THE TAKEOVER - Part 4: The New Boss

Part 1 - The War Council
Part 2 - The Offer
Part 3 - The Armenian Dick Head


I woke up the next morning well enough. Sandra was there and thoughtful enough to have sent someone for some clothes for me. Apparently she had me followed, figured out who Abdulian is and asked the Russians to bring him and his crew in to answer some questions. Of course, her story explaining all this took a good hour when it could've taken a damn sentence. Fucking Sandra, no one cares.

I changed clothes, took a piss and sent one of the Russians out for bagels. Then I went to finally have that chat with Abdulian. He was tied up in a small room, the Russians had beaten him pretty good when they captured him. “The tables have turned,” I said to him, “last time I saw you I was beat up and tied up.”

“And are you going to feed me to your Russian dogs?” he asked.

“You’ve been selling RPGs to the Chinese, Abdulian. The Russians won’t like that.”

“The Chinese? No. The Chinese import their own weapons.” He seemed sincere.

“So they didn’t attack us with your weapons?” I asked.

“Uh… no.” His answer seemed cagy.

“What do you mean, ‘Uh...no.’?” I asked.

He sighed, “In the interest of self preservation, I will say this. Those were my RPGs, but I didn’t sell them to the Chinese.”

I believed him. I thought about the events of the last couple of days. All we had to go on was Ivanov’s assumption that it was the Chinese who attacked him. He’d been encroaching on their territory for months, it made sense. But an old gangster like Ivanov would have many enemies, anyone of whom could have blown up his house and office. “Who did you sell the RPGs to,” I asked.

He chuckled and bits of blood and phlegm shot out of his mouth and splattered onto his shirt, “I sold them to Ivanov two weeks ago.”

I was stunned silent. I believed him. But why? Why would Ivanov bomb himself? Or did he? Is he trying to start a war? Was one of his men behind all this? I fucking hate mysteries. I pondered my next question when in walked two large, Russians with two handguns. One escorted me out while Abdulian begged for his life. The loud gunshot and Abdulian's slow, gurgling death only confirmed my suspicions. Now to prove them.

I went back to Sandra and pushed her for an in with her handler or boss or pimp, whatever you call him. "Just set up a meeting for me. I think I can work out a peaceful way to end all of this."

"It doesn't work that way, Gene," she tried to tell me.

"The only way you and I survive this, is through your pimp."

"Will you stop calling him that? He won't just meet with you on your terms. I'll put in the message, but he makes the calls."

"Just call it in already"

She pulled out her cellphone and began dialing. Then she got a worried expression on her face. “It’s dead,” she said, “someone’s jamming the signal.”

“That would be me,” Ivanov said as he walked into the room looking remarkably un-comatose. There was an ugly Asian man with him, “Allow me to introduce my business partner,Kong Rui Bao.” They looked awfully chummy for two assholes who were supposed to be at war.

The world just turned upside down and took a steaming dump on my head. I just stood there staring at the buddy-buddy crime lords like an idiot.

“While the CIA and the local dick have been running around chasing ghosts, our men have wiped out the Italians, the Albanians and the Columbians. Vegas is now ruled by a single crime-lord,” Kong said

“And which one of you assholes gets to be the boss?” I asked.

They looked at each other and smiled. Ivanov was about to say something, but another damn rocket came crashing through the window and exploded at their feet. This time, there was no doubt, Ivanov and Kong were dead. Sandra and I climbed to our feet and looked through the shattered window in time to see a smiling Wayne Newton wave at us with a fully functional bionic-hand. Newton dropped the rocket launcher at his feet and climbed into his waiting limo. With a screech of tires, he was gone.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Sandra and I said in unison.

“He planned the whole thing,” I said, “just to take over vegas.”

“Where did he get that hand?” Sandra asked.

I told her some mysteries are best left unsolved. She told me that she hoped she’d never see me again. Then we went our separate ways, but I had a feeling I’d bang her again someday.

