This is the fifth episode of the nine-part series, Wu-Tang vs. AI. I’m dropping it on Christmas Eve as a little gift to my loyal readers. I appreciate you all. Merry Christmas and happy holidays!
This is purely fan fiction, so of course, the events, actions and dialogue in this story are completely fictional. Catch up on Episode I, Episode II, Episode III and Episode IV.
In the fourth episode, the Wu-Tang Clan was given an ultimatum by the FBI to find out who's behind these AI attacks in five days. If they don’t, they’ll face the wrath of an aggressive manhunt for GZA, who’s being blamed for the violence brought on by an android attack during the Wu’s show at the Concord Music Hall in Chicago.
Meanwhile, Method Man and Inspectah Deck called upon many allies to aid them in fighting their mysterious attackers, squashing a long-standing beef with new ally 50 Cent in the process. Across the world in the Rainforest of Xishuangbanna, GZA joined up with Ghostface Killah and YDB on their trek to find The Dwelling of the All-Seeing Eye, but not before Raekwon was captured by androids. Now, at the mouth of The Dwelling, the trio may finally find the answers they’re seeking.
Back in Staten Island, Inspectah Deck is on his way to meet RZA in the Stapleton projects to get some answers of his own….
Inspectah Deck was intrigued. He knew what RZA was planning; they had communicated covertly about the plans, because they just couldn’t know who was listening and when. Their moves were surely being tracked, but they’d dispatched their Killa Bees associates across the globe to meet with various national ambassadors to divert attention. It was RZA’s simple theory: Book three commercial flights and take a bus, and it’ll be harder for them to figure out your destination.
Even Deck had a hard time seeing the whole chess board. He knew what they were doing, but he still wasn’t sure why. It seemed like there was a simpler way to vanquish their enemies. Yet, he knew RZA’s “why” would suffice. Bobby wasn’t perfect, but there’d been so many times over the years that people questioned his thought process, only to be stunned by the results. So, when Deck approached a park bench in the Stapleton Projects with the dramatic strings of “Reunited” dancing in his thoughts, he was more curious than concerned.
There was the RZA, shoulders drawn in, staring at a spot on the concrete as though there was something there that only he could see. He didn’t look up when Deck approached and sat a few feet apart on the bench.
“Hey,” Deck said.
RZA kept his eyes on the ground.
“Do you think we’ll ever reach a point of scientific progression where I’ll be able to rearrange my molecules to sink below the concrete?” RZA asked.
Deck’s brow furrowed as he looked over at his friend. Had he been getting enough sleep?
RZA slowly picked his head up and leaned back on the bench. He turned to his friend and grinned.
Deck burst out laughing as RZA started to chuckle.
“You mother- you almost had me,” he said as his laughter trailed off into a high-pitched sigh.
RZA softly blew air out of his mouth as he refocused on the moment.
“Meth and 50 just got back from Algeria,” Deck said. “It’s all set. Should only be a few days.”
RZA nodded, letting the silence hang in the air. He knew that’s not all Deck wanted to say, and he had a pretty good idea of what this was about. That’s why he suggested they meet here, where RZA used to live and where Deck used to come over from Park Hill to make music.
“What’s on your mind?” RZA asked.
Deck saw no point in dancing around the matter.
“You know I’ll ride with you ‘til the wheels fall off,” he said.
RZA didn’t even have to nod.
“I get what we’re doing,” Deck continued. “I just don’t-”
“Get why,” RZA finished.
They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, RZA spoke.
“You remember Butterfingers?” he asked.
“That kid who used to run around here screaming that somebody stole something from him?” Deck asked. “How could I forget? I came up here to lay down a track with you one time, and that dude accused me of stealing a chain that was hanging around his neck.”
RZA laughed.
“Man, I had history class with him,” RZA said. “He’d borrow a pencil from the teacher and lose it while he was still in the room.”
“He’d get all mad, face red, only to find out he didn’t get took,” Deck recalled. “Then he was embarrassed and his face got even redder. Ghost out here calling him Heinz like a damn-”
“Ketchup bottle!” they said together and broke into fits of laughter.
“But there was one time, just one time, when that boy got it right,” RZA said. “He collected football cards, remember?”
