Grand Theft Auto: Waston

by Onkwehonwe Kashatstenhshera

5 different criminals find themselves in Waston. One is ex-Mossad looking to escape his past & find a new life, a Southie towing the line between cop and criminal,A Tong gang member looking to establish himself in town, an ex Air Force pilot trying to reunite with her deported parents & a former kingpin fresh out of prison seeking revenge. How will their paths cross? M for content

9. That Boy's Got The Devil In Him

Jin Lao

Heavy Ground

Jin Lao was glad to see that Bao Zhou's uncle was in somewhat better spirits. He had with him a tall white man with wavy brown hair and he was muscular. He was in his forties or so yet his face somehow still looked somewhat boyish. "Jin Lao I would like you to meet the only Westener I truly trust. This is Adrian Monahan."

They shook hands. Jin Lao had heard of him. Gweilo Mo. The only white Triad ever. He had grown up in the Chester neighborhood of Waston and he had lied about his age to get a security job and gotten away with it due to his size and the fact that he was using steroids at the time. Over time, he came to be in financial crisis and after having helped out a Triad in a fight, the Triad had left him a card telling him that if he ever needed anything to call. When he needed to, he had.

He had been picked up by several Triads and brought to a house to stay at. Later he would come to be the bodyguard of the Dai Dai Lo. it was unsuual for any Triad to accept whites and prior to him it was unheard of but when he had accompanied them to visit Algonuin Triads he was told he would need to learn Mandarin and Cantonese to pick up Asian girls so he had done this. Over time, he had learned to speak these languages with a flawless accent. Gweilo shook his hand. "So you're Jin Lao. Among the last of the Red Gecko."

"So you've heard of me too? Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Monahan."

"Call me Adrian. And may not be as big as the tongs out west or even in Liberty City but we've got a good thing going here and well...since San Fierro was on of the first places to have the kind of organization we do...you can bet that every tong from here to Algonquin knows who you are."

"Jin, do you know why I called you in today?" Asked Sun Wu. "I don't. But I came as soon as I could."

"A street gang from San Andreas. The Da Nang Boys. They're the cause of some concern. As i understand it, didn't the Red Geckos have an intense and bloody war with them?"

"Yes, Dai Dai Lo. But this was in the 1990's. Since then, what remained of them have shown a desire to work with us. The Latin American gangs put enough pressure on them that they saw a need to band together. I'm not saying each group doesn't still stick to its own nationality in the west. We do. But there's still an understanding if there was wars with us inside. Generally, though, none of the prison gangs gave any of us problems inside. Just the street gangs we worked with. Is it different here?"

"Not entirely," Stated Gweilo Mo. "Despite Chinatown being well...Chinatown, just like a lot of Chinatowns across America, you have different Asian nationalities living there. So for all the talk of the differences by nationality which there are, you still have Vietnamese and Koreans here and even occasionally Japanese. But it's not like LS or LC."

"Maybe not in terms of total poplation but I have heard the Da Nang Boys are as active out here as they are in some San Andrean cities. Maybe even more than some of the cities back west. And believe me, I saw a hell of a lot of them where I'm from so to find out that they're on the east coast too is just...surprising."

"We need to go and see the Da Nang of them have been coming to this city trying to set up here in Chinatown. They're coming here from Lobell, but they do not belong here. They are trying to shake down some of the Cambodian business in Chinatown. It must be understood that while all are welcome in Chinatown, we are the ones who run it. Not even Milky Malone is the man around here. If he wants to order some Dim Sum and have nothing happen to him, I'm the one that makes sure this doesn't happen. Not his own men. He may never admit it but I know he understands it. These Cambodian gangsters are different. Young and brash. No respect for elders."

They got into a dark gray Admiral and Jin began to drive. He had the radio station on the station Strobe FM, 97.7. The disco station. The song How Deep Is Your Love by the Beegees played as they drove through Chinatown. "Uncle Wu, do you really think that if we wanted to we could take on Milky Malone? I just mean if there was to be a war with him do you think we'd have a better chance against him than the Italians?"

"No, Bao. We are not going to war with him. This is not the 1960's. We are not in San Fierro, as Adrian pointed out. We are in Waston. In San Fierro the tongs were formed to protect against Americans attacking us but this was more plausible back then and more nessecary. That is not the case now. If it were an all out war, yes we would mop the floor with Milky. But he has more sway with the police in this city than I do. Even though I have some pull with some Chinese American officers, that is still more Irish than Chinese in the city and the WPD. They could also deport many of us. They would never deport the gweilo," He then looked at Adrian, "Pardon my expression."

"No offense taken. I know you meant those Southie fucks."

"But the way a war like this would play out would not be an all out war. It would be a pragmatic war. Milky Malone is nothing if not pragmatic as am I. But as much as I would like to think otherwise, he would win on that front as well. I may have lived in this city for several decades but in those decades I have also had to spend a few years back home. I just got back from China and a lot can change in one year let alone a few. Malone has lived here his entire life and has mostly only left the city when he went to prison and even when he has been other places like Vice City, he still was doing business to solidify his control over this city."

They pulled up on Boxer Street. "Here it is," He pointed out the Cambodian food spot. The three men walked out while the older Triad waited in the car. They walked into the place and a dark brown skinned Cambodian woman wearing a white blouse under a black vest and black sweats. "Three of you? Table or booth?"

Gweilo stated, "Just take us to the back. I know you got a few guys that aint supposed to be here."

"I don't know what you're talking about..." Bao pulled out a VP70 aiming at her belly and pressed it against her in a subtle but exact manner. He watched her face pale and her gasp. "You sure about that? You know who I am and you know who my uncle is."

She led them to the back and he pt the gun away but she said, "Please I just work here I rely on tips I'm just trying to get by!"

"You and me both, sweetheart. But you can only have one landlord," Stated Jin. They spotted four gang members in the back counting money. A man wearing a white Fueuds cap on backwards with a gold chain around his neck stood up. He also had a Waston Irishmen jersey on. The Cambodian, maybe in his early 20's at most stood up. "Yo you aint supposed to be back here!"

His homeboys, the second a man in his mid twenties of Vietnamese descent wearing a black t shirt standing at 5'7 with five inch long spiky jet black hair and baggy blue jeans also stood up. Next to him was Cambodian American in an orange and white plaid t shirt and baggy blue jeans wearing a Boars snapback on forward. The last wore a white t shirt, baggy blue jeans and had a shaved head and looked about nineteen. "Neither are you," Replied Jin. He then smirked. "Unless you're bussing dishes. What do you say, kids? How'd you like to put on a uniform. I bet your titties would look extra good in those sexy little vests," He then let the Cambodian woman go but first gave her a slap on the ass. "You can go now, hon," She hurried out.

The guy with the green jersey pulled out a Browning 9mm. "What's up now, bitch?" Jin put his mouth on the barrel. The gangster backed up a bit an a real gangster would have pulled the trigger. Even a wannabe such as this guy might have even done so if he had moved in any other way except this but it startled him because it was simply the craziest thing to do. He took the Browning in the moment he was distracted and pistol whipped him hard three times. He then threw him to the floor just as his friend with the spiky hair reached for a Beretta aiming at Jin's left temple but Gweilo grabbed a kitchen knife faster than he could get his gun. He sliced his coratid in a flash of silver and shoved the Asian gangster into the hot soapy water which now mixed red and white.

