All Work and No Play Makes Jane a Dull Girl

[The Brotherhood]

It could have been any of a dozen clubs on the Los Santos strip - pulsing strobes, teeth-rattling basslines, an overabundance of chrome and neon, an orgiastic blob of humanity shuffling around the dance floor in various states of intoxication. The bar was busy, and so were the back rooms. Out front, you could buy all the pleasures of the legal night life. You went to the back for everything else.

In the front corner away from the dance floor was an unassuming cluster of tables. Nobody came here for a quiet meal, but tucked in the shadows where the music could be called merely ear-splitting were two men watching the front door. One of them was lanky and dark with his hair in cords and was nursing what looked like a vodka espresso. The other, an immense Polynesian man almost as broad as the table, was steadily digging his way through a party-sized bucket of wings.

"She gonna be much longer?" Geryon grunted after sucking the meat off another wing bone.

"Give her time, big man," Boomer said. "She's not late yet. You know how women are. Probably got to do her hair just right for the big interview."

"Just wanna get this over," Geryon said, and he prodded through the pile of bones for another fresh one.

Boomer swirled his coffee cup. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

Geryon eyed the room distrustfully. "Used to live here. Was never friendly with the Elevens, man. I don't like being on their turf."

Boomer laughed. "Come on, big man, you faced down special forces and gene traitors, don't tell me you're afraid of some knuckle-dragging gang-bangers?"

"No, man, I just don't like all this hangin' around," Geryon said irritably. "Makes me nervous." He frowned at the now-meatless forest of bones in the bucket. "I'm gonna get another one."

"What?" Boomer squawked. "Man, these prices, that's like another twenty-five dollars!"

"I didn't think we were plannin' on paying," Geryon said.

"Yeah, but..." Boomer stared, then shrugged. "What the hell. Get me an Irish coffee. I'll look for our mystery guest."

Geryon grunted and heaved up out of his seat to lumber toward the bar just as the front door swung open.

[Jane]

Jane pulled into the parking lot of the club, the neon signs splashing colored light over her as she stepped out of her car. She stood there for a moment in the cool California night, and then she kicked the door shut and walked to the club.

The music was thumping, and she cautiously pressed the door open, flashing her ID to the bouncer for admittance. She was tall and lanky, built more like a boy than a woman, and the clothes she was wearing had been purchased for their durability. The bouncer frowned at her, but waved her inside.

She spotted her contacts immediately - a big Samoan was extricating himself from his seat even as she walked up to their table. "I think you're expecting me.

"I'm Jane."

[The Brotherhood]

Boomer smiled, a crescent moon in the low light. Two of his teeth were gold-capped.

"Welcome, Jane!" he said, and he got up and leaned over the table to catch Jane's hand in an energetic shake. "The name's Boomer. This bundle of joy and sunshine is Geryon."

The hulking Samoan grunted and peered down a full thirteen inches at the woman, regarding her with the distrust he always held for strangers.

"Now, don't show disrespect, big man," Boomer chided, still grinning like a coyote. "We all come a long way to talk, brother to sister."

Geryon shrugged and nodded toward the bar. "I'm goin' to get some more chow. You want anything?"

[Jane]

Jane raised an eyebrow at the imposing Geryon, and shook her head to the offer of food. He left the table and she took a seat, pulling her chair out and sliding in across from Boomer. "So, sister to brother..."

She smiled, showing white, but slightly crooked teeth. "You can call me Zombie, if you have an aversion to mundane names." Jane looked around the club, and then back to Boomer. "So, fill me in on whats going on out here in L.A."

[The Brotherhood]

Boomer took his seat again and sipped from his coffee cup with the relish of a connoisseur. "Don't sweat the names; I can call you what you like," he said. "You meet Tron, scrawny kid with his head in cyberspace, he's anal about it. I tell him, relax, man, let 'em be called what they want to be called. Revolutionaries don't got to have a calling card."

He finished his vodka espresso and smacked his lips contentedly as if they were about to discuss poetry in a San Francisco cafe.

"We only just got in town ourselves, but we've had agents here for over a year now," he said. "You thought the mundanes were bad in New York, they're crazy here, all the way up to the mayor's office. Everybody scared of mutant gangs. This city's on a highway to hell, and everybody smells the smoke."