“Oh, yeahhhh,” Deck said. “He had good ones, too. That Lawrence Taylor rookie card. I remember he used to walk around the projects all day collecting cans to turn in for money.”
“Right,” RZA said. “But somebody kept taking them from his house when he was at school and his moms would go across the way to play rummy. So one morning before school, Butter wrapped his cards in a plastic bag and duct taped the bag to the bottom of this bench,” RZA said, patting the bench they were sitting on. “He couldn’t spell ‘subtle,’ and everybody knew what he was doing. But it turned out Butter had a master plan.
“He made like he was going to school that day, but he never got on the bus. He stayed around the corner for an hour or so, then pulled out this dusty old video camera he got from Goodwill and laid down in that patch of grass right over there.”
RZA pointed to a spot about 20 yards away.
“So he waited. Finally, someone came out and beelined right to the bench.”
Deck listened intently with a wide grin, knowing the end of the story but enjoying it all the same.
“They crouched down, ripped the bag off the bottom of the bench and took the cards. Butter had his camera ready and recorded the whole thing. And you know who it was?”
“His mama!” they said together, bursting into peals of laughter.
“She was taking the cards, and selling them to Silas, who owned that collectibles store, so she could have money for rummy!” Deck exclaimed through laughter.
“Butter was devastated,” RZA said, his eyes shining with happy tears.
They kept laughing for a long moment, Deck guffawing, RZA silently shaking, until RZA’s stomach hurt and Deck ran out of breath.
RZA wiped his eyes.
“Man,” RZA said. “But Butter was smart, though. And he had a good heart. He could have hidden under his bed and caught the thief by himself. But he knew nobody would believe him if he didn’t show it to people.
Deck nodded as comprehension washed over him.
“And he also knew that if he didn’t make it a spectacle, the same thing could happen to others,” Deck said. “So he put it out here in the middle of everything, and people couldn’t deny it.”
“That’s right,” RZA said.
Deck nodded resolutely.
“So what happened to Butterfingers anyway?” he asked.
“Man, he bought Silas’ collectibles shop and runs it to this day,” RZA said. “Got his L.T. rookie card back. Only I heard he gave it to his son, and the kid lost it!”
They broke into another round of strenuous laughter, two kids from the Staten Island projects, soaking up the smallness of a single joyous moment.
A world away, GZA, Ghostface Killah and YDB were staring at the underearth slide that led to The Dwelling of the All-Seeing Eye.
“It looks rough,” Ghostface said. “Might have to crawl down.”
“Whatever we do, we gotta get out of sight,” GZA said. “I’ll go first.”
He sat down on the edge of the hole before boosting himself forward. As coarse as the earthy slide appeared, GZA shot downward out of sight like he was sliding on ice. Ghost and YDB peered into the hole and saw nothing but darkness. Wherever GZA landed, he hadn’t made a sound.
“You go next,” Ghost said.
Without hesitation, YDB crouched down and entered the slide, flying down just as fast as GZA had. Ghost went last, taking one last look around the rainforest before entering the slide. As he rocketed downward, he heard the ground shift above him, and knew the entrance to The Dwelling was resealing itself.
Ghost loved water slides, so he closed his eyes, pinned his arms to his side and let out a high-pitched “WHOOOO!!!!”
Within seconds, he slid off the slide and flew through the air, falling on a thick bed of a soft, sparkling substance like light pink cotton candy. He looked around and saw GZA standing on the same substance and YDB straightening himself up. As much as Ghost wanted to roll on his side and take a nap in the pillowy goodness, he followed suit.
They scanned the area to find themselves in some sort of cave. The light from the substance illuminated rocky dirt walls. Dead ahead of the bed they stood on was a tunnel just tall enough and wide enough for them to walk through.
Wordlessly, they walked single file into the tunnel to see dim lanterns interspersed on either side of the path, giving them just enough light to see the way forward. They stayed silent as they walked, as though following some unspoken protocol for entering the presence of the All-Seeing Eye. Though GZA swore he heard Ghost lowly humming to himself as the tunnel grew longer:
We’re off to see the Wizard, the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.
They walked for what felt like hours but was really only seven or eight minutes. Finally, they could see an opening beyond the tunnel, with red and yellow lights casting a warm glow at the end of the tunnel.
