canals.’
A joint espionage operation between the Marzios and Galis
Blades ensued. Nothing like it had ever occurred in Galis City
before. Business faltered. Many a made-man and associate found
themselves at the end of Trooper justice due to the lack of informers. But investigation found that the Troopers had not,
indeed, had anything to do with the killings. They were just as
surprised as the rest of Galis’ underworld. Rather, a rat stationed
within the Troopers knew a little too much. The question was,
whose rat?
Galis was home to many gangs of varying power, style and creed.
What the investigation found was that the ones who had spymasters,
no longer did. It was the same story every time. An individual,
identity meant to be a secret, was gunned down in one of the many
alleys. Sometimes, a car was reported speeding away. Other times, a
cloaked figure. Never anything substantive.
With the unknown, came uncertainty. With uncertainty, came
fear. With fear, came violence. The gangs of Galis found themselves
in a war more brutal than anything they had ever experienced
before. But this wasn’t over resources, or markets, or turf – it was
over suspicion. In Galis, very few thought before they acted. The
Galis Blades and the Marzios were two of the few who did. But the
rest of the mob were not helping this process, as both gangs had to
defend their borders with lead, which further heated up the conflict.
‘Don,’ Mac gave a nervous bow. Danny waved him in.
He sat in the back room of the ‘butcher’ – his headquarters. The
room was cool and classy. Red-velvet. Mozar leather. Artwork.
Books. It was a room that exuded wealth and culture. Danny,
despite his profession, was erudite. He wanted people to know it.
‘I found one of Michel’s informants…’
‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing. Dead in a canal.’
Danny pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes to fight
off a headache.
‘Anything else?’
Mac shrugged. ‘Was told to tell you that business is getting
tougher. Troopers aren’t the problem no more. Syliths, the gang,
not the insect, are encroaching on our turf. We lost an entire block
a few hours ago. Three made-men dead. Capo got out.’
‘I know, Mac. Last thing I want, or wanted, was a war. Didn’t
even want an empire. Too unwieldy. I just wanted to sell hookers
and crank. Was that too much to ask?’
Mac snorted.
‘Finding the murderer isn’t even the problem no more. Ain’t it,
Don? Could just as well blame it on someone else. Just need to get
them vowls to stop eating each other.’
Mac turned to leave when Danny jumped up, his rare wooden
chair falling to the ground.
‘Mac! That’s brilliant.’
‘What is?’
‘A scapegoat,’ Danny muttered to himself. ‘That’s what we need.
Michel is dead. Isn’t coming back, no matter if we catch his killer.
What matters is stopping this damn war.’
Mac stood, silent.
‘Get a car around, Mac. I need to see Immondo.’
‘Right-o boss.’
Danny waited inside the domed hall in the Corporate District of
Galis City. The glass ceiling let in the natural light of Extos III, the
star which this planet revolved around, while stopping its heat. This
was a conference centre for inter-company deals, rentable by any
party. It was nestled in the shining corporate district, a zone which
existed long before the refugees came flooding in from Red Sand.
Here, the Troopers actually held power. And that is why Danny
with the Troopers. There would be peace here, for now.
The Marzios and Blades had sent out missives and gossip-
mongers around the city. The message was the same for everyone.
The Don had found the real culprit of the informant killings. He
wanted to expose them in front of the entire underworld. It was
made clear that any gang who didn’t attend would be seen as guilty.
No matter how drug-fuelled, insane or arrogant, all the
underworld bosses knew they couldn’t risk not being at this
meeting. As such, a myriad of vehicles lined the street outside the
domed conference building. Galis Blades arrived in an armoured
car, Purgers walked, Syliths in buggies. Tens more of cars arrived,
bearing leaders of gangs that Danny had never even heard of. The
entirety of this gargantuan city’s underworld was at his fingertips.
‘This going to work?’ Danny heard Zito mutter.
‘Come on, Zito,’ Danny grinned. ‘It’s me.’
Zito snorted. In amusement or doubt, Danny didn’t know.
The leaders filed in, corporate security scanning them for
weaponry. Many of them balked at the treatment, but none left
because of it. After half an hour, the corporate security team had to
bring in reinforcements to carry the confiscated weapons to safety.
