Almost every night before bed I think about returning to that old Police station to see just what was left of the fight before the Saints' Tony—my friend—had disappeared. I know I couldn't remember much from around the time Big Tony, the VK bastard had knocked me out with the butt of his gun, but I could have sworn that Antonio was behind me. Big Tony had approached from behind too, meaning he could have just as easily taken out my friend. Probably ended his life where he stood.
These thoughts always made my stomach churn and sleep never came easy, and when it did come, it was stubborn and fleeting. I'd wake up every few hours, toss and turn, and then fall back asleep only to be greeted by guilt-stricken nightmares. I should have watched my friend's back better. I should have checked up on him earlier and been more worried about him. I should have done so much for poor Tony.
I avoided sleep as long as possible, even if I was exhausted. Dark circles under my eyes and all, I dragged my feet to the church to find Dex, who would probably busy me with the next move in taking out the Carnales, which would always be better than just sitting around all day moping about how much life sucked when I tried to sleep.
"Just the girl I wanted to see," Dex greeted me with a smile, and I hoped that even if I appeared sleepless and probably undead, that I didn't look completely like hell. I tried to smile back, but I stopped after the first attempt felt like a failure on my part. Dex didn't seem to notice anyway. "Samson, our guy at the garage says he's got the truck all patched up and ready to go. I'm gonna go-," I assumed he was going to say he was going to pick it up, but I wasn't able to find out since he was interrupted by the entrance of another Saint who remained nameless since he was just another footman.
"We got a problem, Dex!" He said as he lumbered inside. This guy was tall and had a wide frame, so imagine a black Hulk Hogan walking in to disturb our conversation.
"What's up?"
"The Los Carnales are-,"
"Ugh! It's iThe/i Carnales, not 'The Los Carnales!' Jesus! What's wrong with you?"
I stared at Dex, surprised that he would let a few grammatical errors get in the way of what could be a matter of security.
"Dex, they're attackin' the Row!"
My ears perked up and my legs tingled, ready to run for it and my trigger finger itched, ready to clamp down on the trigger of that assault rifle I put back in Johnny's office. Dex however wasn't as ready to jump into action as I was, and I had to wait for the Saint to explain some details before I could head for the Carnales tearing up the neighborhood outside.
"They fucked us up pretty hard," the guy said, "Angelo and his boys came outta nowhere. It finally looked like we had Angelo pinned down—had him hidin' behind the doors of his car an' all that. We were about to take him out when his boy Victor came out from wherever he was hidin' and took all those boys that had Angelo down. No matter how many bullets that motherfucker took, he just wouldn't eat it! …Anyway, soon as they were all clear, they tailed it the fuck out."
"So they left?" Dex stated this more than asked it for clarification.
"Angelo and Victor did, but there's still a lot of LC still out there."
"Alright," Dex said, and I was surprised at how calm he was, "Let's split up. The Row's a big place, we gotta make sure we smoke all those motherfuckers."
Finally he was making perfect sense. After arming ourselves, we went our separate ways out of the church to find the Carnales who were intruding on our turf. I found a group of Saints and a group of Carnales a couple of blocks from the church, and the group of hostiles was a little larger than the group of allies. There were maybe ten, with two red cars carelessly pulled over in the middle of the street, signifying how they had gotten here.
After getting close enough, I ducked behind a purple sedan which a dead Saint was lounged in, staring up at the sky blankly from the passenger's seat. I didn't have any time to mourn the face I didn't know because already I was too concerned with the invading Carnales.
I stuck the barrel of my gun out of my hiding place and opened fire, rotating it to catch multiple victims. Four of them choked and screamed as lead tore through their bodies, but the remaining six chose to either aim at me or choose hiding places from the others.
"What are we gonna do, Boss?" One of the Saints had come to join me in my hiding place, and a smiled at the word 'boss.' I motioned for him to follow my lead, and I moved a few inches from my hiding spot, not enough to expose myself, but enough to throw off the Carnales that were waiting for me to stick out my head again. I opened fire again, and so did the Saint next to me, until the remaining men wearing read were spilling it all over the pavement.
I smiled, but a call from Dex on my cell consumed my attention before I could really appreciate my work here. Still sitting in my place behind the car, I answered, and Dex came through on the other side.
"Yo, Jess, Julius called and he wants you to meet Johnny and King at the church. Me and my boys got this handled, so you go and take care of whatever it is you need to do. I figure the sooner we get the VK off our backs, the easier it'll be to take care of the Rollerz and the Carnales."
