Guru of the Alleys/The Streets never seemed so Sinister

From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe

Guru of the Alleys had a hard struggle to the top of the totem pole. This is bits and parts of his hard climb to the top.

Chapter One: Where are my punks?

The warehouse storage room was damp and dark, packed with boxes of grenades, guns, chemicals, and random salvaged technology. Slug wasn't interested in anything but portable fire-power. Slug Bang Boom, a skull with aspirations for something more... wasn't bracing for the impending attack from Paragon's Heroes, like the other Skull gang-members. He knew blocks got cleaned of crime almost monthly... and another power slowly swept up the clean hoods. It had happened to his chapter of Skulls once before. It will happen to them again, but it won't happen to Slug. Slug scanned the lifeless storage room, cracking open boxes that said anything remotely dangerous sounding, pocketing grenades, six-pieces, and sub-machine guns into a large old hockey-bag. "Bloody Punkertons, jumping the defence card, man. I'm not here for this stuff!!" Slug spewed, as he kicked, stomped, and smashed boxes open. A large clatter sounded on the opposite side of the warehouse, shortly followed by deafening holler, "HOOOOY!!! SLUG!!!" Slug popped his head up out of the box he had just opened of old Ascendant-Os.

"Wha'hizz'it!?" He shouted back into the darkness. A huge mass of muscle and tattoos emerged from the darkness, heaving a heavy box towards Slug.

"Oi, Bizz-Oi. Lookie here, Slug. Found the real gear, bro." The huge man said.

"Damn, Tatz, you’re my new eyes and ears if you can find stuff in this junk, B." Slug remarked.

Tatz the Tuff-B, Slug's main man is always two steps behind him, and usually brings some serious muscle. Slug stared blankly at the box Tatz hefted to him. It held metal-skulls, over-coats, several old revolvers, and a suit-case filled with superdine. "Must be the big-G's secret stash, Tuff-B. Box it up, mang, we got to split soon." Slug said, as he turned and dropped his hockey bag after seeing Tatz's find and proceeded to head to the exit. Tatz crushed the lid back on, and strapped it closed with a near-by bungee cord, and heaved the box back into his arms, stomping towards Slug and the exit.

Tatz the Tuff-B was one of the biggest Skulls in the Slug's chapter, and was also his best mate. They had met after Slug joined the Skulls, and saved Tatz from a gang of Hellions that overwhelmed him. The intimidation of two large magnum-revolvers was the only thing that saved Tatz that day. Slug had other powers, powers worthy of becoming a caped-crusader, but he had chosen another path. The path he knew from the day he was born, the Streets. Besides, if he flaunted his powers, he knew someone eventually would bend him to be a permanent lackey in the Skulls, Crey, and any other group of social terrorists, or take him as a freak and gun him down. Slug knew he wasn't ready for the threats of becoming a widely known crime-lord yet. He'd have to build his empire on the bodies of this soon to die chapter of the Skulls.

Tatz finger-snapped repeatedly before Slug. "Oi, Slug. Slug, wake up bro. We got to get moving." Tatz whispered harshly. Slug slowly came to his senses and heard maniacal chanting of the Skulls in the main warehouse complex, including random gunshots fired into what he assumed was the metal ceiling. "Alright, let’s blow this candy Shoppe, Tatz. Jus' keep your head down. Lets hope the other boys are holdin' up their side, Bro" Slug spewed as kicked the side-exit door open and slid out of the deep, dark, and dank warehouse storage area.

On the inside of the Warehouse compound, billows of smoke and tense voices protruded the flickering street-lights and distant city clamour. Four Skull-gang members stuck to the side of a warehouse, near an exit door. There was trash all about them, most noticeable being empty barrels and wooden pallets stacked ten feet high. "Man, their so late, duude. Duuuude, this ain't right man. This jus' ain't right, man! What’s taking them so long?" exclaimed a Skull peering out from a corner of the warehouse building bend with three other gang-members. Slug let them in on what he knew about the impending attack. It wasn't just one hero. The Skull leaders said otherwise. They said it was a routine Paragon Police Department raid, but that seemed too odd for Slug. After all, his Skulls chapter had pinned up a beaten and stripped hero with his license taped to his head to the front of city hall only four days ago. The backlash of such a thing couldn't be as small as a PPD raid.

"Man, shut it. Slug wouldn't leave us to fry. He knows what’s-up. Just hope the big-Gs haven’t found out what we're up to." another Skulls gang member remarked.