[Jane]

Jane fished a brand new pack of cloves out of her pocket and tapped it a few times before opening it and removing one slim brown tube. "I heard about that. Freaks United, right?" She winked, putting the clove cigarette to her lips and flicking her lighter. The flame sputtered then took, and she inhaled lightly to get the burn going.

She'd barely put the lighter back in her pocket before a waitress came over. "You can't smoke in here, sorry. You'll have to go outside."

Jane raised an eyebrow, but took the clove and stubbed it out on a chicken bone. "Sorry, I keep forgetting."

[The Brotherhood]

The girl wrinkled her nose in disgust and picked up the discarded tub of chicken bones. Boomer just threw her a lazy salute and admired the view as she turned to saunter off.

"Freaks United has been our way of stirrin' the pot," he said. "Their operations are about to get bigger. This is a delicate situation. One wrong move upsets the balance between mutants and mundanes. So..."

He turned his grin back on. "Naturally, we're taking a sledgehammer to the whole thing."

Geryon waded back through the crowd with another tub of wings, this one in Honey Mesquite. In his left hand was a steaming cup of Boomer's favorite vice.

The huge mutant settled back down into his chair, which creaked and ground into the tile floor. "So," he rumbled at Jane, "you're supposed to be some kind of muscle?"

[Jane]

She turned to regard the Samoan. "That's right. Some kind of muscle."

Jane looked at Boomer. "What about the local mutant gang... La Raza? Do we have any contact with them?"

[The Brotherhood]

"You've done your homework," Boomer said, nodding appreciatively. "La Raza's small-time, but they got a Hollywood-sized chip on their shoulder. We got eyes on them and on a half-dozen other mutant associations. You can't beat homegrown networks."

He took a measure of coffee and Irish stout. "But first we gotta make a splash. Do something everybody's gonna see. No more skulking in the shadows, no more back-alley deals. Mutants gotta stand and be counted. Either strike a blow with us, or stay out of the way. Freaks United is just the beginning."

[Jane]

Jane's fingers fidgeted a bit, and the lighting in the club did little but emphasize the dark circles under her eyes. "I'm not sure this plan will do more but make things worse for mutants in L.A. in the near future."

She eyed Geryon's chicken wings, and helped herself to one. He grunted in reply to her theft, and she asked, "What sort of splash do we have in mind?"

[The Brotherhood]

"One that can't be ignored."

Boomer's face went grim, but his eyes still smiled. It was an unnerving combination.

"We're starting with the Three Elevens. Biggest gang in Los Santos, and the biggest grudge against mutants. Hitting them serves notice to the whole city. And that's just the beginning. We escalate until the police take notice. The news takes notice. City hall takes notice."

He stabbed the table with a fingertip, sending up a small, white spark. "They already want to crack down on every mutant in LA, make it a crime to have the X-gene. We let them do it little by little, nobody complains. That's why we're gonna force their hand. And everybody sees the hypocrisy."

[Jane]

It made sense, in its own way. Several chess moves away from this place, however, was a mess that Saladin must see coming. What if the mundanes didn't see the hypocrisy?

"I was sent here to help by Saladin. So. When do we get started?" Jane wiped her lips with a napkin, tossing her chicken bone into the steadily growing pile by Geryon.

[The Brotherhood]

Boomer's smile returned. "Right now."

"Finally," Geryon grumbled, and he wiped his hands on a napkin.

"This club pulls in close to fifty grand a night for the Three Elevens," Boomer said. "We're gonna close shop on them, just the three of us. There's a bottle of Tequila Gran Platinum for the one who does the most property damage."

[Jane]

"Fantastic." Jane's brown eyes glittered in the light from a neon beer sign, and she smiled slightly. Geryon's expression of doubt at her ability meant that she had something to prove, and she intended to do so.

Getting to her feet she picked up one of the chairs and threw it at the wall, smashing several hundred dollars worth of neon signs. Her heart started pumping harder and she could feel the high starting. Jane laughed mirthlessly as the music ground to a stop, turning to face the bouncer as he came at her.

He put out his arms to grab her, but she countered with an overly strong uppercut punch that nearly put his lights out. The bouncer swayed back, and she followed through with a punch to his gut that doubled him over. Jane grabbed his head, smacking his face to her knee, and dropped him on the ground.

