Although he could arguably be seen as the slacker of the family, Jake was still a veritable wizard in the kitchen. Naturally, he cooked and Nickelby acted as waiter, while Drake kept Lola and her parents entertained with a concerto or two on his violin (Stradivarius of course!) before Jake served up the entrée: Grilled Marinated Shrimp on a bed of steamed rice and caramelized artichoke, followed by roasted grouper with prosciutto and herbs.
After the main, Jake asked his brother to lend a hand. Although puzzled, Drake agreed and followed him into the kitchen, leaving Nickelby to amuse the guests with his numerous bird impressions.
“Why don’t you get Nickelby to help you?” Drake asked. “I barely know Foie Gras from Steak Tartar, let alone be able cook them.”
This wasn’t strictly true; Drake had a reasonably diverse pallet, yet compared to his brother, he was more akin to a troglodyte.
“Any other time, I’d be glad of your help, but tonight is WAY too special for taking risks, so touching anything in here is a no-no,” explained Jake, grating white chocolate for his gananche , pausing only to deftly rap the knuckles of the inquisitive hand reaching for the saucepan cooling on the bench with a wooden spoon.
“I wanted to talk with you privately. I have a huge favour to ask of you.”
“I’m listening.”
Jake tossed a handful of chopped cinnamon over his shoulder, which rebounded off a hanging pan and landed in a boiling pot on the stove.
“These last couple of weeks, a local gang known as the Marauders have been stirring up trouble on the block. They’ve even threatened to trash the Oyster if I don’t start coughing up protection money as of tonight.”
“What do the police have to say about it?” asked Drake.
“They don’t really care. As far as they’re concerned, the Marauders are just a bunch of punk kids looking for kicks.”
Drake frowned. If that was the attitude of the local law enforcers, he’d have to have a word to the chief of police.
“I wouldn’t mind so much,” continued Jake. “I mean, it’s just money, ya’ know? But I got responsibilities now. What if we have kids?”
“So, am I to presume that you’d like me to…dissuade them?”
“Yes please. I’d take care of it myself, but I promised Lola that I wouldn’t fight anymore. She gets worried.”
Drake suddenly motioned for silence. He thought that he’d heard a trash can being knocked over outside in the alleyway.
“They’re here,” he whispered. “Nickelby and I will take care of them. You should shut all the blinds, turn the lights down, play some Bach and proceed as planned.”
“What about my proposal man?”
“You’re a Mandible. You’ll be just fine,” Drake assured him with a lopsided grin. “Hopefully I’ll be back by then.”
He turned to leave, but his brother stopped him.
“One more thing, these guys aren’t any tougher than anyone we’ve stopped in the past, but there are a lot of them. Be careful.”
Drake nodded and walked back into the dining area.
Starting from “Albatross,” Nickelby had only gotten to “Ivory-Beaked Woodpecker” on his list of bird impressions, when his employer emerged from the kitchen and told him that they had to run a quick errand for Jake. Issuing an apology, Drake dragged the bewildered butler out to the parked Bentley.
“Master Drake, might I enquire as to the reason why we had to leave dinner early?”
“Because, Nickelby” said Drake, popping the boot, “We are on clean-up duty…”
Thursday, October 31, 2013
#11: Cursory Caution.
Although there were many adjectives one could use to describe the Marauders, imaginative was not one of them. The leader’s attire was hardly original: a tattered black jacket (sans sleeves) adorned with a small chain hanging out of each pocket on either side. A pair of shades rested upon his shaved pate, a sneer was glued to his face and a pry-bar swung lazily from his right hand. Behind him were nearly a dozen similarly attired men who were all sporting various melee weapons. Not exactly the “punk-kids” the local authorities had described them as, but not TOO formidable.
“Alright gentlemen,” called Drake from the shadows. “That’s far enough. Put your weapons down, turn around and go home.”
