The Queen Song

7) Scenes 17-18

Mike W McCoy

10/18/2019

Version 3.0

<>17<>  The well-dressed monster.

Agent Yoshi inhaled deep on the fresh cigarette.  The menthol flavor bit back hard like the look of her self-reflection hiding behind the altar to alcohol.  Both bright uniformed bartenders avoided her and the well-dressed monster in black, sitting on the next stool over.  The seasoned Org-crime Agent figured they were experienced in dealing with a rough crowd, but this experience felt somehow different, left of center.  It might have been their nervous twitches, the sideways glances, or their hesitant attempts at offering additional drinks.

“Or maybe it’s just me,” she exhaled the words towards the mirror. 

He grunted something non-committal, apparently ignoring her.

All around the square shaped main floor, the lighting was flashy and subtly accented by splotchy flames inside dark alcoves.  Glints of gold and diamonds, on over-exposed flesh, gyrated with musical excitement.  A strong emotional tug looked to pull sideways against the jawbones of half the people in the room, leaving the others to stand as obvious oblivious obituaries.

“They with you?” Yoshi asked the Monster.  The words were directed at the small clique of Mexican Dogs in matching deep blue suits.  Their eyes were fixed on her partner.

“Yeah,” he replied slowly.  “It makes their boss feel safe.”

“As if,” she giggled and crushed out the smoke.  “Could you do something about them…please?”

“Swell,” saying it behind an awkward smile.  “I guess it is my turn on the Felt.”

But Yoshi had already continued to back off, and slip onto the dance floor with no attempt to find the musical rhythm. 

Boris adjusted his outdated tie, and made sure to catch eyes with the farthest security Dog from earlier.  After a nod and a point, he moved towards the small candle lit tables clustered down the long wall.Somehow he dragged along an aura of greater darkness with him, an emotional dead zone that shrank what fun there was. 

With each stride, sharp serrated sensations sliced against his flesh and bones, dredging back the memory of a jumping Alien creature, and a link to the furious pain.  It clouded the special agent’s eyes, and left only a blurry smudge of madness behind. 

This voracious vibe was a magnet attracting the special cerebral perception of a casually dressed tall man who was being fawned over by a pair of elegantly costumed Chinese Birds.

The Mexican Dog, from the goon squad, made his move towards closing the distance, but a much shorter man, in a set of faded scrubs, intercepted.  The security guard was about to say something when inexplicably the mysterious figure of Jax broke away from the clinging women. 

“Watch out, you-” the Dog started to say, but then froze. 

His mind’s eye had become lost in the hypnotic gaze of the Firstborn, so much so, that he wasn’t all together present in the reality of Club Uzi. 

The edge of a dream like Song was flowing from Jax, and on some primal level he knew it was sourcing from the faraway Grand California Resort.  Jax didn’t need to see the dozen or so followers attending their naked half-breed Queen to sense them inside the same trance of insane inaction. 

The rhythms of the flailing cult disciples rang inside Jax’s head with an unfamiliar singularity.  The Song continued to slide under his mental carpet of cobwebs.  But close by, across the dance floor, another strong mind was acting as a magnet.  It pulled at the dreamy threads of recognition and retaliation.  It called to the unique Alien perception of the Firstborn, and along with it, Mother.

“I must have you,” Jax said, not knowing why he did.

The music of the dance floor; the Snakes and Birds, the bald bodyguard, and the Mexican Dog, had become a non-issue.  All of the Firstborn’s attention was being directed by the Song, and towards the mutilated Monster squirming into a small candle-lit alcove.

Boris stopped.  He gaped open mouthed at the approaching form of Jax, who began to move at a crypt-creeper pace, slow and alert, like an annoyed shark. 

“Do I know you?”

The grin had a hyena’s warmth.  “No, brah.  You should come with me.”

“I’ll think about it,” Boris replied with a full-face frame of acid burned scar tissue.  Jax didn’t flinch. 

“No, I insist.  You should come now.”

“Why me?  You don’t even know my name.”

“True, but Mother knows you.”

<>[]<>[]<>

<>18<>  Is there a problem?

Yoshi was mostly ignored by the smug acting younger guests at Club Uzi.  She moved past the lines of Gov-Corp furniture to the 2nd floor.  Her belief was that no matter how nice the clothes and hair, a knife scar across the face was often a stigma to social situations.  The look had served her well as an Org-crime Agent, and by now vanity was of little concern.

Bypassing the elevators, Yoshi made her way down a sparsely furnished hallway which branched off from the main stairs.  Expensive looking brightly colored abstract art was framed down its long length, and small ornate chandeliers lit the intersections above each of the many wide doors. 

It was the 6th juncture down that drew her interest the most, with its pair of flanking Yellow Hand Snakes waiting with Mahn, their captain, her brother. 

The trio backed up in unison, when underboss Xais and their host, Don Bolanos, emerged from behind the closed heavy looking thick door.  The henchmen waited for them to pass as the door closed on the loud sobbing sounds of many women. 

A thinly visible fog like layer of ‘Anticipation’ had announced itself into the hallway.  From an adjoining door, a Mexican goon squad of 4 heavy security Dogs appeared, and took up static poses down the hallway.Don Bolanos and Xais continued murmuring together.  They passed the new guards and entered another room without as much as a glance in Yoshi’s direction.

Rolling the dice, the woman put a swing on her hips and sway to her breasts before advancing forward. 

The Dogs watched her walk with an interest bordering on lust.  But when they got full facial view, her sexy vibes evaporated.  A twitch of repulsion raced across their faces upon seeing how the deep scar across Yoshi’s nose and cheek was worn more as a badge than a sign of marred beauty.

Big brother and younger sister closed their distance, and stood facing each other a long moment without saying anything. 

The seconds clocked down only slightly longer than traditional, before Mahn flashed a wide white toothed grin below his T-glass shades.  Yoshi saw her own reflection in his eyewear as she copied his smile.

“Brother, you look good.”

“Sister, you are to kind.”

“I have an extraction team on standby,” she whispered while stepping into his wide embrace.  “ETA ten minutes.”

“We can’t go now,” his response was just as quiet. 

“What?  Is there a problem?”

“Yes.”

“Onisan, tell me.”

“A new element has developed,” he answered with a regretful tone.  “You will not understand.”

“What are you talking about?” she barked losing a bit of cool, pulling attention from the Mexican guard Dogs, and the swaying Snakes 3 doors down. 

“It is the envoy from the desert.  I felt him.”  Then adding more to himself than her.  “He is a trigger.”

“Who, that tall beach-bum looking guy?”  Yoshi responded, bracing him back at arm’s length.

“Yes, he is a prince of death.  And he must be stopped.”

“A prince of death?  What Chinese folklore bull crap is that?  Forget it, I’m committed to the play.”

The woman stepped away, prepared to leave, but he reached out. 

“Cookie, please listen to me.  It is not too late, underboss Xais is distracted and-”

“No, you listen,” she snapped quietly.  “I got an angle downstairs.  I brought a killer with me.”

He studied her murderous gaze a moment before nodding. 

“And I still go to Mars?”

“Hell yes.  But my man has already started playing his game.”

“That may not work now,” he concluded, keeping his volume out of ear shot.

“Mahn, pull yourself together.  I’m not giving up, not this close to the prize.”

“Yoshi, you should go.”  Then switching personalities, “It is good to see you.”

“Yeah, same here,” Yoshi agreed.  “Just you be ready.”

<>[]<>[]<>

© Copyright 2025 m w mccoy. All rights reserved.