The Wheel

I walked for bout half an hour through the woods, my eyes scanning the landscape for any signs of disturbance. Why the hell would someone steal a dog? They must have seen the other shit I had round my place. Not top quality things, but clearly more valuable than some eleven-year old dog. I hadn't taken much of a look but from what I could tell there wasn't anything missing. My beaten up old laptop was sittin' on the desk across from my cot. The hunting rifle I had been in the middle of repairing was on the table in the middle of the room, along with the big black book with the battered cover that I'd brought with me when I left my last home. Not the biggest haul for an eager house burglar. 


Right when I was about to turn back I spotted the second puppet. Girl one this time, same creepyass grin that looked too big for its face. Its' hands a feet looked all carved up, like someone got pissed off at the thing and went at it with a knife. The veins on my chest started itchin' so I turned round, pickin' up the trail I had left almost invisibly on my trek through the woods. I saw movement off to my right, caught the tail end of a tatter gray cloak disappearing behind a boulder. Didn't bother thinkin' anything of it; those god damn watchers were always doin' that.... just.... watching. Who knew what the hell they were thinkin'. 


Sun was just setting as my cabin came into view. The joint I'd been working on was barely more than a stub, even so I tapped out the last few embers at the end and stashed it in the old Spirits smoke tin I kept on me all the time. Honestly, I had no love for that green shit. The Sickness kept my body from enjoying any of the standard effects of marijuana, but it was the only thing that was able to keep those crippling attacks at bay. Not that anyone in town knew that. As far as they knew I was just a washed out stoner from the City. All except Daniel, who was the only one I'd bothered to tell.


Thought I'd head back into town. Despite the backwoodsiness of the place, it never really slept. Viola's bar, which was really more of a readjusted old warehouse, was the real hub of all the activity around town, where all the citizens had been drawn too for one reason or another. 


The common factor was that at some point, someone in each of the families here had run afoul of the men and women that controlled the City. Not the mayor or any of his cronies, they were just a front. It was the freaks, the things that no one could look at, that really held all the power.


I gave a nod to the bouncer standing outside the big shed door that served as the entrance to the Wheel. It was the big black guy that was only there on especially busy nights, the one with the nasty scar on his cheek that pulled his upper lip up and back in a permanent sneer. Didn't know his name but we'd seen each other around. He held the chain link door open for me, givin' me a corny little bow as I passed through. I was right behind a group of teenagers, comin' to the Wheel for a bit of gamblin' and boozin'. Probably underage. Not that Viola gave much of a fuck.


Place was busy as always. We ran about the status of our town bein' in the middle of no where, but in truth we were just off of one of the main roads that connected the City to the rest of the country. The population here was just over a thousand, but the amount of temporary citizens boosted that number up quite a few notches.


I made a beeline to the huge bar that ran along the entire northern wall. Staffed by the majority of the towns good lookin' young ladies, it was probably the biggest attraction of the Wheel, other than the black market operation that had been goin' on since the old bitch had opened up the place. Stocked with absolutely every type of drink you could think of, it was Viola's pride and joy. I'd asked her once where she managed to find such obscure goods, after I spotted a bottle of vodka that had been made in one of the countries that got swept into the sea way back when; she just gave me that god damned grin of hers that just screamed Fuck You, That's Where I Got It. 


I spotted one of the bartenders I was familiar with, Sophia or Sally or some shit, and sat down in her section of the bar. Gave me a little smile, finished mixin' up some neon green glass of death for some kid who barely looked like his balls had dropped, and came over for a chat.


"Why hello there, stranger," she said with a grin. Despite me not remember her bloody name I knew this one. She tended to be the one that shook up my drinks for me. If she had been sending any signals my way, I'd missed 'em. 


"Hey there, sweetheart. How long you been on the clock?"


"Only about half an hour. Why, something exciting happen in town?"


"Didn't happen to see Omar wanderin' bout on yer way over, didja?" I might not be the most sociable man about town, but Omar'd been here since he was a spry young thing. The permanent citizens here knew him, all the kids loved him and he was the friendliest, furriest little fuck you'd ever meet. Shit, I'm about to tear up.


"Can't say I did hun. He finally ran off on your broodin' self?"