"Fuck that white motherfucker!" Screamed the Asian that Jin pistol whipped. He grabbed the pistol from his deceased friend and fired striking the white Triad in his knife hand. The round went through and also blew off his left thumb nail. "JESUS MOTHERFUCKIN CHRIST!" He screamed as blood sprayed from the wound. The gang member fired trying to hit him again but Bao Zhou fired a shot into the man's back. The gang member cried out staggering and he grabbed him from behind shoving him face first into the scalding hot water with him friend burning him. "HOW DO YOU LIKE IT, MOTHERFUCKER?! CAMBODIAN PIECE A SHIT!" Before he could finish the scalding gangster off, a shot was fired striking Bhao right in the chest and he fell over.

Eager to help his friend from prison, Jin thinking him dead, fired striking the man who had done this with a round in the stomach twice. He saw he had hit the bald guy. Bhao sat up and grabbed the DNB member who had done this and pointed his VP70 right at his left eye. "Camera one..." He said firing into his left eye. "Camera two..." He shot his right eye out. He grabbed the final gang member who was still scalded.

"We need to finish him..." Stated Bhao. "Got any ideas, Jinman?"

"I might..." Stated the ex Red Gecko Tong member. "I'm gonna need all the staff in here that's here to work overtime. Get them all in here. Tell the customers we're closed for the day," He asked Bhao Zou, "How did you not get shot?"

Bhao Zhou pulled out his metallic flask. "And they say alcoholism is a bad thing. Gonna scar like crazy though. I'll go get Uncle."

"No, let me do that..." Gweilo stated. Soon the old man came in. Jin told him what his idea was. "That's how you want to get rid of them? And how do you know the cops won't come here?" Asked Uncle Sun. "Because this is Chinatown. The one thing Liberty City, LS, San Fierro, and Waston has in common is fobs aint calling the law."

"Well done..."The Triad boss said with an evil smile. "And I like your plan about what to do with the bodies. But as your...current employer...I have one suggestion."

The boss whispered in his ears. "All right..." Jin La told the cooks and waiters and waitresses. "Now I REALLY need all hands on deck. You'll get paid more for this but if you don't..." He held up his Handgun. "You'll be fired and deported...Iron Claw style."

2 Days Later

Five members of the Da Nang Boys were eating from the Cambodian resteraunt. "Man, this pork kinda tasttes like shit, bro..." Stated a Da Nang member wearing a gray t shirt, sunglasses and baggy blue jeans with a green bandanna. "I think we should complain..."

"Man, who gives a fuck. We can just get something different later. All this money we make we can go out for lobster..." Stated an overweight Vietnamese gangster with a buzz cut wearing a silver Pounders jersey. "Hold on.. since when do Cambodian spots have fortune cookies? We aint Chinese...and where the fuck has Johnny been at? Have these dudes been beating up the cooks so bad they can't do their job?"

Another gangster shrugged. "Some anthropologists say all Asians came outta China at one point..."

"Fortune cookies aint Chinese, stupid. It's American."

"Fuck you, I like it..."

"Yeah but why do you only get one, fat ass?" He cracked the cookie open. It said,That wasn't chicken.

Just then, they got a text message all at once that read,Or pork. Or beef.

They then got a text of the dead bodies of their four dead homies laying chopped in pieces. The gang members all vomited.

Cameron

Kiss Me I'm Irish

They were at a French spot. Allison Trueblood wore a maroon dress with white pearl necklace her brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore a sports jacket and black slacks and while it wasn't a suit, he looked good. He ordered lobster while she got the Confit de Carnard. "So you're in school? What school you at, Harwood?"

"No..." She said with a chuckle. "My grades were good but not THAT , I went to University Of Narragansett. How about you?"

"I went to Waston University. I had a ball."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Probably a frat guy, right?" She said with a teasing smile. "No, not at all. I did play football though. Scarlet and white. So, do you like school?"

"Yeah I do..." She said as she took a sip of wine. "We're learning about Freud in the class I was most recently in."

"Really? Yeah, that's real interesting stuff. I imagine they talk about the Fruedian Slip, right?"

"Yeah...hey I know all about you Waston PD guys. My dad is the same way. And trust me..." She said with a smile. "I know you gotta rely on something like that at least some of the time, right?"

He grinned. "Maybe sometimes, yeah. It's all about getting into their heads, you know?"

She put a hand on her chin. Her blue eyes widened as her reddish lipstick still smiled. "Yeah? Like how?"

"Well...all right not always though. Sometimes it's just about patterns ya know? Like one time...there was this kid. High School, really. He turns out to be the son of a wise guy. And he and his buddies and a few girls you know they sneak some beers and they go into their High School after hours to swim in the pool there. They got beer, pizza, the whole nine. I honestly don't know how they didn't get caught then and there. So anyway...they trash the place...then they leave and go bck to a hotel and party some more. They're wasted.. I'm talking hamered. So we get the call and there's you know...a bunch of graffiti disrespecting their principal, smashed the trophy case..."

He took a sip of wine. "So we recognize the pizza box, the logo and we go down to the place, it's this place in the North End that delivers all over the city. We bust this kid cause of the telltale moozadell..."

"Moozadell?" Alison asked, curious. "The order their family normally gets. It's Southern Italian slang for Mozerella cheese."

"Well, how did that narrow it down? Lot's of people like that."

"It was a custom job. Extra mozerlla, double meat balls, sausage, pepperoni, peppers and onions."

She laughed at that. "Wow. That is pretty specific."

They brought their food and Cameron said, "Merci boucoup."

Alison didn't say anything but he could tell she was impressed that he said the simple French phrase with the French accent to say the least.

"Yeah, we found out pretty quick. We wouldn't have if they hadn't left two leftover pieces in the box. When we're trying to find out...the owner...this old Sicilian guy wants US to tell him who did the crime he goes, 'You tell me I'll put' a my food up their ass!' So my patnah...he tells him that he'll be an accessory after the fact if he didn't tell us."

"Wow...but how can you be an accessory after the fact when they got the pizza before?"

"You can't..." He said with a dry smile. "My partner lied about that to try and get him to give us the name."

"Wow! That's crazy! You'd think more people would have ordered that."

That's because I'm , I'm just in it for the sex but I won't very well have those dick sucking lips all over me if you knew what I was really thinking would you?

What Cameron said however was, "Yeah...you know what happened?"

She took a bite chewing and being a classy lady, held a hand in front of her mouth as she chewed. She tried to chew as much as she could and swallow before talking, however. Mostly, he could tell she was nervous about eating around him but she was trying to be a good sport. "I'd guess he'd spend some time in jail, right? That's breaking and entering, right? Plus vandalism and underage drinking?"

Cameron chuckled. "Not for the star quarterback. They didn't even expel him. I don't know whether to chalk that up to the fact that his old man is a guy we were looking into or the fact that the kid was a football player."

Her eyes twinkled as she giggled at the story. He thought to herself,You got nice blowjob eyes! You'd look really good kissing my dick! He thought.

"Anyway, that's when I really woke up and saw that this job...sometimes people that shouldn't get away with things do and those who should probably get less time get more. Hey, what about you? Isn't your old man a cop?"

"He was...down in Vice City." She said. "Back before I was born."

"You talking during the Cocaine Cowboy days? He ever run across the big names? A certain Libertonian wise guy moving south? Or a Colombian guy that run that whole city from the 70's on?"

"No, it was more in the aftermath of that. A lot of the late 80's, early 90's. It stated to be less about the Colombian Sicarios and more about local crews but they never went away completely."

