The meeting with the Marsh family took only a few messengers to arrange. I would venture to their quarter of the city, unarmed, and be escorted to Obadiah Marsh’s penthouse. There I would be allowed to negotiate for Mercury’s release. Yeah, in no way did this stink of a trap.
Despite my best efforts to convince them otherwise, Jessica and the others insisted on accompanying me to the Marsh family’s headquarters. I appreciated their loyalty but the Blue Meanie was starting to get a little cramped. I sat in the front seat across from Jessica while Mister Death and Katryn took the back with Jackie between them.
The five of us were now traveling down near-empty cobblestone streets towards the Marsh district, a region avoided by most of the city’s purely human inhabitants. It was unnerving to see abandoned buildings in a community so terribly cramped for space, but it seemed no one wanted to get too close.
Except us.
Jessica, currently playing with a cat’s cradle, looked over to me. “I suppose you have a plan for getting out of this mess.”
“Not really,” I admitted.
Jessica blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“At some point, I just had to start making up shit as I went along,” I said. “Believe me, it is better this way. It gives me an out when everything goes to hell.”
Katryn seemed surprised by my devotion, “I am wondering why you are wasting so much effort on a woman who has admitted to using torture and murder for your Council of Leaders. The John I knew was not a man to forgive such things.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I said, coldly.
Jackie looked between us, clearly uncomfortable.
“Revenge, pain, hate, and love. Even those emotions will pass from humanity in time as we become more like the Old Ones,” Mister Death said coldly, looking over at the abandoned dwellings around us. “They are the example we must strive to be like if we are to transcend this half-dissolved dreamworld they have left us in.”
“You’re a weird man, Mister Death,” Jackie said.
“Thank you,” Mister Death chuckled.
“I explained my reasons to Jackie, Katryn,” I said. “I have a promise to uphold.”
“I’m sure the fact she’s a petite, attractive, redhead has nothing to do with it.” Jessica glanced over her shoulder at Katryn before making a clawing gesture.
Katryn rolled her eyes. “We have arrived.”
The Marsh district was felt before it was seen. My hands felt clammy and I started sweating profusely, the mark of Nyarlathotep on my shoulder burning. Every instinct in my body told me to turn around and drive away. I forced myself to continue onward, passing through an arched entranceway with a pair of skeletal corpses suspended over it as a warning. That was when we entered into a place utterly dominated by the influence of the Great Old Ones.
It was easy to tell the Marsh district from other parts of the city. Whereas the other districts’ buildings had been rebuilt with meticulous care, the ones here existed in a state of near-collapse. Nearly all of the windows were boarded up and most of the structures looked like they’d been gutted by fire.
The worst victims of this all-pervasive decay were the inhabitants themselves. They moved through the streets with an empty, soulless gait. All of them were deformed in some way: possessing scales, enlarged eyes, or pale skin that hung off their bones in unnatural ways. Deep One ancestry ran through the veins of the majority, though the ones who were purely human were even more unsettling. They followed around the Deep One hybrids with a kind of toadying obsequiousness, most being slaves of one sort of or another.
Truly I’d never seen such pervasive oppression. Slave quarters, built to resemble stables, were everywhere. Humans were herded by dozens into tiny iron pens while armed Deep One hybrids kept watch. Passing by a particularly large slavers’ compound, I saw a six-year-old girl ripped from her mother’s arms as they were shoved into different cages. I made a mental note to return to this place after my mission and tear it down brick by brick. It was a hollow promise since I intended to die but one which made me feel slightly better.
Eventually, we reached the heart of the district. There stood the Marsh family headquarters, a once-luxurious hotel which had been converted to a casino. It was a casino with no gamblers, however. Half of the upper floors had collapsed walls with a kind of coral-like substance growing up the side of the building.
Most of the building’s windows were shattered with not even the token attempt to hammer boards over them like the rest of the district. Despite its state of disrepair, the casino was a center of power. I could feel it was the source of the choking sickness I’d felt upon entering the district. It rivaled anything I’d felt outside of the Black Cathedral. I realized, in an instant, the hotel had been consecrated as a temple to Great Cthulhu.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” I muttered, staring at the building. A fading neon sign hung over its arched entrance, reading THE BLUE OYSTER INN.
