A Blood Red Reindeer Knows part 9: The City Sleeps Below
At the heart of the North Pole there's a skyscraper. City ordinance makes it illegal to build anything higher, so it towers over the metropolis. That's why the North Pole is such a sprawl. The city can only grow out not up.
I remember being a kid, looking up at that mile high spire thinking, "Someday I'll fly off that roof. Then they'll respect me."
When that dream died it went hard, and took the kid inside with it. Yet even now lights at the top are blinking red and green, promising anyone looking up he's in there. A part of me wishes to be that kid again, though I know it's better not to be. What's coming isn't for children.
The pieces are falling into place. I don't like the picture, but that doesn't change the view. In a way, I almost knew from the start. Still, I keep hoping I'm not smart enough to see what's really happening. I want to be wrong.
Speeding through streets on my bike the snow whips my face. I take a route through the industrial part of town. There's less chance of being seen. However, I forgot the time of year.
The factories are in full swing. Black smoke chugs into the sky hiding the moon. Low level elves loiter by doors. Chugging on cinnamon sticks they hope to burn out the part of their brain that knows the future is a dead end.
Down an alley snowmen chase a group of frightened toys. Looks like panicked deliveries that've probably heard not everyone gets into the arms of children. Busted out of their packaging, they're making a run for it, though they've yet to realize there's nowhere to go.
I catch a few glances. However, no one's concern is me. Making holiday quotas is the real focus here. Those who don't disappear.
It isn't long before I'm on the main stretch cruising my way into Claus Concourse. The front of the building is lined by Tin Soldiers, and there's a hundred more inside. Granted, there's no one stupid enough to go after Big Red, but there's plenty crazy enough to try.
One of the first things we're taught as kids is Santa can't ever die. If he does, everything his magic created goes with him; the North Pole dies. Some folks think it's just propaganda to prevent an assassination attempt, though it's only the crazies who're willing to risk finding out. Me, I've got a sick suspicion it's true. One more way for Big Red to lord it over us -- we owe him our very existence.
I stop a good distance from the entrance. Tin Soldiers are already taking aim. I get off the bike. Hands in the air I approach slowly. The Tins radio in, reporting my arrival.
Soon enough a Tin Captain comes marching out of the building. Decked out in dark red and green, the uniform marks her as Big Red's private guard. A simple gesture, and the other Tins surround me.
"We're going to frisk you," she says.
I shrug, "Figured as much."
Another gesture. Two Tins approach me. One points a rifle, the other goes to work patting me down. I make no moves, sarcastic or otherwise. There's a good chance these Tins are just looking for an excuse to fire.
When it's announced I'm clean she says, "I'm Captain Andersen."
"Got a feeling you already know me."
She says, "We've actually been expecting you."
Her hand signals get me cuffed, and hustled inside. We board an elevator, jammed in shoulder to shoulder. Captain Andersen uses a key, and the elevator starts heading to the top.
She glances over her shoulder, "I don't normally doubt him, but when he said you were coming here..."
I chuckle, "Ya know there is a limit to that trick."
"He knows what we're doing, but never what we're thinking."
She replies, "Whatever you're thinking keep this in mind." She turns, "You do anything I don't like, I will kill you."
Driving here I figured on one of two outcomes. Since the Tins didn't shoot me on sight that leaves the second of my guesses still in play. Call it a reckless gamble, but when the only cards in hand are good for a bluff, everything is a risk. If I ever want some semblance of peace with Cari Bou in the Outskirts I have to go all in.
The elevator pings. The Tins march off, and I go as they prod, no resistance. A black marble hallway stretches on towards towering art deco doors. Few ever get to see this place. So few in fact, that as the doors part the bulk of the Tins stay behind. Only the four in colors matching Captain Andersen may enter.
Captain Andersen pulls out a pistol. Keeping a smart distance -- close enough to eye any subtle movements, but not close enough for me to grab her gun -- she gestures for me to go in. I take a step.
She says, "Remember what I said."