One Marauder flicked on his torch and pointed it where the voice had come from. Drake squinted as the light on his face, but kept still. He was reminded of how he and Jake used to drive from city to city, busting up various gangs: the West Coast Warriors, the Colchester Cannons and Detroit Bangers United, among others. The Marauders looked disorganized, had no gang colours or any real way of distinguishing them from other groups.
Taking in the man before them, the Marauders laughed at the threat. Drake certainly cut an impressive figure, but he was still only one man, dressed in a dinner suit no less. Perhaps a group of two or three might have had second thoughts about mugging him in a lone alley late at night. But as it was, he was outnumbered ten-to-one, and they were all armed.
The leader gave a nod and one of the gang members rushed at Drake, bike-chain whipping wildly about…
“Alright gentlemen,” called Drake from the shadows. “That’s far enough. Put your weapons down, turn around and go home.”
One Marauder flicked on his torch and pointed it where the voice had come from. Drake squinted as the light on his face, but kept still. He was reminded of how he and Jake used to drive from city to city, busting up various gangs: the West Coast Warriors, the Colchester Cannons and Detroit Bangers United, among others. The Marauders looked disorganized, had no gang colours or any real way of distinguishing them from other groups.
Taking in the man before them, the Marauders laughed at the threat. Drake certainly cut an impressive figure, but he was still only one man, dressed in a dinner suit no less. Perhaps a group of two or three might have had second thoughts about mugging him in a lone alley late at night. But as it was, he was outnumbered ten-to-one, and they were all armed.
The leader gave a nod and one of the gang members rushed at Drake, bike-chain whipping wildly about…
#12: Marauder Mangling.
As the thug closed in on Drake, there was a dull crack. Something impacted against the Marauder’s shoulder, sending him spinning to the ground.
Drake stepped further out of the dark, revealing his own weapon: a Winchester Model 1887, lever action, 10 gauge shotgun, which he had modified to shoot non-lethal beanbag rounds.
Cocking the gun, he dropped another two Marauders before any of them had time to react. Drake fired again, aiming at the leader, who grabbed one of his men by the collar, using him as a human shield.
The hapless Marauder took the round in his chest, cracking a few ribs.
Another got in too close to Drake, receiving the shotgun butt in his mouth and a swift kick to the abdomen for his efforts.
Drake used the last two remaining rounds on a man that was even larger than him and still kept on coming. Drake caught a glimpse of a navy-blue Kevlar vest, before diving out of the way of a meaty fist.
Although he was out of ammo, he wasn’t out of tricks. Drake flicked a switch, activating a single-charge taser attached to the barrel, like a bayonet. Drake barely avoided the second punch, knuckles scraping the side of his face. He stepped around his opponent and pressed the taser to the back of the brute’s neck. 5000 kv and he was down.
Realizing that the man in the dinner-suit had taken down more than half of his men single-handedly, the leader and his still-standing Marauders beat a hasty retreat...
Drake stepped further out of the dark, revealing his own weapon: a Winchester Model 1887, lever action, 10 gauge shotgun, which he had modified to shoot non-lethal beanbag rounds.
Cocking the gun, he dropped another two Marauders before any of them had time to react. Drake fired again, aiming at the leader, who grabbed one of his men by the collar, using him as a human shield.
The hapless Marauder took the round in his chest, cracking a few ribs.
Another got in too close to Drake, receiving the shotgun butt in his mouth and a swift kick to the abdomen for his efforts.
Drake used the last two remaining rounds on a man that was even larger than him and still kept on coming. Drake caught a glimpse of a navy-blue Kevlar vest, before diving out of the way of a meaty fist.
Although he was out of ammo, he wasn’t out of tricks. Drake flicked a switch, activating a single-charge taser attached to the barrel, like a bayonet. Drake barely avoided the second punch, knuckles scraping the side of his face. He stepped around his opponent and pressed the taser to the back of the brute’s neck. 5000 kv and he was down.
Realizing that the man in the dinner-suit had taken down more than half of his men single-handedly, the leader and his still-standing Marauders beat a hasty retreat...
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