He clicked off of the line and I made my way back to the church quickly, taking back ways so that any remaining Carnales wouldn't be tempted to come after me. At my destination I found Johnny Gat, but not Julius or King. I supposed they were busy catching up with one another.
"Hey, Jess," Gat greeted me when I entered and waved me to a seat across from his desk at which he was also seated as he immediately cut to business, "I been talkin' with King and it looks like Tanya's takeover didn't sit well with everyone. The VK are fightin' amongst themselves and now's the chance for you an' me to take 'em out for good. King wanted to come along too," he paused for a second, making a displeased face and half mumbling to me, "I just hope he hadn't gone soft."
A low chuckle and a deep baritone rumbled behind me, "Don't you ever worry 'bout me baby boy, 'cause I'm gonna handle mine," and I turned to see Benjamin King entering the same way I had, armed with a shotgun and still dressed in a thousand-dollar black and yellow suit.
For Gat, talking with Ben King was like talking with anyone else. By that, I mean that he was as blunt as ever when he told the man, "All I'm sayin' is that ever since you got here you been nothin' but talk."
"I smoked dozens of fools before," King replied cooly, "I just ain't addin' to the count unless I have to."
"Aw, that's just fucking igreat/i."
"I said don't worry about it."
My eyes flicked back and forth between the two as they started to argue, my eyes keeping on Gat since I knew he was far more likely to say something he might later regret—or maybe not so much regret as be eating them—than King was.
"I just don't want you bitchin' out when you see your crew," Johnny said matter-of-factly, and I almost covered my ears.
Somewhat to my surprise, however, King stayed calm and collected as he placed his shotgun on the desk and leaned on it to speak down to the younger man. "Ain't my crew, son," he said with a shake of his head, "that's why I'm here, remember? Now how's about you put your dick away, pick up your gun, and try an' keep your knee away from the bullets?"
I smiled at his last comment and took King's beginning to exit as my cue to stand, and so did Johnny, who stood up with his own gun coming into his hands as he looked to me.
"You heard the cocky son of a bitch," he cocked his gun and we started on our way, "Let's roll."
King got into the driver's seat of his big yellow truck once we were outside, and after everyone was safe inside the vehicle, fully armed and ready to go, he stepped on the gas, a little more lightly than I would have. I hadn't any idea where our first destination would be other than somewhere in VK territory.
"If we wanna get to Tanya, we gotta get the code to the elevator," King said, and I assumed it was the elevator in his office building, which I had never actually seen with my own eyes, at least not knowing that I was a VK building.
Johnny asked the question that should have been on my mind before I could even think to say it, "And just ihow/i are we gonna get that?"
"Tanya tells everything to her fashion consultant," King said, and I rolled my eyes at how stupid that was, "He shouldn't be too hard to break."
"So who is this guy?" Gat asked.
"Some Euro-trash motherfucker named Stefan. Works at Impressions and walks like a bitch."
"I hate him already," I could have expected that from Gat, but I sort of hated him already too. Anyone who liked Tanya, really, I could get behind hating. After spending a good half hour listening to her ramble on and on about white-bread hooker problems in her car and having a part in the kidnapping and planning to kill my friend Gat, I was really looking forward to watching her die.
The rest of the ride passed by in ten minutes of mostly silence (Johnny was busy mumbling to himself about whether to take the crowbar or the baseball bat to beat Stefan with) before we came to a sudden stop in front of the store where Gat immediately got out of the vehicle. The wooden bat, his weapon of choice, in hand he and his 'whack-ass robo leg' strolled into the boutique as King and I switched seats, me going in the driver's seat since my expertise in speeding would be needed, and him taking the seat in the back.
Johnny fought Stefan, a scrawny little balding man with an obnoxious accent almost as annoying as the bright pink silk shirt he was wearing, into the truck. The vehicle shook as he struggled, but he was no match for the much larger and stronger Benjamin king who fought him as I stepped on the gas, wheels screeching as I picked up high speeds. When all but Stefan's feet were hanging out of the car, King spoke up.
"You're gonna tell me what I wanna know, Stefan."
"Stefan knows about fashion, not about gangs!" he shouted back, speaking in the third person.
"Well, Stefan also knows Tanya," Ben went along with the third person thing for a second, "So you better start talkin'. Gimme the code to the elevator 'less you wanna end up spread thin across this road. My friend up in the driver's seat's got a habit of drivin' a little too close to other cars."
