“They just have, boss, I was actually coming to tell you. They’re keeping a pretty wide berth but they’re there, six of them, I think.”
“Perfect,” I coo, pulling up the hood on my new leather cat suit. “Let the boys know I’m going out and I don’t want to be hit by any goddamn friendly fire,” I say, opening the door to the roof deck.
“Got it boss,” he replies watching me disappear into the roof garden. Jeeves is right; there are at least six news choppers just outside the perimeter. I fly up into the air and hover above my new home.
“Hmm. Which one should it be?” I pose to myself, nibbling on my fingers excitedly. This is really my debut to the world, so I want it to look just right. A FOX News chopper floats dead center in the group. I shoot into the night and pull up just short of the FOX team. The looks on their faces are priceless. Over the blades I can hear a shrill blonde woman inside yelling.
“PLEASE TELL ME WE’RE ROLLING…ARE YOU GETTING IT?!” The cameraman is telling her to shut up, the pilot looks like someone kicked him the groin. I hover in front of them, making sure everyone gets plenty of footage of me, and then I unceremoniously thrust my foot, heel-first, into the glass window and metal base of the helicopter. The force sends it toppling end over end and it crashes into the Harbor Freeway below. It explodes on impact and I look at the other choppers on either side of me, their news teams staring, mouths agape. I juke toward the next closest team and the pilot jerks the controls wildly, smashing into another chopper, which spins out of control and then crashes into the freeway on its own. The three remaining news teams beat a hasty retreat and I smile and do a civilized little golf-clap for myself. I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy the coverage. Perhaps, I’ll have Jeeves make popcorn.
Around mid-day the following afternoon, the power is cut. It doesn’t seem like a big deal since the sun is high in the sky, but it’ll start to get hot without the air conditioning soon – not to mention all the other crap that you need power for. So I pick one lucky girl from my stable of hostages in the parking garage, and pin a nice, polite note to her shirt:
Dear City of L.A./Power Companies/LAPD/FBI/Whoever:
Turn my power back on. Every hour it’s off after 4, I kill a hostage.
Sincerely,
The King of Los Angeles
I have her escorted safely to the perimeter.
At ten minutes to four I have Jeeves bring me three hostages selected randomly. I stand them in front of me in the penthouse and offer them all bottled water. None of them take it. At exactly four o’clock I ask Jeeves to turn on the lights. He flips the switch and nothing happens. I grab the guy in the middle – some suit – and drag him out to the roof deck with me. I survey the skyline and pinpoint what looks like the command center the LAPD and FBI have set up on the edges of my borders. I grab the suit by his fancy lapels and launch him at them like he’s a giant lawn dart. I shade my eyes, watching his trajectory across the sky. My aim is super badass and he crashes through one of the command center trailers like a fleshy bullet. My men with binoculars hoot and holler in celebration while the other side shouts orders and screams obscenities. I brush my hands together, satisfied, and go back inside to wait with the other two hostages for five o’clock. At five Jeeves tries the lights and they’re back on. I send the other hostages back to my hostage warehouse unharmed.
I laze about the rest of the day, shouting occasional orders and taking an informal survey of the loot being brought in. One of the great perks of our location choice is that it includes, pretty much in its entirety, the Los Angeles diamond district. The men are exceptionally pleased with what they pull off those streets. I have them pile everything up into the penthouse by type: piles of cash, piles of gold, piles of platinum, piles of jewelry, piles of loose gems (diamonds get their own pile), etcetera. It’s pretty freaking impressive and the way it all shines in the sun (except the cash of course) is deliciously satisfying. Most awesome of all is that the boys bring me a present halfway through the day. An ornate and somewhat ridiculous throne for me to sit on. It’s all carved wood and gilded in gold with a lushly cushioned back and seat. I’m a bit dainty in it; obviously it’s built for a large man, but I love it anyway. It’s huge and fits well in the room after I have all the existing furniture removed. I take Liz out of my pocket though and wish for a place to keep her close to me, her own special place. I send Jeeves out for another chair, a smaller, more delicate chair to go by my side. Despite the use of the word ‘delicate’ I think he’s still hoping it’s for him. A handful of minions arrive two hours later with a gorgeous glass and red velvet throne. It’s much less grand than mine, but beautiful and important in its own way. I motion for them to set it down to the right side of mine and they do. They shift around uncomfortably and then escape while I walk up and down eyeing the new seating. Finally, I take Liz out of my pocket and place her on the chair. I take a few steps back and cock my head. “Do you like it?” I ask.