Dungeons & Gangsters 3 Read online

  “Let ‘em through.” B-Robb growled, shoving the orc with the shitty beard out of my way.

  I heard Chin Strap snarl and hawk a fat loogie behind me as I made my way over to Big Fat, who was once again lounging on his twisted up playground seat, making me start to believe that he never actually left it. He was wearin’ some kinda bear pelt hat, like a fuckin’ Russian Czar or some shit, and he was puffin’ on a fat blunt. He must’a been readin’ the newspapers and not liked what he saw, as there were scattered pages littering the ground in front of him and his ridiculous seat. Big Fat wasn’t lookin’ like his usual cheerful self. The top orcs on his crew, the ones that stood closest to him when he was sittin’ up there holding court, they were lookin’ pretty fuckin’ dour as well. Bunch a green heads hanging, maybe ten of em’ all in all.

  I approached, noticing that Big Fat hadn’t greeted me obnoxiously as he did previously, just narrowed his beady orc eyes when I came closer and continued puffin’ away on his blunt.

  “Big Fat.” I nodded with respect. “Geeze. One minute I come here and it’s a party, the next it’s a funeral.” I looked around at the gloomy mood, hoping I didn't just stick my foot in my mouth.

  “It’s nothing, just these badges. They’re pressing us.”

  “I thought they were on your payroll?”

  “Well, not all of em’. The ones who aren't are a real pain in the ass. The ones who are... are an even bigger pain in the ass.” Nervous chuckles rippled through the group. “We’re just discussin’ how to deal with all these assholes. Everyone gets squeezed until they squeal. Makes it hard on business.”

  “Well, pardon my intrusion on the brain trust you got goin’ on here.” I lifted the box of donuts up into the air. “I got somethin’ for ya. The one thing that's sure to cheer you up.”

  “Smart ass.” The massive orc broke into a cold grin. “Who told you I love them fuckin’ Dunkin Donuts?”

  I glanced down at his layers of blubber. “I don't exactly need to be told, Big Fat.”

  “Hmph. What are you doin’ here, hob? You got some good news for me or what? I need it.”

  Smiling back, I moved up a little closer.

  “I took a shot in the dark. A little somethin’ for you in there, get us started on the right track early. From the Dozen Diamonds.” I passed the box of donuts over to one of the orcs, who proceeded to climb part way up the fucked up playground equipment seat fashioned for his giant boss and in turn passed them gingerly off to Big Fat, who proceeded to snatch the box and greedily pop open the lid. Inside: the donuts and the couple thousand bucks. “And on top of that, I already took care of our West Virgina friend.”

  “Nice touch.” Big Fat said, gobbling a whole donut in one bite and flickin’ through the cash real quick, then looking back to me, grinning. “You sure move fast, Teek. I can appreciate a guy with a work ethic like that.”

  I sparked a cigarette and nodded up at the orc. “What can I say? I like to make a good impression. Only thing is, I only got half of the merchandise you wanted from Bridgeport.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well... some crazy fuck stayed in the store after they were closed up. He probably wanted to win employee of the month or some shit. Instead he got a fucking gash in his skull.”

  “I told you no bodies!”

  “Take it easy. There ain’t any.”

  “... You sure?”

  “I’m not one of your orc lackeys. I can tell when a body’s breathing.”

  “You got a real mouth, hob.”

  “All due respect, Big Fat, you're the one who told me the place was low risk. It seemed like a run of the mill mom and pop backwoods gun store. Didn't get a shady street vibe from the place at all. You sure this shop ain't gonna run to the feds?”

  “I’m not your hobgoblin boss. I know when a job is street level and when it’s not.”

  I gave him a grinning scowl of grudging admiration. “Touche, Big Fat.”

  “I told ya, that place runs all kinds a’ shady deals; cartel business, small time gang sales, you name it. They call the feds, they get pinched for far, far worse shit than you would for just an armed robbery.”

  “Just an armed robbery. That’s sayin’ something.”

  “If youd’a popped the owner, that’da been fine too, though a pain in the ass. Who needs the hassle? I think the fool got the message: pay your debts, and don't fuck with Philly orcs.”

  “Well like I said, it turned into a rushed job, on account of the civilian inside the store. But I got the goods in the car. Have my gobbo watching over em’.”

  He waved his fat hand at me, like the whole thing wasn't a big deal. “I’ll take whatever you have. Hopefully some automatics in there. B-Robb, send a couple a boyz to get em’.”

