Strangle Grass and Squid Men

Strangle Grass and Squid Men

Cattsy

The train came clanking into Dulini station like an elephant wearing steel shoes. The platform was elevated above the ground by rusted steel bars, the base lost in dry yellow grass. “Gods microwave” was what they called Thabo’s basin, and it lived up to its reputation. The sun did not beat down on this dead-end factory town in the dead centre of the basin; it roasted it like a pig on a spit. When even the lightest gust of wind was a blast of heat straight into your face, it was no wonder why the people of Dulini lay around the street, instead of boiling alive indoors.

Dife Zandolit stomped out of the station, suitcase in one hand while the other kept his newsboy cap on his head. Everyone he passed took one look at him, gasped or ran out of his way. He stuck out like a gargoyle in a toyshop. Maybe it was the big black jacket, two sizes too big for him. Maybe it was the logo on the front and back, marking him as a member of Rain Dogs. Or maybe it was his scaled, dark green face and clawed hands that stretched down to his knees. He took out a note from his pocket. 29 Schlep street, ask for Peoria. He looked around. No one else was leaving the platform. With a deep sigh, he started trudging off into the town, him, and no one else.

Whole place smells like gasoline. he thought. No building was over two stories and some of them were charred black in patches. The streets were a mess of pipes, concrete and lampposts. Every sidewalk was bigger than the tar roads they sat beside. Mother nature didn’t like this town, and she made her opinions known. A tall, dry, dying yellow grass surrounded the outskirts of Dulini. ‘Strangle grass’ the locals called it. Every five hours the blades and roots would reach out, like a big yellow hand, and grow over and around whatever it touched. Every once in a while Dife walked past men and women in coveralls with flamethrowers on their back. Dulini had its own way of fighting back.

Schlep Street was empty except for closed down shops and two old men slapping dominos down on the sidewalk. Domino’s was not a leisurely affair in this town. They played like one seconds delay would make the difference between life and death. Dife tapped one on the shoulder and asked for 29 Schlep Street. He pointed towards a wide building, the only one with a driveway. In a big plaque was a metal sign on top of the building; a mutt standing on its hind legs, bearing its teeth at the sky: the Rain Dogs logo.

The Rain Dogs office was made up of two floors. The first floor was the main desk, behind it a wooden balcony overlooking the lower floor. The bottom was a man-made cave dug in underground with an incredibly wide workshop and smithy. Dife waddled up to the desk, tapping it twice to catch the receptionist’s attention. Her hair was black as a cloudy midnight, her skin as pale as a an ivory tusk, the only white person he’d seen in the whole town. She took her nose out of her book as she groaned out to Dife.

“Sir, we are currently busy, please wait- holy sh-!” she clamped a hand down on her mouth as she looked up as Dife. He gave a long, deep sigh, smoke coming out of his mouth. He couldn’t help breathing out smoke when he was irritated. It was a family habit, at least according to his aunt.

“I’m here about a request?” He reached into his coat and pulled out a letter. “From…” He squinted at the front. Not easy reading with lizard eyes. “Peoria… Johnson?” he continued. She stood up and slowly walked towards the balcony, signaling someone below.

A man in a bright colored shirt and loud suspender trotted up the stairs.

“What’s up Lucinda? Trouble with your fri- whoa!” he jumped back as soon as he reached the desk. Dife gave a loud, angry snort, sparks coming out his nose.

“Sorry man.” Mr. suspenders winced, hands raised.

“You the heavy I called for?”

“You Peoria?” Dife ejected. The man nodded. “Then yes, I’m your ‘heavy’.” Peoria chuckled, motioning for Dife to follow him.

At the bottom floor, Dife got a better look at the workshop. There were two rows of massive cauldrons, one of them bubbling with a green liquid. The floor was black cobblestone and there was a massive vault attached to the furthest wall. He glanced at the cauldrons.

“Whatcha working on?’” he asked.

“Vulture Chanjman. Take one sip, let your wings grow in and let ’er fly! You know what I mean?”

“No. Stuff doesn’t work on me.” Dife stuck out his long forked tongue. “I’m occupied.”

