Chapter 1: Big Confession Spoiler: The SMAKAPZ gang, Sam, Kevin, Mogers, Zagers, Parage, and Apalabamo, are eating together at a local restaurant, and Sam and Kevin are telling the rest of the rest of the gang about their recent mission in the Middle East, where Sam and Kevin got beaten by a friend of the gang, Jordan, because of a dispute. During the conversation, Sam pulls Kevin aside and insists they come clean to the group, and reveal that while on that mission, they secretly used the old rocket and crashed it after encountering a space monster and an asteroid. Back at the SMAKAPZ house basement, Sam declares he can fix the now-split-in-half rocket overnight, despite skepticism from the rest of the gang.
Chapter 2: Restoration Reparations Spoiler: After the gang goes to bed, Sam races against time to buy repair materials from the massive superstore Alademipaburg before it closes. Thanks to the gang’s reputation as big-spending notorious customers, a sympathetic cashier lets him take everything for free. He also gets 200 pounds of materials gifted from the local factory. Sam then spends the entire night in the basement attempting an ambitious solo repair on the two massive halves of the rocket. Despite his exhaustive efforts and engineering skill, the rocket ultimately fails catastrophically at 5 AM, shearing apart again and leaving Sam exhausted and defeated.
Chapter 3: Zaine Spoiler: The next morning, the gang gathers in the basement to inspect Sam's failed rocket repair, which leads to a heated argument. The argument is interrupted by a knock on the door, a guy named Zaine answers in a suit and tie with a folder of papers, and claims there's a property dispute and that he has a license from the city saying he owns their property, and he orders them to vacate within three days. The gang panics until Zagers finds out the license is fake, and that the guy tried to scam them. Zaine said he'd return the next day for a daily property inspection, so the gang waits, and Parage turns one of Sam's tools he bought into a laser gun just in case something goes wrong tomorrow.
Chapter 4: Massive A (Chapter 7 is available on this site, too) Spoiler: That night, after the gang goes to bed, Sam leaves the house to go grab some supplies at his place, and runs into Parage downstairs, who shows him the new laser gun. At his house, Sam greets his younger brother, Asa. After Sam leaves, Asa sneaks out into the rainy night to compete in an underground poker game and make a weapons deal. The next morning, Zaine returns to the SMAKAPZ house, but when the gang confronts him, Zaine is able to detect Parage's concealed laser gun with his hidden special headband. He then reveals all the tech hidden under his suit and jacket, and triggers an explosion, knocking the gang to the ground. He then absorbs a laser blast from Parage, and flies off.
Chapter 5: Hot on the Trail Spoiler: Immediately after Chapter 4, Sam, Mogers, and Zagers chase Zaine on bike-motorcyle hybrids through the forest, where they get led to his secret lair deep in the woods. They peek through a window, and spot him writing notes about the SMAKAPZ house, as well as a time written at the bottom of the page: 12:00. The gang then meets up back at the house and devises a plan: knock Zaine out cold with a sledgehammer at noon, strip him of every piece of gear, and force him to either stop his illegal operations and hand over half his tech to the gang, or watch Parage melt it all with his laser gun. That afternoon, Asa goes to the local weapons store and buys various guns, then heads home and upgrades them, turning them into his Massive A product.
Chapter 6: Cuckoo Clock Spoiler: In the reading room of the SMAKAPZ house, Parage spirals mentally as he waits for Zaine's arrival. Once noon hits, the gang steps into the yard, but Zaine isn't there. Parage searches through the forest with his laser gun only to panic at a tiny squirrel and retreat, then tells the gang that he saw nothing. Back in the field, the gang realizes that the "12:00" they saw on Zaine's paper didn't mean noon, it meant midnight. Sam then drives home to grab a fishing net as part of their new plan against Zaine, where he runs into Asa, who has a duffel bag. Sam asks him what's inside, and Asa tells him the truth, straight-faced, so that Sam thinks he's joking.