  “You got it, Big Fat.” B-Robb snapped his fingers, and a couple of orc thugs scuttled toward the parking lot, where Skreech was watching over my mustang and the haul of guns and ammo inside.

  “I’m telling ya, Big Fat Ton. The civilian threw my whole game off. This isn't like me. I usually get jobs done, no problems, no half ass shit. Just like the Dozen Diamonds situation. I solved it, no problems. In fact, Mikey Delolo is on good fucking behavior these days, just needed a good spanking.”

  Big Fat and some of his crew standin’ around snorted in concert at that. “Yea, I heard you made a hell of a good impression on Mikey. The fuckin’ guy’s been cryin’ the blues about a red devil haunting his ass these days—”

  “Not for nothin’ Big Fat, but in my book there ain’t nothin’ wrong with slappin’ around a sheisty slumlord that comes into your possession owing you some dollars and vulgarly refuses to pay you your due. Or am I readin’ the wrong book?”

  “...Naw, you ain’t readin’ the wrong book at all, Big Red. Might even need you to speak some of these words of wisdom of yours to some of my people.” He looked pointedly at one orc in particular who was standin’ off to the side, tryin’ not to catch his boss’s eye. I didn’t say nothin’ for a few moments, Big Fat had shown me some real respect just then which his crew varyingly echoed after him and I genuinely wanted to savor that. If I played my cards right, I just might move up the ranks faster than I get a hard on at a strip club.

  Suddenly I heard sharp, deliberate footsteps approachin’ behind me toward Big Fat Ton.

  I turned to see a figure parting orcs like they were the Red Sea, or green sea, I suppose. He was an orc... or so I guessed, because he had a look about him, a bit of a mongrel, something between orc and hobgoblin, maybe some human or some other shit thrown in there for good measure. This guy had leathery brown skin as far as I could tell, but with a blueish face that might have looked like war paint in some days past, but was clearly just the way of his skin coloring. He also had pointed ears, cheekbones sharp enough that could grate cheddar, and jet black hair, which he wore shaved on the sides and longer on top, braided. Guy almost looked like a viking or something.

  “Biggs, I’m here to talk business.” The guy was about my height, maybe a few inches taller, stood straight and lean, wore a long brown leather jacket, which gusted a little in the wind.

  “Refoul.” Big Fat turned to this guy, whatever he was. The orc boss lit up a fat joint as he gave him an audience. “My car fixed yet? I’m tryin’ to take it out for a spin.”

  “Right as rain, Biggs.” This guy, Refoul, nodded up to Big Fat Ton. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out why the suspension would just give out like that…” The guy had an air about him, almost theatrical, but subtle, like he wasn't afraid of Big Fat one bit. “But it won’t happen again. We installed a suspension that's fit for a tank. This shop I have my underling running, it’s top notch. You can get great quality work from anyone, if you know how to motivate them.”

  Big Fat cocked an eyebrow down at Refoul. “Tony Robbins over here.” The fat orc glanced around and his thugs all chuckled at the jibe.

  Refoul didn't laugh, or smile. His face was a fucking anvil.

  “If you
ever wanna get made, Refoul, you're gonna have to learn to take it easy. It's all fun n’ games here.” Big Fat took an overly large hit on his joint and started coughin’, his big plump guts shaking and wobbling with his coughs.

  “You're right.” Refoul raised his hands up by his shoulders in a ‘the fault is mine’ gesture. “You're right, Biggs. It’s my fault. You gotta understand, sometimes we aren't all on the same intellectual level, and don't understand one another.”

  This cat, Refoul, he seemed a sharp one, seemed like a real up and comer, the way he carried himself. Maybe he might know somewhere I could take the Mustang, I thought, quickly peering over at my car, sittin’ not-so-pretty over by the curb, which was lookin’ decidedly dirty and beat the fuck up since knockin’ over the train with the girls back in Vegas, now taking a road trip out to bum fuck West Virginia. Not to mention, at this point I was still feeling out the new layout of the city, who was running what, and any contacts or allies I could get were as good as gold. Fixing my car might be a good way to make a new connection.

  “Yo, Teek, mmblm.” Big Fat was chewing donuts like crazy. “Gotta hand it to ya, that donut box was slick. Mmlgh. Real good shit.”

  I nodded, smirkin’ up at him. “I figured you could put it to good use, one way or another.”

