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Quirky Row Chapter 30: Shaundi Got Stolen!
🕑 Added 2025-01-20 17:00:04 +0000 UTCChapter 30: Shaundi got stolen!
(Friday, November 12th, 2123)
It was late in the evening, and the weekend loomed. The Sons of Samedi had tried to get revenge by attacking Saint affiliated dealers, but with Laura now as the head of the Third Street Saints’ drug operations, all of the Sons’ assailants were either stopped in the act, or tracked down and made an example of.
It had not yet escalated further, and the cops and heroes were keeping a close eye on everything after Amber and Spincycle had been trounced, but so far it seemed that a sort of equilibrium had been reached for the moment.
The Inner Circle had been busy as well. After the raid on Wednesday, they’d been working around the clock to integrate the new members and drug operations into their own. Things were going smoothly for the most part, but it required all hands on deck to help ease Laura and Tobias into how things worked.
And after a hard week of work, Shaundi wanted nothing more than to relax. But instead of going out partying like she would have in the past, at the moment Shaundi was working on some business in the Mission before she could go do anything fun.
She’d been putting off the paperwork, bane of all things that it was, until Playa had firmly told her to get her ass into gear and do it or he’d lock her in with Pierce and have her help him do all of the gang’s paperwork for the next month. Not wanting that to happen, Shaundi was thus stuck at her desk in her own little office.
‘If I knew running a gang involved so much damn work, I’d have just let Pierce take all the credit for keeping the gang together,’ she thought to herself in exasperation as she felt her hands starting to cramp up, and she put down the pen with a wince. ‘And who even uses actual paper for their paperwork anymore?! Computers exist, man!’
As she was contemplating putting off the work for a quick smoke break, the door to her office opened, and somebody she’d thought she’d seen the last of years ago strode in like he owned it.
“Nice little place you got, Shaundi,” Reggie – or as he was better known, Veteran Child – said as he entered.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Reggie?” Shaundi demanded, tensing up. Although an equally pertinent question was ‘How did he get in here?’ The Mission had received a major security upgrade after the Brotherhood was taken down. You couldn’t just walk on in anymore, the doors needed keycards!
“I’m here for you, you little bitch,” he sneered, annoyance at his real name being used bleeding through.
Seeing Shaundi’s eyes narrow at him, Veteran Child continued. “I’ve been scoping it out for a while. Learned about who does what, and when, and where. Wasn’t easy, but I found a way in.”
To prove it, he held up a blood-stained keycard, and Shaundi swallowed her rage and fear. “What do you want?”
“You’re all alone right now, and you’re gonna come with me,” Veteran Child stated.
“I won’t be alone for long, so you better get out of here,” Shaundi retorted.
“Don’t make this difficult,” the Sons of Samedi lieutenant requested, a dark glint in his eyes as he pulled out a 10 mm handgun.
Thinking on the fly, Shaundi threw her papers into her ex-boyfriend’s face and ducked before bolting for the door.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t fast enough, and Veteran Child grabbed her by the dreadlocks, then slammed her back onto the desk, pinning her there with a hand on her throat and the gun to her head.
Shaundi let out a pained grown, her vision blurring, and Veteran Child lifted her up, dragging her away to the door. As he left her office, somebody else was approaching from down the hall.
“Hey, Shaundi, got some coffee and food for you,” Playa said, takeout cups of coffee in one hand with a bag of burritos in another.
He froze in place, staring in shock at the sight of Veteran Child lugging Shaundi around, and the Sons lieutenant snarled and pointed his gun as Playa while also holding a dazed Shaundi up as a human shield.
“Back the fuck OFF!” Veteran Child shouted, his voice blasting forwards in a sonic screech that hit Playa in the chest and sent him flying down the hall.
The leader of the Saints landed with a crash onto the floor, rolling to his feet and then behind a corner as cover as Veteran Child fired a few shots off at him. As he did so, the sounds of the gunfire turned into tiny shockwaves of their own, tearing apart the floor and wall. He was basically firing two bullets with every shot!
‘That’s one tricky Quirk,’ Playa noted with a grimaced. ‘Some sorta sound manipulation?’
Regardless of what it was, it forced Playa to keep his head down while Veteran Child fled in the opposite direction with Shaundi.