"Shit...no kidding. This aint Vice, or Liberty but Easties got a huge Colombian population too. Anyway, that must be nice. Vice City. The beach..." He thought,That juicy ass of yours in a g string. I could just as easily skip a kiss on the mouth and go straight to it, baby you have no idea.

"And my grandpa still is a cop but you knew that."

"Yeah...I'm trying to make Detective myself so I guess if I ever did, I'd be working alongside him! He's a hero cop. Been around since the bad old days. So you're tryng to follow in their footsteps?"

"I don't know ya know? I'm still in school. Studying law and it's a pain in the ass, all the studying. But...I do have the upmost respect for police. They both have made the world a better place."

She knew about him and his own father and how he had been mostly a child of the foster system. He had lost his mother at age fifteen, one year prior when the mafia had killed her trying to go after his dad. Milky had been around for those days when his father was at work. Which was a lot of the time since his father had in the early days, got praise even from the founder of the FIB. So even when he was a kid and not a teen, while his old man was around, the influence from Milky was there. In those days, however, even though Milky and his father were friendly, in his youth, knowing what he did about the Irish gangster, he always thought that he would see the two men that had raised him try and kill each other as they were on opposite sides of the law but it never happened.

He was glad at least, for that even if the good childhood he had didn't last.

They ordered desert after that. "They got this but not duck l'orange..."

She asked with concern, "You didnt enjoy your meal?"

"No, the lobster was good I just figured since it was a French restaurant I'm just surprised."

The desert looked like some kind of cake that was stacked. They'd ordered it because it came with the meal. "I'm waiting for you to make your move," She said joking and he replied, "If that thing moves I'm gonna shoot it," The two enjoyed a mutual laugh about this. "So you mentioned Frued and I know you're Irish. Do you know what he said about the Irish?"

"Yeah, I do," Answered the Irish American. "If you actually do, I'll see you again..." She said as she took a bite of the desert. "Who says I wanna see you again?" He asked.

Her eyes widened. "Don't you?"

He held his face for a moment then laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face. Of course I wanna see you again! He said that we're the only people that are impervious to psycho analysis."

"Yeah he did say that..."

"I know he said it. Which means you're up shits creek with a dating pool full of mick cops."

"Well, we still need them. Somebody has to protect us from the criminals, right? Then again without criminals you'd be out of a job."

He scoffed, "I'll always have a job. I'll just start arresting innocent people."

She closed her mouth though laughing as she ate the desert saying "Oh you are trouble..." She said teasing him. "I'll arrest you rightnow. It's my word against yours..." Earning more giggles from her.

As he took her home he dropped her off at her place in South Waston, a nicer part of it just off of Pequot Avenue. "I had a really nice time."

"Me too. You think you might be free to do this again?" She was jingling her keys and looking down with a cute smile. "For the man that saved me? Knight in shining armor? Of course. I'll text you. I think I'll be free this weekend."

He leaned in to kiss her and she was hesitant at first but kissed him back. he broke the kiss. "Was that too forward?" She smiled a bit shy in smile but said, "No..." She initiated the kiss this time, their lips meeting and there was a little bit of tongue on both their parts but it was done sparingly, as if their tongues themselves were individuals who were just also sharing a shy first kiss.

"Well good nigtht..." He said. "Good night..." She said looking at him for quite some time before turning back to her door. Her face was flushed. it was down right adorable.

Just then, his cell phone rang. "Yeah? All right sit tight...I'll be there..."

He sighed hanging up. "Well at least you let me finish my date ya jerk offs."

Ali

Last Days

He arrived in the graveyard to visit his son. Ali was in a peaceful mode until he saw what what was being done to the mother of his son's grave stone. A Salvadoran male tattooed all over his body was spray painting over it. He was tagging the 5 point crown on her grave and it was a broken grave. He looked and saw broken pieces of glass all over his sons grave. Enemies had tagged it up too.

He saw tags from Cherry Park and he saw a more recent one that this man was putting on his grave. . Ali walked up with his cane and came across the man's face with it. The bald Salvadoran was 5'7 and brown skinned, mestizo by heritage skinny and wiry but with built arms. "You want to tag my son's grave?! Whatever happened to respect for the dead?!"

"Fuck you and your son and this bitch, fuckin chango!" He threw a punch catching the older black male in the face. Ali hit him with his free hand in the jaw back and hit him in the side with the other. The Marabunta member went for his machete but Ali swiped his legs out from under him with the cane. He then hit him in the side of the face. "All religions..." Ali said getting in his face. "You hear me? All of em...show respect for the dead I wouldn't disrespect your dead. Why would you disrespect mine?"

"Cause your son is a fuckin chavala, bitch!"

He looked at the man's arms. Ali noticed the Marabunta tattoos. "You're from Marabunta Grande and yet you're spraying a Lords tag. Smart. But it's only smart if you're not caught. But I don't dout the Cherry Park tag is real."

"While my son rests here...his grave will not be defiled."

The cholo rose to his feet and tackled him. He threw Ali back and Ali saw where this was going. He retrieved the Glock 17 from his pocket and luckily he had it ready to go. The cholo was reaching for a .40 but Ali fired striking him in the right ear blowing it off. The man cried out staggering back. The Salvadoran tried to take a shot at him and he missed because of his equilibrium being thrown off.

Ali fired striking him in the forehead and he fell over next to the spray paint can. He spotted the cholo who had driven the other guy and he grabbed the spray can and he fired with one hand, seven rounds into the car carrying the can in the other. He hit the driver twice in the side wounding him. "Fuck, man...what do you want?!"

Ali ordered, "I want you to paint your windshield blue. From the inside..."

The man reluctantly and weakly did so. He covered his face as he did trying not to inhale the fumes. Ali, in a fit of rage fired shooting the blue stream midair and it caught ablaze and set the young man on fire too. He screamed as the flames ate at his skin. "YOU DESERVE TO BURN IN THE FIRES OF JAHANNAM FOR ETERNITY FOR THIS! DEFILING THE DEAD! MY SON!"

The man screamed and Ali smelled the combined smell of the different parts of him burning. What he smelled most was the hair and its chemicals plus the flesh of his scalp. He got tired of hearing the screaming so he fired a shot finishing the man off.

He found a dark red Voodoo and broke into it. He began to drive back to Rockford. He drove twenty minutes before pulling out and getting out of the car and approaching G Nite's spot. He was talking to a wounded black gangster who was all bandaged up. "Yo, I'm telling you, God these motherfuckers is mad wicked we gotta hit them up. They killed Alfredo."

"Look we gonna look into it, dog i got you but for now we got more pressing business."

"Business? Nigga what the fuck...look what they did to me. You know what though? Fuck them niggas. Bitches left me for dead only to have that fake ass Hebrew bitch clap they asses and now Im the one still alive. Nigga, what!"

"Yeah but Alfredo done fucked over a lot of people. And I been hearing what really happened out there and it sounds like he deserved it."

"Look i aint gonna keep acting like I really care about Alfredo or the rest of them he a bitch but he got his now I just wanna see Ezra get his too then everything be right with the world nada mean?"

G Nite nodded, "Yeah I feel you playa. It sets a bad precedent if we just let strangers come up in the neighborhood and shoot whoever they want. Not even Milky Malone is stupid enough to come around here and do that. He understands there's lines you don't cross. Trust me though we gonna get him."

"I'm saying what comes as more important than me being shot? I mean ya'll aint got my back or what?"

