “These men are hungry. All they can think of is the meal in front of them right now. You can’t’ve forgotten what that’s like.”

“No,” I replied honestly. “Not entirely.” He knelt down on his haunches and motioned me down with him.

“The people in the hood trust me and the other monks,” he said without a hint of boastfulness in his voice. “Big as I am, I don't carry myself like a bully. When Lovell’s aunt’s been using, he knows he can stay at the temple 'til she straightens out. When Reggie an’ Yolanda are stuck and their mama is too busy to help, they got my digits. We earned their trust because we care about them. The significance of the pebble is no less than that of the boulder. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” I stood with him, tried to sigh, and failed. “More chi, train harder.”

He nodded. “Oh, could you do one more thing for me, Willie?” I decided to ask him.

He raised an eyebrow, but motioned with his spoon for me to continue.

“Could you stop calling me ‘Miss’ and ‘Darken’ so much? I don’t mind Miss, and it’s all right in the temple or when there’s a need to sound professional, but ‘Miss Darken’ after a while just starts sounding . . . cold. My master used to call me that all the time. I don’t mind being less formal.”

I dig it,” he said. After thinking a while, he asked, “Cee?”

“I like ‘Cee,’” I smiled. “So. What did you learn about the fires?”

[Willie Long]

It took me while to interpret Mr. Driver's rambling. Basically, he'd seen a bunch of face-painted people wearing capes or robes involved in nighttime rituals in Hoyt Park, near the Celebration Square Zoo.

Previously, I hadn't thought to check if there'd been any animal mutilations. We headed back to the motel to take a second look.

We didn't make it back unmolested.

[mossburg1000]

sorry Mrs.Long, i got mix up, i guess i am starting to burn out. sorry again. and be safe friend

[Celeste Darken]

sorry Mrs.Long, i got mix up, i guess i am starting to burn out. sorry again. and be safe friend

I hope you weren't referring to me, and the “S” was a simple typo of “Mr. Long.” Either way, I suppose it doesn't really matter. Mistakes happen.

We went through the streets cautiously, though Sifu insisted I walk beside him and visible. I wasn’t sure if this was for my benefit or his. At the time, I thought it was his disappointment in my failure to exemplify the Buddhist teachings. But now that I look back on it . . . even 350 pounds of pure muscle have to be careful at night, wandering alone in the streets. Maybe not careful for themselves, but careful for others. Willie Long could wreak havoc among the best of supernatural creatures, but such a display of force came to him only at times of need. Sifu Long, unlike many others with so-called “powers,” does not need to prove himself. He is comfortable and at peace with himself.

Unlike a certain vampiress who need not be mentioned by name.

We wanted no trouble, but trouble wanted us. In this case, trouble was a trio of white teenagers, pale as my former master and as bald as eggs, sporting black leather and makeshift weapons. I could see them clearly in the darkness. Unfortunately, they could also see us as we passed under a streetlamp. They pointed at us and talked among themselves heatedly.

“Don’t do anything sudden,” he said quietly. “Let’s just keep walking. Confidently but without swagger. ‘Sides, maybe they’ll let us alone.”

“They’re higher than a satellite,” I informed him, sniffing the air, and catching the rank scent of drugs. I listened to their low conversation. “And they’re definitely . . . skinheads. And their opinion is rather racist. I won’t describe what they just called you.”

“Thanks.” Sifu scowled as one pulled out a cellphone; we took a branching alleyway and hoped to elude them in that way. Willie swore when a full half dozen of more cut off our route, one of the billiard balls smirking as he spoke in a cellphone.

“We got ‘em,” his grin widening as he hung up.

It was too late to turn back; we were in the middle of the alley, and the first three swiftly closed the gap, effectively boxing us in. Four other of the leather jackets joined them, totaling the count to thirteen; six on one side, seven on the other.

“We’ll try to talk our way out,” Willie murmured to me. “But if they’re itchin’ for a fight, don’t hurt them too bad. And no snacking. Dig?”

I nodded sullenly. A snack would have felt good right now. Not that I needed it or even felt any pangs, but . . . humans have their beer and sodas on bad days, I have a little plasma. On a night like this, I wanted to cause just a little mayhem. But I eliminated my desire and waited for them to approach.

“How’s it going, guys?” Willie asked pleasantly.

“Shut up, n*****,” one growled; I imagine I don’t have to spell out word he used. “You’re on our turf, see?”

“We didn’t know,” I spoke honestly. “We were just passing through—”

“You can shut up too,” he snapped, his foul breath nearly visible solely because of the stench and not the cold. “N*****s ain’t supposed ta date white chicks. They don’t mix, see?”

“Yeah,” another took up the hue and cry. “White chicks’re supposed ta date white dudes solo. That means you’re a contaminated broad. There’s only one way to cleanse ya now.”

They weren’t interested in our reasons for being here. They weren’t even interested in a conversation. They were just interested in beating Willie to death and then having their “tricks” with me. Why Willie was letting them play through these charades was beyond me.

“Only way ta cleanse a white broad whose been whoring with a n***** is ta have her whore with some white guys.”

That was enough for me. Again, I let you use your imagination, this time of what target of mine he grabbed for, but I caught his wrist before he could complete his lunge.

“I suggest you don’t,” I warned, lowering my chin and letting the sunglasses slide slightly down my nose. “You’re doped up and in no condition to fight the likes of us. Leave us alone and walk away unscathed. Continue this route, and prepare for a beating.”

Willie regarded the thugs with a sad look on his face. “Don't make me do something you'll regret,” he said, before bowing to his opponents and dropping into a fighting stance; though in their stupor, he might have well spoken in Mandarin. I let go of the jerk’s wrist when he pulled it back angrily.

The fight was too pathetic to describe. I would have thought so many would prove a challenge, but . . . no. Of course, after Willie dropped three of them with a single sweep of his arm, and I floored two with a foot planted on each of their chests, I think they were a little surprised to sustain their rage.

To be honest, they didn’t even get in an honest attack. Sifu drove his palm in another goon’s face and left him to gather his teeth, the other two backing up as he plowed his way in. My own enthusiasm had me catching the pipe one swiped at me, yanking it from his grasp and pretzelizing it around the next duo, gluing them back to back with the iron. I resisted the urge to flash my teeth, and their gaze involuntarily shot up as Willie wheeled around to back me up, his own brace of churls defeated. They didn’t even retort with a witty reply before fleeing, the bound bosom buddies running as one, the smaller of the two lifting his feet fright and the other pounding away.

I glanced at Willie, momentarily confused. He shrugged. “Let’s go.”

I stood for a moment, somehow feeling cheated. Talk about anticlimactic.

[Bert_the_Turtle]

I wish I'd been there. Not that I could've added anything, I'd just like to have seen those clowns get their collective ass kicked firsthand.