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Asa watched through the window as the van disappeared into the streets. He waited another 10 seconds before retreating back into his bedroom.
He then reached under his bed and pulled out the small locked box that he’d carved himself after his older brother taught him the craft years ago, using only a pocket knife and a block of whatever was available, in this case, basswood.
He unlocked it. Inside was his burner phone, his secret secondary device he kept hidden in order to communicate with his clients. He turned it on, and the screen lit up. The rest of the room remained dark, the lamp angled away, but Asa’s face was illuminated by a cold blue glow of light, the only thing in the room that was visible and shining. He found the number, and dialed.
After ringing twice: “Yeah,” said the voice on the other end. Both of them knew better than to say hello. This wasn’t a little girls’ tea party.
“It’s me,” Asa said. He could feel his voice shaking a bit, but he tried not to show it through the phone. “Massive A. Confirming tonight.”
Massive A waited a few seconds for the man to answer, and then, the voice on the other end said: “We’re still on.”
“Location.”
The man said: “We’ll meet at that truck stop near Marmol. That’s where the city’s attention won’t dawdle. Be here by 11 sharp. No regrets.”
Massive A’s voice deepened. “I want a different location.”
A pause. “I’m sorry?”
He edged his face closer to the phone. He was sure the man on the other end could feel his breath through the screen.
“I want. A different. Location.”
There was silence for a solid 20 seconds, until Massive A spoke up again.
“The alley across from the Weller Street restaurant. That’s my territory. That’s my domain. That’s where you go to meet Massive A.” He continued. “And that’s not a request. This is my game we’re playing. My game, my weapons, my rules.” He pulled the phone back away from his face. “Understood?”
25 seconds.
“Understood.”
Since he could sense the other man trying to rebalance the conversation and find some sort of foothold, Massive A then said, “All of it’s going to be marked. You’ll see when you get there. Anyone who handles one of these pieces will know whose work it is.”
“That’s exactly what we want.”
“I know it is.” He paused again. “Weller Street, alley across from Cece’s Diner. 11:30.”
“Wai-“ but before the man could finish his sentence, Massive A ended the call.
He then popped some earbuds in his lugs, and played “New York State Of Mind.” He checked his duffel bag, gathered his materials, and spun around and slid on his fedora, the first piano note hitting the moment it glided onto his head.
Massive A’s first stop was a parking structure on the west side of Bellmore, third level, where a man named Slicys was leaning against a concrete pillar with his hands in his jacket pockets, and two associates sitting on the hood of a car behind him. Massive walked up to him, and they did a complex handshake. He then handed over a folded piece of paper to Slicys, without either of their eyes dropping to actually acknowledge it.
“Quality?” Slicys said.
Massive’s face immediately dropped. “It’s quality. Your opinion isn’t.”
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“Marry me! Not because this world is kind, but because with you, I finally stopped needing it to b-“ Massive A stepped over the kneeling man to greet Looper with a handshake, listening to him confirm a bunch of details that Massive already had memorized, then cutting him off and saying, “So, need me to notarize all that, or are we finally good?”
Looper received Massive’s cold stare. “We’re good.”
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Massive A shook Box Stall’s hand near the old rail underpass. Box Stall moved product through a network Massive A only had partial visibility into, and they talked for a few minutes about strategy and rates and logistical stuff. But by the end of the conversation, Box Stall asked, “So whose territory is that spot near the phone booth, mine or yours?” Massive tilted his head, and gave him a cold stare.
“Did you seriously just ask me that question?”
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Massive A shook Dreauxman’s hand outside the laundromat on 5th, and then Plock’s hand outside of the parking structure on Armana. He shook three more hands between Armana and the canal, and by 9:30, everyone knew that Massive A was walking these streets, the man, the myth, the legend, they put respect on his name, and they recognized him as the real deal, moving out of the way the second they saw a fedora approaching them.