“If you don’t want me to put a bullet in this bitch, you’re gonna let me leave!” Veteran Child shouted down the hall.
“Why the fuck would I do that when I can kill you before you get the chance?” Playa demanded.
“Do you know who I am?!” Veteran Child seethed.
“A little punk-ass son of a bitch who’s about to get his ass whooped!” Playa retorted. “Hold still so I can get over there!”
“Fuck you!” Veteran Child retorted, dragging the unconscious member of the Saints’ inner circle away.
Playa tried to go after them, but the sonic blasts and bullets were dangerous, and he was kicking himself in the ass for not bringing his gun with him.
‘I’m not going to make that mistake ever again!’ Playa vowed, furiously clenching his fists as the bastard escaped from the building.
He fished out his cellphone, and dialed up his best friend.
“Johnny! We have a situation at the Mission! Bring the other Inner Circle with you!” Playa ordered.
Although confused, the Asian-American agreed, and Playa hung up. He then sent out a group text to the entire Saints to be on the lookout for a bitch-ass white boy in dreadlocks sporting Sons of Samedi colors. He was not going to take this lying down!
111 &&&&& 111
(Saturday, November 13th, 2123)
The sun had only just risen Stilwater, but already the streets hummed with activity. The Saints were out in force that Saturday morning, searching for any sign of Shaundi or her kidnapper. Tensions were simmering, and all it’d take would be one bad move to start an all-out war between the Saints and Sons.
“We’ve got the gang searching for her all over town,” Johnny said as Playa paced back and forth in his office, the lieutenants watching their boss warily. “We’ll find him. But it’s only been a couple hours, so you gotta be patient.”
“That fucker killed one of us and abducted Shaundi! I want him dead!” Playa snarled.
“We know who he is, at least,” Pierce said, arms folded as he stared at a photo taken from one of the Mission’s security cameras. “Reginald Peacewood, aka Veteran Child. Local DJ for a local radio channel, music podcaster, and head of distribution for the Sons of Samedi. A real piece of work.”
“And Shaundi’s ex,” Johnny piped up. “Can’t forget that!”
“Does that really matter?” Carlos asked with a frown.
“Hey, I’m just saying, if their breakup was a bad one, then Reggie would probably want to make whatever happens to her as painful and public as possible,” the Quirkless lieutenant pointed out.
“I’ve had boyfriends I’ve wanted to abduct to teach ‘em a lesson,” Mink admitted. “But I don’t think this is a lover’s tiff.”
“You’re right. Odds are Veteran Child did this on behalf of the Sons for some reason,” Jean-Paul agreed.
“So, getting back at his ex is probably just a bonus, then,” Pierce guessed.
“Whatever the reason, we’re getting Shaundi back,” Playa declared firmly. “And if we can’t…”
He trailed off, and everyone in the room shivered as a bloodthirsty aura leaked out of him. The Fog of War was coming to the surface, and ‘Slayer of the Sons’ might end up being one of Playa’s new epithets if things went from bad to worse.
Thankfully, the oppressive feeling was dispelled when a Saint rushed into the office without knocking, panting heavily. “I… have… news!” he gasped out.
“What did you find?” Playa demanding, switching out of his ‘kill ‘em all!’ mode to listen.
“Some of our guys spotted Veteran Child come and go from Cocks with a bunch of other dudes with guns,” the Saint reported.
“The fried chicken diner slash strip club?” Playa asked.
“No, it’s a classy bar now. Uh, it’s still chicken-themed, though,” the Saint replied. He then held out his phone, which had a couple pictures on it. They showed the same man who’d abducted Shaundi walking into the building, a couple of men armed with shotguns and machetes following behind him.
“Okay, I- hang on, getting a call,” Playa muttered, picking up his own phone. When the Caller ID reported that it was coming from Shaundi’s phone, his expression darkened. “What do you want?”
“If you want to see Shaundi again, you’re gonna do what I tell you to,” the whiny voice of Veteran Child informed him over the phone.
“Ah, Reggie. We were just talking about you,” Playa growled.
“It’s Veteran Child! And you’re gonna come to Cocks, alone, if you don’t want parts of that bitch mailed to you!” the DJ growled.
“Is that so? Then I’ll be there. Count on it,” Playa snarled, before hanging up.
“That’s obviously a trap,” Johnny said dryly.