[The Brotherhood]

"Girl's got style," Boomer said, and he clapped Geryon on the back before wading out into the crowd.

The club's patrons were in a bad temper. Some of them shouted at the woman continuing to tangle with the bouncers. A few of them spooked and hurried out the front doors. No one noticed as Boomer slipped around the back of the club to the sound booth, grabbed the DJ by the lapels, and threw him onto the dance floor.

Then he grabbed the microphone, which popped and squealed as he swung the gooseneck toward his mouth. "Good evening, Los Santos," he said, "this is a very special night for me and my friends. Let's have some mood music!"

He yanked the inputs from the sound system receiver and plugged in an iPod, and his own selection (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wU8Fxdccuy8) pounded through the speakers.

At the same time, he hurled a glowing white orb into the rafters, where it exploded, sending a shower of sparks, lighting equipment, and frayed cables crashing down over the dance floor. The air filled with screams, and the nervous shuffle to the doors became a stampede.

Except for the dozen or so customers who pulled firearms, knives, or chains and rushed toward the two troublemakers.

[Jane]

The second bouncer decided against trying to grapple with her, and instead punched her right in the face. His fist connected with her right cheekbone, splitting the skin and rocking her hard to the left. Stumbling, Jane staggered into the table she'd been sitting at just a few moments ago, scattering chicken bones as she steadied herself.

Blood dripped down her bruised cheek as adrenaline surged through her body. Jane looked under her arm as she leaned on the table, and kicked back sharply, catching the bouncer in the knee with her steel toed boot. He squeaked and went down clutching his leg.

Boomer took the microphone and made his announcement and turned on the music. Jane grinned.

She held the edges of the table in front of her, and picked it up. Turning faster than the mundanes must have thought possible, Jane threw the table at the door to the kitchen with a shout. Then she ran forward to the dance floor, a chair in hand. She chucked it at the disco ball as she jogged by, knocking the mirrored monstrosity to the ground where it shattered.

That's when the weapons came out. Jane caught a bullet in her stomach as she advanced towards the back rooms, and she replied by closing the distance between herself and the shooter and grabbing the gun away from him. His eyes popped open wide and she beat him across the face with the butt of the gun.

[The Brotherhood]

Geryon monitored Jane's path of destruction with growing respect. He rose from his seat, his bucket of wings still tucked in one arm, and started wading through the stampeding mob toward his Brother and Sister.

A large gang-banger - but nowhere near Geryon's size - menaced him with a handgun, screaming a litany of obscenities and slurs. Geryon sneered at him, unimpressed, and sucked another chicken wing dry.

"Mind your own business, bub."

With a sickly wet crunching noise, a third massive arm punched its way out of the flesh below Geryon's shoulder and seized the Tres Once by the wrist. The gun fired a round into the rafters somewhere, and the gang-banger howled in pain as his metacarpals crumpled under Geryon's grip. Moments later he went flying through the air and rolling over a drink-laden table.

Three more Tres Onces leveled their guns at the Samoan juggernaut. He spat out another arm, trading fat for muscle and bone, and now looked more like a bodybuilder than a retired defensive lineman. He crossed all four arms in front of him and charged.

The three thugs emptied their clips, but Geryon never slowed down. He grabbed one of them and used him as a blackjack to pummel the others, then threw his screaming weapon into a mirrored wall, bringing the whole pane down in shards.

Geryon turned toward Jane and grimaced. Sixteen bullets wormed their way out of his arms and plinked to the floor, pushed out by regenerating flesh.

Boomer's smile flashed brightly in the now much-dimmer club, and he opened his mouth to say something when a hail of automatic fire from an AK-47 sprayed down from the balcony. Several more heavily armed thugs were emerging from upstairs where they kept their drug stores.

Boomer hit the deck behind the DJ's booth. "Shit! One of you take care of that, I'm not bulletproof!"

[Jane]

"Who's bulletproof?" Jane muttered, her voice lost beneath Rob Zombie's menacing tune. Geryon sighed, and shouted at Boomer for some cover fire as Jane grabbed a banger and used him as a shield.

After a moment the Jamaican mutant's hand appeared above the DJ's table and added its noise to the chaos. Jane dropped her twitching shield and ran at the stairs, taking them two at a time, Geryon thundering up behind her.