“That sucks.” Peoria said as he walked towards a board filled with buttons, gears, wires and levers. “Thought you took a dragon Chanjman, that’s why you, ah-“ he rubbed his face. Dife shook his head.

“Nope. Born this way.”

Peoria made an indifferent grunt then pointed to the vault. “Wait there for a sec, I gotta get this open.” He started pressing some button and moving the levers. Nothing happened. Suddenly he let out a loud scream and started bashing the board. Still nothing happened. He gave a loud, irritated groan.

“Our tech guy’s supposed to be here but…” he shrugged. Dife shrugged right back, taking a seat by a cauldron.

While Peoria struggled with the controls, a loud slam came from upstairs, followed by someone arguing with Lucinda. Peoria signed as the arguer started thudding down the stairs.

“Hershel, where you been?” Peoria demanded, rushing toward him.

“Haircut.” Hershel chirped as he strutted.

“Why you getting a haircut during work hours?!” He steamed.

“Because it grows during work hours!” he yelled back, heading into a corner filled with radio equipment.

“Shut up and open the vault!” Peoria demanded. Hershel flipped him off and started hitting some buttons and levers on his equipment.

The vault opened with a loud screeching, scrapping noise, like two battleships crashing into each other. Dife walked in, and let out a whistle. Inside, was an organic treasure trove. Gigantic tusks were bundled together in the back, too massive to fit in the boxes that surrounded them. Skins hung on the wall, preserved in plastic cases. Dife looked inside the boxes; horns, of many different sizes and shapes, about a dozen per box.

“This is what we called you for. Bushrangers dropped these off with us for safekeeping. Only way to stop poachers from killing is cutting off whatever they’re after, safely, so it can grow back. We thought no one knew we had this stuff, but then we caught a signal heading out of town. Someone found out, and they told some real bad people who are coming this way.”

“Which ‘real bad people’?” Dife asked.

Outside of Dulini, a group of three men sat near a stream, waiting, constantly looking at the blue sky. They gathered around a large record player. It barely made a slight shrieking sound, yet the Strangle Grass around them pushed back like they were in the eye of a hurricane. The smallest of the three sat up.

“Hey, hey Menzies why don’t we do something? I know a great card game-“

Menzies, an overweight man in grey overalls cut him off.

“Does it involve drinkin’?”

“No but-“

“Then you don’t know a great card game.” Menzies yelled, before lying back down on the ground, still scanning the sky.

The blue sky suddenly turned grey as a massive cloud twisted into existence. Menzie stood up sharply, slowly stepping towards the cloud, motioning for the others to join him.

“Here we go.” He whispered.

With a flash of thunder, the cloud above began spinning, turning pitch black before plummeting downwards. Hitting the ground hard, the cloud bust into mist, shrouding the five men and the area around them. Three figures moved out from the darkness, before suddenly stopping, heads raised. Dressed in black and red pinstripe suits, the yellow glow of their eyes could be seen as they scoured the field around them. The biggest of the three slithered towards Menzie. Up close, he could make out all their features. Dark purple skin, wrinkled and dry even in the mist. Where humans had fingers, feet and hair they had long tentacles, spiked on the inside. The tips of their fingers were constantly moving, curling back and forth. Their mouths were coved by a cloth connected to their suits collar. The biggest one slipped its hands through its head slicking the spikes and tentacles backwoods, before it spoke. Its voice was a mess of pops and clicks, like simply moving his jaw was breaking it.

“Evening Mr. Menzies. I believe you have something for us.”

Back at the Rain Dogs base, Dife stood in front of a board with labeled photo’s on it, laid out in the shape of a pyramid: All known mobsters in the country’s Kalma Syndicate, AKA the Squid Mafia. A misnomer, they looked more like octopus, but the Octopus Mob doesn’t really roll off the tongue.

“We’ve clashed a few times.” Peoria said. “Whenever we went to pick up the ivory from the rangers some low level grunts tried to snatch up whatever the rangers gave us.” All members on the board had two names, one they used among themselves, strange and easier to say with the pops and clicks of a mouth that can speak underwater, and a simpler name for their dryer associates. The head of the hit squad that operated around Dulini was one Mukuru Mampana 'Miguel' Gloktitotigi. Name waasier to say with a mouthful of honey. Mukuru was a powerhouse; just the thought of him knowing where the Dulini Rain Dogs base was a massive threat to Peoria.