"Yo, cut the chatter. They see us with these bags, and we'll do more than fry, and Peep, shut the hell up man. Slug said he'll be here, he'll be here." a larger Skulls-member grouched. "He's going to be here. He's gotta be here soon." The other gang-members looked in growing doubt between each other. Fifteen minutes late was a huge sign in tense moments like these. Suddenly, the door on the side of the warehouse compound swung open, and two figures stepped out into the dim lights of the wall mounted lamps. A skinny, long legged, pale, scarred face man stepped out, wearing a torn Skulls shirt, boot-tucked black cargo pants, metal skull stompers, and a torn sleeve trench-coat with small mounted metal skulls on the shoulders. The second man wore chains around his arms and chest, a spiked heavy belt, black cargo pants, and huge motorcycle boots in black leather.

"'Sup Punkertons?" Slug exclaimed with his hand pumping above his head.

"Slug! Your late, bro! What took you so long!” popped a gang-member. Slug turned around and patted the box that Tatz the Tuff-B hauled behind him. "He had to find the good stuff."

"Eyes like a hawk, Bro! Tatz for Prez!" The muscle man quirked. Another gang-member jokingly hummed "Hail to the Chief" and paraded around Tatz. The farthest gang-member, who had stayed silent the most flicked his cigarette out of his mouth and stepped on it. No one seemed to notice his odd facial expression. The clamour around Slug occupied their attention.

"So, Tatz, pop the box bro. Lets see what we're working with." the closest gang-member said. "Chyeah, c’mon G. No holding out" "Yeah yeah, keep chuu'r panties on." Tatz retorted, and dropped the box. The gunshots on the inside of the far warehouse grew, but no one seemed to notice. The lid came off as quickly as the box landed, and the gang-members pass ammo, revolvers, fire-bombs, sunglasses, bandanas, and small metal skulls between each other. Slug just stood and looked on, measuring every-one of his new followers. Three needed work, one was as grizzled as he'd get. "Alright, we better move on outta here soon," Slug started, "This place is going to get pretty hot soon."

"Chyeah lets ro--" one gang-member started, until the rapid firing of weapons began. They were loud and much too heavy duty sounding for Skull's weapons. The group stood silent for a moment, looking back at the far warehouse behind them before one murmured "Hot daymn... clean this stuff up, we gots ta go, Gz."

The gang members sprung into action and started to load guns while Tatz and Slug stood calmly. "Before this goes on... I need some names, B. I ain't rolling with nameless thieves, Punks."

One gang member stood up baffled. "Names? You know our names, Slugs." "I know your Skull names; we ain't rolling that no more."

An explosion sounded in the distance, and eyes perked back to the scene of battle that looked like a lifeless warehouse with gunshot flicking windows. Slug proceeded to crouch and speak in a hurried tone. "Names, give me names, Bros!"

"Uhh... Peep." "Mad-Bones" "Timmy the Tops" "The Identity-stealer"

Slug paused, and looked back to the silent gang-member. He said a name that troubled Slug. Tatz felt it too, something wasn't right. The back door of the far warehouse blew open, setting fire to a nearby van. The blast scared the gang-members into a speedy retreat behind cover of barrels, wall-sections, and wood pallets. All except the one gang-member named "The Identity-stealer."

Slug's hearing suddenly dead, and he saw a nearly punched in head of the thug who called himself "Timmy the Tops."

"HERO!!" Slug screamed, although he couldn't hear it. He peeked out of his cobbled cover only to see Tatz the Tuff-B going punch for punch with the thug dressed hero "The Identity-Stealer", and losing. Slug's eyes flared an intense light blue, and black mist began to envelope his body, trailing small rivers of black liquid to pool around the Hero's feet. Black tendrils quickly spouted out of the pool and coiled the Hero's legs, slowly wrapping around his knees, and pulling him to the ground. Slug's veins spouted from his neck as billows of black mist pour out of his boot-bottoms. "Cap that punkerton, Boys! Get to it!" He screeched. The Hero slowly toppled to his knees from the grasp of the Tendrils, while Tatz the Tuff-B wiped the blood from his lip a couple steps back, out of range from the Hero's fearsome blows. Previously ownerless revolvers and Uzis blared in the night. The firefight drowned out all the other sounds of explosions, and gunfire from the far warehouse battle. The Hero gritted his teeth, and withered himself into a fetal position. Bullets whammed into his body relentlessly, although they did not pierce him, they cause considerable amounts of pain.

Slug signalled for a pause of aggression from his new men with a raised hand with a clenched fist. They all knew what this meant, and fired off their remaining rounds, slinking back into cover. Breaths came hard for all the men but Slug, who stood up calmly but previously startled, with black mist still streaming from his legs and trailing to the immobilized hero, now slumped and covered in allot of small bullet-size bruises.

"Get the van, Meat-bone, or whatever." Slug exhaled quietly before the Hero.