THE TAKEOVER - Part 3: The Armenian Dick Head

Part 1 - The War Council
Part 2 - The Offer

I left Sandra half-naked in the SUV and told the Russian goons I'd call when I had some info. I knew Abdulian was in town, and not at his desert warehouse or overseas because he sat three rows in front of me at Cirque du Soleil last night, the dick head, but I needed an address.

I went back to my office and made a few calls. No one was in, so I spent time looking at porn while I waited. Eventually one of my regular snitches, a tweaker named Melvin, called me back. Melvin gave me the number a drug dealer in Henderson who used to play cards with Abdulian. After threatening to turn him into the police, and promising him a bribe, the drug dealer eventually gave me the address of the ridiculous, grandiose thirty-two room house that Abdulian calls home.

I took a ride out to his house and began planning my entrance. The dogs were going to be the biggest problem. I found a couple kids playing in a lot across the street from the house. I offered them $20 now and $20 after if they kept his dogs on the far end of the yard and not killing me. Once I heard the barking, I hopped his fence and found an open door through the laundry room.

His house was weird. I didn't like it. I searched for probably ten minutes before he and his shotgun found me.

"Who are you? Why have you come?" his shotgun seemed to say.

"I've come to ask you a few questions," I said, or something like that. We stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. He clearly had the advantage with his shotgun pointed at me. I began to wonder if I could draw my own gun, and even things out, before he shot me. I’d need a distraction.

I pointed behind Abdulian and said, “What’s that!?” Abdulian didn’t bite, he just shot me in the chest. Luckily, his gun was loaded with rock salt. I wasn’t dead, just in extreme pain from a hundred salt filled wounds… also, I landed on my keys when I hit the floor.

“I never kill an intruder with guns, Mr…. Monroe, isn’t it? I leave that to the dogs. But I do like to salt the meat for them.”

“You’re a cruel bastard,” I groaned, “saddling those poor dogs with high cholesterol.”

He chuckled and said, “The price of an enjoyable life, Mr. Monroe. The price of an enjoyable life.” Then he stomped on my face with his boot.

I woke up, hanging upside down from a tree, a pack of hungry rottweilers circling beneath me. It was night. I was just a few hours away from becoming dog shit when I heard a crash and shouting. A car had crashed the gate and was speeding towards me. The dogs scattered. I couldn’t see who was driving, just the blinding headlights.

Two large men stepped out of the front doors. One sprayed bullets in Abdulian's general direction. He and his crew ran, unprepared for the incursion. The other cut me down without saying a word. He dragged me to the car and tossed me in the backseat. Then we made our escape. Sandra was in the backseat with me, calling me an idiot. I tried to reach up and grab her titties, but my arms were sore and useless.

They took me back to the incognito hospital and put me in a bed next to Ivanov. That asshole was still unconscious. Then I passed out.

To Be Continued...

Part 4 - The New Boss

THE TAKEOVER - Part 2: The Offer

Part 1 - The War Council

I stood up, my ears still ringing. The room was in shambles. Ivanov’s two Russian goons were torn to pieces. Sandra was on all fours under the desk, “Damn her ass looks good,’ I thought. She seemed to be okay. I looked for Ivanov and found him lying on the floor, his face covered in blood. I checked his pulse. He was alive. I slapped his face and called out to him, unable to hear my own voice over the damned ringing. He didn’t wake up.

Someone pulled me away from Ivanov, some more of his men had come in with guns drawn. They were rushing around the room like chickens with their heads cut off. I stumbled through the madness and found the wet bar. I opened the bourbon and took a long swig. My hearing was starting to come back, I could hear the others yelling, but it sounded like it was coming from another room.

I took three deep breaths, then I took another swig. And then I saw the second rocket. I didn’t even bother to duck. Luckily, it hit a little further east. It was still loud as hell. I saw two russian guys run in and drag Ivanov out of the room. I grabbed Sandra out from under the table and we followed.  We all ended up in the garage and climbed into an SUV. Then we raced to safety.