One by one, they exited the tunnel to step out into what looked like the stands of a domed football stadium. But when they looked down, there was no field. Thick clouds of fog obscured what appeared to YDB as eerily familiar….
Bum bum ba daaah, bum bum ba daaah
GZA knew those horns from every time he’d stayed home from school when he was sick.
Bum bum ba-dah-dah dah-dah-dah dah-daaah bum bum ba daaah
Ghost couldn’t believe his ears: It was the music from The Price is Right.
And then, a voice, from somewhere in the cavernous structure.
“YDB, come on down!”
Flush with memories of watching The Price is Right in the summer with his dad, YDB chopped his feet like a strong safety down the steps to the stage at the base of the structure.
“GZA, come on down!”
GZA grinned widely as he followed YDB down the steps.
“Ghostface Killah, come on down!”
Ghost bounded down the steps to the stage as the fog began to dissipate. His heart leapt with every step. He knew who the All-Seeing Eye was now.
Somehow, he’d always known.
Emerging from the fog, dressed in a pristine white dress shirt, black suit and orange tie, was Bob Barker.
One by one, Ghost, GZA and YDB took their places at three podiums with microphones.
“Welcome to The Price is Right!” Barker said into his own mic as the fog disappeared entirely.
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly an object appeared floating in midair that made GZA’s jaw drop: A liquid sword.
“This poisonous, silvery-white liquid sword is made up of mercury, with an iron hilt that won’t dissolve from the scalding-hot metal! And you get to bid on it.”
“Three million dollars, Bob!” Ghost shouted.
Ding!
“Three million dollars and one cent, Bob!” GZA said, earning a side-eyed glare from Ghost.
“Two-point-seven million, Bob!” YDB said.
Bob pulled a card out of a small envelope.
“Three-point-five million dollars!”
GZA ran up to the stage to applause from Ghost and YDB and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. Bob snapped his fingers again and the sword disappeared. He made a sweeping arm motion toward The Price is Right wheel.
“Spin the wheel, GZA!”
GZA stepped up to the wheel and lifted his arms high. With all his might, he brought down the wheel and watched excitedly as the wheel spun with rapid-fire “beeps” in succession. Finally, the wheel settled on a rectangle that read “Advice from the All-Seeing Eye on how to stop Artificial Intelligence from taking over the world!”
“YES!” GZA shouted.
“Ghost, YDB, come on up here,” Bob said with a beckoning gesture.
GZA turned to Bob.
“So, you’re the All-Seeing Eye?” he asked. “But I thought you were dead.”
“Did you really?” Bob said.
“Yes,” GZA replied.
“Did you really?” Bob repeated.
GZA looked at his feet.
“No,” he muttered.
“Gentlemen,” Bob said. “You’ve come a long way to see me. You must be pretty hungry.”
Ghost’s stomach gurgled.
“We will eat, and you will rest,” Bob said. “But I imagine you have some questions first.”
GZA nodded.
“Who’s after us?” he asked.
“Getting right to it,” Bob said. “Well, as it turns out, the way you made history also changed the future.”
He saw their quizzical expressions and pressed on.
“The deal you made – the one with Loud Records for your group and different labels for each individual member – was unprecedented, as you know,” Bob said. “But it ruffled some feathers in the industry.”
They all listened intently; this was no time for interrupting.
“You see, in the 1960s and ‘70s there was a young boy named Giorgio DeLuca, who grew up in the little village of Montenero di Bisaccia, Italy,” Bob explained. “His family didn’t have much money, and what they did have, Giorgio’s father, Enzo, often spent on vinyl records. It drove Giorgio’s mother, Caterina, up a wall, but Giorgio admired his father’s love of music. Enzo’s most prized collection was Ray Charles’ Atlantic Records music.
“Giorgio would dance, rock and roll around the floor of their kitchen, soaking up the sounds of The Genius of Ray Charles, which included someone you’re all familiar with.”
Ghost and GZA looked at each other, communicating silently.
The decoy letter to Quincy Jones’ house.
“Though she tried not to show it, Caterina enjoyed the music,” Bob said. “She tapped her feet ever so slightly as she watched her son slide across the kitchen floor, longing to join him. But she couldn’t even walk normally due to prematurely bad hips.
