Thank you for taking a moment to stop in and read this! My first 5-0 fanfic! I have done COD before, but I really wanted to write this one! It's nothing special, I'm warning you, but it might become a little bit more so in the future.
I was sitting at the table, playing cards, listening to the whir of the cracking, broken electric fan in the corner. It was a pitiful sound, and it did nothing to help ease the thick, drowning humidity we suffered. Everywhere you turned, cement, metal, cracked and rusted. It was our territory though, more specifically, though, mine. Damarian Cruz, me. It wasn't exactly mine, though. I was just one of the higher up guys, who got to occupy it for a bit. I lay down the cards in my hand onto the creaking, precarious card table.
The two kids across from me didn't make a sound of dissent any louder than a small groan. I made sure that my burnt brown, dirt caked face didn't show anything other than a cruel, unforgiving mask, eyebrows turned down in a position of eternal anger. It was hard to train my face to do as such, but I found that my exterior came easily as soon as I reigned in my face. I didn't share sympathies with them, or give a glance. I just used my calloused hands to scrap the meager pile of coins from the center of the table.
The two kids looked on silently. The one on he left, nearly a copy of me with his dark, narrow face. His eyes mirrored mine, a deep brown, nearly black as his pupils. He should. That one was my younger brother, Roberto. He fingered the gun over his shoulder, an AK-47, with nervous hands. I shot him a warning glance.
He had got it one week earlier. It didn't take too much money, but he had spent every waking minute tending to its illegally obtained pieces. If something came up, he'd be as trigger happy as hell. I wanted to tell him so much, help guide him a bit, but that was impossible. I couldn't let my rough exterior drop for half a second, even if it was for my younger brother.
I was, of course, one of the higher ups in this cartel, even though I barely brushed 23. Lifelong service, I guess you could say. Ever since my father died, and my mother, whom I had never known, were gone, I knew it was time to start caring for the family. I was just a teenager when I had to hunt down some of the most dangerous on the island, alone, looking for work. If I had been older, I would have been shot on sight. My father was a reputable man, but three small children, were easy targets. You see, my father was a lawyer.
I am sure that he put many of their own behind bars for good, but as a young child, I had the least conception of this idea. I just knew that I had two younger siblings who were hungry, starving, and would die if I did not get food. One day, I stumbled across just the right, yet the most wrong, man I could.
He was the leader of the cartel I currently work in. I begged and pleaded, got beaten, but he took me under his wing. I don't know why, even drug lords had compassion in some cell of their body. But, I was in a job. It paid the rent, and kept my siblings fed. Well, no rent actually. We still live in rusted shacks, this warehouse being one of the most common places. But, we had some shelter, and we were alive. That was more than we would have been if I hadn't found Andio Rueben, the cartel leader.
Yes, so going from a young teen into my young adult years, I had done nothing else except serve him. I had worked my way up in respect as the older members 'retired' or were gunned down in fights, as they were commonly. In fact, I was rather lucky to be alive. The scar across my collarbone traced by lead proved that.
Even so, this was nothing more than just a job. It kept my little sister and brother fed. My sister, Maria, barely brushed 14. My position kept her safe and out of a whorehouse, so I was fine with it. Illegal, I didn't care. My family was safer than it would be without the protection of the extra men around.
I finished gathering the coins off the dusty and creaking card table, and pushed the ancient folding chair away from it. I shot the two boys a look, which told them to go to wherever they needed to, or wherever wasn't here. They knew it well enough, and were about to scamper off to do it, but suddenly, the ancient door about ten feet from us exploded inward.
My gun was level with a clicking sound in half a second, which was half a second before I heard the cry of 'Five-O! Drop your weapons!" I turned to face my brother for a fraction of a second, and found that his gun was up and ready also. His finger was curled around the trigger, and I knew for a fact it was loaded, safety off.
A bead of sweat rolled down my face, and as the dust settled, I saw the four silhouettes of the predators called police standing in the doorway. I took it all in through the smothering bombardment of sensations. In the front was a tall man, the look of a predator on his face reminding me of a grizzly bear. By his side, there was a pale, short, blond headed man. Behind them were two more, but I paid no attention. All the guns in the warehouse were pointing at them now, but none would fire unless I gave the command. The grizzly man let out another warning as he looked me in the eye. It frightened me, somewhere deep inside, how easily this man found the top of the food chain.