“Duh. But it’s our only lead, so we’re gonna spring it,” Playa replied. “Gather some boys, but make sure they know to go incognito. Send ‘em to the bar first. Then, I’ll arrive. We’ll cut down whatever Sons are there and beat Shaundi’s location out of Veteran Brat.”
He then glanced at the Saint who’d brought him the photos. “Oh, and give some money to this man, and whoever it was that sent those pics to him. They did good work and have earned a bonus.”
“Not a bad idea. I’ve got a couple of people with Quirks that’ll work well in CQC and that can disguise themselves as civvies,” Johnny Gat said with a nod, while the Saint grinned happily at being acknowledged and rewarded.
“Great, get on that. And I won’t go in my costume either, don’t want to tip the cops or heroes off,” Playa added.
Johnny nodded briskly, then hurried off to arrange a posy to infiltrate Cocks. Meanwhile, Playa grinned wickedly at the thoughts of violence about to unfold.
An hour later, Playa was on his way to the meeting point. Driving to Cocks in a sleek purple sports car, the Saints’ leader wondered if this had been authorized by the General, or if the whole kidnapping operation had been spearheaded by Veteran Child.
‘What isn’t in question is that this is likely retaliation for looting the weed farm to the bedrock,’ Playa thought to himself as he parked in front of the bar.
“Huh, this place has really changed in the last five years,” Playa noted as he stepped into the building. The fried chicken serving strip club was gone, replaced with a classy bar. The walls were paneled in wood and fancy chrome stools were lined up in front of the bar counters, whose tops were made of smooth and polished black granite.
Only a few people were within. Considering it wasn’t even noon yet, he couldn’t help but wonder how much of an alcoholic you had to be to come into a place like this and order a drink so early in the day.
Well, he knew a couple of them were his own men, but still, that left at least eight other people sipping away.
“I’m here for Veteran Child,” Playa informed one of the bartenders.
“I see,” the man said slowly. His hand twitched towards something under the bar, but Playa was faster, pulling out a handgun and putting a bullet in the bartender’s head just as a shotgun was revealed. He slumped, blood spraying all over the back of the bar, and patrons started to scream.
One of the other bartenders shouted incoherently in rage, fingers turning into ice picks, and he tried to lunge at Playa but was attacked by one of the drinkers who hurled his tumbler of whiskey at the bartender’s head. When the tumbler struck, the Son’s head shattered as if it had been made of glass and not the other way around.
Violence erupted throughout the bar immediately after that as disguised Saints attacked the disguised Sons. Gunfire shattered many an innocent bottle of alcohol, and the bar itself was getting badly wrecked.
One Saint whose hair had turned into fire was fighting a guy who was spraying ice from his mouth, while another Saint with fin-like Heteromorphic features on his head and arms was having a martial arts duel with a Son who had skin the color and texture of bricks.
As for Playa, he was dueling a bartender whose Quirk was letting him manipulate all the spilled alcohol in the area, turning it into whips and blades that did a surprising amount of damage to the surroundings.
“Damn it, why can’t you just stand still?!” the Sons of Samedi bartender snarled, trying and failing to slice Playa apart with the manipulated liquid.
“Don’t you know?” Playa mocked as he bobbed and weaved, evading the attacks. “I’m not so easy to kill!”
Playa didn’t dare use his Quirk in the bar. It was too cramped and chaotic to risk. He was just as likely to hit his own men with his Quirk’s area of effect. However, he’d learned to fight without having to rely on his Quirk.
“RAGH!” the enemy shouted in frustration. “DIE ALREADY!”
With a burst of speed, Playa leapt over the bar’s counter to dodge a barrage of liquid lances, kicking his opponent in the chest as he did so, which sent the Son sprawling. Playa then rammed the barrel of the gun under his opponent’s chin and fired twice, killing him instantly.
“He killed Baccus!” one of the surviving Sons exclaimed in terror, and that broke what little remained of their morale completely. The remaining green gangsters retreated, spilling out into the streets.
All except one, whose collar was grabbed by one of the Saints whose arm had extended unnaturally long.
“Please don’t kill me!” he blubbered pathetically as he was dragged back over.
“Tell me where Shaundi is!” Playa demanded, pointing his gun at the gangster’s head.
