WMD Ch. 04

"Elijah, isn't it?" my Father turned to the cop warding him. "This is probably the point where you and your friends want to get back in your vehicles and call the City Attorney."

"Huh?" the officer whose first name had to be Elijah gulped. Dad was good with names.

"Fuck you, Samsonov," the Chief sputtered. "You don't give my men orders."

"Yes. There is going to be an official investigation into this and you and the other four need to get your ducks in a row as well as prepare the city of Kingston for the possibility of a criminal investigation," Dad continued.

"What? Why? I didn't do anything wrong?" he protested.

"Shut up!" Demetrius hollered.

"I believe you," Dad nodded, "but we both know non-law enforcement are going to be asking some embarrassing questions such as did you find it odd for the Chief to have ..."

"I said ..." the Chief threatened.

"I wouldn't if I were you," the Sergeant countered.

"... you and four other officers out for a pre-planned operation such as this," Dad finished up. "You need to think about your families as well as the city's reputation."

My Father had been speaking in a steady, compassionate voice, yet it had carried to all of the people present. The problem for Demetrius was my Dad was making sense, speaking like a fellow cop and it looked like the Chief was suddenly in serious trouble. It was 'all rats racing to desert the sinking ship' time now.

[...]

Mind you, this didn't result in the instantaneous destruction of Demetrius Quinterre. It did, after Sergeant Petrakis brought in a few more Highway Patrol Officers, mean an official investigation was opened. Then the dominoes began falling. See, by harassing Mom, Demetrius had threatened Madam Mayor's future. Worse for him, he'd sided with her husband in their family feud.

In the morning, after Mom and Brandy filed charges, the Mayor harangued the City Council into suspending the Chief and the officer who had felt up Brandy -- Without Pay. They didn't want to. The Chief especially was 'one of their own', but the Mayor insisted his 'corrupt' handling of the department made Kingston look bad ... so under the bus he went ... with his buddies assuring him he'd get his job back once the heat died down.

It was a poorly kept secret it was Chinedu Malik who had tipped off Chief Quinterre to our dinner arrangements and our departure into his trap. That became yet another reason for our Madam Mayor to rage against her spouse. With those two's lives beginning to unravel, the final conspirator who had raped my Mom all those years ago, Xerxes Pope, should have been sweating bullets. I would have been. That's for sure.

[FRIDAY]

We were all dragging ass Friday morning after our long stay in downtown Kingston. Taliyah, when we met her before Homeroom, was mopey, strongly suggesting she was suffering through a tumultuous home life. Before lunch, I was shanghaied into the Boy's Restroom by Randi Leigh for a short, brutal round of fucking.

Once again, I left her a shaken, shattered mess and once again, I felt more like her drug pusher than her lover. It sucked for both of us. At least Brandy was somewhat sympathetic ... if also horny.

Thomas 'Shaka' Sneed failed to cross the lunch area to settle any issues concerning Jewel Lafontanté with Mikhail. Maybe he was grateful to us for helping him to his car. Maybe he decided, after the colossal ass-whooping Jewel had visited on him, that they were definitely 'broken up'. Mikhail could have cared less as Alondra and Taliyah played 'King of the Hill' with the goal being his lap for most of the time period.

By the time we were dragging our sorry asses out at the end of 7th period, I was praying to put my head on a pillow. Jed Lee Early and three other rich, White folks were waiting for us ~ just me and Mikhail this time around.

"Jed," I nodded to him. We shared two classes, so we'd exchanged greetings a few times before.

"Vlad," he stopped leaning on the Shelby, "we should talk."

"Talk away," I sighed. This didn't sound like a 'fun' talk.

"Buck is going to be a serious problem at our school and ... I was wondering what, if anything, you Samsonov's plan to do about it?"

"What do you suggest we do?" Mikhail shrugged.

"Listen Jed, until he does something wrong ... I mean, we aren't the Law," I stated firmly. "What makes you think Buck is going to violate the terms of his probation and if he does, why don't you think the Sheriff and his Probation Officer won't be able to handle it?"

Under 'normal' circumstances I figured Jed would have taken his worries to Darius, or whoever held Darius' place before him in the Black hierarchy ... which was probably Darius' brother ... the one in prison.

"It is ... well, after y'all took out Darius ... students are wondering what you'll do about Buck before Buck decides to do something about you," Jed hedged.

"One -- we didn't take out Darius. Two -- we aren't out for the top spot -- period. We'd like to go to classes, play some basketball, date and eventually graduate in June. That's our Grand Plan. If our grades remain high enough, we'll go to a college somewhere."