Suddenly Herschel yelled from the radio room. “We got action! Three heading our way!” He grabbed a pistol from the table and ran out of the room, Dife running after him. Peoria stumbled over a workshop table before rushing up the stairs to reach the other two.

“Lucinda! We’re up!” he chirped as he passed the reception desk. She gasped, took a swig of a flask she kept in a drawer, leapt over her desk and sprinted out the front door with the others.

Dife panted behind the others as they ran into town. He heard the beat of their footsteps change and looked up. Lucinda’s hair was moving on its own, clumping together in strands that stuck out in all directions. Her legs started growing longer as her shoes morphed into three toed talons. She flung off her jacket as feathers started shooting out from the pores of her skin, from her shoulders to her wrist. Once the Chanjman she took as she left had finally done its work, Dife examined her new form.

“Oh I get it, you’re a secretary bird!” He beamed, a spring in his step.

“Piss off.” She replied, arms flapping, raising her a few feet off the ground. At the front of the pack, Hershel was scanning each street name.

“Where they at?” Yelled Peoria.

“Way they were moving, we’ll catch them at Bupkes street!” Herchel yelled back.

The four of them turned the next corner… and immediately stopped. Standing in the middle of the street were six figures, three of them much taller than the others. Peoria stepped forward.

“Mukuru.” He said, a hand in his pocket.

“Johnson.” Mukuru replied. It looked to the three humans by its side. “My gents, now is your chance to leave.” The three looked at each other, before dashing away. Both sides turned to face each other, each waiting for the first move.

Dife started sucking in the air, leaning his head back and puffing his chest out. Mukuru raised his hand, pointing his index tentacle at Dife. It shot out of his sleeve like a bullet from a gun, making a whip crack sound, hitting Dife dead in the cheek. The scales flew off his face as he flew back ten feet, hitting the pavement behind him. Dife’s hat slipped off as he slowly rolled onto his stomach, supporting himself with his knees and elbows. His face throbbed with every beat of his heart and he could feel the imprint of his teeth in his gums. Can’t get hit there again, he thought, rubbing the now smooth surface of his cheek. He heard another crack of a tentacle and rushed to his feet. He took a moment to find his bearing as he examined the fight in the street. Lucinda was facing the other two Kalma in hand to hand as further down the street Dife could hear gunfire. He straighted up and bolted towards Lucinda.

One the two saw him rushing towards them. Leaping into the air, it began raining down whipping blows, cutting into the street with each hit. Dife dodged the first few attacks, letting the last one hit him in the arms. This time the scales stayed on. Not as strong as the boss he realized. Before the tentacle could whip back up, dife grabbed it and pulled down. The mobster came crashing back into the road. Dife grabbed it by the neck and flung it towards the one still fighting Lucinda. It turned and caught its friend with one hand while the other dug into the ground, bracing down. It dropped its friend, leaning forward towards Dife, but before it could move, Lucinda pinned its knee to the ground with her new talons. Loading her other leg back, she moved her foot backwards and fired off a low rising kick, aiming to hit both of them. The impact bent them around her leg, before they flew into a brick wall with a satisfying crunch. Dife and Lucinda exchanged a quick smirk before going to find the others.

Hershel and Peoria had backed Mukuru into an alleyway with gunfire before they had run out of ammo. With the same strength and speed he had knocked Dife out with, he cut each bullet in half, baiting the two into a tighter area. Dife looked down at the alley, before he yelled to Lucinda, “Get those two out of there!” Once again he sucked in the air, puffing his chest out. He felt his stomach bubble and his throat heat up. He held it, letting the feeling get bigger and bigger, before: Boom! A massive funnel of fire burst out of his mouth. The walls of the alley started melting before he let up. He looked ahead at what remained of Mukuru: a black charred body still standing up right. He heard flapping above him and looked up. Lucinda was clutching Peoria and Hershel in her talons.

“Anyone feel like calamari?” Hershel quipped.