Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: This story contains adult content.


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            I arrive...late. My hands sweat from the eyes bulleting themselves at me as I enter the room. Luckily SHE is also even later.

            Then again...when one manages to make herself the Queen of the Underworld, the word late doesn't really apply now does it. I take my seat in the room, among the vultures. The thieves hoping to steal my number. We all had a number. I was number 32. In this world you couldn't trust anyone. I could barely even trust my own brother. Castor. He sits next to me. In his face I see my own. He is my twin brother. His strong jaw line. His curve pink lips. His body rippled, rock hard as though the gym was his life. His intense stare. His stature...incredible. He was the prototype of a man, just like I was. No hint of flaw. No hint of flaw in anyone in this room...unless it was purposeful. And then...if it was purposeful, then it wouldn't be much of a flaw, now would it?

            "Why are we here?" I ask Castor.


            Castor does that so fucking much. It's annoying. He wants to appear all posh and above everyone else in his European cut Armani suit.

            "I just ask asked a fucking question."

            Castor shoots me the eye, "She's coming...shh..."

            The heels. I could hear the heels from a mile away. The parade of heels used to send shivers up my spine when I was inducted into the society 8 years ago at the ripe age of 13. That is when she really wants you. When she can manipulate your mind...manipulate everything about you. As soon as you hit puberty.

            She enters with her parade of stiletto heels. It is the sound of oncoming hell.

            All eyes stop and stare. She so beautiful. She is so fucking innocently looking. As she enters no one dares speaks. There are 14 of us in the room. There are many others, but only the ones necessary have made it to the meeting.

            Her name is Wednesday Montague.

            She is #1.

            To her right, Antoinette Austin.

            To her left Cecile.

            "Is everyone accounted for?" Wednesday asks, her baby doll lips puckering up as she was handed a profile by Cecile.

            Cecile nods. She is a woman of few words. She carries this mysterious danger about her. No one in the secret society trusts her. Her past is very cloudy and unknown. She hadn't come from a wealthy family like Antoinette. How is it really that she managed to carve, shoot, and manipulate her way to #12 was beyond anyone's comprehension...except Wednesday.

            "Good. Let us begin. I have a hit by the Xu Chin of the Triad. The Italians are moving onto his turf, led by the Garciano family breaking the Hell's Kitchen Truce that was signed last month. I am ordering the murder of the entire Garciano family. I'm assigning this to #45."

            She handed Cecile a folder and Cecile walked across the room where she dropped it in the lap of Tyrell "Chopper" Stevens, #45. He was a head in the gang mostly known as the Bloods. He could have been the leader. Across from him was Brick Jones. Brick was in a high position from the Crips.

            Here it didn't matter. Chopper did what he was told. He'd go back to the Bloods, forge some plot to get beef with the Garcianos and they'd kill him. And no one would know it was planned. No one would know Wednesday Montague was behind it all.

            And like a little girl she put her elbows on the table and lifted both her feet onto the chair.

            No...not the chair...her throne.

            Chopper got up off his chair, "Maybe...maybe the other gangs can handle this one. Wednesday. The bloods, man...they been thinking that I been snitching to the cops lately cause they seen me talking to one of your people. My position is threatened right now. You promised if I did that last hit for you, you'd let me lay low for a little bit."

            Wednesday eyes lifted up.

            She was so small, so cute. You would think that she was about to invite him out for tea, but instead she challenged his entire manhood, "You punking out on me, Chopper Stevens?"
            "No, ma'am. Never...I'm still down for the Dollhouse. I'm still down. I just got kids to feed nah' mean? Who gonna feed them if the bloods start getting suspicious of me? How I'm going to feed my kids from 6 feet under."

            He was right.

            The streets were hot. Wednesday's connections were everywhere. She maintained the order of the underworld. All the underworld lead down to Wednesday. If you manage to sneak a peak at a cop talking to a gangster casually, it's probably cause they both work for Wednesday.

            I could see Antoinette's lip twitch. She knew Wednesday the most. She was her best friend. It wasn't a good sign to see Antoinette's lip twitch.

            "This isn't up for discussion...little boy."