"I already feel the bullet."
Darkness fills the grand office. Along one wall is a fireplace large enough to throw a full grown body. On the mantle above it is the horned skull of a giant goat. Enormous leather chairs stand in front of the fire, their backs to the room. Bookshelves ring most of the interior from floor to ceiling. The secrets in those books are priceless. A glass trophy case fills one corner. Its contents seem to dance in the fire light: the relics of past victories; pieces of defeated foes; mystical awards from other legends. One wall, though, is just a great glass doorway leading out onto a snow covered balcony.
In front of it is a mammoth desk. A lamp casts a low light across papers of all sorts. There are modern pages scattered among ancient scrolls. In a crystal ashtray overflowing with cigar butts smolders another coal. It rises, floating in the dark, and as my eyes adjust I see him sitting behind the desk. Puffing fires that burning cherry, briefly illuminating Big Red's face. Smoke and his beard mingle, ringing his head in a white wreath.
He speaks softly, yet his voice carries across the room, "How're you doing Rudy? It's been a long time."
Big Red chews the cigar, a strange sort of grin on his face.
Getting up he comes around the desk saying, "You always were a smart ass. I kind of liked that about you."
"Glad to know someone appreciated it," I say.
There's a scent in the air. I can't quite place it, the aroma of Big Red's cigar is masking it.
Chugging away he saunters towards the fireplace. I see the familiar crimson suit, shiny boots, and fur trimming.
Staring into the fire he says, "I'm curious what brings you here."
The whole ride over I wondered the same thing. Figuring out the code words, King Crimson, made things a little too certain. A part of me tried to ignore how some of the pieces fit. Hell, it's possible I could've spared myself a lot of trouble if I listened to my gut, but some facts a fellow doesn't want to see. Knowing I don't have all the time in the world, I decide to lay it out plain and simple.
I say, "Look, here's the deal. Someone is planning to make a move on you, and they're going to hit soon. I don't know who all's involved, but it's some heavy hitters. They're using the Krampus name to get people onboard."
Big Red looks up at the goat skull. For the first time I notice a bullet hole in it.
Pointing at the skull Big Red says, "He would be happy to know, all these years later, people still fear him."
Hints of perfume, baked apple and cinnamon -- I take a step forward. The click of a hammer tells me to stop. I freeze.
Big Red says, "You haven't told me anything I don't already know."
Snorting I say, "Because you always know everything."
"Almost." He winks at me.
Then he glances at one of the leather chairs. A figure rises, wrapped in a red dress. For a moment I don't recognize the face, then I realize it's Vixen.
Big Red chuckles, his belly jiggling. He says, "Don't look so surprised Rudy. What'd you think was going on?"
I'm still thinking it, though I'm glad to have my doubts.
I say, "Vixen, what the fuck is going on?"
She says, "I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you everything. Santa thought it was better that way."
That doesn't sound like Vixen, but I keep listening. She tells me she found out about the Krampus cult, and told Big Red. The two hatched a plot for her to join the group.
I cut in, "So he risks your ass to find out who's against him."
"And you wonder why you were never a flier?" Big Red says.
I reply, "No one should die for you."
Vixen comes near me. She puts a hand on my arm. Knowing she's fine calms me down, however, there's a look in her eye I can't decipher. The closer she gets to me the more I notice a figure lurking in the shadows. It doesn't take a genius to guess it's her bodyguard, Roy Glitterspark. He's inching closer in case I do something he doesn't like.
Vixen says, "It was my choice. They wanted to kill him because of the Shortage. There's a lot of people who think it could've been avoided."
I ask sarcastically, "How does a place made of magic run out of food?"
Big Red glares at me. Flicking ash in the fire he thumps back to his desk. No response is response enough.
Vixen goes on, "I joined the Krampus cause, but they never really trusted me. That's why I sent you my letter."
"Against my instructions," Big Red says.
Vixen grabs my hands. There's something weird about the way she fondles my wrists. My cuffs feel loose.