She still had a gun in her hand, and she reversed her grip to a more proper hold and squeezed the trigger. The Kalashnikov wielding banger turned to face her and took three to the chest. He went down like a rag doll, AK flying free of his body to clatter several feet away.

Jane emptied the clip at the other gang members on the balcony, causing them to jump for cover. The gun clicked on empty and she threw it away, charging at the nearest thug before he could recover and aim at her. She punched him so hard teeth sprayed out of his mouth.

[The Brotherhood]

Geryon waded through the balcony seating to take on the bangers who hadn't yet been subject to Jane's tender graces. Two of them went toppling over the balcony rail, and Geryon grabbed a third by the throat before noticing an illuminated glass sculpture standing in the corner - looked like a picture you'd draw of a mermaid after having too many vodka shots.

"Hey," Geryon said to the struggling Tres Once, "how much you wanna bet that statue's worth?"

The man looked at him in wide-eyed terror. "What? I dunno anything about it, man!" he gasped.

"Gotta be worth at least a grand," Geryon said. "I mean, I wouldn't buy it. Sorta thing's a status symbol, y'know? Listen, where do you keep the drugs?"

The captive thug kicked at Geryon, but his legs wouldn't reach. He looked about ready to soil himself. "Through that door, upstairs, third door on the right!"

"Hey, thanks, man," Geryon said. "Do me a favor. Go break that statue to bits, and I'll let you go. We've got kind of a bet going. And get out of the gang business. It ain't healthy livin'."

He dropped the man, who crumpled to the balcony floor, heaving and rubbing at his throat. Boomer came charging up the stairs, and Geryon turned to face him. "It's upstairs," the big Samoan said.

Boomer's face turned grim. "All right. We have to take this carefully. No one up there gets out alive."

He flinched as the remaining thug scrambled to his feet, looked forlornly at the stairs, and then grabbed a chair and started demolishing the glass sculpture.

"That one counts as mine," Geryon said.

[Jane]

"'Its' upstairs?" Jane said, raising one eyebrow. Her eyes were starting to blacken from a fist she'd taken in the bridge of her nose early on in the fight, and her stomach was bleeding from a bullet hole, but she was feeling no pain. In the brief lull of action she had turned her head away from the other two, and was now wiping at her nose and sniffing. It was important to keep her adrenaline up while on a mission - by any means necessary.

She bent down and relieved a fallen man of his Kalashnikov, holding it in her hands with practiced ease. With another sniff she turned to Boomer. "If we're being careful, what is it we're looking for?"

[The Brotherhood]

"Drugs," Boomer said. "It'll be liquid, probably poured into old stoppered pill bottles. The meth, the coke, that's collateral. The liquid stuff is serious."

"Don't let any of it get on you," Geryon rumbled.

Boomer led the way up the narrow stairs, taking care not to make a sound on the grimy metal. He very carefully pushed open the door at the top to reveal a dimly-lit hallway with several closed doors on each side.

Boomer swore under his breath. Any or all of those doors could be bristling with guns the moment they tipped their hand.

"Jane, with me. Geryon, cover our six. We'll start with the first door on the left and keep moving. Duck in if we get fire from the hallway."

Boomer advanced on the first door and generated a spark between his fingers. He shoved it into the keyhole, and, with a bang, the lock disintegrated and the door violently swung open. The dingy room was piled with cardboard boxes - nothing alive but the roaches.

"Clear. Next door."

The next room was cluttered with lab equipment that had seen recent use, but no one was there.

They moved to the third door, but this time the explosion came from behind. The door behind them was in splinters, and Geryon jerked, groaned, and stumbled as a large patch of blood seeped through the back of his shirt. He managed to tug Jane and Boomer out of the way before the shotgun fired a second time.

[Jane]

Jane found herself on the ground as the shotgun boomed again, and she scrambled to her feet as Geryon surged forward, one of his arms shooting out and grabbing the weapon right out of its wielder's hands. The man went down hard when the Samoan snapped the butt of the shotgun into his forehead.

She leaped over the fallen Latino, and threw an elbow at the next closest goon, breaking his nose magnificently. As he doubled over she felt a tug on her back and kicked, connecting boot to knee with someone who'd jumped out at her from behind the door. She leveled her AK-47 at the next threatening figure and unleashed a few bullets, sending the body twitching to the ground.