As we drove out of the garage, I was handed an assault rifle & told to watch our backs.

No one followed us. We drove to what seemed to be an empty office building, but inside there was a small hospital staff. They took Ivanov and left me and Sandra alone. I set the rifle down and realized that I had taken the bottle of bourbon with me. Thank god for foresight. Sandra was texting on her phone or something. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to ask, “Sandra, who do you work for?”

She looked confused, “What?”

“For whom do you work?”

She ignored me and went back to her phone. Something inside of me wanted to grab her and slap her for it. I wanted to shake her until she gave up everything she knew. I reached over and started pressing buttons on her phone. She collapsed into tears. Fucking women.

“There there, honey,” I consoled her. “At least you still got that ass.” That was all I had. I wish you could just talk to women like they were normal people. As Sandra sat there crying, I took the opportunity to lift her wallet from her purse. I planned to take it into the bathroom later and quietly riffle through it, but I couldn’t resist a peek.

“The CIA!” I exploded.

Sandra looked at me then at her purse. “You stole my wallet? While I was over here crying my eyes out?” She yelled. “For a moment, I almost thought you were human.”

“You’re one to talk lady, you’re a goddamn CIA sex-operative.” I retorted. “And why are you all worked up anyway? What kind of CIA agent gets all cry-faced after a few explosions?”

“Like you said, I’m a sex-operative,” she said with disgust, “this isn’t the kind of action I normally see.”

I felt kind of bad for attacking her while she was vulnerable. She was only a woman after all, and she had a fantastic ass. I took a swig of bourbon and offered the bottle to Sandra as a peace offering. She looked at me skeptically for a moment before grabbing the bottle and taking a drink.

“So, why is the CIA tangled up in a Vegas crime war?” I asked.

She took a few deep breaths before finally letting out with it: "The CIA just wants a piece."

"Of what, Vegas?"

She nodded, "We can't have the Chinese or the Russians making moves like this. We tried approaching the Italians in the 70's. That was no good. We need white in charge. Making the rules and enforcing them."

“But why, what’s any of this have to do with national security?” I asked.

“Vegas is one of the largest recreational drug markets in the world,” she explained. “We need to control where those drugs come from. Subtle changes in international drug trafficking could result in certain areas around the world destabilizing. And whenever an area get unstable, they blame the USA, and turn into a terrorist threat.”

It all made sense, "That's why you were so interested in Wayne Newton. You wanted him as your pawn. I'm guessing he didn't want to play ball."

"We can't have a star either. Newton is too high-profile and he has secrets even we can't discover. That was why we came to you."

"Uh huh. So when he goes looking for revenge the CIA won't be in his sights. You came to me for action lady, not intel. You gave me fucking grenades!"

"Like I said, Mr Monroe, we need white in charge. That's why we came to you. We left you with a large sum of money and armed security. We had to be sure you wouldn't piss it all away in a few days."

"Aww... I totally did," I sighed.

"Listen, I'll tell you right now that if you get your shit together, I can station twenty men here and at your disposal, just to start. We just need to know that you are willing and able to do what we need you to do."

"No," I said very quickly. I probably should have thought it over for a little longer, but I just know I'd get assassinated. She was offering me the keys to the city, and along with them, a shiny red target to hang on my ass. The truth is, they were probably only interested in me because they figured I'd be easy to control. Part of me wanted to prove them wrong, but I was better off with Ivanov in charge, I had a good relationship with the ugly Russian. But as long as Kong was blowing shit up, the CIA were gonna be sticking their noses in things.

“If you accept our offer,” Sandra unbuttoned the top button of her shirt as she spoke, “I could be made a permanent member of your staff.” Sandra was the finest piece of woman I’d ever stuck my dick in. The offer just got a whole lot sweeter, but I still couldn’t do it. I can barely balance my checkbook, I couldn’t run Vegas.

