Tom was five steps ahead of John and Jerrod when they returned to the base, and gaining ground quickly. The other Reds members that happened to be in the hallway either got out of his way or were forcefully shoved out of the way.
"Dammit Tom, I want an explanation.." John demanded.
"Shut the hell up!" Tom ordered.
Jerrod grumbled behind John. They realized that Tom was heading towards Alexander's office. He approached the large wooden doors and tried to push them open, but they were locked. Jerrod and John had caught up to him now.
"Seriously, why are we dealing with Anarchists?" John pressed.
"Boss are you in there?" Tom asked, ignoring John.
No answer came. Another gang member passing by noticed the three of them and stopped to stare.
"You guys looking for the boss?" He asked.
"Yes!" Tom said with frustration.
"I think he went down to the armoury."
Without a thank you Tom pushed his way past John and Jerrod and lead them, mostly because he couldn't help it, to the armoury in the basement. The Reds had an assortment of weapons down here that were beyond the scope of most street gangs, but then the Reds weren't most street gangs. The walls were heavy and dark, like they needed to be in order to contain the mere presence of so many weapons. As it was told, Alexander was down here, amongst the guns, standing at a table tinkering with a machine pistol. It was quite a different image of him compared to the usual; a middle aged man hunched over a lavish and meticulously organized desk; he looked more comfortable. His look was one of relief when he noticed the three of them.
"I'm glad the three of you.."
"You need to whip these boys into line boss!" Tom interrupted angrily.
"What?"
"No, you need to start letting us in on things!" John countered.
"Hold on a second.."
"You could've got us shot into tiny pieces kid." Tom said.
"Says the guy who was too scared of one man to use his own gun." Jerrod mocked.
"Fuck you! It wouldn't as easy as that, not by a long shot!"
"What the hell are you three bickering about?" Alexander asked.
The three of them quieted down. Tom looked back and forth between the two teens, daring one of them to say something. When he was sure they wouldn't he made his case.
"The drop was good, but John let his pride get in the way. He grabbed Ricardo's sleeve and lifted it; saw his ink."
"He did the same to me. Alexander, why are we trading with..." John was suddenly cut off by the bullet that flew past his ear.
John was then dancing to avoid the shots Alexander was firing at his feet. John fell over and had to roll out of the way. Jerrod picked him up and now both of them took cover behind a crate. Alexander had finally run out of ammo and threw his pistol at them for good measure.
"What...what the,"
"Fucking hell! You trying to kill us?" Jerrod interrupted John.
"I might as well, you two seem so keen on getting yourselves killed already!" Alexander scolded.
John and Jerrod cautiously stepped out from behind the crate, both of their hearts were still in their throats.
"Pulling shit like that, Tom is right, you would've, no, you should've been shot to all fucking hell!"
"I guess I made a good impression." John stated.
Alexander smirked condescendingly at John's tone.
"You cheeky little bastard...alright then, story time. I wasn't always the charming bag of sweat, stress and and facial hair you see before you. I used to be in the military, was part of a private security firm. Our client was being targeted by a mercenary crew working for business rival. Ricardo headed those mercenaries. Eight years, I spent eight years with that security company, working for the same client. Needless to say, my crew and Ricardo's got pretty aquainted."
"So he's been your enemy all this time over a job duty?" Jerrod asked.
"I'm getting to that. Anyway, our client eventually decided that he didn't need our protection anymore. He set us up, sent us on a job that we didn't know was suicide; guess he didn't wanna pay up. Ricardo and his mercs were waiting for us. They killed three of us before we surrendered. Instead of finishing us off though, he gave us a choice. Die, or join up with his crew. Honour among mercs I guess. One guy, dummy, he had too much pride. Ricardo's brother Frank blew his brains out, half of it splashed onto my boots. Obviously, I took the offer. He helped me get even with my backstabbing client, then we broke away from his. We ran as one big old gun toting family after that for a few years."
"So why all the animosity now?" John asked.
"Basically the same reasons I don't like his gang now; brutality, and too much heat. Under Ricardo's leadership we were kicking ass and not bothering to take names. I couldn't use a public washroom without finding a wanted poster. I didn't have the stomach for it."
"You still ended up as a gangster." John reminded.
"This gang doesn't kill unless needed. This gang doesn't butcher someone that looks at you sideways. This gang has kept it's members safe. Anyway, I'm losing my train of thought; oh yeah, when I left, Ricardo took it hard. He tried to kill me."
"Why?"
"Why not? Secrets, loose ends, betrayal, who knows. By making these little trades, it helps to prevent an all out war between the two of us. For how long, I don't know, but your stunt definitely didn't help things."
"You should kill them, all of them." Jerrod said.
"You think its that easy?"
"I think its worth a try." Jerrod said, visibly annoyed.
He turned and started climbing the stairs. John looked after him, Jerrod clearly wasn't pleased by what he had heard. Tom momentarily left as well, seemingly satisfied by Alexander's recap.
"So thats it? Appeasement?" John asked.
"Yep."
"For how long? Ricardo doesn't seem like the kind of guy to sit back for long, and I've only just met him."
"How much do you want to be part of this John? You're so grown up but I can't help but looking at you like a kid still, I don't know if you're suited for this. I have a...specialist group. Some folks I know from around the area and from past dealings. I can't ask you to be a part of that, but I won't tell you that you can't.
"Why can't you ask me? What's so bad about it?"
"This is a group of some of the best liars, schemers, sneakers, and killers I know John. The seediest part of my work. Can you fathom that? Can you deal with that?"
"You doubt my resolve?" John said stubbornly.
"I'll know after this; one of the reasons Ricardo and I have been fighting for so long, one of the many reasons I hate him so goddamn much, the reason I have this group and the reason I get sick every time I lose one of my own to his gang is because he took something from me." Tears were threatening to pour from Alexander's eyes.
"What?" John asked, dreading the answer.
"My wife. Anastasia's mother. My little dove still believes that her mom just got sick; she doesn't know that Ricardo had her poisoned like a bug. I lost my daughter for years because I just wasn't fit to raise her after her mom died. Now she lives her whole life being the kindest girl in the whole world not knowing that she is the victim of unforgivable cruelty."
John stared back at Alexander, awe struck. If Alexander had any doubt for John's resolve, it was gone now. John was certain that he wanted to help however he could. He was certain that he now hated Ricardo, and anyone that followed him, with his entire being.