"For fuck sake," Mikhail laughed bitterly. "This is High School. We should all be figuring out how to escape this place, like every other sixteen, seventeen and eighteen year old in this country. This is not the 'end-all -- be-all' of existence. Stop acting like it is."

"But if Buck really starts to cause problems ..." Jed persisted.

"We call the cops, like regular, sane people," I cut him off. "We've got plenty; city, county and State are all right around here."

"Plus over 8,000 National Guardsmen," Mikhail piled on the facts. "I hear they fly the A-10 Thunderbolts too."

"You aren't taking this seriously," Jed frowned.

"Jed, what do you want us to do?" I glared.

"I ... uh ... be careful ... about Buck ... he's ..." he stumbled over his bad intentions.

"Preemptively attacking Buck would make us as criminal as Buck, Jed," I explained. "We aren't criminals. We simply don't like bullies, thugs and injustice."

"But Darius ..."

"Vigilantism only happens when every other avenue of legal justice fails, Jed," I put a hand on his shoulder. "For that matter, the easiest way to check Buck's power is to not give him any. Don't knuckle under. What is he going to do? Fight us all? And the teachers? And the cops?"

"He hurts people."

"Then report him to the authorities," I countered.

"Did that help with Alexander?" he volleyed.

"I don't know," I lied. "No one seems to have seen what happened to Alexander. Pity about that too, because we Samsonov's are truly curious about who beat up our brother."

"Ah ..."

"That's right, Jed," Mikhail's eyes shifted over Jed's small crowd. "We'd sure like to know the names of the individuals who put a beat-down on our triplet."

"Oh ... okay," Jed nodded.

"We need to get home and grab a bite to eat before the game," I reminded Jed.

He nodded then parted so we could access the car. On the ride home, Mikhail was grim.

"Think any of them know who did it?"

"Not directly, but they might be able to find out from loose lips ... which might be sealed around us," I suggested.

"They should have done it already, not because their terrified of Buck."

"It is an imperfect world, Mikhail," I stated. "We don't surrender to it. We don't pretend it is what it isn't either."

"Alexander remains unavenged," he grumbled. "I know we didn't get all those bastards -- not by a longshot."

"Mom says to be patient," I counseled. "They can't come forward with what they did because that is admitting to Assault and Battery with Special Circumstances [their premeditation in ambushing Alexander], ... plus they would have to implicate Darius as well, which would ruin his martyr status."

"It still is infuriating. They bring in a fucking State Investigator for Darius -- everyone else seems eager to forget what happened to Alexander," Mikhail griped.

"Thus the 'imperfect world' and what happened," I consoled him. "Plus, do you think Mom has either forgiven, or forgotten? Or me? Or Dad?"

"Ha," he snorted. "They'd better pray Dad finds them before the rest of us do," he gave me a feral snarl. "I sure as shit hope he doesn't."

"Let's keep with the plan. We are still Strangers in a Strange Land."

That reminder was enough for the time.

[REQUIEM]

Once more, our esteemed academic Captain, Dr. Pierre O'Rourke Jean-Georges, led us through a rather confused and unhappy post-game liturgy in honor of ... well in support of racial unity, I guessed. It was really hard to tell with the way he would ramble off-point every few minutes. The Football Team was in chairs on the floor of the gym with the Cheer Squad and Student Government. The rest of the student body was squeezed into the bleachers ~ very cozy.

The Special Investigator also spoke briefly to the assembly, asking for our help on the case. The school was also hiring a 'Racial Grievance Counselor' who was, surprise, surprise, Dr. Nubia Franklin Jean-Georges -- our Principal's wife. I was kind of curious who was making the school system pony up the money for her services as well as precisely when the 'interview' process had taken place.

"I wonder if she's qualified," Kaelyne whispered.

"I wonder where they are going to stick her," Vicky mused.

"Oh, I imagine she is going to get 'stuck' alright," Mikhail snickered beneath his hand. Oh yeah, she was statuesque, smart, Black and projected complete confidence ~ right up my youngest triplets' alley.

"Ow," he play-protested after Kaelyne smacked him.

"I did that for Taliyah," she declared.

"She'll appreciate that," I promised.

"I know she will," Kaelyne smiled at me. After that disastrous Monday, Taliyah had been making steady headway in gaining Kaelyne's forgiveness which showed both her character (it was the right thing to do) and smarts (fear of my Mom).

"So ... Alexander, what kind of bathing suit should I wear tomorrow?" Vicky teased our eldest.