The gangs sorted themselves by alliance, forming a mish-mash
of different colours and uniforms. Immondo sat next to Danny.
Corporate security guarded the entrances with sub-machine guns.
As the final leader sat down, Danny left his seat and stood at the
podium in the centre of the gallery.
He smiled, took in a deep breath and spoke.
‘Friends, enemies, gangsters – I’ve gathered you all here today to
solve our mutual problem.’
‘Get a move on!’ a gangster from one of the south-side gangs
shouted.
Danny ignored him, and continued.
‘These past weeks, our city and our enterprises have been burnt
to the ground, by one another. With our informants dead, we have
lost our eyes and ears. Troopers pick us off. We kill what’s left. Al
this accomplishes is the death of our mutual interests.’
‘Mutual?’ a man in the front row spat. ‘Galis ain’t big enough for
all of us. Can’t be mutual. We not gonna share.’
Danny gave a fake smile.
‘Au contraire, dear Sylith. We can. Business is not a zero-sum
game. We can all do business in this city. None of us is big enough
to control it all. There is no reason to fight over it. If we stick to our
borders, we all profit.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ the same man interrupted. ‘You got an
entire district…’
‘Which means nothing while we fight. None of us can conduct
business as long as we’re bombing each other. With this war, Sylith,
none of us profit.’
‘What do you propose?’ Immondo asked, on cue.
‘I propose that we form a Board.’
‘Like those suits down in Titan City? We ain’t corporates!’ a voice
came from the backrow.
‘Not a government. A Board to ensure negotiation, peaceful
allocation of turf and aid us all in this industry we call crime. We rob
blindly. We step on each other’s toes. We intrude because we don’t
know who owns what. With this formal body, we can ensure that
we all maximise our potential profit. None
of us are going to be
empires if we keep destroying one another. What we all can be,
however, are businesses. Together, with the Galisian Racketeering
Board, we can ensure the future of crime in Galis City.’
The room erupted in shouts. Some of the gangs who were in
agreement started arguing with those who were not. Danny put his
hand up to halt the agitated corporate guards.
Then the Sylith in front boomed.
‘But that is not why we are here!’
The room silenced.
‘Yes, observant Sylith. And thank you for getting us back on
point. We are here to discuss our mutual enemy. An enemy which
investigation has shown to be in this room.
Muttering. Danny raised his hand to silence the crowd.
‘Fancy that you’d encourage this topic, Sylith.’
Danny stared the man in the eyes. He didn’t flinch.
‘Marzio turf is right by your headquarters, is it not?’
‘What of it?’
‘It was always a shame you couldn’t expand. A shame that a gang
with dreams of empire had to live next to such a colossus. A shame
that could easily be rectified with a bullet in the right man’s head.
But why stop there? Galis needs an emperor, doesn’t it? And all
these pesky gangs in your way. And bullets are so cheap on Zona
Nox…’
‘What are you getting at?’ The Sylith still wasn’t catching on.
‘Syliths didn’t lose their spymaster. The rest of us did. That is a
little bit suspicious. With only you able to dodge patrols, the rest of
us would be dead by a Trooper carbon round. Why do the dirty
work when the tin-men can do it for you?’
The Sylith and his cronies jumped. ‘This is an outrage! Syliths do
our own fighting.’
‘Tell that to the gallery.’
The Sylith leader turned, sweating. Some of his neighbours began
advancing towards him. He reached for his jacket, and as Danny
had planned, pulled out a gun that he had managed to ‘sneak’ past
the security.
Corporate guards opened fire. The bullets rended the Sylith
leader and his cronies. Danny didn’t flinch as blood splattered on
his face and clean shirt.
As the bullets stopped, Danny continued.
‘With our enemy gone, we can have peace. I now convene the
first meeting of the Galis Racketeering Board.’
There were no objections.
No one dared to oppose the Marzio Mafia as they left the dome.
Most of the gangs who noticed the Corporate guards take off their
armour to reveal Marzio colours didn’t raise a ruckus. But some
gangs did resist their annexation. Danny eliminated them. The rest
filed in. No Trooper patrol happened by. Danny had their blessing.
Uppity, honourable, just – the Troopers were still subservient to
credits.