Katryn reached over and placed her hand on my shoulder, “The Necromancer has been here, John. He has filled it with objects of power. Beware, the Marshes have powers you might not be able to counter.”
“If you try and wrestle with a bull, prepare to get your bones broken,” I said to her.
“I beg your pardon?” Katryn blinked, confused.
“I think he means John doesn’t intend to confront them head on,” Jessica said, feeling the back of her neck. “Though what he intends exactly to do instead, I have no idea.”
“Win.” I pulled out my golden knife and copy of the Necronomicon before handing them over to Katryn. “Watch over these.”
Katryn blinked as she took both, stunned at the generosity of the gift. “As you wish.”
“May the Yellow Sign never drive you insane or waste your lineage with disease,” Mister Death said, waving his hand as though blessing me.
Mister Death’s eyes glanced over at the Necronomicon longingly. If he’d asked, I would have let him look over the Devil-touched manuscript, but I had no doubt he’d try to sneak a peek through his daughter. I had confidence Katryn wouldn’t let him see it; her honor was too great for that. Katryn would reserve that privilege for herself.
“Try not to get killed, Captain,” Jessica said. “You still owe me money from our last card game.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I smirked, remembering she’d cleaned up in ration cards last time. “Next time, I’ll remember never to try and bluff you.”
“You better!” Jessica replied.
“Good luck,” Jackie said, smiling.
“We make our own luck.” I gave her a thumbs-up before heading into the Marsh casino.
Immediately, I was assaulted by the disgusting nature of the building’s interior. The Blue Oyster Inn was a casino, but only in the loosest sense of the word. Video poker machines were scattered about, all of them nonfunctional and rusted to uselessness. The carpets were stained with a layer of slime and the wallpaper was peeling off. The lights were functional but gave off a sickly fluorescent hue instead of anything resembling brightness.
A half-dozen or so Deep One hybrids were scattered about the lobby, all at a much more advanced stage of metamorphosis than the “mostly” human ones outside. They looked like the missing link between human and fish, as troubling in their own way to me as the ghouls were to the average person. I’d dealt with Deep Ones who didn’t disgust me before, but they hadn’t been gangsters or slavers.
The pure-blooded Deep Ones I’d met resembled nothing so much as a bipedal two-armed barracuda, their faces a twisted mix of human and aquatic ancestry. The ones around me, offspring of humans bred with pure-bloods, wore clothes but were well on their way to becoming full members of their race. I didn’t know why the children of E.B.E.s with humans inevitably became identical to their supernatural forbearers, but the transformation was as inescapable as it was inevitable. The Deep Ones, ghouls, and Serpent Men were slowly breeding humanity out and some thought it was an improvement—I just thought it was biology in action. Humanity had gotten the short end of the stick evolutionary-wise, which was why we had to try extra hard to survive.
The six hybrids in the casino moved to intercept me as I walked to the semi-functional elevators at the end of the lobby. A five-foot-even man, covered in scales across his skin and cursed with webbed fingers, grabbed me by the wrist as I attempted to press the UP button.
Turning to him, I saw he possessed a pair of catfish whiskers that resembled a mustache. I found it made him look rather funny, more comical than terrifying. The Catfish Man wore clothes, a leisure suit of all things, but it was covered in filth and looked like it was rotting off his back.
“Good evening. I’m here to see Obadiah Marsh,” I said, trying to be as polite as possible.
The Catfish Man didn’t bother replying, instead throwing a punch at my face with the force of a locomotive. The other five Deep One hybrids attacked as well, charging at me like they were going to tear me to pieces. According to my father, the average hybrid possessed double the strength of a normal man and was three times as durable. Sixty seconds later, they were all lying on the ground with broken kneecaps and shattered jaws.
“I hate this city and everyone in it,” I muttered before heading into the most functional-looking elevator.
