Page 42 of Powerless
"Steel Demons, draw your weapons!" Reaper bellowed, already wielding a handgun. "We're getting ambushed!"
Sixteen
GUNNER
The guard detail beyond the gate led me down a long, winding driveway—freshly paved as the private road had been. I could still smell the asphalt.
In the distance, a massive house loomed up ahead. I couldn't even really call it a house, it looked like a fucking castle. We had pretty sweet digs back at Sheol, but this place even made Reaper's mansion look like a shack. It sprawled out to the sides and had tall spires that seemed to pierce the clouds.
Uncle Jerry, what have you done...
Some dude in a suit waited for me at the wide, arching front door. I drove around a huge ornate water fountain and pulled up to the bottom of the shallow steps where he stood.
"Mr. Youngblood," he said in a crisp accent. "Your uncle is pleasantly surprised at your visit. I'm his butler. You may call me Chandler."
A butler? What fucking year was it again?
"Call me Gunner." I dropped my feet to the ground but left my bike idling. "Wouldn't want you getting my uncle and I mixed up now."
He aimed a tense, patronizing smile at me. "I wouldn't dream of it. You may park your vehicle in the garage if you continue on this road. Security will bring you inside to a sitting room, where you may wait until Governor Youngblood is ready to receive you."
"Thanks," I couldn't help but sneer the word out, "Chandler."
I was ready to eat my words when the garage door pulled up. "Holy shit," I breathed.
A car enthusiast's wet dream laid out before me. The cherry red Corvette caught my eye first—the thing had to be over a hundred years old and was still in pristine condition—but I also recognized BMWs, Mercedes, and even a Mach 1 Mustang that had to be from 1969. That thing wasn't just a car, but anartifact.
Whether in a luxury or sporty mood, Uncle Jerry had fine tastes.
I parked next to a BMW 8 series and went with the guard who kept mugging me from across the garage. He told me to wait in a room filled with stuffy furniture that was probably worth more than my bike and all the weapons I had on me combined. I was ready to put up a stink if any of these guards demanded I come in unarmed. But no one did, which meant security sucked at their job or Uncle Jerry had enough of his own firepower for it to not matter.
Chandler came to fetch me after about fifteen minutes, leading me through a long hallway with a tall, domed ceiling. Aside from him, the guards, and what looked like cleaning staff, not many other people seemed to be milling about the mansion. I couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.
Chandler knocked three times on a set of ornately-carved double doors—again with the Youngblood family crest. My insides churned at the sight of it. I purposely distanced myself from my blood relatives only to find myself right back in their shenanigans again.
The butler pulled the doors open right after knocking, revealing a comfortable study inside. It reminded me a little of Reaper's study at his house, only much bigger. Dark wooden accents, soft leather chairs, and warm yellow lamplight.
But here, a young blonde woman was straightening her clothes as she stood up from behind the desk in the center of the room. Pink lipstick was smeared on her chin. She was beautiful, but her green eyes looked cold and dead.
"Gunner!" my uncle cried out jovially, raising his arms out as if awaiting a hug. "It's been so long!"
He was sweating a little under his expensive smoking jacket and he panted slightly.
"Howdy, uncle," I returned flatly. "Didn't mean to interrupt anything."
"Not at all, Katya was just leaving." His eyes slid over to the blonde who took her cue to leave. "Can I get you anything?" His attention zapped back to me. "A drink? A cigar?"
"Sure, I'll take one of each."
"Excellent. Chandler!" He snapped his fingers. "Bring us a couple of Cubans and that bourbon I save for special visitors." He chuckled to himself. "You think we can still call it bourbon if Kentucky's not on the map anymore?"
"Why change a good thing, right?" I lowered myself into one of the chairs across from his desk. "So, seems you've done well for yourself,governor." I flexed my hands up to indicate the whole room. "Province of Jerriton, huh?"
"Oh, you know I've always been ambitious, Gunner," he grinned at me from across the desk. "All the men in our family are."
"Yeah, about that." I paused to accept the cigar from the silver tray held out by Chandler. "We're not family." I struck the match and lit the end, puffing on the dried, burning tobacco worth a small fortune. Once I got it going, I took the glass of bourbon on the silver tray. "I'm here because myrealfamily did you a solid when they could have just as easily let you get killed. They didn't, so you owe a large part of your success to SDMC,governor." I exhaled slowly. "And I'm here to cash in on what you owe us.”
"Still running around with that gang, are you?" my uncle remarked, lighting his own cigar. "You're almost thirty now, Gun. Don't you think it's time you settled down, started thinking about the future?"
