Oriphiel

I'm back again, with another entry! I've been playing a lot of '80s Hi-NRG lately, so to change things up here's a more funky and traditional Disco classic from the '70s...

Chapter Sixteen



A few days had passed since the meeting between the aliens and the Blue Shirts, and John once again found himself cooling his heels at the Three Fingers Club, which had been repaired since the last battle between the Red Sleeves and the Blue Shirts. He was sitting at a small table, the noise and music of the scene enveloping him as he became lost in thought. After witnessing the meeting, he and the others reported back to the leader of the Red Sleeves. They had decided that trying to convince their leader of the existence of the aliens would be a waste of time, and simply told him that the Blue Shirts were making deals with a powerful new outfit in town. Not one to act rashly, the leader of the Red Sleeves sent out a number of scouts to keep tabs on the Blue Shirts and to watch for any suspicious activity. Of course, the leader of the Blue Shirts was no fool; his new weapons would help him to exterminate all of the surrounding gangs and conquer the city, however he knew that it was imperative to keep his actions a secret until it was time to strike. If the other gangs discovered that he was preparing for war and gathering a new supply of weapons, they might take the initiative and attack him first. And since the Blue Shirts were on poor terms with the other gangs, being the largest gang in this part of the city and having recently battled the others in multiple skirmishes, their neighbors might very well form an alliance to finally put an end to the common threat of the Blue Shirts. This being the case, the alien rifles were kept hidden from the majority of the gang for the time being (save for the Boss' trusted lieutenants, including the ones who had escorted him to Luke's apartment). After the tense conversation between the Boss and the aliens had ended, and the Boss expressed to his lieutenants that secrecy was of the utmost importance, Stan remembered the Red Sleeve spy he had seen earlier and told the Boss about him.

At first, the Boss wasn't too worried about the spy having seen anything beyond a glimpse of the aliens killing Sam (a story which the rest of the Red Sleeves would probably never believe anyway), since Stan had checked out the fire escape again before entering the apartment complex with the Boss, and found that the spy had disappeared after Sam's death. But after checking up on Jason and finding him dead in the kitchen of the apartment across the street, Stan and the Boss fully believed that the Red Sleeve scout had indeed seen the meeting from the vantage point. The Boss tried to convince the aliens to leave the compromised apartment and set up shop in a more secret location that was closer to the Blue Shirt hideout, however they were wary of their new ally and wished to remain where they were, and as the Boss did not yet possess the firepower to contend with them, he deigned to oblige their request for the time being. Still, certain precautions were taken to prevent any more spies from being drawn to Luke's apartment; the guards around the exterior drew far too much attention to the location, and were dispersed. The Boss was able to convince the aliens to let a small group of lieutenants reside in the apartment. Officially, they were to protect the aliens, while also finding ways to get the alien rifles to the Boss discreetly. Unofficially, they were in charge of keeping tabs on them, and to prevent Luke and the aliens from leaving unless absolutely necessary. Needless to say, the window was covered with thick drapes, and the Boss did everything possible to keep prying eyes away from the aliens. Obviously, with the Boss taking such precautions, the Red Sleeve scouts found next to nothing to report back about, save for the usual amount of brawls and revelry. Despite finding no evidence to support John's report, the leader of the Red Sleeves still believed that there was at least some truth to it (as John was not the type to be wrong about such things), and he ordered his scouts to continue their surveillance, while also warning his lieutenants to be cautious in the days to come. John, while grateful that his leader was taking at least a few precautions against the Blue Shirts, still wasn't completely satisfied by this. He offered to gather up a large war party and force his way into Luke's apartment, exposing and destroying Luke and the aliens before they could provide the Blue Shirts with any support. However, the leader of the Red Sleeves wasn't keen on starting a war with the strongest gang in the area without being absolutely certain; he decided to wait until his scouts could gather up more information about the Blue Shirts' and their dealings with this mysterious new gang in town, ideally finding evidence of extensive war preparations, which he could then use to scare the surrounding gangs into an alliance.

By this point, John was suffering from multiple injuries, and the leader of the Red Sleeves ordered him to take a few days to rest and recover. John had no intention of disobeying him, and tried his best to spend his time relaxing in his apartment, however he was quickly driven to the type of insanity that one gets from staring at a ceiling for too long. And so it was that he found himself in his current location, a place that logically should be the antithesis of where someone looking for introspection ought to go. After roughly an hour of vacantly watching the crowd on the dance floor and occasionally taking a drink, tossing all of his possible options around in his head, he was suddenly startled by a voice behind him. “You were right,” they said. “Hm?” responded John, as he turned to face them. “I said, you were right. They really do always find a way to get this place up and running again.” John smiled as he recognized Cleo, saying “Hey! How’ve you been?” Cleo, who looked a bit pale, wiped her nose and replied “Oh, I’m just great. Been puking my guts out the past few days, but now I’m out and about again. How ‘bout you? Did you kick the shit outta the Blue Shirts, or what?” John, still smiling, looked down at the ground and shook his head. “Not really. I finally caught a glimpse what they were up to, but by then it was too late for me to do anything. Now i’m just taking a break, until I can figure out my next move.” Cleo nodded, and asked “What about that guy, Luke, that the Blue Shirts were trying to kill? What happened with him? Did you convince him to switch sides?” “No,” replied John. “I couldn’t reach him in time, and he patched things up with the Blue Shirts. Now, he and…” he stopped briefly, remembering that he had never told Cleo about the aliens, before continuing, “some guys from out of town… are on good terms with them. I saw one of them give the leader of the Blue Shirts his gun. Maybe it was just a goodwill gesture, but… well, it looked like they were making a deal with each other. These out of towners are tough, and if they really are joining forces with the Blue Shirts, then the Red Sleeves are fucked.” Cleo sat down at John’s table, stealing a swig from his drink, and asked “So, what’re we gonna do about it?” “I don’t know,” replied John. “I promised to take a break for a few days, let the others handle things. Not sure if there is anything we can do.” Cleo narrowed her eyes and tilted her head, saying “Oh, bullshit. We didn’t get the shit kicked out of us just to get benched now. There’s plenty we can get done, and you know it.” “Like what?” asked John. “Well,” said Cleo, taking another sip from John’s drink, “we could do some more sneaking around, find out just what kinda deal the newcomers have with the Blue Shirts.” “There are already Red Sleeve scouts watching them from every angle,” replied John. “Still,” said Cleo with a smile, “it couldn’t hurt to have two more scouts on the job. We won’t get in their way, and we might end up seeing something that they don’t.” Though John wasn’t pleased with the idea of going against the wishes of his leader, he couldn’t bring himself to simply sit back and let things unfold. After thinking for a moment, he took his drink back from Cleo and finished it off. “Fuck it. Let’s go,” he said as he stood up, setting the empty bottle down on the table. “Peer pressure claims another victim,” said Cleo through a smile, and the two of them began to push their way out of the crowded club.