"Uhh... yeah, on it, Slug" Mad bones replied, stepping back with eyes on the entrapped Hero before dashing off into the street-lighted night. Slug nudged the Hero with a foot, and then looked back at his gang-members. They all looked green, shaking while they reloaded their guns from the scare of the Hero among their ranks. "It had to be the grizzled one" slug thought. He took out a pair of squadron goggles he swiped from the Skull's storeroom, and put them on then moulded his purple Mohawk back to shape. "Tatz, show this punk who he's messing with."

"Your the boss, Slug", Tatz said as he proceeded to wrap the chains from his arms up around his fists. Two large tendrils sprouted from the ground and took hold of the Hero's head, tilting back and toward Tatz. Slug poked the tilted Hero's head and said, “This is Paragon. One out of fifty here has powers. Guess it wasn't your day."

The Hero gathered the rest of his might and spat at Slug. His attempt ended with spittle running from his chin. A van pulled up beside Slug and his cadre of criminals, while a massive stone-hammer blew the side of the far warehouse open, leaking flying Skull members, and Bone-daddies attempting to rip down the rock-behemoth of a hero with shotgun blast after shotgun blast. "C’mon, Bros, this junk is going to hell, mang!" Mad-bones shouted. Slug ignored Mad-bones, and squared his eyes on the tendril covered hero. "Punch him silly, B", Slug ordered Tatz. Tatz punched his balled chain fists together, before throwing thunderous blows at the Hero. The remaining gang-member, Peep, skulked into the van and slid the side door open for Slug. "C’mon man, this is just bad dude, we have to jet, Slug!"

Slug stepped up into the van, and peered back at Tatz hammering away at the immobilized Hero. "Aight, B, that’s enough. We gots to blow. Grab the junk." Tatz nodded back at Slug, and shook his hands free of the chains around his fists. He heaved the box toward the white cube van Mad-bones procured. The van idled before the vision of justice based carnage from the far warehouse, where fighting began to break onto the street peppered with fleeing Skull members either bleeding or bruised. Slug peered his head out the van and shouted to the Hero.

"Slug's Deth-Squad! We got the mods! Don't forget it punk!"

The doors shut, and the van sped off toward the gate, smashing through it in an explosion of sparks and celebratory shouts from the inside.

Chapter Two: Bottom blocks first!

Slug woke up. The morning was bright and cold. November in Paragon... he loved it. Scrubbing at one of his eyes with a fist, he crutched himself up under an arm in a cruddy apartment, complete with torn yellow floral wall-paper, and leaking ceilings. Nothing Slug ever had was that glamorous, so he didn't mind his locale that much. A television was blaring with the sounds of old game-shows and coarse laughter. Slug pulled himself up and threw on his favourite black cargoes, and a ribcage T-shirt, his somewhat adopted symbol. He stepped into his personal bathroom and stared disgustedly at his slumped Mohawk. Several minutes of careful trimming and wax, Slug was as fresh as his Mohawk.

"Oi, Sluggy-Boy!" Tatz exclaimed from the kitchen, "You missed the fight Bizzz-oi!" he continued as he began to shadow-box. It's nearly been six months since the Skulls warehouse raid. Everything in the plan after that had either gone extremely bad, or didn't get done or attempted. Slug wasn't too worried though, he knew he set his standards too high for a couple of greenhorns to get things done, but they weren’t that high for a couple hundred greenhorns. "Fight? What fight?" Slug questioned.

"Awww man, you shoulda seen it!! Carl beat the snot of the competition judge, B!! He was all like, you with the dog, your disqualified, an' I was all like... Yo. G. Screw you!! Maaaan. Duuuude, it was classic!” Tatz rambled on. Slug took a swift look at some of the new blood he had hanging around in the apartment. Couple good thugs, the one he liked most was Mad-dogg, more recently named, Lazy-Boggie, for falling asleep during the night watch. Lz-B for short. He hates the name, but Slug doesn't care that much. "Carl jumped the dude?” Slug asked.

"As soon as junkery popped up, G", Tatz replied. Slug peeked at Carl sitting on the couch. He seemed calm yet dependable. Too bad he was uglier than Joan Rivers' past body parts. "He looks like one chill dude." Slug started.

"Cool dude? C’mon man, I'm the best dude!” Carl retorted with a pump of his fist.

"Best Dude? Aight, Best Dude. That’s your new name; B. Carl was too bland anyways", Slug shot back.

"Cool," Best Dude said while he threw his hands into the air as if to say, "Whatever."

Nothing came easy. It never would. Slug expected his gang expedition to take time, but he never knew it would be as hard as it was. Shopkeepers smacked around his so-called "gang" around when they started trouble outside of stores. Even when things DID get started, and the name they were trying to push was being heard, heroes walked right on by the rabbles, judging them underneath their notice. That’s the thing Slug hated most. He couldn't stand people dismissing him. He couldn't stand people dismissing the people that worked for him even more.