“Beleaguered by sympathy pains for his mother’s health and his parents’ poverty, Giorgio made a private, solemn vow to himself: He would one day be signed to Atlantic Records as an accomplished musician. And then he would move his family to America, where they could see Ray Charles and Quincy Jones play together live.
“But then, something terrible happened. One night, the family of three went to bed, and no one remembered to blow out the candles in the kitchen. They had a cat, Paolo, who leapt onto the kitchen table and accidentally knocked over the candles, right onto the rice paper vinyl sleeves holding those prized Atlantic recordings. The fire spread quickly, before they were even awakened by the smell of smoke. Paolo dashed to the parents’ bedroom, rousing them.
“They crawled out of their room, Enzo leading Caterina along as her hips threatened to be her undoing. By this point, Giorgio had awoken, and he grabbed as many vinyl records as he could. He followed his parents down the hall, but as the tiny house became almost fully engulfed in flames and smoke, parts of the ceiling collapsed just before they made it to the front door. Both mother and son were trapped, and Enzo pulled with all his might to save them.”
YDB’s eyes were the size saucers. Ghost had his hand over his mouth. GZA slowly shook his head. Bob plowed on.
“Soon, he realized he would have to choose, or they would all die right there. He wrenched open the front door and chose his son, his true prized possession, who at this point had let go of all the records except one.”
“The Genius of Ray Charles,” YDB said softly.
Bob nodded.
“Once he had pulled Giorgio out, Enzo tried in vain to save Caterina. But at this point she was crushed under the collapsed frame of the ceiling. After one last, futile tug, he rolled himself out of the house as the smoke completely overtook the air. He wept silently on the ground next to his son and Paolo.”
Ghost had tears streaming down his face.
“They laid in the hospital bed together for three days. Giorgio, who had been small enough to stay lower than most of the smoke and avoid the flames, gradually recovered. But Enzo had sustained burns on his arms and legs, and more tragically, suffered from smoke inhalation.
“Giorgio still could hardly speak, so he never was able to vocalize his vow to his father. They laid next to each other, tears welling in their eyes as they held hands and Enzo took his last breath.”
YDB took a seat on the floor. Ghost’s tears silently cascaded down the front of his shirt. GZA had no words. Bob let out a long, slow exhale.
Finally, GZA found the words to speak.
“What happened to Giorgio?” he asked with trepidation.
Bob smiled sadly to himself.
“He found his way to America. One of his father’s cousins who was living in New York City took Giorgio into his Little Italy apartment,” Bob said. “And Giorgio slowly but surely became an American. He took the subway to the Bronx to witness Grandmaster Flash’s block parties, and sometimes took a different train to Brooklyn to see Kool Rod Dee spin records.
“He tried his hand at music, but found he lacked the talent for it. Still, he was a shining star in high school and then at Columbia University, where he double majored in marketing and mechanical engineering. He founded Columbia’s robotics club and earned his PhD in robotics while interning at Atlantic Records.”
As the shock of Giorgio’s tragic tale faded, Ghost, GZA and YDB exchanged dark looks. They knew where this was going.
“Giorgio was tireless and obsessive,” Bob said. “He became something like a cyborg, shunning emotional connection and relationships so he could hyperfocus on his dreams.
“But something sinister was bubbling just beneath the surface, as Giorgio had never healed from the pain of his parents’ death. Night after night, he’d stare at the ceiling, playing The Genius of Ray Charles as he plotted out his takeover of the music industry.
“Only his drive became aggressive, and he began to alienate people. He was missing the one thing that can’t be taught in a marketing class: How to truly relate to people on a human level. Even as he began to have success and rose within Atlantic’s ranks, his guarded heart blocked enormous opportunities from coming his way. He seethed as he lost a bid to sign MC Hammer, who went with Capitol Records instead. And he was beside himself when Interscope swooped in to free Dr. Dre from Jerry Heller.
“With each failure, he saw his father lying on that hospital bed, gasping for his last breaths of air.
Giorgio began losing sleep and stability as he threw himself full force into his work. He swatted away any and all attempts by peers and mentors to help him reground himself. He began to feel searing animosity toward West Coast artists. And then the Wu-Tang Clan came along.
YDB had picked himself up off the ground at this point. A look of stunned comprehension dawned on Ghost and GZA’s faces.
“I remember that dude,” GZA said.