By 10:00, he was at the warehouse. This swap meet moved between different locations every few weeks, and tonight it was in the storage facility off the industrial district, which was bustling with the top players of the STL underworld scene. The inside was illuminated by work lights, and tables were set up in rows, each piled with mountains of food, refreshments, and drinks. Massive A ordered a Dewar’s and water, nobody was checking for IDs at a place like this, and, sure as hell, nobody was rejecting Massive A at a place like this. The air smelled like old metal and cigarettes. Experienced traders were making deals, hustlers were networking, and everybody was having a grand old time.
Massive shook hands at the first table, exchanged a word with a man at the second, and passed a folded piece of paper to a woman at the third, tipping his fedora.
Massive talked to a lot of people that night. He talked to a lot of people, and he talked to them for a long time. He had some great conversations. One of the most memorable was in the VIP section, two men who had run into each other while looking for networking opportunities, now having a deep exchange of words.
“Dude, he doesn’t even really care, except when I’m involved in stuff that he’s already doing,” he explained. “His crew, his plans, his missions. I’ve been a part of it all my life. And it’s not like I hate it or anything, but anything I enjoy that’s unrelated to his adventures, just isn’t worth it to him.”
“Family’s a chain,” the man took a sip from his champagne. “He sounds like a real joy in the ankles.”
“Yeah, besides, we do plenty of things outside of his gang stuff. But they’re always things that he likes to do.” Asa took a glance at the live party across from them, the buzzing crowd chugging down drinks and making memories. “So now I found something that I like to do. He’s so uninterested and unknowing that he’ll never find out! Dude, I swear, it’s the perfect system.”
“There ya go, how about that?” The man took another sip of his champagne, and then sighed. “You know, I had a guy like that once.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t family, but he was close. He was my guy, my steady Eddie.” He exhaled, looking off to the side. “He helped me out with stuff. Then one day, I decided to start doing things my own way. And the moment I veered off from the path he was comfortable walking on? He cut me clean off. Wrote me out of his list.”
“Huh,” Asa scoffed, glancing down and looking back up. “So it was never about you…”
“Right. It was about him. I stepped away from his trail and pushed boundaries. I cut my own trail. And he couldn’t accept it. So he tossed me out like… like some sort of disposal wipe.”
“That’s messed up,” said Asa. A pause, as the two men stood there for a moment in silence, reflecting on their shared experiences.
Asa then mentioned: “Y’know, this deal I’m about to do tonight, it’s my biggest one yet. It’s also my last one. After that, I’m done, I’m out.
The man huffed. “Mm, yeah, I used to think the same thing.” He took a drink, chuckling to himself. “‘One last big move! After that, I’m done for good!’ And you know what?”
“What?”
“It’s all a load of horse dung.”
Asa stood there, saying nothing.
The man continued. “Someone who’s done looks different than you do. Someone who’s done has already let go of things.” He took a closer look at Asa. “You haven’t let go. I can tell by looking at you. You’re still holding on. You’re in the business. There’s no denying or changing that.”
“Well, I have more than enough money. Far more than I ever thought I’d make, and everything I originally set out to achieve, well, it’s been achieved. It’s done. It’s over. I’m taking my hat — fedora — out the ring after tonight.”
“Whatever you’re building,” the man replied. “Finish building it.” He sneered. “‘Last deals’ aren’t a thing anyway. They were never a thing. That’s just something you hear, y’know ‘Oh my god, I’m just gonna do this last street maneuver then dip and go frolic in a field for the rest of my days.’ In reality, that’s not how that works. This business doesn’t just let you go like that. Every man swears the next mountain is his last, that doesn’t mean the mountain will swear back.”
The room was moving around them. Deals were closing, glasses were clinking, and the industrial smell was drifting through the massive province of the building.
Asa took in the man’s words, nodding along. They hit him like bullets to the torso. Then after a few seconds, he gave a sigh, looked at him, and said, “I guess I never thought about it that way.”
Asa then reached out his hand.