            Tyrell "Chopper" Stevens was a king in the streets. He was a legend. He was a blood O.G. He killed men for less on the streets then calling him a little boy. But here...things were different. The reason Stevens was what he was, was because of her.

            I could see him bite his tongue struggling with his pride.

            "Listen, I didn't disrespect you..."

            "Of course you didn't," she taunted him, smiling, "You can't. Now take your FAGGOT ass on those streets and get your useless thugs to hit the Garcianos!"

            "Faggot ass?"

            He slammed his hand on the table. Big mistake, "You little bitch, I worked these streets, sacrificing my own men because of you. I don't ask a fucking question about why. Put my fucking status on the line for you, bitch and you going to play me like this! Call me a faggot in front of all these people. I'm a man! I'm not no doll..."

            He didn't finish his sentence.

            I had hardly heard the gun shot. All I heard was the gust of wind through the silencer and the bullet entering his head. Then the blood...ALL THE FUCKING BLOOD!

            All the blood was all over me! My heart raced a million times at that moment. I could never get used to it.

            "What a loss of efficacy," she stated.

            It was Cecile that had shot him. I had gotten up from the table. I was sitting beside Stevens. The blood sprayed in my face. I was scared of this man. I was horrified of him. And now he was gone...just like that. Just because she said so. And no one was flashing a second stare.

            I had screamed. I couldn't help it. I noticed Castor shooting me an embarrassed look. He was always the over achiever. He knew what to do in this predicament. Wednesdays eyes set on though she was thinking of something. And it scared me. It scared the fuck out of me.

            As the clean up crew came in Antoinette looked over at me and laughed, "Pollux for an assassin in training you scare so easy..."

            The clean up crew took his body. They would make an excuse on how he was killed. They make it look like a Crip killing. Wednesday had people on both sides. She had people as the Crips...she had people as the crime scene investigators working for her. It would be easy.

            The blood all over my face...I wiped it off on my Etro blazer. I could afford the blazer because of her. Just like that everyone had moved up a number. I had become #31.

            "Moving along. #15 will take on Steven's job."


            Welcome to the Dollhouse...


            I went to sink in my room. I stayed at the Ritz-Carlton hotel. Of course I stayed there for free. My room was enormous. I traveled so much I barely saw the place. I guess this was the only place I could relatively call home. Wednesday had so many jobs for me.

            I was a spy for her, just like my brother. We were trained for 8 years. I was a weapons specialist. I knew everything there was to know about any times of weapons. I knew everything there was to know about guns, knives, bombs and poisons.

            You would think I would be a stone cold mercenary by now. Only I hadn't killed anyone...I mean not with my own hands. I'd been there. I'd been there so many times and seen Cecile do what Cecile does.

            There was a knock on the door.

            Fuck...fix your face. They can't see you weak. They can't see you struggle. They can't see you upset. You had to be perfect always. Show no signs of weakness.

            I opened the door.

            My brother walked in and nodded at me.

            He looked different, "I think Wednesday may want me to go on a mission. Not sure. I got that feeling. I hope I don't have to fuck some old mayor and blackmail him for political sway again."

            It wouldn't be the first time Wednesday had sent him on the mission. Hell, I even had to do it several times. Whether it was male or female. Wednesday spotted us because we were bisexual. That was a plus for her. Many of the spies were bisexual. She could plant us wherever she wanted to.

            My brother was much of the seducer though. He was a computer hack, probably one of the best in the country.

            "Um, Castor, can I have a minute?" I ask, still holding the door open.        

            He looks at me weird, "You got a date? Pollux you know how Wednesday gets about the personal shit. You going to fuck someone you can't do it at the Ritz."

            "No I don't have a date."

            Though maybe that was really what I needed right about now. I couldn't take this shit. I couldn't take the stress.

            He looked into my eyes. Castor had a way of feeling when I was upset or not. We knew each other. It wasn't even that we were so close because we weren't, but I guess it had to be a twin thing.

            "Close the door," he told me, "Then come over here and we'll talk this shit through."

            I closed the door.

            My heart raced.

            "I can't do it no more," I stated, "I can't do this shit no more."
            "Shh!" he stated.