I needed to think, and I do my best thinking when there aren’t any women around, so I decided to hit the streets, alone. There’s only one place in Nevada to buy heavy weaponry… from a small Armenian man named Jalal Abdulian. I wanted to have a little chat with Jalal about those RPGs I’d been dodging all morning. And luckily, I knew just how to find the little bastard.

To Be Continued...

Part 3 - The Armenian DickHead
Part 4 - The New Boss

THE TAKEOVER - Part 1: The War Council

I was out on a date with Double D. She begged me to take her to see Cirque du Soleil. We had a nice steak dinner first, then took a cab to the show. I got good and drunk and we ended up at D’s place. When I got back to my office the next morning I found two armed Russians inside waiting for me.

They escorted me to the massive casino that just opened on the strip; Ivanov’s casino. Ivanov was in his office, and he was obviously out of sorts. “My men waited at your office all night, Mr Monroe. Why?”

“A woman,” I replied, suspiciously. “What’s going on, Ivanov?”

“Someone bombed my house, Mr Monroe!” He was angry, but not at me thankfully. “Some piece of shit bombed my house! My brother is dead!”

It turns out while I was asleep a Chinese mafioso or whatever you call him bombed Ivanov’s house, killing his brother and a few lackies hanging around. Ivanov and his wife and children were also in the house, but were not near the blast. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. And now Ivanov wants to drag me into this fart storm.

Truth be told, I’d already made some Chinese enemies when I busted up Kong Rui Bao’s hooker ring. If Kong and Ivanov were going to war, the sensible thing to do would be to call my pimp friend Ronnie and head to Cancun with a few of his bitches. But if I had to get involved, Ivanov’s side was really my only option.

Ivanov made a phone call and in walked two large men in too tight suits and angry expressions. One was blonde and looked like Ivan Drago’s older meaner brother. The other was a young Joseph Stalin. “These are my… cousins,” Igor said, “Sergi and Valeri. They flew in this morning.” As the two men sat down, I realized, with no small amount of pants-wetting terror, that I had somehow become part of Igor Ivanov’s war council.

“Gentlemen,” Ivanov began, “Perhaps my secretary can get you something to drink while we’re waiting?”

Waiting for what, I wondered as I ordered my bourbon straight up.

A few minutes later, the door opened. “Ah, the final member of our party has arrived,” Igor said with a smile. I turned in my seat and looked into a familiar pair of tits. “This is Sandra,” Igor continued, “She represents an interested party.”

I flashed Sandra a friendly smile and she averted her eyes and sat down as far away from me as possible.

"Now," began Ivanov, "we start with Kong Rui Bao, the boss. We all know the name, but has anyone ever seen his face?"

Nobody spoke up. Thinking about it now, I had also never seen his face. "This, gentlemen and lady, is because he is not here in Las Vegas. He was here once eleven years ago when the Chinese first dug their slanted claws into this horrible town. He then left, leaving his head enforcer in charge. The triad bosses in China think he's here. Lu Peng Heng thinks he's in China. He is, in fact, in New York city. I just flew in from the Big Apple, where I saw Mr. Kong arguing on the street with a hotdog vendor."

I was stunned silent by his intel, but could it be true?

"We cannot get to Kong, but we can make him come to us. Right now there are 200 Russian brothers on their way to Las Vegas. In two-day's time, we will storm the Chinese compound and kill every man, woman and child with the exception of Lu Peng Heng. He is going to be our bait. Lu and Kong will then lead us to triad headquarters in Hong Kong. You four are here because I have special missions for all of you."

It was right about then that I saw a funny looking bird flying at the window. I was about to say something clever about how stupid birds are when I realized that it was an RPG. I dived behind Sergi and Valeri just as the window exploded with a deafening boom.

To Be Continued...

Part 2 - The Offer
Part 3 - The Armenian Dick Head
Part 4 - The New Boss