“I-I dunno anyone by that name!” the Son said. “Honest!”
“Veteran Child kidnapped a woman. A Saint with green dreads. Where is she?” Playa tried again.
“I don’t know, I swear I don’t know! We were just told to wait here and kill you when you showed up!” the thug revealed, pants turning wet.
“Then where’s Veteran Child?!” Playa demanded.
“I’m just a grunt! A street dealer! I’m not told anything about what the lieutenants do or where they go!” the gangster whimpered. “I just get told to do things and I do ‘em!”
“Fuck,” Playa growled, removing the gun from the other man’s head. He then nodded at the Saint who’d grabbed the Son. The Saint released the green-clad gang member who ran for as soon as he could, disappearing down the street.
No new intel on Shaundi or her kidnapper made this whole thing a bust. Worse, he could hear sirens blaring out in the distance.
“Scatter,” he ordered the Saints, who nodded. They left Cocks in ruins behind them, and Playa strode out over to his car, ready to return to base.
However, just as he was about to get in, a policeman on a motorcycle pulled up to a halt nearby, tires screeching. Seeing Playa splattered in blood, along with his gun out in the open, and the purple sports car with a custom license plate that said ‘SAINTS’ caused the officer of the law to tense and draw their weapon.
“Hands in the air!” he ordered.
“Fuck off, pig,” Playa retorted, not wanting to deal with this bullshit.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” the cop demanded, pointing his gun at the leader of the Saints.
“I don’t have time for this!” Playa growled, turning away.
Doing so, however, caused the police officer to panic, and he opened fire. Several bullets missed, but one hit Playa in the left shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain.
He dove into his sports car and turned it on, driving off down the street even as bullets pinged off his rear bumper.
“Damn it!” Playa muttered, pressing a hand over his injured arm while also trying to drive one-handed. “Wiri, call Johnny!”
“Calling Johnny,” the car’s smart assistant driver system chimed out as it linked up with his smartphone.
“Playa, what’s the skinny?” Johnny inquired a moment later, his voice coming through the car’s speakers.
“It was a bust. No new intel,” he said. “Worse, the pigs showed up and I got shot!”
“What?! Are you alright?!” Johnny exclaimed in worry.
“It’s fine, bastard just winged me,” Playa assured him. “Tell somebody to grab the medkit, though. And a new shirt. And let Mink know she’s gonna have to find somebody to clean the blood off the seats. And fix a couple bullet holes in the car.”
“I think we have other things to worry about other than fixing your damn car, buddy,” Johnny replied.
“Hey, I like this car!” Playa replied, indignant. “Anyways, I’ll be at the Mission soon. Oh, and find out who owns Cocks. I want you to buy the place from ‘em. Then repair it so it’s good as new.”
“Huh? Why?” his second-in-command wondered.
“It was actually a nice bar, and I think we need more classy joints in Stilwater,” Playa replied. “Shame it was being run by the Sons until now, but that’s about to change.”
“Got it, understood,” Johnny said with a chuckle. “Drive safe.”
He then hung up, allowing Playa to drive back in silence. When he arrived, Mink was waiting with a few other members of the Saints’ pit crew, a medkit in her hands.
“Can you walk?” she asked as Playa rolled down the window.
“Yeah,” he assured her.
“Good. It was stupid and reckless to drive back,” Mink scolded. “You’ve agitated your wound.”
“I didn’t want the cops on my tail,” he replied.
“I know. Honestly, though a dumb choice, it was still what you had to do,” Mink said. “Come on, then. Out.”
He nodded, exiting his car with a wince. He was then led back to office, where Pierce and Johnny were waiting, and Mink immediately began to dowse his gunshot wound in rubbing alcohol.
“We need a nurse or somebody in charge of medical shit,” Playa said as he grit his teeth and endured the pain.
“Agreed,” Mink nodded as she swabbed the wound. “I am not a trained medical professional. Having a doctor on hand would make problems like this easier.”
“Guys! Bad news!” Carlos suddenly shouted, rushing in with a laptop.
“What is it?” Playa asked.
“I found Shaundi!” he exclaimed.
“Wait, isn’t that good news?” Mink asked, looking up from the wound she was bandaging.
“Uh, maybe fifty-fifty,” Carlos said. “Anyways, look at this!”
