This is the third episode of the nine-part series, Wu-Tang vs. AI. This is purely fan fiction, so of course, the events, actions and dialogue in this story are completely fictional. Catch up on Episode I here, and Episode II here.
In the second episode, Method Man and Inspectah Deck hit a dead end with the CIA while trying to find out who was behind the artificial intelligence attack on their fortress and the theft of their golden record. Meanwhile, Young Dirty Bastard convinced RZA to let him go with Raekwon and Ghostface Killah to the Rainforest of Xishuangbanna in China to find the mythical All-Seeing Eye, so they could finally get answers to their burning questions. Just before they entered the rainforest, they faced a blazing attack from flame-throwing androids which they barely survived and which left their guide, an albino man named Phil, dead.
Now, it’s up to Masta Killa, U-God and Clan associate Redman to fortify the fortress while GZA and Cappadonna attempt to keep up appearances by performing at Chicago’s Concord Music Hall….
Cappadonna was frustrated. He trusted RZA completely, and he knew that business as usual was the smartest direction to take at the moment. But he also wanted to be there for his brothers, in the thick of the action. He felt that performing a show – as sensible as it was – was simply not enough.
In the early days of Cap’s involvement with the Wu-Tang Clan, he had a thirst to prove himself. But this wasn’t that. He knew he’d become essential to the group, and valued his own opinion enough to want to help the Clan make the right decisions.
But again, he trusted RZA. If RZA said Chicago’s Concord Music Hall was where Cap was needed, then Concord Music Hall is where he would be.
Besides, he loved the venue. It was large enough to feel the goosebumps of performing for a sizeable crowd, but small enough to take in their faces. It would be the perfect way to soothe his soul and get in touch with the most creative part of himself, which would open his mind to even bigger possibilities when it was time to rejoin the brain trust .
Plus, he had GZA with him. If anyone could keep focus amidst chaos, it was Gary. His surgical precision was not limited to his artistry, but was something that imbued every move he made with a sense of purpose. As iron sharpens iron, GZA’s lyrical liquid sword would sharpen Cap’s countenance.
They arrived at the Concord at the same time they usually would, had the same pre-show meal (Indian food, GZA’s favorite, but Cap was partial to it, too), and carried themselves with the typical ease, even though they knew what was lurking in the back of each other’s minds.
About an hour before the show, they sat down to eat. In the middle of savoring their chicken tikka masala, they simultaneously looked up at each other. Without saying a word, they nodded in understanding.
Tension is who you think you should be. Relaxation is who you are.
Several hours before GZA and Cap’s meal, the fortress was buzzing with Killa Bees. Cousins, uncles, a few aunties, and a handful of trusted friends from Park Hill and Stapleton were all there, working to maximally fortify the premises. Redman ensured that another layer of plasma blanketed the force field. Masta Killa had a crew place snares and traps around the grounds, all the while mapping them out so everyone knew what spots to avoid.
U-God, meanwhile, was working with their private contractor, Gino, whom RZA knew from his mother’s days working for the Gambino family. With a team of close associates, they were creating a barrier behind the force field of tungsten, the most impenetrable metal of all. But they’d hit a snare in their planning, and not the kind that was meant to send androids flying. The costs for the barrier would be hefty, since the electrical tools being used to install the barrier more quickly were more expensive than previously estimated.
When Masta Killa heard this, he pulled U-God to the side.
“Look, man, I don’t know about this,” Killa said in a low voice.
“What did RZA say?” U-God said. “‘Spare no expenses.’”
“Right, but this seems out of hand,” Killa said.
“Look, man, I’m in charge of the barrier,” U-God said. “You just worry about those traps.”
“Yo, you’re not the one crunching the numbers!” Killa’s voice rose, attracting the attention of a few of Gino’s men. “And from where I sit, we’re taking on a lot of unnecessary expenses right now.”
“You don’t crunch the numbers,” U-God shot back. “Divine does.”