Ali walked up. "The matter of the man who shot you is a legitimate concern and it WILL be taken care of. The more pressing engagements we have is business with the Irish and the Chinese."

"Maybe it's time we found out where Milky's at with the Israeli then..." Bulldog said. "See if he wouldn't be willing to say goodbye to him. I know he used him before for small jobs but he could get a hundred people from anywhere in the town to do all that. What he need an outta towner for? Matter fact what he need Archie for? He aint hurting for paper he aint been since the 70's."

"So you want the drug dealer Archie dealt with too, is that what I'm hearing?" Asked Ali.

"Yeah..." Lorenzo stated. "That fake ass Jew..."

"What do you mean, fake?" Asked Ali. "As in he's not practicing anymore?"

"I mean he fake. The black man is the original Jew the original Native American the original Hispanic the original Chinese, my dude. We are Gods on this earth..."

"This ignorant ass nigga...man I aint related to no punk ass spic..." Bulldog said. "All nations are our children," Replied Lorenzo. "But they ungrateful. You ever notice we the most accepting of other cultures out of anybody? It's cause they our children! They come from us. We look out for our children but sometimes they aint give a god his due respect. They gotta be spanked."

"Shut the fuck up with your faggotry!" Screamed Tamir. "You let some motherfuckin outta towner punk you, nigga! If he fake like you say then you should have been deaded his ass when he rolled up but instead you talking shit. You aint nothing but a old nigga that aint died yet."

Ali stated, "Tamir...this isn't helping."

Tamir pointed his .45 USP at the jaw of his father making Ali's heart skip a beat. "And you...you aint my pops. I aint got no father. You don't know me. Don't be telling me what the fuck to do..."

"Boy..." Ali said, "Get that motherfucking piece out of my face. I am your father but I will put you over my knees..."

G Nite barked, "T! Put the fuckin gun away! What's wrong with you, boy? You aint never heard honor thy father and mother?"

He did as he asked. "Fuck religion! Don't the bible and the quran also say dont be a dead beat daddy?" G Nite smacked him up side the face. Ali yelled, "Hey!" G Nite told Tamir, "You either mind him as your father or you mind me but you aint gonna disrespect a OG in either got problems."

"But I'm saying, Nite how he even gonna..."

"BE GONE LITTLE NIGGA!" G Nite barked.

He left in anger and Ali said, "That is my son..."

"Look...you and me are gonna talk about this later bro. I promise. There's some things you need to understand..."

"I understand that if you put hands on my boy again...when that's my job...you and me are gonna have a serious problem. Best friend or not. Do you understand me?"

"Respect your OG's ya heard?!" Called Lorenzo towards Tamir.

"Man fuck what this dread head ass nigga wants, man. I respect my motherfuckin OG's but this nigga's on another one man...he a burnout and if he's with the 5 he's on some outta towner bullshit. He aint running the hood, G. You are. This nigga aint been relevant around here since the 90's."

"Nigga, i was popping guns when you was walking around with water guns, fool. Don't it fucked up..." Lorenzo said.

G Nite sid, "L,...we gonna handle that all right? But I'm gonna go after him."

"I don't know what the fuck for. Only thing Ezra did wrong by my account was not clap this punk..." Said Kenard with a glare.

"What's hood nigga you wanna go right now?" Asked Lorenzo. Kenard pulled a pistol. "i don't need to fight. I raise the heater. Test me, dog. I dare you."

"Yeah. that's the problem with you young niggas. Scared to catch an ass whooping."

"You couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag you punk."

"ENOUGH!" Roared Ali. G Nite said, "Look ya'll, we gotta go meet with that motherfucker Milky. I don't like it anymore than any of ya'll but business is business."

"Still no word on who robbed us?" Asked Ali. "Milky thinks that it's the work of the Lost MC."

"That biker gang from Illinois? What are they doing in the city? They're not from out here. I did time with them in the Midwest but I never thought they'd make it here..."

"Yeah,..." G Nite said. "They've been here since 2001. I couldn't believe it myself. When the Angels started coming out here too...I knew we were only gonna see more of this bullshit."

They loaded up into a brown Buritto. Ali was handed a Bushmaster. "This is all you, G," Nite said. "Those bikers don't pack light, man. We're heading on over to South Waston first though to see what's up with their end of things."

They packed up and got ready. Tamir grabbed a .45 and started to hop in the van but Ali stopped him. "No. You're not getting in. You're not coming with."

"G, you gona let this bitch tell me what do, man? This motherfucker aint been around for years, dog. I'm Jerome's brother man, I was with him. He wasn't. We grew up TOGETHER."

"Hey you gotta show your father some respect, little brother. He's a good man he just made some mistakes. I'd normally let you ride with us on this but you got an itchy trigger finger and a hair trigger temper. That's not gonna go well where we're going. We're about to be meeting up with Triads and the South Waston mob. These are serious cats, T."

"I'm a serious motherfucker myself, man I aint scared of those bitches!"

Ali told him, "You're not going with and whether you like it or not is not relevant. When I was laid up in the hospital I promised your mother no harm would come to you. I'm not putting you in harms way..."

"Man FUCK YOU! You're the one got J killed man..." He took a swing at his father but Ali grabbed his hand and he put him in a headlock and put pressure on his corratid. Within ten second amidst cursing and protests he was unconscious. "Watch out for him until we get back..." Ordered Ali. Lorenzo agreed. "Fo sho. I got you. I'll make sure the young God stay safe. And don't sweat him on the disrespect ya heard? He just young dumb and fulla cum but you can still set him right."

They began to roll out to South Waston. Ali, G Nite, Kenard, and Bulldog. They would also have other members meeting up too. "So what do you know about these bikers?" Asked Ali. "They mostly stay out of our way but from what I understand, they patched over some club outta East Waston. I swear these niggas started out with five dudes but they patched them over and they just started to grow. But you know what they say, Al. Old habbits die hard. And they're beefing with the Angels like this was Liberty City. Their president is a guy named Alan Cummings. But his homeboys call him Stitch. He's always either busted up himself or he busts somebody else's head up in a bar fight. He aint as loved as Johnny K in Liberty City but he aint as hated as Billy Grey. He's older than Johnny but younger than Billy was. So his reputation and demeanor is somewhere in the middle of both of them but don't get it twisted he aint nothing nice. Dudes a whole different kind of animal out here than anybody in Liberty."

Kenard nodded. "Yeah these motherfuckers gonna have their ten year anniversary in a couple years and you know shit will get crazy. Bar fights, shootouts, races on Freeway's and probably a bunch of gang rapes. These motherfuckers broke away from some other weak ass motorcycle club and got allowed to be associates of the Lost. A support club back in 92' they became propspective Lost MC's in 93' same year you got locked up so I'm not surprised you aint know. But this dude Stitch? He already had a record from when he was with the puppet club and he ended up getting busted for crystal possession in '95. Did a nickle in the big house got out, did dirt for the MC and he was one of the original five dudes from the Procter chapter. These were the dudes that got the original New England right to be up here from their OG's in the MC. So by the time 2001 rolls around, Stich was a heavy hitter and it only took six years before he got to be president."

"What happened to the president before him?" Asked Ali. He was not familiar with biker gangs outside of what little he had seen in the joint. "I thought you had to be VP before becoming president?"

"I mean...the club aint that old compared to other cities. With Liberty the shit datesback to Vietnam, with Carcer City you're talking before World War II," G Nite said. "Hey when I talk about guys like Johnny K and Billy Grey you know who I mean right?"