"One made out of edible body paint," he turned and winked. "Big Bob is gone all weekend to some Sheriff's convention in Miami, Florida. He goes to it every year." Alexander being sexy-nice to Vicky was ALSO a good sign for our upcoming weekend.

A withering glance from the Coach stilled our conversation. It was bad enough we were 'disrespecting' Darius' shindig. Our team had gotten their asses handed to them tonight in a game they should have won even without our star Running Back. It was easy to see having his father face criminal charges and loss of employment had shaken up Rashaan.

His first outing as Team Captain had been a disaster ... and now he had to sit here and listen to the various tributes to the guy he'd failed to replace instead of going anywhere else and getting shit-faced drunk and LAID. The prognosis for both were pretty grim too, ...what with the law enforcement being extra vigilant and the Cheer Squad being surprisingly inattentive to the Football Team's needs ... which he was also getting blamed for.

Darius had not only provided his players with victories, he had provided them status and perks as the premier athletes at school with the heritage of multiple highly successful teams being handed to them. Everyone 'looked the other way' because they were on the FOOTBALL TEAM. All the girls wanted to be with them. Their parties always had plenty of alcohol and weed. They got good grades with minimal, if any, studying. Life had been good.

Rashaan was having a horrific time maintaining that legacy. Not only could he not supply for his team, he couldn't even keep his own house in order. He had gone from 'three' hot-ass bitches (running true to type, the BBCs still refused to believe Taliyah had left him for Mikhail a week ago but now she, Sultana Berry and Randi Leigh Upshaw were openly gone) to none.

Sure, they could still get 2nd and 3rd tier 'skanks', but just seeing all that prime booty walking around and knowing it SHOULD be theirs and wasn't really bothered those student-athletes. A further complication was that under Darius, he kept the prime pussy specifically regulated both coming and going. That way the boys didn't have to worry about condoms, pregnancies and STDs.

He kept the players clean by keeping the mouths, asses and vaginas they were fucking clean. No player stuck his dick into an unauthorized hole because if you did, Darius would destroy you. The object was to fuck who you wished in a safe hunting ground. Rashaan couldn't keep that level of discipline among either the women, or his own teammates.

Rashaan also couldn't keep the booze and weed freely flowing. Darius hadn't shared his drug pipeline and wasn't likely to. Rashaan wasn't even trusted with the names of the entities capable and willing to buy and distribute alcohol to the under 21 crowd, plus Sheriff Big Bob's deputies were on the lookout for such shenanigans -- more than happy to slap the cuffs on anyone 'Contributing to the Delinquency of a Minor'.

As a final blow, his dad was no longer Chief of Police. Sure, he was being promised that ruling would soon be reversed; but for Rashaan, it was yet another blow landing at an unfortunate time. His problems weren't mine, and I had more than enough of my own. He'd have to sink, or swim, on his own.

We were released at 10:37 pm -- far past the time for any of us to have any fun. The Cheer Squad angled for us as we left the bleachers with Taliyah looking particularly livid. A few football players were making a nuisance of themselves, but I sensed her troubles ran deeper.

"Hey, Betty Jo," one of our linemen tried to separate out the pale-haired blonde, "let's head out and party." Two more moved to put a wall between my brothers and her.

"I'm tired," she complained.

"You'll feel better soon," he promised.

"Without your help," I grumbled. I wedged between the two, they put their hands on me and then Mikhail and Alexander drove fingers into each of their Solar Plexus. With them temporarily gasping for air, we put a perimeter around the other ladies while I put an arm around Betty Jo's waist.

"Boy," the athlete hissed, "you best let go of this piece of ass."

Betty Jo's eyes flashed from him to me, caught between shame and hunger.

"I'm not a boy, your boy, or anyone, but my parent's boy," I hardened. "I'd appreciate it you never demean Betty Jo like you just did either."

"Is there a problem?" a White Deputy working his way through the crowd called out.

"This ain't over, Peckerwood," the lineman snarled under his breath.

"Thanks for the warning, Dumbo," I mocked him. He had big ears.

"It is Greg, Shithead," he corrected me angrily.

"Separate -- you two," the Deputy demanded.

"Yes, officer," I backed off. I had the girl which was the important thing.

"Vlad?" Brandy cuddled up to me as we left the auditorium.

"All's good," I assured her. "Normal threats and insults. Nothing more."

"Betty Jo -- are you okay?" she turned her attention to the woman I was escorting along.

"Oh, I'm okay. Greg wanted to talk with me, but I'm not really interested in him anymore," and then she smiled over at Alexander.