            He went to the door and looked out of it. He put a towel down to the door and ran the water in the bathroom to muffle the sound. I could tell he was paranoid. We all were paranoid a little bit. God knows who was another spy for Wednesday?

            "You said to talk about it," I retorted, shrugging my shoulders.

            "You want to end up like #45?"

            "Castor, is that all we are? Numbers..." I ask him, looking at him really wondering, "I mean, our whole lives are based off her efficacy theory. Based off how much of an effect we can make FOR HER. Not for ourselves. Castor aren't you tired?"

            Castor looked at me.

            He lowered his head. It hadn't been the first time him and I have talked about it. It hadn't been nearly the first time.

            "You know I am. You know about the Herrera massacre. All those people..."
            We hadn't killed anyone. But Castor and I were there at the Herrera massacre. We helped. We didn't do anything. We watched as Cecile cut up those little girls based off nothing else but Wednesday said to.

            "Then lets stop. Let's leave."

            "She'll find us."
            "We'll go over seas."

            "The Dollhouse is everywhere..."

            "Then lets get rid of her," I stated, "We know whose behind it all. We are close enough to Wednesday to do it. Let's get rid of Wednesday. Break these fucking chains."

            He started to laugh. Maybe I was upset. Maybe I was sounding crazy, but none of this shit was funny right now. I got up off the bed, slapping the lamp onto the ground breaking it in anger.

            "Oh c`mon bruh. Listen I am here with you going through it, but Wednesday, she doesn't die..."

            "Everyone dies."
            "Well Wednesday isn't exactly like everyone else is she?"

            I grab the glock that I have at my bedside, "If she was born she can die."

            "Do you have any proof that she was born? I mean, I don't..."
            "What are you saying, she's like God..."

            "Why not? What's the difference? God creates and he destroys. She creates and she destroys. I don't see a difference? Maybe she is God."

            My brother was so distant. I guess he had lost all his humanity through all this. I knew each day my own humanity was slipping. And there was nothing either him nor I could do to stop this.



            I end up at the bar. I end up drinking my head off. Truth is the liquor hardly helps at all. All I know is that things are changing and the liquor helps make me remember the past just for a second or two. Then I'm back to being Cecile's assassin-in-training.

            I was being set to be a dangerous man...and I wasn't sure I wanted to become one.

            Liquor can't hide your sadness. Sexy guy to the right kept staring at me. If only he knew. I stop looking his way and ignore him, staring up at the screen. It's 2017 and a month ago we had our first female and black president. I can see her on the flatscreen waving her hand around. She wasn't controlled by the Dollhouse but there were those who influenced her that were controlled by the Dollhouse.

            How could something be allowed to get so vast? How could something be allowed to get so big? All of this depended on Wednesdays theory. Her efficacy theory. I didn't know the details but she numbered the members of the Dollhouse according to efficacy. We were numbered on our importance.

            That's all I was! A fucking number. The bartender hits me up with one last drink. The sexy guy is still staring at me. He doesn't think I notice but I've been trained to sense eye contact even looking down.

            I was a walking FUCKING science project.

            I leave the bar at 2 am.

            I feel this gust behind me and it tells me to turn around. There I see a guy. I had noticed the guy in the bar. He is tan and tan enough that he can't be white. He isn't black though. I don't exactly. Perhaps he's Italian. Perhaps Spanish.

            He's following me. That I know for sure.

            I am drunk but immediately a part of my brain kicks in. Cecile trained me well. Like an eagle my eyes penetrate the streets looking for anything that kicks back an reflection. I see in the trash can that he is gaining on me.

            Who the fuck is this?

            Maybe Wednesday overheard Castor and I talking? Maybe Castor betrayed me. Maybe he figured that I was coming for his number. Damn, it would be hard to kill Castor if this was true.

            I could feel the wind. It was strong enough...

            As soon as I turned down the dark alley, I paid attention to the weather. I took of my jacket and let it fly behind me. The strong wind took it and blew it up against the my pursuer.

            My thin coat blew in his face. He didn't even see me coming. He didn't see me running towards him, grabbing him and pinning him to the wall easily. I concealed a blade between him and my jacket. Of course he didn't see it, but if he answered any of my questions wrong, it would be the last thing he ever said...