She says, "But you're here now Rudy. That's all that matters."
She smiles, and I smile back.
"Lot of good sending for you did," Big Red says.
Vixen steps away from me, heading over to Big Red's desk.
Getting a cigarette from an ivory case she remarks, "The snow looks so beautiful tonight."
I glance out the window. She's not lying. Even knowing what the city is like, from up here it looks beautiful. I turn to get a better look, and my cuffs fall away.
Glitterspark shouts, "He's loose!"
A soft thwip sounds followed by the thunk of tin getting struck. The sound repeats. Half recognizing it -- a silenced pistol -- I get low. Sure enough, I barely duck a bullet from Captain Andersen. Next thing I know shots are going off all around the room. Tins are dropping, and out the corner of my eye I see Glitterspark firing at them.
My immediate instinct is to run to Vixen. Hurrying toward her I see Vixen reach up her dress. She pulls a small caliber automatic out of a holster strapped to her thigh. She shoots Big Red in the knee then the belly. He collapses in a quivering pile, blood spurting out his stomach. Then Vixen starts firing on the Tins. They're mostly focused on Glitterspark, who's already taken out the majority with those first surprise head shots. It doesn't take long for the rest to fall.
"The door!" Vixen calls out, but Glitterspark is already on the move. He drops the empty pistol. From under his trench coat he produces a submachine gun. The door opens letting in a stream of Tins coming to check on the noise. Without mercy the nutcracker mows them down.
My brain is spinning, trying to get away from the facts, but they're a black hole sucking me in. Knowing what probably comes next, I spin around. Charging at Glitterspark I scoop up a dead Tin's rifle on the run. My eyes still aren't top notch after Kung Fu Karl's beating, so instead of aiming I spray and pray at Glitterspark. I can't tell if I hit him, but it doesn't stop me from charging forward.
The rifle clicks -- empty. Glitterspark turns, raising his machine gun. I knock it out of his hands using the empty rifle as a club. In one smooth move Glitterspark disarms me, almost snapping wrist in the process.
Next thing I know he's battering me with precise blows. Each strike is a surgical sledge tearing me down. I've been in a few one sided fights over the years. I get some solid punches in, but it's painfully obvious I'm on the losing end side. Even if I were a hundred percent, whatever I've got going for me as a brawler is no match for Glitterspark. He's a trained killer, blood drunk and thirsty for more.
Then luck shines on me. I notice him favoring one side. Whether me, or a Tin, someone managed to plug a bullet in Glitterspark's flank. Fainting a series of jabs I get him to expose the wound, and deliver a set of vicious hooks to the body.
The fight took us all over Big Red's office, and where we're at gives me a chance. With Glitterspark off balance, clutching at his wound, I grab him by the shoulders. We spin, and it dawns on him too late what I'm planning. Stopping short I plant a foot, tripping the nutcracker as we twirl, and he tumbles into the roaring fireplace.
He rolls out in flames. He looks like a Yule log scrambling to escape the fireplace -- screaming. Then Vixen floats by me. She points her gun, and puts one right in Glitterspark's head. Seeing her there, standing in the firelight, I don't recognize her.
She sighs, "I assume you have questions."
Panting I reply, "Sadly, I don't."
She smirks, "You were always smarter than people gave you credit."
Big Red moans. Vixen struts back to him. She glares down at the fat bastard. Coughing up blood, Big Red grits his teeth. He starts chuckling, though it clearly hurts. She puts her cigarette out on his desk.
Clenching his jaw Big Red says, "You stupid bitch. You can't do anything to me."
Vixen nods, "You keep thinking you know what's going on."
She fires another round into his belly.
She says, "Don't worry. Remember that practice run, when you fell out of the sleigh drunk." Shaking her head she says to me, "He lands on concrete two hundred feet below, and was fine in twenty minutes."
My head is swimming. Glitterspark tore me apart, refreshed all the wreckage from earlier. I'm bleeding from old wounds and new. However, what's got me spinning is the truth.