Stefan only screamed as I whizzed past another car, and King continued to press him for the answer. I maintained my ungodly speed as I turned down a busy road, listening to Stefan's horrified whine that was audible even from inside the cab. Both Gat and I laughed quietly, but I was careful not to be too loud. With the rushing wind, and the usual city noise, it must be pretty hard to hear Stefan, even at the volume which he was shrieking.
"Somebody help Stefan!" he whined, and King sighed in frustration.
"Your bitch-ass better stop talkin' in the third person, or I'm gonna drop you on principle."
"Okay, okay, okay!" Stefan shouted, giving up at last, "The code is 3131, please! You and your friend with the awful hair will let Stefan go? Stefan has told you everything!"
"Thanks for your help," King said, and I was relieved that we could finally get rid of that guy—though I hadn't suspected it would be as permanent as Ben was all too happy to do. He let go of our Euro-trash asshole and he fell right under the truck, serving as a speed bump and gaining a tire mark on his silk shirt.
"This is it, Playa," King said to me, leaning towards the front between me and Gat, "You sure you're ready?"
Before I could say anything, Johnny cut in, "King, the only person in this car I'm worried about is you. Jess can handle herself, and so can I."
Before he acknowledged Gat, King directed me to a penthouse, which I would discover to be the 'office building' I had previously assumed the VK had shacked up in. "Then you don't know me, son," King said finally.
"That's why I'm worried."
I tuned out of the banter for the rest of the drive, picking up the speed as my eagerness to get rid of Tanya was finally getting the best of me. God, I wanted to make her eat a bullet so bad. After ruining a pair of shoes on the sticky floor of her whore-house, I think I deserved to see that.
I came to a stop when King told me outside of the building, and we filed out of the car, guns in hand, ready to clear ourselves a path to the elevator. Surprisingly enough, there weren't many VK in the lobby, only three or four which were all shot down with ease when I fire-hosed it with my assault rifle, though Gat did take out most of the ones that were starting to shuffle out of the elevator. The otherwise silver walls were painted red and we shuffled over the bodies before King tapped in the code to bring us all the way up to the penthouse. The ride there would be a little long, and a little awkward if it remained quiet. The three of us occupied the space in the lift that was not already taken up by the bloody mess of the fallen VK at our feet, King and I both content with keeping with my vow of silence until a few moments passed and Johnny finally spoke up, interrupting the silent way he fumed. The air in here had gotten heavy when he went quiet, and finally when he did speak, it was a little easier to breath.
"I'm gonna skullfuck that bitch," he said finally, to King, who only smiled and shook his head, not bothering to make eye-contact.
I was standing quietly behind the two, a smile of my own forming as I let a second or two pass before I finally uttered the first words I had ever directed to Johnny Gat. "Hope you don't mind Hepatitis," I said, and he swung his head around to look at me, but we didn't have time to dwell on how gross it would be if Gat got the Hep from Tanya because the elevator came to a stop and we shuffled out, readying our guns again to fight against the various hookers and VK she had guarding King's penthouse office where she was hidden away.
She had many, but luckily not many of them were very apt with aim since Johnny, King, and I cut through their defenses like butter. I would have almost felt bad if they were anyone else's hookers, but since they all belongs to that slut Tanya, I couldn't give half a shit how they were going out. Torn apart by my assault rifle or stomped to death by Gat, it was all the same to me.
When we reached the great oak doors to King's office, a trail of dead prostitutes in our wake, King kicked open the door and we bustled in to find the room empty except for the woman we had come looking for. She had her white platform heels up on the shiny oak surface of King's desk, and she was reclining comfortably in the big leather chair that she spun around to face us and get comfortable in when we entered. Her hands went behind her head and a smirk formed on her painted lips.
"Some guys just can't get enough of me," she said cockily, looking to King and then Gat, and then me, when she finally frowned, probably remembering the two times I'd punched her in the face, "Why'd you bring that silence bitch with you?"
"Whatever," Gat said, ignoring the comment she'd made about me like I was pretty content in ignoring as well, "I've had my fill of you, bitch. Let's get this shit over with, King.'
"It's over, Tanya," King said calmly, raising his gun, "You won't be able to fuck yourself outta this one."