“I help,” Killa said, and at U-God’s look of skepticism, he added, “Sometimes.”
“Mmhmm,” U-God said.
“I do!” Killa insisted. “And I’m just saying, we could get the Sandman on this.”
“Uh-uh, no way,” U-God said, shaking his head. “First of all, what contractor calls himself “the Sandman?”
“It’s ‘cause he makes your construction problems disappear,” Killa explained. “You know, like quicksand?”
U-God waved him off.
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” he said. “And stop acting like this is about saving money. You want Sandman to come so you can have a shot at his aunt. Let it go, man, she’s 75 years old.”
Killa’s face flushed.
“Hey,” he said. “She knows what she wants.”
Before U-God could reply, Killa’s eyes grew wide and he pulled U-God to the ground. A split-second later, a high-energy beam shot through the force field and came screaming toward the earth. Killa chucked a sheet of tungsten to block the incoming beam. The beam hit the sheet with such a force that it exploded upward into a hundred pieces. Their ears rang as miniscule bits of tungsten floated down around them.
The beam spread out and burned into the ground, the flames rising suddenly and withering a few moments later. As the surrounding workers picked themselves up off the ground, RZA and Redman arrived on scene. U-God picked himself up gingerly, and then helped Killa up.
“Thanks, brother,” U-God said.
“I gotchu,” Killa said.
They approached the burnt ground cautiously. Amazingly, the blast had spelled out a message in the grass:
THE MUSIC WON’T SAVE THEM
RZA quickly looked at his watch. Then he pulled out his cell phone and dialed GZA and Cap multiple times, but to no avail. Each time, his calls went to voicemail. Meanwhile, Killa called the show’s promoter, while U-God rang the Concord Music Hall. The promoter didn’t pick up, either, while the venue apparently hadn’t opened yet. Crestfallen, they all shared looks of fear.
“Do you want me to keep trying them while you handle this?” Redman asked.
RZA shook his head.
“You know how they are before a show,” he said. “No distractions. I wouldn’t be surprised if they put their phones in a drawer.”
“What about the promoter and the venue?” U-God asked.
RZA paused for a moment, deep in thought.
“It seems business as usual is no longer practical,” he started. “But we shouldn’t raise the alarm to outsiders just yet. There’s still time to reach them, so I’m gonna take the jet.”
“What do we do about all these people?” Killa asked.
“Send them home,” RZA said. “This is not their fight.”
He turned to Redman.
“Go see Power,” RZA said. “We’ll need at least a dozen of the Wu Wear Iron Man suits he’s producing for the military.”
“Got it,” Red said, and he departed.
“So the protection was an illusion, huh?” U-God said.
RZA sighed heavily and nodded.
“We’re as vulnerable as we’ve ever been,” he said.
“Have you heard from Meth and Deck?” U-God asked.
“An hour ago,” RZA said. “They’ll be back tonight.”
“What about Ghost and them?” Killa asked.
“No,” RZA said. “Not since Rae texted me telling me they were leaving for the rainforest. But if they’re where they’re supposed to be, they’ll be out of range, anyway.”
“You hear from their guide, um, what’s his name…Phil?” U-God asked.
“No, but that’s-” RZA started.
“Not abnormal,” Killa finished.
RZA nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s hope it’s just that.”
“I can try to get a hold of him when we get inside,” U-God said, gesturing to the fortress. “You want us to go with you to Chicago?”
“No,” RZA said. “The more split up we are, the safer we’ll be. Besides, at least a few people need to stay here.”
He clapped them both on the shoulder and looked them each meaningfully in the eye. If U-God didn’t know better, he’d have thought the shine in RZA’s eye was a tear.
“Keep your weapons by your side at all times,” he said.
They nodded, and RZA left swiftly, silently, without another word. U-God and Killa looked at each other, worried and puzzled.
“‘The more split up we are, the safer we’ll be?’” U-God repeated. “Since when you hear the Abbott talk like that?”