I need some air. What's coming -- what I think is coming -- I head out onto the balcony. Everything is happening so fast I can feel it slipping out of hand.
Outside, the city sleeps below. Yet, there are flashing sirens filling the streets. The glittering gumballs atop squad cars pulse as they hurry towards Big Red's tower. Snow is falling, but it won't be enough to cover what's going on here.
The pieces started falling into place almost from the get-go. The odds of someone assaulting Vixen made little sense. Besides her bodyguard, the seemingly unstoppable Glitterspark, the whole scene at her place felt off. Those posters backing Papa Nash for re-election stuck out sorely.
Then that whole Krampus cult raised more red flags. Big Red can keep an eye on anyone in the city, hell, the world. He just needs to think about them. However, he didn't seem to have any idea who ran the cult. Besides Black Jack, only fliers are blessed with Big Red's blindness. It's one of the perks; they're among the privileged few with privacy.
A lot of other bits kept hinting in ways I just didn't want to notice. Seeing Vixen in Big Red's office, I hoped... that's the mistake I made. Detective Elfberg said a lot of things changed because of the Shortage, that a lot of people changed as well. It sounds like a warning now. Hope died during the Shortage, and that left people desperate enough to do anything. So now I can't help feeling like I've been a pawn, not making my own choices.
The soft crunch of snow under dainty hooves.
Vixen says, "I'm not going to kill him."
"Not because you don't want to."
"You know what happens if he dies. Everything he creates disappears. The toys stop being alive, the city vanishes..."
"We turn into ordinary reindeer."
Vixen says, "But I can keep him in a coma, pumped full of drugs. He'll be alive, and we'll be able to live without being under his thumb."
Her dress billows a bit in the wind. It wraps around her like a river of red paint. She looks amazing, beautiful beyond compare, but I don't recognize her.
She turns away saying, "He did it on purpose, the Shortage. He said it was population control, but it was more than that." She shakes her head, "We're his playthings. I mean, he's got all the power, but not anymore. Things are about to change for the better."
I don't who she's trying to convince. The truth is I think she's right for the most part. Things in this city definitely need to change. How that's happening is what's got me worried.
I say, "I've been thinking Big Red tipped off the cops to me being in town, but lately, I've been thinking it was you."
A tear in her eye Vixen says, "It was."
"Part of the plan?" I ask, though I think I know.
She wipes the tear away. I notice the gun is still in her hand.
She says, "It depends what you think the plan is."
"I think someone's got to go down for all this. You can't take credit for axing Big Red. Some folks, call 'em foolish, they won't appreciate it. But me." I start toward her, "Or that Krampus cult, that takes the eyes off you."
She backs away. Raising the gun her hand shakes. I keep walking toward her.
"Don't worry," I say, "I know ol' Roy was supposed to do me in."
I don't hear the gunshot. I just feel the hot punch in my gut. Staggering backwards, I lock eyes with a stranger, but I can't look at her for long.
Blue and red police lights ring the building below. Even if I walk out there's no getting away. This ends badly for me. That's for sure. Though if I've got to be the fall guy I'm going out on my terms.
Turning I stumble towards the end of the balcony. No railing at all, it tappers out to a narrow point.
I say, "I came back to help because I love you, and you used that love to do something twisted. Someone like that... how're you gonna make this a better place?"
At the edge of the balcony I look back.
Vixen says, "Don't..." -- but I'm already falling backwards.
When the only cards in a hand are terrible it takes a serious bluff to win. About half way down the spire I start thinking she called mine. Then I see a flowing stream of red sail off the balcony. It hovers in the air a moment before plunging towards me. Her hooves glow gold, a shower of sparks spitting out her hands.
She slams into me. It's like getting hit by a baseball bat. It's certainly better than hitting pavement.
We twist up through the air, rocketing across the city. I don't know what's going to happen when we land, but I'm hoping for something good. Right now, I just want to enjoy flying.