"Of course. The Lost MC in Illinois talked about them. Half of them sided with Grey the other half with Johnny."

"Yeah but how did you hear about them but not about the bikers setting up in your own hometown?" Asked Bulldog. "Didn't you hear what the man said?" G Nite asked. "The Lost weren't a factor when we was coming up. I don't think they deserve to be now anyway. Them or the Angels. I'm all for running them bitches outta the town."

Ali said aloud more to himself than anybody else, "All the same, we're still local and they're national. It would be better if we didn't understimate them."

They had the song What a Thug About by Beanie Seagal on Hype FM playing as they drove. They finally pulled up. Darius, Silas and Muhammad was there too. Milky Malone was there smoking a cigar wearing a gray jacket over a black sweater and black pants. He had Cameron, Fritzy,, Danny, and other Irish goons. Jin Lao was there too as was Bao Zhou. So was his Uncle. There was also an Asian American woman with neck length black hair, high yellow skin, eyes that were shaped in an upward motion, and a thin face with a small nose but medium sized lips.

Ali noticed some Asians tended to have lips similar to black women though the nose shape was always different unless they were Blasian. "All right...we're all here."

The Uncle of Bao Zhou walked forward. "You are Ali, from Rockford?"

"Yes. I guess my reputation proceeds me."

"And yet you are different from what I expected. My condolences to you and your family. I lost a son as well so I understand your pain."

"And the same to you as well."

"Men like us...we understand pain of loss as well as sacrifice. The younger generation will not understand the ways of our traditions if we do not show them. I look forward to us working together."

"Hey that's all well and good homie but I'm the one running the crew. I been looking after things while Ali's been gone. I'm always gonna have his back but I'm saying...you should be talking to me. Brother Ali is still trying to get his mind around this here game and how it be nowadays."

The Triad boss looked at Ali and said, "ybdw ana alrajul mathqaf wamathaqaf yjb tashghil al'ashya."

(It seems to be the cultured and educated man should run things. )

This surprised Ali. He knew there were Asian Muslims in the world that could speak Arabic but he had never personally met one and he doubted this man was a Muslim. "Alan kayf taelamt alearabiat?"

(Now how did you learn Arabic?)

The older man grinned. "Back in China...there are a group of Chinese who are mixed with Turkish are also the Hui who are Han like us but who adhere to Islam."

"i see. So you are Islamaphobic then? Maybe you are not as unlike the west as you thought."

"Spare me your western liberal ideology. For starters, Islam has been in China almost since its start. Unlike America which has only had it for about 500 years or more, we've had it for nearly 1500 years and thankfully they have never taken over. The Uyghur in Xinjiang are unpatriotic. They have had rights that are disgusting to the majority of the people's republic. For instance, two years ago, it was the year of the pig but CCTV in China reframed from showing images on our calendar to not offend their delicae sensibilities. Is this fair?"

"What is wrong with protecting religious minorities? Especially when that minority is 20 million people?"

"When you consider that your faith has been trying to take over our country long before Islam ever entered Europe or North America, we have reason to distrust them. There is nothing wrong with defending the rights of religious minorities as long as it doesn't infringe on the rights of those outside of it. 20 million you say? There are hundreds of millions in our nation that do not share their religion. Why should they see their animals censored because of them? If they can't even see an image of a pig on a television in a country where pork is the most common meat, they should leave. During the Ming Dynasty they had more rights than Buddhists or even Christians.

"So you call the Hui traitors but are they any more of a traitor to the Han Chinese culture than Catholics?" Asked Ali. "No, not more. But not less either. We have been a Buddhist and Taoist nation for thousands of years. This is Chinese culture. And sure there may be diferening faiths within tribes but Islam comes from the middle east. It is not ours."

Ali chuckled. "Despite the middle east being in Asia as well? What if I told you that the Chinese government's persecution of Muslims in China has not stopped Islamic terror attacks? It has made them worse."

"Ah yes. The old 'let's not attack them physically or verbally because that's what they want' argument. The reason this does not hold up under scrutiny is that it puts any country defending itself from jihadists in a state of pacifism or at least an idle and unhelpful policy. The notion that if we fight back against them, this feeds into their idea that they are right. But if they already are set in their ways, they are already convinced they are right. It does not matter if you are talking about groups like Anubis or otherwise. The idea that fighting them will play into what they want is no excuse. What they ultimatley want is a global caliphate. And by not acting this allows them to get closer to it."

"Why do you despise us so, old man?"

"Us? You would think after what you went through, you would have denounced your faith. But if you must know...I was involved in some...ethnic rivalry between Han people and the Uyghur dogs. Just this month, in fact. It was bloody. Over a hundred people died. Most of them Han. But believe me, there will be retribution. There already has been and there will still be yet..."

The Chinese man smiled. "You amuse me, Mr. Ford. I think I will have to get a gift for you. Perhaps a more...suitable cane for a man of your distinguished personality and character. I have not had a good debate in quite some time."

Milky stood among them saying, "Gentlemen...are we through jerking each other off? It's time we got down to business."

They went inside of the bar known as Barenoff's. It was a bar often frequented by bikers but it was by no means a biker controlled bar. There were about eight of them drinking. The Lost MC Sgt At Arms was there. He was a Caucasian man with long greasy blonde hair and blonde stubble and a dark blonde mustache. He had green eyes and stood at 5'11 and arms as hairy as sasquatch. He reeked of cigarettes and body odor. He was in his late thirties. "So, Im here... we're here. What's this about?"

Milky stated, "Everybody else needs to leave..." With that, everyone who was not from the Southie crew, the Rockford projects boys, or the Triads or the Lost left. The bartender left as well. Milky walked around to behind the bar. "You've heard about what happened at the docks right?"

"Sure," Stated the Sgt At Arms. "Same as anybody with a TV. What's that got to do with us?"

"The men who hijacked the shipment of a deal between these men...caused a lot of bloodshed...bad for PR you understand? Even motorcycle clubs have to understand that bad PR makes it hard to conduct fuckin business."

"If you're trying to accuse us of something, pal, come out with it. Don't be like those passive aggresive fags in the west coast or the midwest."

"It was a gang of white boys that jacked us for our shit!" Growled Silas. "Well armed white boys! And you motherfuckers got a lot of firepower."

"Calm down, Si..." Warned Darius. "The firepower could be anybody in the underworld. And as for t being a bunch of 'white boys' that's mire than half the city you're talking about. Gonna have to do better than that, chief," Stated the biker gang member. "In a city as liberal as Waston? The average citizen aint packing. This aint a red state where people mine coal for a living," Stated Jin Lao.

Danny stated, "Frank are we gonna let these pieces of shit skate with this? Because Marty told me these guys have been selling shit in the bathrooms."

"So what? We aint the only men making a profit in a bar," Stated the Sgt. "It matters if it's our product you took. And let's just say if you did steal from me...you won't like what happens to you."

"Are you threatening my brother you geriatric fuck?!" Demanded a biker who was clearly a meth head who had messy red hair long and brown eyes except one was blue after havin been cut and he had a prominent scar up and down his left eye at the bottom and top of it. "All of you empty your pockets. Whoever is stealing...let's see..." Each of them did. "You brought us here just to accuse us? This isn't cool, Milky!" Stated one of the bikers, a recent patch. "Maybe you did that shit at the dock! It's your fuckin town!"

"Yeah, that makes sense..." Milky said his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I steal from a heroin deal when I already got enough dope left over from the Vietnam war to get people high for another ten years. Besides, there's more than one wa to make money...we take banks too..."