For the gangs of Galis, they knew that it was too late to resist.
This city would be under Marzio control – for better or worse.
Danny had never wanted this type of empire, but it was a means
to an end. The gangs would comply. Soon, they would even come
to accept the rule of the Board. Even now, many a smaller gang had
joined the Marzios, solidifying his control over the entire slum district.
‘This was a good day,’ Danny smiled, sincerely, as his driver
drove in a convoy of black cars back to the butcher. Along the
highway, previously alight with open warfare, Danny was pleased to
see no smoke on the horizon.
The sun was sinking as they took an off-ramp into the Poor
District. Much of the convoy had arrived much earlier to ensure that
the district would be defended against reprisals. Danny had arrived
at a much more leisurely pace. This was his city now. He wanted to
admire it. It would be changing soon. Might as well take in a last
look. This war that had lasted so long, the pointless conflict, was
over. There would be empire now. Danny’s empire. It wasn’t exactly
what he wanted, but Danny was an optimist. You compromised.
This was a comfortable compromise for him. So what if he was an
emperor? It didn’t matter as long as he was also a businessman.
Danny imagined red lights flickering. They seemed so real.
It was getting dark as they turned into the butchery’s street.
Danny jolted in his seat as the driver hastily braked. Black cars were
arranged around the street haphazardly.
‘Skite,’ Danny swore, a rare feat.
He unbuckled and left his seat. A crowd was assembled around
the building. Most were fellow gang members. Many had been at
the dome. He was able to pass through, easily. He almost gagged at
the sight on the other side.
Zito Gorlea, who had been sent out to secure the turf hours
before, was impaled on the butchery sign. Where once a sign of a
spitted pig was hung, the enforcer was dripping his guts onto the
sandy street below.
The steel door behind him was wide open. Danny entered, side-
stepping the dripping blood and entrails.
The butcher who manned the counter had met a similar fate. He
was nailed to the wall, hand-length nails splaying him like an
artwork. In his chest, written in his blood, was a rising sun.
Danny choked down some bile, holding his mouth for good
measure.
He left the noxious room and surveyed the crowd. Black-suits.
Wide eyes. Sweat. Not mere perspiration, like Zito. Nervous sweat.
His empire. His business. The red lights began to fade.
‘M-men,’ Danny stuttered, quietly, and then spoke clearly.
‘Reinforce the turf. We’re going to war.’
In the days afterwards, Danny gave up on the red lights. The Rising Sun, a warlord from the bandit town of Red City, had
sabotaged the Galisian underworld. In their fear and suspicion of
one another, they had allowed themselves to fall. The south-side fell
in days. The gangs who didn’t join the Zenites, found themselves
hanging by their entrails.
Danny realised that the war that had blighted Galis for so long
before, was not really war. It was business. With the Zenites, things
changed. The Zenites didn’t care about credits. They made enough
taxing the entire south-side. The Rising Sun wanted an empire. Not
a glitzy, casino and vice filled enterprise, but a blood-soaked nation
to dominate. Danny could not compete with that.
The Galisian Racketeering Board still functioned. It established
organised black markets for thieves, unions for whores, and even a
court of territorial disputes. The latter became irrelevant, however,
as all the gangs that survived the Zenites joined with the Marzios,
excluding the Purgers of Filth, who decided to fight their own
crusade. The Galisian Blades changed sides, depending on the bid.
Nobody could accuse them of treachery. They were the best, and
you paid for the best.
Galis was a divided city. Marzios in the north, Purgers in the east,
and Zenites controlling the south. The Troopers could do nothing
as alien invaders, once again, began harassing their borders. It was up to the gangs of Galis to protect the city, from thugs, from
psychos, from themselves.
Danny gave up on the red lights. He had to settle for barred,
tinted windows. He could ignore this from his armoured office
inside the butchery, but whenever he left, and examined the dusty,
decrepit street of his home, he was reminded of how much he hated
this city.
Dear reader,
I hope you enjoyed Gangs of Galis.
Don’t stop now! Danny Marzio, Galis City and Zona Nox await in
Shadow, book 1 of the Warpmancer Series.
You can check it out here.
If you love your sci-fi epic, then you’ll love Warpmancer.