“Man, he’s just trying to protect us,” Killa said. “Probably thinks if we’re all in one place we’ll be easier to get to.”
U-God shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I think these attacks got inside his head.”
They stood there silently, watching the last of the bits of tungsten float to the ground.
“Yo,” Killa said, gesturing to the falling metal. “See what I told you about unnecessary expenses?”
GZA couldn’t help but admire the opener of their show – a Chicago kid who had a throwback flow like Treach. The crowd loved him, too, and when he finished his last song, they gave him an impressive ovation.
Backstage, GZA grinned to himself. Oh, to be young and hungry.
Fifteen minutes later, he was standing next to Cap just behind the curtain, with the DJ cueing up the first cut: Ghostface Killah’s “Wu Banga 101,” on which GZA and Cap would spit their verses. They turned to each other, looked one another earnestly in the eye, and gave each other a pound. Showtime.
They came out on opposite sides of the stage, joining together in the middle as GZA spit his opening lines:
“Yo, too advanced, Digi’ stance, made the CD enhanced/I move with the speed and strength of ants…”
The crowd swayed back and forth to the beat, reciting every one of GZA’s words along with him while Cap hyped up the crowd. This is it, Cap felt as he took in the faces in the crowd. This is exactly what they needed.
But one face stood out as odd. A young Black man with dreads, probably no more than 26 or 27 years old, wore a strained, twitchy smile, and the whites of his eyes were gleaming.
Cap’s stomach sank to his heart. He knew even before his brain had completely caught up to his instinct.
GZA had the same feeling when he looked to his left. There was another figure, a 30-something Japanese woman with a round face and prematurely gray hair, who only blinked once every 10 seconds or so. Then she looked to her left, at the man with gleaming eyes, and her own eyes went from red, to a fiery orange, and back to their normal shade of brown.
Androids.
Before GZA and Cap could alert each other, a noise like a bomb went off near the stage and the air was filled with smoke. Crowd members coughed, sputtered and screamed as they stampeded toward the exit. Even the hometown DJ split. GZA pulled out his brass nunchucks, while Cap whipped out his Han Solo blaster. Cap ducked below the smoke in time to see the male android leap toward the stage. He was pointing a similar laser gun at Cap, and they fired at each other almost simultaneously. Cap barrel-rolled on the stage as the android’s shot blasted apart the DJ’s equipment. The price of disloyalty. Cap’s shot took the head off the android, and the robotic body went limp and fell back onto the floor.
Cap turned the barrel of his gun up and blew on it.
“I shot first,” he said.
“Ha!” GZA laughed.
The remaining crowd members shrieked at the blast, as security tried unsuccessfully to wade through the sea of would-be escapees. GZA and Cap scanned the crowd for the other android, and to Cap’s horror, he saw a skinny teenager about to be trampled. Cap leapt into the massive cloud of smoke to save the boy. GZA went to jump after him, but before he could he saw a twisted mass shoot up from the smoke. To his horror, he saw the female android strapped to a jetpack, clutching an unconscious Cappadonna.
“Cap!” GZA screamed.
He pulled a steel-penetrating dagger from his ankle and hurled it up at the android, but it was too late. It had already shot its laser gun through the ceiling and disappeared into the night sky as the smoke in the Concord Music Hall finally started to clear. Security looked down at the headless body of the android, and then up at GZA.
“It was him!” A remaining crowd member shouted, pointing at GZA. “He did it!”
GZA turned to run backstage, but two security members came at him from either exit. Clutching his num-chucks, he whooshed his weapon around and made quick work of temporarily disabling them. He snatched their nightsticks and hurled them at the oncoming guards from the crowd, intentionally missing them but aiming just close enough to cause them to dive out of the way.
GZA spun on his heel and sprinted backstage, through the dressing room and out the back exit.