"That's cute, sweetie," Tanya said, finally getting up and pulling something from under King's desk, "that's just precious," and she revealed the huge assault rifle she'd bought for Tony earlier, causing for me to immediately open fire on her, taking out the great window that was stretched out behind her and shattering it to let a gust of wind through. Despite the wind rushing in, a bullet or two sent through her right shoulder knocked her backwards, her platform heels cursing her as she struggled to find her balance. Fortunately for her, she caught the ledge with her good hand and bought herself some time.
"Please!" she begged from over the ledge, trying to throw her disabled arm up to pull herself away from danger, "Please don't!" and I could hear the tears in her voice.
"Oh, Tanya," King started to stroll forward, taking on a patronizing tone, "Do yourself a favor and die with some dignity," He stopped at the ledge, bringing his large foot down on the fingers that were holding fast onto the building and rotating his toe until her grip loosened and she was sent plummeting to the ground floor, giving out a high-pitched wail as she fell. It stopped abruptly and was replaced with a car alarm, which after taking a look out into the parking lot, I saw was coming from Benjamin King's car, whose roof was now caved in from the impact Tanya had made.
"Man," Gat shook his head and patted King on the shoulder, "that sucks for your car… but let's get outta here, I'm sure the cops will be here soon," and the three of us exited the office, taking the elevator back down to the lobby which was now completely vacated except for the remaining bodies of the VK that had occupied it earlier.
"Hey," Gat started again after pushing open the big glass doors, "I know what you said to Julius and all, but why don't you stick around and roll with us? I'm sure he wouldn't mind havin' you around." And I looked to King to see what he would say about that. Honestly, I think it would be pretty great having him around. He was smart and definitely knew how to operate a gang efficiently. He might even replace Troy as Julius' right hand.
"Don't bet on that," was the only reply, and Gat accepted, turning to me.
"Hey, you think you can find a way back to the Row by yourself?" He lowered his voice a little, "Aisha… you know. The pussy calls."
"Sure thing," I said and he grinned, running off ahead of me and King to… y'know.
Now it was just me and King left on the steps leading up to the building, the car alarm still blaring in the background as the pool of blood left on its hood stopped receiving its flow from Tanya's body.
"You did good in there, little girl," he told me, digging the keys to his broken car out of his pocket and tossing them to me, "Here. Get that fixed up. I won't be needin' it anymore, and word is you need a car."
Before I could even say thanks, he parted from me, and I looked around. I could certainly walk back to the Row from here, because driving King's car was out of the question. I didn't want to get the Hep from scraping what remained of Tanya off of the car, so I tossed the keys in a nearby bus and shoved my hands in my pockets, well aware that the assault rifle slung around my body gave me away as I left the scene. Knowing Stilwater cops, though, they wouldn't give a shit a shit unless I used it in front of them or on camera.
I met Dex and Troy late in the morning the next day at the garage, after the Row was cleaned out of all the Carnales and the VK were officially done and over with. Troy and I were standing in the garage when I arrived and he was busy blowing gray smoke into the air as we passed by a couple of moments in silence.
"Dex is bringin' the truck around," he said after an exhale, "You know why he wanted that thing?" I could only shrug because Dex had also neglected to share the reason with me. IT was more likely he'd share that sort of thing with Troy anyway, but I had to agree with him that it would have been nice to know why it was needed in the first place. One of these days I'll probably end up asking too many questions like Troy rather than deal with being kept in the dark.
"Shit, Troy," Dex 's voice sounded from around the corner, "If you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask."
"That's the thing, Dex, I idid/i ask and you didn't tell me shit."
"Oh, well, I guess you did. Now ain't that a bitch," Dex shook his head in mock disappointment and I laughed as Dex circled around and bumped fists with me as he skipped poor Troy's frustration and cut back to business as usual. "Now that we have things in the Row under control, we can get back to the plan. I had the truck you took fixed up good as new, so now you load it up with a crew and drive it right into the Carnales production plant. When you get inside, hop out and take the place over."
Troy shrugged and mumbled, "That's not exactly the most original plan."
"There's somethin' to be said about the classics," he said before turning to me, who probably needed to hear what followed more than Troy did, "Now remember what I said: take the place over, don't blow it to hell. The more shit you blow up, the more we have to replace once we're running it. Got it?"
I nodded and took the keys to the truck which Dex handed to me, rather than Troy who was probably on Dex's shitlist for the state in which the truck was brought to him the first time, which a bunch of dings in it. He almost looked disappointed, but he whipped out his phone to call the crew that would ride in the back to mask just how disappointed he was. If this shit worked for Odysseus, it should work for the Saints.