            "Who sent you!"

            "I don't know what you're talking about."
            "Who the FUCK sent you?"

            He lifted his hand and before I could see what he had in it, I headbutted him hard, making him drop whatever he was lifting towards me. I looked down, ready to retrieve his gun or weapon...but instead I found that he had dropped a badge.

            A badge?
            He was a fucking cop?

            "My name is Officer Tron Anderson," he stated, "I just wanted to ask you a few questions?"

            "Cops hang out at gay bars now?"
            "I duty. I'll be honest I got a lead and I'm working on it, but this city is so corrupt that I figured the best thing to do is..."

            "Go undercover at gay bar in order to question me?"

            I lower my stuff. I don't put the blade out of reach however. He was right. The entire city was corrupt and there was no room to trust anyone.

            "Something like that. Hey, you pack one hell of a headbutt for a little guy," He told me, touching his bleeding lip.

            Truth was I wasn't too much smaller then him. He was a bigger guy though. He was very muscular. He could probably double for some type of wrestler. He had a lot of clothes on but I knew he was built underneath all that. His face was strong and masculine. He seemed real serious.

            "Well you going to lock me up for assaulting a police officer?" I asked, licking his lips. Why not flirt?

            "No...not unless you want me to."

            "Does that include breakfast in the morning?"

            He laughs, "You're cute."

            "Didn't know pigs said that word."

            "Yeah well who knew random men knew how to take down a police officer so easily?"

            I smiled. He was cute. He knew he was too. He kept smiling with his cute half smile. I realized now he was actually black but just with a lighter, fairer complexion. It was like and. He kept looking at me, piercing through my eyes.

            "You going to stare at me all night?"

            "Do you want me to?"

            I licked my lips, "Maybe."

            I took a step closer to him, but he took a step back. I could see the hesitance in his eyes as he did so. He was hesitant of me. He had every right to be. I had studied 10 ways to kill him instantly without any weapons at all. But my face of course was innocent. Why did it seem like he wasn't falling for the innocent look?
            "Hey I'm sorry, I can't."

            Fucking tease, "It's not nice to play around with feelings."

            "I'm married. You'll get me in trouble. You're a dangerous man."

            Understatement, "You have no idea..."

            He laughed. He didn't know how serious I was.

            "I just wanted to ask you a few questions."

            Questioning. Oh that is what all this shit was about? I thought I had myself a hot new date or something. Had a lot of cops approach me, but never had one who took the time to actually flirt with me.

            "Honestly, officer, if I'm not under arrest then I'm leaving," I say, rudely rolling my eyes and starting to walk away.

            A shame. He was very cute. I guess people don't check you out anymore unless they wanted something.
            "Don't you even want to know what I want to ask you about?"
            I shook my head.

            The millions of things that he could ask me about. The millions of things I'd seen would send hundreds of men (and women) to prison. He didn't want to get involved in that. He was a young cop. I was sure he didn't know much about the game yet. The bad guys probably didn't even give two fucks about his entire existence. He was a nobody.

            "You can keep that secret."

            "Listen, I just want to know about something. My partner was killed back in October. His name was Detective Herrera. His son pointed you out on television. No one believes it because the kid is too young to be a reliable witness, but I had to follow instinct. Now I've been searching for you for months and we are completely off record cause now this is very personal. His son let me know that you didn't kill anyone. In fact, he told me you saved him. But someone did. Someone killed the entire family as a matter of fact save the son who is staying with his brother now. I need to know what you know."

            I didn't save anyone. I didn't have that to do. That sounded more like my twin. It sounded more like something Castor would do. He was always the one who knew how to act while all I knew how to do was whine and complain.

            Still Herrera...

            I was there.

            It had haunted me for months now. The memories were still so much.

            I put a cigar in my mouth and lit it, "Off record?"

            "Way off record."

            "Good cause your witness protection program sucks. But you probably won't believe this shit anyway so it doesn't matter. First things first. You ever heard the Illumanati? They are a myth right? Wrong. They exist except they aren't who you think they are..."