He ordered Mr. French to sample it. He then had the black gangsters who had been there at the dock try it. He then had Bao Zhou sample it. "That's our shit. Not a lot of it. But that's it..." Stated the Triad.

"Care to explain how you got drugs that you think I stole that you went nowhere near? All I got in my pockets are bills, condoms and well...i could show you better than I can tell you. Let me ask you something...Sarge...just how much time did you spend inside? Maybe you weren't there long enough..." He said with an evil grin. "We got it from some Mexican guy. Cartel looking guy by the looks of him."

"See now...you're lying to me..." Cameron withdrew his Walther P99 that was most certainly not standard issue. "You're all under arrest for murder. I may be off duty but I'm still gonna take you in. I'll just wait a while. Bloody you the fuck up. Then when we rough ya up at the station, they won't notice when you get knocked around some more."

"Fuck you..." The sarge growled. "You're with Milky. You're a gangster not a cop. You can't take us in!"

"I can shoot you in the mouth and say you went for my gun, smart guy!" Cameron warned. pronouncing smart as smaht. "You wanna test ya luck?"

Just then, one of the bikers, a white male in his early thirties with a shaved head that was blnde and brown eyes and a tattoo that saidLFFL on the left side of his neck yelled, "Hey what the fuck are you all doing?!" Suddenly gettning very hostile and loud. "Who you trying to get crazy with, motherfucker?!" Demanded Silas.

The biker yelled, "Hey fuck you man! I was in the Corps and I know when I'm being flanked!" He noticed that the Triads, the Vespucci Point Dogz and the Irish Mobsters had in fact, boxed the bikers in. He reached for his .45 and fired a shot striking Silas in the right side of the chest. "Motherfucker!" Darius growled pulling out his .50 Desert Eagle getting it cocked and locked i record time before letting one bang into the bikers chest sending him crashing against the bar.

One of the bikers, just before the first had fired, lunged at Bhao Zou trying to break the flank but Jin punched him in the throat and threw him against a table. The gang member coughed on the ground as blood dripped from his forehead. "Stay down! Nobody else needs to die today!" Barked Ali. The sarge yelled, "Fuck you, ni..." Before he could finish his words, Ali grabbed his beer bottle and broke the bottle across his teeth. As glass and the man's blood was all over his face, Ali barked, "I TOLD YOU I DON'T WANNA FUCKIN FIGHT!" Normally, Ali did not curse as much as a lot of his friends did. But now, they had gone too far. Darius helped Silas out on the floor while firing his handgun with his other hand keeping pressure with the other.

He struck another biker, this one a probate four times in the chest. Cameron fired his Walther P99 striking a biker of Greek descent with curly black hair and green eyes as he went for a Glock 22 in one hand and a pocket knife in his left. He managed to stab Mr. French in the side going for Milky but Mr French took the blade intended for him. The round fired at Milky missed but knocked the man's beret from his head. Cameron took the top of his head off with the shot just sloppy enough to look amateur. The biker hit the ground with a thud as a piece of scalp with bloodied hair huung off the top of his head like a scab that had been peeled.

Ali had left the M4 in the car and had not seen reason to bring it into a bar but now he wished he had. G Nite fired as a Lost MC member tried running towards the bathroom firing two .380's and G Nite hit the man with four in the back. Two pledges tried to hit G Nite but Bulldog and Kenard lit them both up.

Now only the beaten sarge was alive as Jin now picked up the meth head he had hit who was trying to punch him and he blocked each sloppy blow before getting him in a head lock and with a twist, broke his neck, the popping sound reminding him of bubble wrap.

The Irish gangsters tied the Sgt At Arms to the pool table. Cameron and Danny poured whiskey on the biker's open face wounds. Milky asked, "Well we're about done with this piece of shit. Would you like to do the honors?" Ali said, "I'll pass. I think you've got it from here. And he knows what he did."

"They know what they did...but I hope you're saying no cause you know you don't need to and that it'd be my pleasure and not..."

"Not what?"

"Not religious convictions. I have very little use for that," Said Milky with a devilish grin. "Whether it is is or isn't is for me to know. And you to find out only if I feel like saying anything. You might be a big OG in town, Mr. Malone but you're not the only one."

"No, I suppose not. But that is the problem with religious types. Political types are better. Problem with you religious guys is..when we need ya to be peaceful you're war like. But when we actually need ya to be war like...well..."

"I think you can handle it," Ali stated as they left the bar. One of the Lost MC members, one of the men Bulldog shot, however, was still alive despite five shots in his gut. He rose to his feet and tried to level his pistol at Bao Zhou's uncle. "Fuckin..."Ali grabbed another bottle off the table and threw it at the biker's face. The bottle shattered and the man fell over. He had already lost a ton of blood but the additional head wound was enough and as he smacked his head on the ground and a pool of blood formed near his head, the biker would never get up again.

"There. You got your blood from me. Enjoy yours..."

"Oh we will..." He said as the black and Chinese gangsters left the bar. "We'll be in touch!" Called Milky. Milky then had his men strip the biker so that he was wearing nothing but his Sgt. At Arms patch. Milky checked out his spider web tattoo on his left elbow. "Oooh. A spider web. Well you must be one bad hombre. A little less cliche than a swastika. I'm more of a shamrock guy myself but...he took a pool stick and asked the Sarge as he spat on the pool stick and began to rub the spit up and down the cue. "You ever seen The Accused?"

"No...fuck's that...?" Demanded the wounded weakened biker. "Good. Then this will all be new to you..."

With that, he jammed the stick up the man's ass while Cameron recorded it laughing his head off with his camera phone. "OH MY GOD!" He cried in tears of laughter as the biker howled in agony. "Frank, this is wicked fuckin funny!"

"YOU FUCKIN FAGGOT! I'M A MAN YOU COCKSUCKER!" Roared the Sgt At Arms. "Not from where I'm standing sweetheart. And look..a judge might not agree with me but listen...I don't see this as sodomy, rape or homosexuality. You fucked me. I fuck you back," He broke the stick in half inside his anus causing even more bleeding. Milky then grabbed his hair as the man couldn't even scream anymore and he yelled, "YOU AINT RIDING EVER AGAIN, 'BROTHER'! AND YOU BETTER TELL YOUR FRIENDS WHO CAN THEY BETTER NOT SO MUCH AS EVER HAVE THEIR GODDAMN ZOMBIES EVEN FACING THE DOCKS!" He took the other end of the pool stick and shoved the rest in his mouth. "Now you've got double penetration..." He said in a slimy voice. "You like being spit roasted princess?"

He then turned to Cameron. "You got the whole thing recorded, right?"

Cameron nodded. "Yeah. Found this off some Baller from Rockford. I just confiscated the thing and told him to fuck off."

"Good. See to it that the Lost MC gets a recording of that sent to them. They need to understand who's in charge."

Meanwhile, Ali and the others got back to the hood. G Nite told him, "Hey listen I'ma hold onto this M4 for ya but trust me you probably will need it down the line if you're back in town. It's just how it is for OG's, mane. Look i gotta get the boy Silas squared away. We all gotta lie low but uh...far as five oh know you've turned over a new leaf so you might as well go see your ex and your daughter and what not..."

Ali took deep breath as he was dropped off. it was hard to pretend he hadn't done what all he had just done but that was the game now. Just as it was the game back then.