As soon as he breathed fresh air, GZA looked up and scanned the sky. No sign of the android or Cap, as he expected. But he heard sirens rushing toward the music hall, so he had to get away from there in a hurry. His heart pounded as he sprinted down the street, and he finally started to process what just went down. Even as his feet pounded the pavement, he couldn’t help but momentarily marvel at what an awful turn of events this was.
The only way this could be worse, he thought, is if there was a pregnant lady in distress.
Suddenly a man came running onto the sidewalk, causing GZA to nearly bite the concrete as he swerved to avoid the man.
“Help!” the man pleaded. “There’s a pregnant lady across the street. And she’s in distress!”
GZA rolled his eyes to the heavens, just grateful he didn’t think of a worst-case scenario involving a Bengal tiger.
Exasperated as he was, GZA knew he had to help. After all, he didn’t deliver both of LeBron’s sons for nothing.
Come to think of it, he didn’t deliver either of LeBron’s sons at all. But he was in the operating room when his chess mate’s cousin gave birth to twins, and somehow, he knew he was the only one around who could help this lady.
Without pausing to look either way across the street, GZA dashed across the crosswalk to the other side, leaping over an Uber car with the panicking man in tow. He reached the sidewalk and saw a young white woman with tangled black hair and smudges on her face sitting with her back against the streetlight and groaning in pain.
GZA bent down to be at eye level with her.
“It’s OK, ma’am,” he said. “We’re gonna make it through this.”
Suddenly, a calm fell over her, and she managed a small smile as she nodded.
“What’s your name?” he asked, as he found a moth-eaten couch cushion for her to sit under.
“Cynthia,” she managed to say. “Yours?”
“Gary.”
She nodded and closed her eyes. The other man lifted her up and GZA slid the cushion under her. As he looked down, he could tell she was about to give birth at any moment.
“Breathe,” he said soothingly. “It’s all right.”
Just seconds later the moment came, and GZA put his hands out just in time. He caught the baby as he arrived, and the baby started breathing seconds after that. GZA sliced off the umbilical cord with his pocket knife as the woman’s face broke into a watery grin. He handed the baby to her. He smiled for a moment and then straightened up.
“I need you to take it from here,” he told the man.
“Got it,” the man said.
“But wait!” Cynthia said. “Can’t you stay?”
GZA shook his head apologetically and clasped her hand briefly, before giving the baby one last look and taking off.
“I’ll never forget you, Gregory!” Cynthia called after him.
“That’s not my name, but thanks!” GZA called back.
The moment he turned the corner, cop cars had him surrounded. It seemed he was going to pay dearly for his moment of compassion. As the cars screeched to a halt, he knew it was over. He put his hands up.
Cops piled out of their cars.
“Get down on the ground!” One officer shouted.
Just then, he heard the sound of a jet soaring through the air. He looked up and smiled.
Bobby.
RZA nosedived the jet, getting low enough to fling a rope that was attached to the jet out the window. GZA caught it and began to climb up as the cops looked on in awe. By the time they pulled out their guns, the jet was soaring upward and GZA was climbing safely into the cockpit. He slid down into the passenger seat as the jet streaked through the night sky.
“Woohoo!” GZA screamed. “You saved me, cousin!”
“Where’s Cap?” RZA asked.
GZA’s face faltered.
“They took him,” he said.
“Who?” RZA said.
“The most human-looking android I’ve ever seen,” GZA told him.
RZA’s left eye twitched as he stared dead ahead. Just then, his phone rang. He put the jet on cruise control and answered the call.
“Hello,” he answered.
GZA looked at his cousin’s expression go from an uneasy curiosity to a darkened resolve.
“Yeah…tell them to stay in the bunker. You, too. We’ll be home soon.”
RZA ended the call, still not breaking his gaze from the sky.
“Who was that?” GZA asked.
“Red,” RZA said. “Meth and Deck are back. But Killa and U-God were taken…and there was another note.”
“What did it say?” GZA asked in a hushed tone.
RZA looked at his cousin.
“More to come.”