"He doesn't do it you for anymore?" Brandy teased.

"Who?" Betty Jo pursed her lips.

"Greg ... the defensive tackle."

"Oh him!" she seemed surprise. She was Alondra's cross-racial twin alright. "Yeah. He and the other guys just want to push and pump me ... it feels so ... boring really."

"Not like Alexander?" Brandy led her along.

"Oh no!" she exulted. "Alexander makes me feel all tingly ... and he doesn't call me bitch, or whore, or nothing like that," she tacked on.

The crowd was dissipating as we moved into the Parking Lot.

Alexander was in the lead with Vicky and Alondra on either side should he need support. Mikhail was slightly detached off to my left, arm around Taliyah, deep in conversation with her. His normal cheerful carelessness was gone, replaced by a serious mein. Kaelyne was behind Alex, with the other cheerleaders spread out between us. At the rear of our clump, herding us along, was ... Mom and Jewel ... huh?

They were chatting amiably, one adult to another, not a teenager to a mother. That worried me for reasons I couldn't pinpoint. A little tug from Brandy reminded me where I was suppose to be paying attention.

"Some of the girls are coming over tonight," she murmured seductively.

"The only one I want to be with is you," I frowned.

A million mega-lumens-bright smile flashed across Brandy's face.

"Not bored with me?"

"How would that ever even be possible?" I gasped.

More pure, unfiltered happiness from my Lady.

"You make me very happy, Vlad," she snuggled in.

"Ditto, Princess," I kissed the top of her head.

"Hey," Betty Jo interrupted. "Are you anything like your brother?" (?? because, ya know, we were only identical triplets??)

"We are triplets, Betty Jo," I instructed. "We are identical -- in all physical regards."

"Does that mean your dick is just as big?" she asked with innocent intent.

"Yes," Brandy confirmed. "Yes, it is."

"Oh ... nice," she smiled at Brandy.

"Betty Jo, why don't we get your stuff and head out?" Brandy suggested. Betty Jo left my side with that smile still on her lips. "Will I see you tonight?" Brandy directed my way.

"I'll try," I grinned.

"Okay," she winked then off she went to round up the others. Mikhail brushed passed me, going the other way -- toward Mom.

"I'll be hanging out with Taliyah tonight, Mom," he addressed our maternal unit.

"Is there a problem?" she studied him. Jewel was silently observant.

"I'm eighteen, tomorrow isn't a school day and I don't have any chores to do I'm aware of," he ticked off his salient points.

"Why don't you say 'hello' to Ms. Lafontanté?" Mom was falsely polite.

"Hey, Jewel," his words were brutally sparse of emotion.

"Hey, Mikhail," she was somewhat amused.

"Hey, Vlad," she was a tad more polite toward me.

"Hello, Jewel," I projected much more civility than my brother. If Mom found it necessary to chat with Jewel, it was worth all our time to be more polite and Mikhail should have known better.

"Jewel, please give me a moment with my youngest," Mom separated from that imposing young lady and walked five steps away with Mikhail.

"I'm glad we didn't have a misunderstanding last night," I proffered.

"Why?" Jewel tilted her head and appeared to dissect my every word and move.

"Violence without purpose is beyond wasteful -- it is stupid and the product of nonadaptive minds," I stated.

"I don't recognize the quote," she smiled after a moment.

"It is a Vladimir original," I smiled back.

"I think I could have taken you," she added.

I had to think over that for a few seconds myself.

"Is that what you were talking to Mom about ~ asking to come over to our house and spar?"

"Perhaps ... that and a few other things," she allowed.

Mom was coming back. Mikhail was going off with Taliyah. Why? I didn't know.

"Night Ms. Lafontanté," Mom nodded.

"Good night, Ms. Samsonov. Night Vlad."

"Night Jewel and ... you would have lost," I affirmed as I turned to leave.

There was no reply. Before we split up -- I was going back home with Alexander -- she was hanging around until Dad finished up and dismissed the other Deputies -- Mom gave me a shoulder 'bump'.

"Nice one," she grinned up at me.

"Huh?"

"With Jewel."

"She thought she could take me with a rattan practice weapon and I thought to dissuade her of that delusion," I explained. It was the truth after all.

"Girls like Jewel ... don't take 'no', or 'you can't do that' for an answer, Vlad," she enlightened me.

"Even when it is the truth?"

"Especially if it is the truth," she smirked. "Girls like Jewel want to change the World, not accept anyone's assignment for them in it."