"Alright, I need two of you," Slug started "and both of you grab a trench-coat." Slug motioned to the tiny closet near the door. The fingers started pointing, coupled with back-slapping encouragements for others to go, so they didn’t have to. It didn’t matter to Slug though. The ones who were going were going to be much more in tune with Slug's idea of a gang. Slug stepped out of the main room quietly, back to his little futon and cardboard box table stand. The thoughts of people dismissing him made him in the mood for a little pay back. In truth, he was paying back himself, for letting whatever happened to his gang. Leaders know how to boost morale, issue strict orders, and make sacrifices. Slug was playing the friend card far too long. He forgave far too quickly, and all of that was about to stop.

Slug strode out of his room briskly, carrying a small heavily taped cardboard box, and coldly spewed two words, "Lets move." Tatz knew that tone all too well and got up out of the kitchen to motivate up the remaining gang-members with slaps to the back of the head and noogies. By this time, Slug was already down the stairs and out the door, into the cold air or Kings Row.

Slug sped up the pace, pushing people aside. He knew one shopkeeper that actually had been a problem to his gang. One with close ties to a hero, or so it was rumoured. Slug just narrowed his eyes, and pushed people out of his way, with two trench coat cloaked thugs at his heels.

"Hey, Slug. What are we doing anyway? Food-run? Because I'm rea--" The thug to Slug's right stopped mid sentence. Possibly due to the backhand he received across the face from his gang leader or most likely the intensive stare he was giving. "I'm doing your job. After this, you show someone else how to do your job. After that, another. Got it? Now shut up, Punkerton," Slug barked before resuming his past pace and trail. The store he wanted was only several minutes away and he didn’t want to keep his present waiting.

The minute they arrived at the store, Slug demanded that the two thugs throw open their trench coats and flash their weapons to each side of him. Obviously, this halted the flow on the street, and began a small comotion. The shopkeeper was out in a matter of seconds, believing a good lecture and finger wagging was in order and all these ruffians needed. Slug had no stomach for it today. The second the shopkeeper said anything, Slug interrupted the zealous speech. "Old man, get on the curb, and tell those punkertons to do the same," Slug calmly demanded while his finger glided around, indicating the people enjoying his wares. "Now YOU just wait one SEC--."

• Click, click, click, click.*

The old man was struck silent. Slug waved a revolver only two feet from his face, and pulled the trigger four times. This just heated up the shopkeeper even more, "Where do you get off waving that thing in hardworking people's faces, punk!?"

"For every time you say something I don't like, I squeeze the trigger, Old man."

"So IS that your game? HUH? Maybe I should jus--."

• BLAM!*

A deafening shot sounded out, and a puff of smoke filled the air. Hearing came back quickly to screaming civilians and near silent shocked muttering of the Deth-Squad members. The man's falling body could hardly be heard over the rabble. Slug began to reload his short-barrelled revolver, which gravity pulled one bullet casing down to the ground. Slug pumped six bullets back into the chamber, before locking it back followed by a remark. "I thought I would've hit it on the second pull."

The parcel. The heavily taped box. This was Slug's new focus. He ignored the emptying streets, the distant call of sirens, and customers fleeing the dead man's store. "One of you, call Tatz, tell him to roast up some food. And do it quick, G.I. Punks." The somewhat stunned gang-members both quickly reached for a cell phone, the slightly taller one beating out the other. "You. C'mere, give me a light," Slug ordered to the shorter gang-member who missed his chance for a head start on a cell phone. By this time, the taller gang-member was well past a brisk pace back to the safe-house. Slug wrestled a small line out of the box, and held it out to be lit.

• Shhhhhhhhhhhhink, Shhhhhhhhhhink, Shhhhhhink-fffffssssssssssssssssssssss~...*

The fuse was lit, and Slug wasted no time hurling it through the window of the dead-man's store. After his parcel was delivered, he began to jog back down the street. The jog slowly began to morph into a skip, and all the awhile, he counted seconds.

"... fourteen... fifteen... sixteen... seventeen... eig--."

Slug was interrupted by a firestorm. A sound of a certain problem that would never poke its head around again. He wasn't even sure he heard the sound... but his hearing slowly came back to the sound of a raging fire. The two gang-members ran back in a full sprint, fearful of the law. Slug was a bit weary too, but much too occupied with the little deed he pulled.

"AND THAT IS HOW YOU MAKE PROBLEMS GO AWAY, PUNKS!" Slug screamed wildly into the air, before turning and sprinting back to the safe house.

((WIP))