  “Listen, are we talking about donuts or are we talking about your car?” Refoul suddenly leered at Big Fat, which made me pause for a moment.

  “There you go again,” Big Fat licked his fingers. “Teek, can you believe this guy brings in more money for me than some of my made guys? All of it through tree. He’s basically the only supplier in the city these days, what with the feds cracking down on the Underdark border crossings n’ all. I’m telling ya, he’s swimming in a sweet, smokey haze. You'd think he’d be more mellow with all that tree, right?”

  I glanced over to Refoul, caught the two different colored eyes surrounded by his blotchy, blue leathery skin. I had to play it smart, know who to win over, who to push down, how to defuse a situation, how to escalate one. Making the right allies and the right enemies was everything in this game. “I don't know Big Fat.” I shrugged. “Don't get high on your own supply is the first rule of the business, no?”

  “Eghha!” Big Fat guffawed. “I’m a terrible business man then hawhawgh! But good point, hob, good point. You know, it’s good to have both of you’s working for old Big Fat. You two got brains, sharp ones. Refoul, Teek’s been doing some good work for me. You might get him acquainted with the tree business, down the road. I might let him start slinging on his 20 x 20, if he keeps proving himself.”

  “And what's in it for me?” Refoul asked coldly.

  “Besides more money?” Big Fat rumbled a laugh, and I noticed some of his crew joined him. “Listen, I got somethin’ in the works, somethin’ you might be able to play a little part in, if you keep running a tight ship. Not something I can quiet speak on yet, but it’ll be the way I do everything: BIG.”

  “I like big.” Refoul nodded.

  Big Fat turned to me. “Well, that’s it for now, hob. Come back next week and I’ll have something for ya. As for you, Refoul, head over to the stash spot, the one over on Charlie Street. Tell Doogie to give you the cop’s kick, the whole thing, minus a thousand bills. Then take it over to the 15th precinct, alright?”

  “Alright... fine, but when am I gonna get off the errand running? I wanna grow my business. I asked you about expanding two months ago, and you still got me on this Mickey Mouse shit.”

  “Hey.” This time it was Big Fat who got serious. “I just said Teek would help you expand. Keep pushing it, you fucking mongrel, and we’ll see what’s what. What you do two towns over is none of my fucking concern, but you wanna so much as sell used condoms on my turf, I’m gonna know about it, I’m gonna approve, and I’ll do it on my time. Now get the fuck out of here and when you come back, make sure you come without a stick up your cheeks.”

  Refoul shook with rage, his multicolored eyes unblinking. “Okay... Big Fat Ton,” he hissed, taking long breaths. This seemed to calm him some. “I apologize again. It’s these prescriptions they got me on, for the cholesterol. I swear.”

  “Just do your job.”

  “Get the money to the precinct. I’m on it.”

  “Good. Good. And while you're at it, smoke some of those tons of weed you're running. You too, hob. I’ll see you in a few.”

  Refoul nodded back to his big fat boss, then started to trek his way over to the opening in the chain link fence. He didn’t notice me fall in stride with him ‘til I started to talk.

  “Yo, Refoul.”

  The semi-orc looked over, mildly surprised, but kept his stride up. “Yeah? What?”

  “You...” I thought a moment, didn't want to sound desperate, wanted to offer something of value before I went asking for information, for a connect. Figured I’d throw this shop he was running some business, and that’d be a way for us to connect without it seeming like he was doin’ me a favor. “You strike me as a fella that knows where a pal might be able to take his ride for a fixer-upper, and for the right price.”

  Refoul stopped a little before we reached the fence, eyed me up and down. “Let me think.” He rubbed a bristly chin with his blotchy fingers. “Yea. If price is your concern, there’s a spot nearby. A Jiggy’s a couple blocks over that way.” He pointed vaguely to the left. “The work ain’t the best, but it’ll get you by. Fuckin’ owner’s a dwarf, but his wife is a real piece of tail.”

  “I’m good on that—I’m an earner.” I suddenly felt a little self conscious. Us hobs take pride in our wealth. “I can afford quality.”

  Shrugging, Refoul went on. “Well if you're a standup guy, then there’s El Dorado’s, right around the way on Frankford. Human named Quentin runs it. He’s my earner. He lets elfs work for ‘em, but he’s alright. Matter of fact…” Refoul narrowed his eyes, looked at me somewhat conspiratorially. “We’ve got great fuckin’ tree running through there when you’re to get in the game. Real exotic shit. Prices are a little high though, just to warn you.” He smirked. “Both the cars and the chronic. That’s why only standup guys can really do business with us.”