As I pressed the button for the penthouse, the doors closed and I felt the machine rock and shudder as it traveled up the decrepit structure. I was getting annoyed at being attacked by so many amateurs lately. The least the city’s gangsters could do was send a group of professionals.
Finally, the elevator reached its destination and opened its doors to a decadent court the likes of which I’d never seen. The humidity was appalling, closer to a jungle than desert with my face feeling wet just from just breathing in the air.
Obadiah Marsh’s penthouse was in a far better state of repair than the rest of the casino. It had clean white wallpaper, fine hardwood floors, and numerous New England antiques spread around the room. The antiques were almost all covered in pieces of gold, mostly R’lyehian artifacts but also things which looked harvested from the ocean floor—Spanish treasures and such.
Pornographic Deep One statuary and pictures hung on the wall while a grand hot tub stood in the center of the chamber. The bubbling basin contained blackish green water and a singularly revolting figure: a Deep One pure-blood wearing a small fortune in gold jewelry. He looked like a caricature of a drug lord from the late 20th century crossed with a fish.
The man I presumed to be Obadiah Marsh was grotesquely obese with a round face which resembled a piranha’s. He was completely hairless and his unnaturally large eyes focused onto me with a mixture of surprise and disgust. Obviously, he’d not expected me to make it up here alive.
“Get your guns on him!” Obadiah shouted, shaking a fruity drink at me.
Yeah, this was going to go well.
My eyes quickly took in eight other figures. With one exception, they were all Deep One pure-bloods wearing no clothes. All but one was armed, wearing leather harnesses to hold pistols and shotguns. A single one sported robes and a staff which made him look like an Eastern Orthodox priest crossed with a sorcerer. I presumed him to be a magic-user, which just made my situation even more desperate.
“Maybe I should avoid asking to be attacked by professionals whenever I’m feeling cocky,” I muttered under my breath.
Sitting in the back of the room, however, was my quarry. Peter Goodhill was still wearing his combat fatigues but had abandoned his shirt to reveal a number of hideous new tattoos—I recognized some to be glyphs from the Necronomicon. Ironically, he was as unarmed as me, just watching the entire situation with a kind of wary amusement.
He did, however, say, “Don’t underestimate him. He’s tougher than he looks.”
Raising my hands as if surrendering, I said, “Lord Marsh, I presume? I’m here to talk.”
Obadiah paused a second before letting out a deafening laugh. He started to speak, possessing an Old Earth Bostonian accent of all things. “Ha! You’ve got testes, I’ll give you that. It must come from all the dirty blood in your veins.”
I was tempted to ask where he got off talking about dirty blood, but I wasn’t feeling suicidal. “I try.”
“Peter, do you think he has testes?” Obadiah looked over to my rival, who smiled. Peter had already replaced his missing teeth with gold ones.
“I believe, Lord, that he’s got testes. It’s just brains he’s missing,” Peter said, putting his hand over his chest and smiling.
The Deep One pure-bloods walked over and checked me for weapons, their slimy webbed hands patting me down quite invasively. After a second, one of them looked to Obadiah Marsh and grunted, “He’s clean.”
“Are any of my nephews downstairs dead?” Obadiah said, sipping his drink.
“No,” I said, remembering my mission for Lord King. “Where I’m from, it’s considered impolite to kill the associates of your host.”
I was beginning to feel a sense of déjà vu. Apparently, beating up someone and dragging them to your boss’s feet was just how they said hello around here.
Obadiah Marsh finished off his fruity drink before setting it aside. “So, you’ve been sent here to negotiate, have you?”
“Not really. Mister King sent me here to try and kill you. I have no desire to do so, however, because I’ve got no interest in playing power politics between mobsters.” I stretched back my neck and gestured to the room. “May I come in?”
Obadiah Marsh looked at me, before glancing over at Peter, then back at me. “Most people would balk at letting in someone who has admitted to being contracted as an assassin.”
“You’re not most people.”
It never hurt to play on the vanity of those you encountered. The truth was, seeing the slavery outside of the Blue Oyster Inn, I was determined to eliminate Obadiah Marsh. I didn’t trust or like Ezekiel King but I’d seen no sign of slavery in his territory. It seemed to be the main source of income for the Marshes.