"Last chance. I am warning you, drop your weapons!" I flicked a sidelong glance to my brother. He licked his lips, and as the blonde man looked at him, he got the look on his face that I knew he was preparing to shoot. I was going to yell out a warning to him just as a gunshot went off, and he went down with a grunt.
It didn't take me more than a second to drop my own gun, then fall down on one knee by his side. His hand made it to his right shoulder, which was leaking blood through his fingers that were white knuckled. There were heavy, booted footsteps, and the sounds of other weapons being dropped or unloaded. I knew that the other men had no idea what to do, now that I , their leader, was standing down.
The footsteps, I could hear two sets of them, coming rapidly in my direction. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, while pressing on my brothers wound, I let out a warning of my own.
"Don't come any closer! I am warning you!" I heard them come closer yet, blatant disregard to my obvious request. My hand instinctively reached for the gun that was closest to me, but all I got was the most rapid, and incredibly powerful, kick to my head. My temple, actually.
My world exploded into one of white pain, stars exploding in my mind as I fell onto the ground. I was dazed, but I had had my fair share of fights. I pulled myself to my knees, only to be met by one coated in cargo pants to the side of my face. I went down onto all fours, then launched myself backwards, back onto my feet.
He was coming for me just as I found myself ready. I quick block of the fist that threatened to crush my face, then my own uppercut to his jaw, then an elbow into his solar plexus. He grabbed my arm, then wrenched it back in a move of swiftness, the one of a predator. I could feel the strength encased in his arms as shoved me forward, letting me fall flat on my face.
Everything ached from the fifteen second fight, and the next thing I knew, my arms were wrenched behind my back, and I was dragged to my feet. As soon as my vision cleared, I saw my brother, still writhing, on the ground. I struggled to turn around to face who held me.
"Don't touch my brother you bastards! Fuck you!" I tried once again to scramble towards him, though I knew the attempts were futile. There was a sigh behind me, almost as if someone were fed up with something. The next thing I knew, the butt of a pistol was cracking across my skull
oooOooo
Danny rolled his eyes at Steve. He was the one holding the man who had just fallen to his knees under the force of the blow.
"Steve, I know you want to catch this guy. Look, we did! It doesn't mean you have to pistol whip the kid across the head!" Steve only shook his head at the comment.
"He's not a kid, Danny."
"Well, what about the one you shot?" Steve looked at the boy, a teenager at the most, lying on the ground, clutching his shoulder. Blood was seeping onto the floor. Steve looked around the warehouse, glad to see the HPD backup was rounding up most of the others in the warehouse. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, quickly dialing for an ambulance. After he finished that task, he pulled up the photo of their suspect.
Danny swung the man to his feet, then around to face Steve. The man took a minute to look at their detainee, and nodded as the picture obviously matched the man in their captivity. Chin came up next to him, and put a much appreciated hand on his shoulder.
"Well, if that's not Damarian Cruz, I don't know who is" The older man said, nodding at the bloodied man still stumbling to get to his feet. Steve nodded and slipped his phone away. They both looked at the man. He was most certainly guilty, he knew, of a murder of an innocent man gone hiking in the woods, gotten too close to one of their stashes. There were fingerprints all around, matching his.
Though Steve was most utterly disgusted by the fact that the man was a murderer, and a drug dealer, part of him hinted at respect deep inside. The guy had just gotten a nice kick delivered to his head, followed by a knee, followed by an arm wrench, finished with a pistol to the head, but he was still conscious, and currently, standing.
Steve didn't show it though, only nodding to Danny. They walked out of the warehouse, Danny dragging Damarian with them. They walked to the Camaro, Danny shoving the criminal into the back, complaining under his breath about the dirty man sitting on the very seat Gracie would later. Steve only shook his head and climbed into what he thought was his rightful spot, the driver's seat.
Danny looked at Steve, partially in dread, partially in fear. The look on his face betrayed more than the SEAL would be willing to admit. Danny had come to know this face as the one that meant 'oh, let's go scare the shit out of the latest guy we found, whether that involves shark tanks, grenades, not so much cliffs, or something like that, I don't care.' Danny looked to Steve.
"I know that face. Where are we going this time?" He leaned his head back against the seat, rubbing his head gently as Steve put the car into gear and hummed a bit before answering.
"I don't know quite yet Danno. How about the zoo? You do like the zoo, don't you?" Danny shook his head.
"No, I don't. I don't like the zoo."
Steve only smiled.
I just want a review or two (Not required!) to tell me if I should continue! This is new territory for me, so I just want to know how I am doing! Thanks so much!
-Dancing Tiger, out
