Hiroshi knocked on the front door and Dominated his way inside when someone opened and peered through the sliding peephole. “Let me in.”
Along the nearest wall there was a staircase leading up to an office with glass walls radiating harsh flourescent light, looming over the large, dimly-lit empty space beneath it.
“Obey my commands when I give them. Follow and defend me if I’m attacked.”
As he walked calmly up the stairs, he saw Victor, gagged and bound to a chair, surrounded by three more of Stingray’s men.
“I am Hiroshi Morishita. You have one of my men. Where is Stingray?”
“He ain’t here. Won’t be back for another hour.”
“Alright, then maybe we can talk?”
As he took another step towards them, into the office, one of the men got nervous and shot a pistol that Hiroshi hadn’t noticed him draw.
The bullet struck him square in the chest. Might’ve even been fatal, too… if he wasn’t already dead. Someone beat you to it, assholes!
Beside him, Hiroshi’s thrall broke free of his control, shaking his head to clear the fog from his mind. Hiroshi swung his katana at him in a sideways arc, but the man instinctively lept backwards to avoid it.
As the rest of them reached for their guns, Hiroshi sprung forward, diving for cover under the wooden table in the center of the room, twisting his body and landing prone on his back.
Suddenly, they all opened fire, shooting through the table and hitting Hiroshi again and again.
Lemar and Ronnie were making their way to the location Yang had given them, with Ice Cube blaring from the speakers of Lemar’s black Lincoln Navigator.
…I can act like an animal ain’t nothin’ to it
gangsta rap made me do it
If I eat you like a cannibal ain’t nothin’ to it
gangsta rap made me do it…
Even Ronnie’s cell phone was vibrating. “Oh, shit!” He looked at the number on the display and turned down the volume.
“Officer Marks… (Pause)… What, now? Right now?… (Pause)… But I’m followin’ a lead on the, uh, Masterson case… (Pause)… Shit, a’ight… (Pause)… I SAID A’IGHT!… (Pause)… I’ll get there as soon as I can… (Pause)… Uh huh, okay, yeah. Peace.”
He turned to Lemar. “Well, shit, you gotta take me back to the diner right now. I need my ride.”
“The fuck, Ronnie, we doin’ this, or what?”
“I’m on duty, motherfucka, why’d you think I was tryin’ to reach you, you know… Fuckin’ earlier? Shit’s come up now. They want all hands on motherfuckin’ deck.”
“Fine. Another time, then.”
“Get the fuck outta here! Who knows where those guns be at later? C’mon, Dawg, this be it. Has to be done tonight!”
“Nigga, you askin’ me to take on the Russians by myself?”
“I know what’s going through that ugly ass head of yours right now, and I’m sorry, dawg, but I know yo’ ass can handle it. You don’t even need me— brother, I need this!”
“Gonna have to do better than that.”
“70/30… Don’t make me beg, Lemar. Don’t make a brother beg!”
“Fine, 70/30. And I keep one of whatever I recover. And you owe me big.”
“Deal. Now take a left on Stockton, it’ll get us there faster…”