Dark Future Short Stories - Eleven - All under Angelo's palm called for action
All under Angelo's palm called for action
"Yes, Sir, consider it done." Angelo hung up. He was standing up as soon as he felt who was calling even before he answered the call in his back office in the most exclusive of all table dance venues in pretty much all of Europe. He was the loyal servant of the boards of corporate world and in opposite to the biggest of all sprawls sitting in a pocket surrounded by chaos in which he kept up order.
The City of London was divided in the part he ran and those that did not entirely separate from the trash. They even played squash, a form of tennis played in a closed room that was first played in the old dock lands and prisons, an aggressive, fast game without mercy for bad condition or a lack of coordination, as no other no contact sport, - with them.
Those, his venues, the Gold Pot Clubs, not only had the most exclusive combination of interiors, bars and DJs, but required an enterprise level ID to get in. They were only located within the closed parts of MegaCon world and who came was called a ConSlave by those living in the chaos that took the world during the down fall. Most lived between gated communities in their small houses and villas with a garden, high risers they worked in and airport hubs they travelled from, beside especially protected vacation beach and mountain resorts. They even controlled a few historic small towns, but most of this earth was lost to chaos and run by gangs. A situation that could just too easily be ignored from within his world of order.
The call he got was an order call of action. It was war again and this time they faced the most scary of all possible enemies. He would have way preferred to go against his biggest competition, the clubs and night time go out places of the chaos that had contracts and agreements with the MegaCons he belonged to, but ... it was a personal vendetta he got ordered to take part in. And that was always and ever bad for business.
These two assholes, the boss of the biggest bank and this freak in all black swinging an axe when ever he could, were up on each others throats since he could remember. Every time the boss made a hit against the freaks affiliates he could buy a new coupé from the money he left in one of his places and every time the freak created a massacre in between MegaCon world someone needed catering for a large funeral. It still was no good for business, because both occasions tended to be excessive beyond any profit.
For a decade he and his special occasion security army stood with eyes wide open next to the constant conflict of bombs and bombing runs, assassinations even in high security spots, hacker attacks wipeing data and really important records and closed coffin funerals, in a war nobody understood what for, fearing to one day having to become active in.
Angelo took a seat to look at his first officer: "A whisky." While the officer passed on the wish to the always waiting in silence stripper waitress exclusive to his needs and those of is first office staff, he changed to "a triple Vodka, in a Russian glass" which was a medium sized water glass turning the single shot into a 4cl one.
As soon she left the room to the home bar room next door, he said to his officer what they would do now:
Angelo: "We are going to land from the island back again at the beaches of the poor south beaches. But not directly north of the vacation island. Instead he just told me to attack straight into the harbour town, wiping out every street sport activity, flooding our party pills on discount and taking over all places in the old quarter."
The officer took his phone and called the waitress still in the other room: "Make it two glasses"
Angelo: "Does this crazy asshole know who is buying our product?"
Officer: "He does not care. Ever. Things have to happen his way."
Angelo: "He is using us. He must know that this is a suicide mission, when pushing us straight into their main town. Marseille is basically their capital and biggest small trade hub. Every run away runs to Marseille. No run a away ever was kidnapped back by any contractor from Marseille. Instead Marseille sends them back to us in always 13 boxes. Each body cut into 13 pieces. Always."
Officer: "Mmmh. I can make a list of some we can exchange easily and keep the losses down. Maybe we should push some of the over ambitious lower managers that are up for action in there, too. You know. Those were asked to get on the needle to keep them compliant on their floors."
Angelo: "That's a good point. Them with some junky hit units. Lets check for hotels we can book entirely and have them drive down stacked with pills and powder. Than we see how long they make it and watch by their mobile phones. That's a good first wave. 20. Nah. Lets make it 30"
Officer: "I create a list"
The waitress came back just to hear the last few phrases and would send a message to the woman she cried out at the weekends to, as soon as possible, already hoping that Marseille would run out of boxes quickly.
Officer: "Did you see their latest toy? The street sport divisions' ?"
Angelo: "No. What is it this time? Bungee form high risers or helicopters?"
Officer: "Haha. Check this vid. They uploaded onto one of the channels in the P2P network they run, a vid from a hovercraft the size of a snowboard a guy is standing on. It's got a mini jet engine creating forward momentum and if it jumps it can actually fly for some meters. Like a hundred. That thing got so much power it vertically lifts 20 meter straight up"
Angelo: "And our soldiers need a double shot calmers when just mention parashoot low altitude urban ..."
Officer: "The vid is from Palermo, the analysts from security said and they have had it extracted from one of our girls who had their hidden app on her mobile phone to access the P2P network."
Angelo: "Peer News Network....what a pain. A free network from a free world. PNN. Peer News Network"
Officer: "Yeah. pathetic"
Angelo knew where this phrase came from and he was not sure what scared the shit out of him more: The chaos with their constant references to the world before the falldown, like to a public radio station in cold war Berlin, the fact that in his world nobody seems to remember what was before the downfall or that nobody knew who actually did understand here- but kept up the lies.
Angelo: "What are you waiting for?"
The officer drowned the glass and walked off reaching for his mobile phone.