“Yes,” Bob said knowingly. “He called RZA, you and Divine in for a meeting before you signed with Loud. He had it all set up: A grand presentation that would surely draw you to Atlantic and make you the biggest stars in the music industry, proving once and for all that his father had made the right choice in picking him over his mother. But he had begun to lose touch with reality, and sadly, ideas that he thought you’d find alluring were strange and off-putting.”
“He was spooky,” GZA said. “We got out of there as quickly as we could.”
Bob nodded once more.
“That last rejection was the breaking point for him,” he said. “Within weeks, he was fired from his position for erratic behavior and essentially blacklisted from the industry. He spent a few years in China recuperating and rebuilding himself, and when he came out, he used his degree in robotics to make connections on the dark side of that science.
“And now, with a broken heart, an angry soul and an unhinged sense of justice, Giorgio DeLuca has spent years amassing an army of androids to achieve world domination. He views the Wu-Tang Clan as his greatest failure, and thus his greatest enemy. So now, he has made you an integral part of his plan.”
The trio stood in stunned silence for a long moment. Bob stood by, waiting patiently for the truth to soak in. Finally, Ghost spoke up.
“Where are our brothers?” he asked.
“They are at a villa in Montenero di Bisaccia, Italy, where DeLuca was born,” Bob said. “They are alive.”
GZA shook his head.
“This still doesn’t make sense,” he said. “What is his plan?”
“I can’t tell you,” Bob said.
“Why?!” YDB demanded.
“Because…I don’t want to,” Bob said.
They looked at him incredulously.
“I’m just joshin’,” Bob said with a grin. “It will all become clear in time.”
“Why can’t you just-” GZA started.
“One moment of patience may ward off great disaster….” Bob said.
“One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life,” Ghost finished.
GZA exhaled.
“OK,” he said. “But then we need to move quickly. We gotta eat, rest and get back out there.”
“Yes,” Bob said. “But you will need a few things to aid you on your journey.”
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly three weapons appeared, floating in midair.
“These are vital tools to help you on your journey,” Bob said. “You will know when the time is right to use them.”
The trio looked at the floating weapons in awe. He grabbed the first weapon and placed it in front of Ghost.
“For Ghostface Killah, the meteor hammer,” he said.
Ghost took the weapon and held it gingerly. The meteor hammer was two spherical weights attached to either end of a rope.
“This is a simple yet powerful weapon,” Bob said. “It may look soft, but its impact is deafening.”
Ghost cautiously whirled the meteor weapon around in a figure 8 in front of him.
Bob turned to GZA.
“For GZA,” he said. “A liquid sword.”
Bob delicately grabbed the iron handle of the sword and held it out to GZA. GZA took the sword by the handle and carefully waved it back and forth, the silvery-white mercury glowing brightly as it sliced the air.
Bob turned to YDB.
“For Young Dirty Bastard, a silver talisman,” he said.
He passed a small silver talisman in the shape of a flat, circular disk to YDB. It had a yellow, milky pearl in the middle of it. YDB attempted to hide his disappointment as he held it in his hands. Bob’s lips curled into a smile.
“Don’t be fooled by its unassuming appearance,” Bob said. “The silver talisman wields a power greater than either of the other tools.”
YDB turned it over in his hands. As he did so, he felt a momentary flutter in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
The trio looked up at Bob, who had his arms spread wide out in front of him with his palms open.
“Your journey has been arduous and will continue to be so,” he told them. “But each step you take brings you closer and closer to the breakthrough to victory. But only if you continue to fight for each other.”
The trio nodded to each other, resolute.
They ate a delicious meal of sweet and sour pork, Gong Bao chicken and dumplings, and they parched their thirst with the freshest, clearest water they had ever seen or tasted. After resting comfortably in plush, vast beds in a dressing room behind The Price is Right stage, they awoke the next morning renewed, determined and hopeful.
They bade goodbye to Bob, who had given them backpacks with food and water, as well as cases for each of their three weapons. Then, he led them to a door off to the side of the stage under a red-lettered exit sign. They walked through the door and into a mist that rendered their surroundings indistinct. Suddenly, they were gently pulled upward by a force of reverse gravity.
As they rose higher and higher back to the rainforest floor, they heard one last nugget of sage advice from Bob Barker echoing around them:
“Have your pets spayed or neutered.”