There was no sense in letting him know that, though.
“Alright, come in.” Obadiah gestured with his webbed hands. “Just know that if you try anything, I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”
Peter looked appalled at his latest master, “Are you fucking serious?”
Obadiah shot him a glare. “Watch your mouth. You work for me but you’re not of the blood.”
“He ultimately takes his orders from Alan Ward,” I said, fully believing Peter Goodhill incapable of winning over someone’s complete trust. “I have no doubt he’s relayed every little secret about your organization to the Necromancer and is undoubtedly just using you as a means to an end.”
“You bastard!” Peter shouted, unaware I took that description as a point of pride. Turning to Obadiah, he said, “You don’t believe this, do you?”
“On the contrary, Peter, I know you. So, I have no doubt Mister Booth is telling the truth.” Obadiah gestured for the robed Deep One to bring him a pitcher of fruit juice, refilling his drink. “The problem is, Mister Booth, I don’t necessarily care. Alan Ward, inferior human slime ball that he is, is powerful and blessed by my god. He’s also good for business. We’ve sold more children to him in the past few months than I’ve sold in years.”
“He’s a prick just out to rescue his female. She’ll fetch a high price, trust me, Obadiah.” Peter was overplaying his hand, which helped me.
I was glad that Peter had undoubtedly put into Obadiah’s head that I was some sort of giant Boy Scout. It would help my credibility when I started lying my ass off. “Alan Ward is planning to take over the Wasteland. The whole Dunwych army attack is a lure to get them to be wiped out by his summoned monsters. He then intends to take over Kingsport and purge the nonhumans. It’s all a Remnant plot with Mister King.”
Peter just stared at me, as if I’d sprouted six heads. “You lying son of a …”
“A plausible story,” Obadiah said, continuing to sip on his drink. “But I’ve heard many plausible stories in my time. Why would you turn against your own people?”
“The woman is pregnant with my child,” I said, staring at them. “I am touched by Nyarlathotep and she would be killed if it was allowed to come to term.”
I lifted my shirt and exposed the mark, causing all of the Deep Ones to exchange looks of fear and confusion. Peter was shocked himself, though I doubted he knew the mark’s true significance.
“I believe you,” Obadiah whispered, gurgling as he talked. “The question, John, is how exactly am I going to benefit from turning over Mister Goodhill and your little honey to you?”
This is where the riskiest part of my plan entered into the equation, the plan I’d completely made up on the spot. “Do you have a radio in your possession?”
“Several,” Obadiah leaned back in his hot tub. “Why?”
“I serve the Opposition Party in the Remnant.” I made up a story I hoped would sound plausible to the power-obsessed mobster. It never hurt to assume people believed the worst of everyone. “We’ll benefit from seeing this current one collapse. Contact a Major Martha Booth on a frequency I give you and we’ll have a trade. A set of heavy assault rifles, enough for you to eliminate all of your competition, in exchange for Doctor Takahashi’s safe return and Peter Goodhill’s head. She has converted to the worship of our gods.”
It was, all in all, a suicidal gambit. In all likelihood, the Remnant would send R&E squadrons for the express purpose of exterminating me as well as Doctor Takahashi. However, they were also very likely to go along with any deals until they arrived. The fact the Marshes were E.B.Es., however, would work in my favor. In the confusion, it was quite possible Doctor Takahashi and I could sneak out.
If it worked.
Obadiah Marsh paused, before looking at Peter. “Looks like you’re just out of luck, Peter.”
The Deep Ones turned their guns on him, which caused him to stare at me with pure hatred—hatred that turned into a kind of admiration. “You do realize Ward’s going to kill you, right?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t have the brains for it.”
Peter made a rush for one of the Deep One’s guns, using him as a shield as he shot one and then another before I grabbed the gun of one of the fallen ones and blew his head clean off. Peter died like a warrior, an R&E Ranger.
Tossing my gun onto the ground, I said, “Show me Mercury.”