He turned the laptop around so they could see a video on a browser. It was being live-streamed in some sort of club from the looks of it, and was showing off a bunch of strippers dancing in front of a crowd of Sons.
“Uh…” Playa began, but Carlos shushed him. Suddenly, Veteran Child walked on stage, and he grinned maliciously.
“What’s up party people?!” he asked. “We’ve got a great show tonight! Straight from the streets, we’ve got Shaundi of the Third Street Saints!”
He stepped aside, revealing a tied up and gagged Shaundi was brought out, hanging suspended from a pole being carried by two strippers like a wild pig about to get roasted.
“Who is she, you ask? Well, this bitch is the whore responsible for telling the Saints where our weed and other shit was being stashed! Loa Dust is now pretty scarce, thanks to her!” Veteran Child explained, causing a chorus of booing and angry shouts to be thrown from the crowd.
“Tonight, as punishment for her attack on the Sons, we’re gonna see how much pain a human body can take before it breaks!” the DJ sneered evilly. “We’re gonna crank up the tunes while Shaundi gets to experience a one-woman torture party! Donate one dollar, and we’ll jab her with a needle! Donate five, and that’ll earn her a nice cut from Mr. Sunshine’s very own machete! For ten, we’ll burn her pretty little skin with one of the General’s cigars! Fifty dollars gets you a tooth, and a hundred bucks gets you a nail! How long will she last?! Let’s find out! This event will be live streamed starting at seven pm, and will go on until the fat lady sings! Or in this case, the skinny bitch dies!”
“Fuck!” Playa shouted as he watched the video continue.
“It’s on a few video streaming sites, though it keeps getting taken down from the ones not on the Darkweb,” Carlos explained.
“We don’t have much time, then,” Pierce said with a grimace. It was currently noon. Was seven hours really enough time to plan an assault on what was no doubt going to be a heavily guard event? Still, he had to try!
“Find out where that bastard is streaming from!” Playa demanded angrily, teeth clenched in fury.
“On it!” Pierce replied, grabbing the laptop and rushing out.
“I’ll organize a group to go after her when he finds the location,” Johnny promised.
“I’m coming with you,” Playa declared.
“Playa, you’ve been shot! You’re not going out like this,” his Second-in-Command stated.
“Johnny! I have to!” Playa stressed.
“Fuck! Can’t stop you, can I?” Johnny grimaced after staring into Playa’s eyes.
“Nope,” he chuckled.
“Mink, keep an eye on this idiot,” Johnny ordered with a sigh. “Make sure he doesn’t pop his damn stitches and bleed out everywhere.”
“Can do,” the pink-haired lieutenant assured him.
“If you’re quite done, send somebody to get me my costume,” Playa ordered. “It’s time for the Saints to ride!”
Playa’s costume was hastily brought in, and he quickly got dressed. His shoulder hurt, and the bandages were itchy and uncomfortable, so it was a bit of a struggle to get his coat on. But soon, Skunk was standing in his office.
“Guess what just got dropped off?” Johnny asked excitedly as he walked into the office a few minutes later.
“What is it?” Skunk asked as he tugged on his boots.
“Ta-dah!” Johnny cheered, whipping out a gun case. “Your gun from Artificer came! It just got dropped off!”
“Excellent timing!” Skunk said happily, taking the case. He entered a number he’d received from the enigmatic inventor yesterday into the combination lock, and the case’s lid popped open.
The elegant and deadly purple and gold revolver lay snuggly on a red velvet cushion, and Skunk took it out carefully, checking it over. The gun fit perfectly in his right hand, and everything looked to be in order. The custom stink-bullets he’d made were also chambered in perfect, and the weight was just right.
“Oh yeah, this will do nicely,” Skunk declared with a boyish grin. “Gonna have a fun time testing this bad boy out on Veteran Child.”
He grabbed a holster he’d had made for it out of a drawer on his desk, and buckled it on. Then, he attached his gloves and put on his gas mask before taking a moment to admire himself in the reflection of his desk.
“You look like a real nasty villain now, boss,” Johnny praised, and Skunk nodded happily.
“Are the men ready?” he asked his second-in-command.
“Locked and loaded, Skunk,” Johnny assured the supervillain.
“Good. Let’s go!” he said. It was time to save Shaundi and put Veteran Child in his place!