I gave a little smirk, pulled out the remainder of my joint and sparked it up. Already knew Viola didn't give a fuck. Sat there for a while, thinkin' things over. At some point I realized someone had their eyes locked on my back.


"You see those three guys over my left shoulder?" I asked her in a casual tone. Her expression didn't change but her eyes flicked up for a sec, came back to mine and she gave me a nod.


"Looks like one of them is a watcher... What the hell are those other two wearing?"


I'd seen them as I was finishing up a cigarette outside. Three figures who had clearly been tailin' me, though I hadn't noticed when they'd picked up my trail. One of them was certainly a watcher, one with an actual mask, shaped as a completely featureless human face with glass lenses over the eyes, as big and round as glass bottles. The other two weren't watchers, but were just as bizarre lookin'. One of 'em was huge, just shy of seven feet tall by my estimate, but with a face like a twelve year old kid. It was hard to tell but it was actually a woman, you could only tell because of the slight bulges on her chest. Looked like she could take down a chargin' ox with one swing of those huge, meaty paws.


The other one, probably the most dangerous lookin of the bunch. Five foot somethin', he had the facial features of someone from one of those Asian countries that no one had heard any news of for god knows how long. Not the ones that were born here, those folks had a slightly different look about em that was hard to pinpoint. This guy looked like one of those performers that had come through last spring, the ones with the sitars. 'Fresh off the boat', some of the old-timers at the factory would've said. Guy was clad head to toe in black leather, leather vest, leather duster, gloves, boots, the whole set up. Practically had the words BAD MOTHER FUCKER floating above his head, a vibe that was certainly not hurt by the massive gun strapped to his back.


I ask the bartender, whose name I remember now is Sam, I ask her "What are they doin' right now?"

"They just sat down at a table. The biker looking guy's ordering a drink. The huge one's looking around the place, and the watcher's staring right at you, far as I can tell."


"Gimme a sign if the make a move towards me, would ya?"


"Sure thing, Jon. Get you a drink?"

I ordered a shot of whiskey and one of the shitty beers Viola imported in from the City and gave a bit of a smirk when she said my name. That was certainly part of the reason why I kept myself mostly to myself. I'd arrived here with nothin' but the clothes on my back and that tattered old book, not even a name to call my own....... That familiar feeling of fuzziness started swirling around my skull and a tossed the shot back, grimacing as it scorched its way down my throat. 


I grabbed the bottle of beer by its neck just as the huge scarred mitt clamped down on my shoulder. I let the huge woman spin me around and used the momentum to add a bit of power as I swung the thick glass bottle up at her face. It shattered and she fell back without even a shout of surprise, but her hand stayed gripping on my shoulder and I fell back with her. I shot my steel toed boot just up under her rib cage and was rewarded by gettin' my shoulder back, while she got every breath she'd taken that day knocked right the fuck out her lungs.


I saw the biker guy bring his hand up, holding probably the biggest god damn revolver I'd ever seen. That old training took over and I dipped to the side, heard one of the bartenders behind me start screamin' as she caught the round meant for me. Sure hope that wasn't Sam. Lunged forward from the crouch I'd fallen into, gritting my teeth as a web of fire fell over my legs and propelled me much farther than should've been possible. Right hand back in the inner pocket, grabbing the switchblade and hittin' the trigger, heard the blade go schwing! way more clearly than I should've, just as I heard the man shift his feet and take aim at my head. Ears on fire now.


I was to the left of him, about five meters away half hidden by a table toppled over in the panic, still in that slightly unnatural crouch. I rocketed towards him, throwing the knife with a flick of my wrist, completely missing my target but hitting him in the thigh none the less. Never was worth much when it came to knife throwing.


Just as the BAD MOTHER FUCKER fell to the ground, I felt another hand on my shoulder. The fire that was gripping my legs spread to the rest of my body. Oh god damn it the fucking watcher. I'd completely forgotten about that creepy fuck. Last thing I saw, as my vision was completely taken over by the blue, was a nasty lookin' grid of veins popping up all over my arm, pumping acid into my muscles.


[Second entry in the series of journals left to Vasilakis. The description of two the the three individuals matches the profile of James Vali-Smith, former member of the Seven Dogs gun runners gang, and the mercenary known only as MATILDA[sic], last seen working for [REMOVED] in Chicago.


12/7/[REMOVED]


T. Vasilakis]