  “I’m in. Good tree is worth the price, both for recreational use... and who knows, maybe even for resale.” I nodded to ‘em, pulled out a few hundreds, held them out to him. “Somethin’ to get me started.”

  The orc looked at the money for a moment.

  “The fuck do I look like? A vacuum salesman? Besides, you heard Big Fat, he might let you sling, but not yet.”

  “I didn't mean anything by it.” I put the money away, and tried to feel him out, as his two different colored eyes were filling with anger. Then suddenly the tension broke and he seemed at ease again.

  “Forget about it, just tell Quentin that Refoul sent you his way. Besides, you’re practically part of the team now. I heard Big Fat earlier. Called you Big Red.” He raised an oddly perfectly manicured eyebrow at me. “Might not mean much to you, but there’s orcs ‘round here waitin’ their whole lives for an honor like that. And us mongrels, well we’d have to wait even longer than that, practically have to lose our dick just to get so much as a ‘hey, good job.’”

  “I appreciate... the compliment.” I nodded to him again, considering what he had said and glancing toward my mustang. “Well, I’ll pay a visit to El Dorado. Quentin at El Dorado. Thanks man.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m sure we can discuss further business when the time is right.”

  Chapter 3

  “Yes! You're filling me up! Hah! Ah! Ah!!! You're so lovely, Big Red!” the tiefling moaned. The one leg that I had propped up on my shoulder dangled back and forth as I lanced my dick inside her. Her skin, a silky charcoal color, was beginning to bead with sweat, her perky, round tits bobbing hypnotically.

  “Damn, girl.” I grunted, squeezing my red hand around her ankle to place her other leg at just the right angle. “With legs this long you... should be on a runway.” It was true, the tiefling
girl, Night Honey as she’d called herself, was tall and willowy, even had a couple of inches on me with heels. She had a long face too, with a round forehead, thin lips, gaudy fake lashes, swirling crimson hair. I was having her call me Big Red, after feeling all puffed up from Big Fat calling me that. This gorgeous tiefling girl with the shining black horns was reclining back on a real fancy daybed, the kind you’d see in old timey paintings n’ shit. Meanwhile, I was standing at the edge of it, giving her the business, the white lingerie on her body covering her like she was a million dollar gift. Bula, the last girl I’d sampled at the Bards and the Bees, wasn't working tonight, and so I thought I’d try something a little different, give another girl some work. Though I’d hardly call what Night Honey was doin’ work exactly, as I was really making sure she enjoyed herself, aiming for her third cumm before I even had one. What can I say, deep down, I’m a givah. FFP! FFP! FFP! FFP! Our hips collided, her whole body bouncing. “Yeah, baby... you're almost there again, I can feel you squeezin’ me real good.”

  “Ungh! Ungh! Yes. Ah! Ahnnn! Yes... Big Red! I’m—I’m cumming!!!”

  On the other hand, the girl behind the curtain, she was working. Her voice, still feminine but a lot huskier than Night Honey’s was coming through the silk curtain dividing the room.

  “Mmngh! Mmngh! Yeah! Yeah, little man!”

  I could see Skreeche’s little silhouette through the curtain, riding her like she was a friggin’ racehorse and he was a jockey. And they might as well have been because she was a huge orc girl and he, well, he was Skreech.

  “Nragh! Rhee! Rhee! Ngah! Gragh!” The little gobbo was goin’ wild, having the time of his life as he clapped those gigantic cheeks. The poor bastard got laid once or twice a year, basically when I got him someone, so when he finally had a girl, he had months of pent up goblin horniness to blow off. Though now that we were in Philly that might change, as there were a lot more goblins out on the East Coast than on the West. For better or worse—probably better—most females of other races didn't fuck with goblins. I’d asked Madame Pleasure to give him the biggest orc girl she had, and boy did she deliver. This girl that he was riding, Arianna Escalade, she must have been 300 pounds. I would’a felt bad for Skreech, but Ari Escalade wasn't a ball of lard at all. Sure, she most definitely had a good deal of extra cushion to her, but good lord did she have muscle under that too—girl looked like she could squat a truck. This made it so she still kept a very feminine hourglass shape rather than turning into some kinda blob like I’d seen some human and even a few orc women turn into when they packed it on.