He spotted a box at the front door that had his name on it. It was a gold cane sure enough with black on it but black letters in Chinese and a black dragon. It was from the old Triad. "Well...I don't read or speak Mandarin...but I guess I'm the black dragon?" He said with a smirk. He then pulled it out revealing there was a blade inside of it. So the cane was both a cane and a stabbing weapon.The next time I see that boy, Jin I better ask him what this means. That old man is being cryptic I'm sure. This could say Black Dragon all though the inscription is pretty self explanatory. So I wonder what it really says?

He saw Myra and Rochelle. "Hey daddy!" His daughter said a wide smile on her face. He hugged her seeing how glad she was to see him. She didn't even realize what he'd been up to. As it turned out, Ali had no blood on his clothes. In truth, back in the 90's with them there were days when he had come home in bloody clothes. He didn't want to do that to them if it could be helped. "Hey baby girl! How's school?"

"It's tough. Human psychology is mopping the floor with me."

"Just stick to it. Your mama didn't raise a fool."

"Neither did you," Myra said a shy smile on her face. "You did always read to her. It did pay off. She devours books."

"Let's just say she gets it from both sides..." He said with a smile. "Yeah well...with Tamir...I mean no disrespect to his mother cause she aint stupid but he seems to have gone his own way cause that boy's no good...he's so full of hate..."

"Look, he's been mising his father. But I'm gonna do right. Where is he? We should all go get something to eat..."

"He's off with those idiot friends of his...you gotta talk to him, Ali. Too many sons around here end up like Jerome did..."

He then remembered that he had forbade him from coming with. He then said, "Maybe another time...we can with him but uh...why don't the three of us go get something to eat?"

Myra nodded. "Sure...I'll call us a cab."

Unbeknowst to the three of them, he wasn't far away and as they walked up the avenue to go get a cab as Myra called one, he was at a nearby ball court playing ball, two against two with a friend against two guys from down the block. His backup was a tall African American male, dark skinned named Desmond Stylez and he had short dread locks and muscles and wore green basketball shorts and a gray shirt covered in sweat.

Nearby was a couple of little girls jump roping and a couple of younger kids trying to flirt with them. Tamir smiled at how young the little homes were trying to be mac daddy at the park. Nearby on a bench, two elderly black males played chess. They had to be in their 70's but they didn't bother Tamir so he paid them no mind.

They were up 19-17 in a game of 20. The other side, a black male of Jamaica American descent wearing his hair in a mini Afro was shirtless and dribbling down the court. His name was Russel Denton while his team mate, Arnold Washington, was lighter skinned somewhat like Tamir was. Tamir called to Desmond, "Come on baby, Defense homie!" Desmond was 6'4, while Russ was 6'1 and whille Arnold had a couple inches on Tamir, he was 5'11 but Tamir's skill was in speed and shots.

Desmond stole the ball from Arnold and he passed to Tamir. "That's game, baby!" And he went to shoot but Denton slammed it down denying him and Arnold accidentally knocked him over. "Thats foul..." Said Tamir in anger. "That wasn't no foul...come on..."

"Man, you seen that shit, didn't you?" He asked Desmond. "It's just a game, T chill out."

"This nigga cut my motherfuckin elbow!" Desmond told him, "Hey don't even trip we all get scrapes and bruises out here. Aint nothing."

The black kid of about 12 that Tamir knew from around the way was chilling with his friend, a bron skinned Puerto Rican kid that was holding a ball of his own. "Yo, man let's go here's an open court," The Puerto Rican kid said. "Nah not yet..." The Puerto Rican caught the black kid looking at the girl jumping rope. She was a medium skied black girl with her hair in French braids. She smiled at him. The Puerto Rican said, "Oh now I see how it is. You just don't want me embarassing ya ass in front of ya bitch, huh?"

"Yo don't call her that, nigga!" Stated the black kid and the Rican kid shoved his best friend playfully. "Oh what you tough now, nigga?" The black kid shoved him, "Quit playing..."

They gave Tamir his free throw and he missed. "It aint shit, we still got this..." Desmond said holding a hand out. Tamir dapped him reluctantly and they got back to it. Tamir tried to get the ball from the Jamaican but he passed. Arnold made the shot and the three pointer went in with a swish. Just like that, they had gone from winning to a loss. "You niggas cheated! Fouling me like that!"

"Nigga, you knocked me down too don't even front!" Stated Russell. "Yeah but you aint bleeding!" Shouted Tamir.

"Yeah well, maybe next time it should be skins against blouses with your bitch ass..." Arnold said with a chuckle. As Desmond paid up the money they bet, Tamir went to his backpack. "Bitch? I'll show yw you who da bitch is..."

The Puerto Rican kid noticed the girl smiling again at his friend. "Yo, man go over and talk to her!" He said. "Nah man...not yet..."

"Yo, she likes you, man! She keeps looking over here!" She again smiled at him and looked away but not before he smiled back.

Tamir came out with a .45 USP and stuck it inches from Arnold's face. "FUCK YOU!" He fired striking the ball player in the throat and a geyser of blood sprayed from his neck wound. A bullet also went through the basketball flattening it. Russell saw this and dropped the money running. Desmond took off running, not sure that in his frenzy his own basketball friend wouldn't turn on him. Tamir didn't even notice. He squeezed off the magazine until it was empty and he crawled on the ground with four in his back. Blood poured from his mouth in a groan.

He took the money that the Jamaican American had dropped as he bled out coughing blood all over the court. He would have fired again but he was out of bullets. "Who's the bitch now?" He asked before taking off running. "YEAH RUN MOTHERFUCKERS! GO TELL SOMEBODY YOU SAW SOMETHING I'LL COME BACK AND BODY ALL YOU PUNKS!" Screamed Tamir as he put the money and his gun away and took off down the block.

Ali came up the street when they heard gunshots. They heard several people scream and several running from the courts and both Myra and Rochelle on instinct hit the ground in case it was a drive-by. Ali felt he had a duty to go into the park and see if anybody had been hit. He ran to the court and saw two deceased African American ballplayers laying dead of gunshot wounds but he also saw a Puerto Rican kid running off and a young black child of about twelve leaning over another body. Ali ran up to see a young black girl wearing blue overalls and a yellow shirt who had been skipping rope laying on the ground going into shock with a bullet wound in her neck her left leg kicking out of control. The young boy held his hand over hers unsure what to do.

Myra saw and yelled "Oh my God...Rochelle! Call 911!" His daughter did as she asked and Ali attempted to give the girl CPR but had to pry her crush's hands from her neck as both his hands and hers had been futile to stop the bleeding. Ali tried to bring her back for five minutes but to no avail. The boy sat there scarred until the police and paramedics showed up. Before the cops or medics got close enough, Rochelle said, "This is so wrong...she's so young... what happened?!"

"I don't know...whatkind of monster could do something like this?

"I don't know...nobody I know would...none of us in our day would have..." Ali knew that bullets had no name and it was possible he may have hit somebody in the past with a stray but he was almost certain he never had. He had hit the ranges when he was young and so had G Nite. Still, even if the shooter, whoever was out there, somebody ruthless, maybe even the sam person who shot Jerome, had known that they had hit a little girl, would they feel bad as Ali would? Or would they even care? "A monster..." He said repeating Myra's words.

Ramona

Hector was in his neighorhood smoking a blunt on the steps with a few Paceros a few years older than him. A Colombian woman walked by about 5'4 in height light brown with jet black hair an ass to die for, thick luscious lips and breasts Double D in size. The homeboys whistled and called to her in Spanish. She said whats up to each of them. "Que paso, Hector? How you doing?"