“I’m Massive A,” he introduced, before pulling it back. “I don’t think I ever got your name?”
The man smiled warmly, clasping it with a clean, firm grip.
“Zaine,” he replied. “Zaine Apadillon.”
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The man checked his watch. “Great talk. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be tonight.”
Massive A stood there as the man slipped past him, and watched him leave the scene of the party. He took 3 other guys with him, too.
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The alley behind Weller Street across from Cece’s Diner was the same alley as always, narrow, dark, and thumping with the scent of wet concrete. Massive A checked his watch. 11:30 right on the dot. This was where the grand deal would go down. Four 9mm pistols, two 12-gauge shotguns, and two 30 round submachine guns, all upgraded, of course, along with 1000 rounds of mixed hollow-point ammo, in exchange for $18,000 in cash upfront.
The buyer was standing across from Massive, two dark silhouettes frozen in the alley and illuminated only by the nearby streetlights. Neither of them greeted each other. That wasn’t how this worked.
Massive A could tell that the buyer was on edge, as even in the blackness of the alley he noticed him twitching, his head outline moving slightly to the directions his eyes darted in.
Massive stepped forward, and unzipped his duffel bag just enough to show the upgraded steel, each weapon engraved with an M.A. marking. He then pulled out the weapons and handed them to the man, who stored them in his briefcase. They did the handoff the way you do it, with the goods first, confirmed, and both parties satisfied and happy. After the exchange, Massive straightened up and waited.
The man looked at his briefcase, and back at Massive.
Then, he bolted off.
Briefcase in hand, he turned around and dashed away with the goods, his footsteps sharp on the concrete.
Massive A yelled, grabbed a weapon from his duffel bag, and ran after him, chasing the man as he disappeared around the right corner in the far end of the alley. His heart was slamming, and the alley was narrowing quickly. Massive rounded the corner, which opened into a wider access lane behind the loading docks, and then skidded to a halt.
Two big men were standing there, blocking the exit. The buyer ran to the two giant silhouettes to become a third, albeit skinnier one, and when Massive A came around the corner and pulled up short, they were already watching him. He could see the steel flashing in their hands. One man held his gun up into the air, cocking it to serve as a warning for the night.
Massive A stood in the dark, breathing heavily, the wet concrete underneath his feet, and the streetlights casting the three men as shadow figures in the yellow-orange expanse of the underworld behind the alley. He then took a step back, and then another before rounding the corner and high-tailing it out of the alley.
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It was 11:56 at the SMAKAPZ house. The crater in the yard was glaringly visible, and the darkness of the night only made it seem to gape wider under the moonlight.
I was standing at the window, surveying the outside field and forest behind it for any sign of Zaine. Apollo was standing next to me, doing the same, and behind me, Mogers was holding the sledgehammer low, with both his hands wrapped around the handle like an executioner’s axe. Parage was standing off to the side with the laser gun, and I could hear his heart beating. A demonic red light was cast across his face as he pointed the barrel at it in order to examine it.
As I paced a single step back and forth, I could feel my breath becoming shallow. This was it. The ultimatum was set. We were gonna knock Zaine out cold, drag him to the basement cage, strip his tech, and force the choice: surrender half your gear and swear off the scams and general tomfoolery, or watch Parage melt it all into slag anyway. Half or nothing, he’d be a doofus not to accept it.
Above us, on the roof, Kevin and Zagers were lying flat against the shingles with the finishing net bunched between them, waiting for the moment to come. The air of the night filled their noses with the scent of grass, and whenever they heard a rustle in the trees, their heads snapped in that direction.
“This is it,” I said, peering into the forest ahead. “Now all we gotta do is wait.”
It was 11:59. I could feel and hear the house settling, you always could. A pipe ticked somewhere in the walls, and the sound of the wind moving once through the trees and then stopping shook the room.
And at that moment, the clock struck 12.
Source: r/DestructiveReaders · by /u/MajorMaker2