"Keep walking. You don't know me..." He said. His homeboy, a young gangster named Gordo said, "The fuck is the matter with you? You don't got manners?"

"I was just saying hey..."

"Bitch nobody was talking to you. Muervete, puta!" He growled. His friends asked, "Why you gotta be so mean, Hector?"

"She's Colombiana."

"So are you."

"Yeah but I don't like Colombian women. Matter of fact, i don't give a fuck about any women but if I did not no Colombiana."

"Why you hating your own gente?"

"Colombian bitches? Fakest women on the planet when it comes to Latinas. They only are good at dances that shake their asses which theirs are fake most times."

"No, wey, Colmbian chicas got it going on with the chichonas and nalgonas."

"It's all fake. They're gold digging putas."

"Bro, I think some are ho's man but that's your mama and your sister they're Colombiana."

"Yeah and look at how scrawny Ramona is. That's how these bitches would look if they weren't getting fake titties and ass implants. Look at Mexicanas and Dominicanas. Many of them got ass others don't but when do you see a bunch of them getting implants? Not as much as Colombia. Colombianas like to think they got bigger nalgas than Mexico and are equal to Brazil but hell no. These broads are flacitas. Do you know the implant capital?"

"Vinewood, Los Santos," Stated El Buho.

"No. It's fucking COLOMBIA!" He then said, "I could date an Ecuadorian, Peruvian, BolivianaMexicana, Guetemalan, and yeah they got hos but they got women that can be house wives. The only house wives in Colombia are fuckin gold diggers bro. I aint dating a Colombiana. I'd fuck one but then I'd never want to see them again. I'm older than that. The concept of being Colombiano...that's what i am. My roots goes deeper. Soy Wayuu. We never called Colombia any name after Columbus."

"Mira, Colombia has plenty like you..." Buho said. "So? You know what Colombianas typically say about guys my complexion or even yours? We're not even dark brown we're moderate and those bitches want to marry gueros or at least mestizos that are light skinned. They LOVE rich gringos they want to be with them. They worship blancos. Fuck them. They're gutter sluts. You're a man I respect too, Buho. You should leave those Colombiana putas alone. They white to be white like you know what? Many of them are light skinned as fuck compared to the bonitas from Ecuador. Dudes from there might worship that claro shit too but I aint one of them."

"That girl obviously didn't think you were too Indio. She thought you were just right. And as for fake asses just look at their thighs to see that and if you can't tell when you got em naked, bent over and shit? That's when you know if they had surgery you'll see their marks. But mira why you talkng about their bodies like the Mexicanas and Central Americanas don't got the more petite figures?"

"They do a lot of them but I see a lot of them with ass and the funny thing is these bitches in Colombia get their dances from Africanos in Colombia. And they shake their asses in their dances but this is from a country where they get implants. At least Peruvian and Brazilian and Ecuadorian nalgas is legit. Colombians that do't get surgery are fuckin skinny. And you know why Cause Colombian food is bland."

Hector then added, "That's my point if she did think I was too Indio she'd have turned her nose up at me. Bunch of self hating necios. They're the ones that hate themselves not me. I don't give a fuck about their country. Or even this one."

Ramona was hearing this conversation too. "All right, enough! You're trashing Colombian women and food? Also, the way that Buho should have put it was she might not care about you being moreno. Simos mestizos y mestiza."

"Think about it! ACPM is what Colombianos y Colombianas say we want on a plate!" ACPM stood for arroz, carne, papa and maduro. It was rice, meat, potato and fried plantain."

"Hector! Shut up! Mama made us that!" Ramona warned. "The rice is white, cooked without garlic. The meat is bare with maybe a little salt, the potato is unpeeled and dusted with salt. This is what we would be eating every day if we lived in Colombia. Mix and match arepas, yuca and patacones for the bannanas and potato but always garlic free rice! Everybody drools over the juices in Colombia. It's the same as the rest of the continent but in Colombia, the juice is the best part of the meal!"

Ramona told him, "You're acting like a spoiled brat..."

"No...cause i love American and Peruvian food. I'm not the only one that thinks this way. There's an old riddle in Bogota. If you threw arepa out in the streets instead of the trash who would eat it first? The dogs the humans or the ants."

"Cause it's supposed to be a human that eats them. Duh..." Stated Ramona. "No. I had a homeboy from down there tell me about how he and his novia were running late when they were eating and he didn't have time to finish it neither of them did. They came back home and the ants ate everything except the arepa," Both Colombian men and women were now listening to his rant whether gang related or not. "And then there's Patacones. I don't like em but i can finish them. The only way I can eat them is with lime juice and guacamole. We went to this place called Pescado Pacifico..." He was referring to blac Colombian cuisine. "And that's some of the better food but even they fuckn serve it up with Patacones!"

"That's why you're a flacita, Ramona..." he said and the others laughed. "Cause even you know the shit is mediocre. You know what I told some guero once when he asked me about it downtown regarding getting Colombian food? I told him that it's not supposed to be eaten! It's for in case you get a fish bone stuck in your throat. You chew a Patacone and that create a gag reflex and you cough up the fish bone," This got laughter out of the South Americans.

"That's not even true, Hector..." Ramona insisted. "I tell that to every gringo i see when they go to our spots and they usually believe me. And even if they don't they don't eat it. And then there's the tamales. Colombian tamales suck! Peruvian and Mexican tamales are better case they don't put any rice in it."

"What's your deal, Hector? You don't like Colombia but you don't like America either... then if you got no national pride why are you with the Parceros?"

"Cause it's still my neighborhood. And people still hate us. I can't control what other Colombianos do. They're necios but they fuck it up for me. We always act like we're better than other countries. Better than Peru better than Bolivia better than Panama better than Ecuador better than Mexico, Puerto Rico. But us, Ramona? We're Wayuu. That means we're in Colombia and Venezuela."

"Well I got nothing against our Venezuelan compas but a lot of them are coming over from there to Colombia so they don't hate it as much as you do."

"Yeah, when communistas is their option besides coming to Colombia then yeah. Look at who some of the most famous Peruvians are. Great kings like Atahuallpa, Tupac Amaru, revolutionaries like Tupac Amaru II and his espousa, Micaela Bastidas Puyucahua. Look at Bolivia, Evo Morales, Brazil has Mario Jurua, Mexico has Emiliano Zapata, Puerto Rico has Roberto Clemente. Who's our most famous person? Guy from the 80's. Fat fuck. Curly hair. Think about it! i got cultural pride but fuck national pride. All the women down there give a fuck about is beauty pageants and all the men give a shit about is Soccer."

"It's like you're trashing mama and papa. They'rre not like those people you described."

"Npo...they're die hard Catholics. But their prayers didn't stop us from being broken up as a family. Shit, we have no family..."

"If that's true, why are you a Parcero? This was started to protect our gente," Ramona scolded. "Yeah and like any crew that starts off with good intentions it's all abot the money. Even why you're helping me has to do with money. When I get protection money from Colombian stores...you think I give a shit about the people that run the little spots? Hell no! The last thing we need is Colombian bodegas. Except maybe for fronts."

"You don't identify with Colombianos, or gringos, you respect other South American countries but you aint from there so what the fuck do you consider yourself?" Asked El Buho. "Just another cholo without a country. A bastard between two worlds."

Even though Hector didn't have much knowledge about the west coast context of tht word among Mexican American street gangs as it had been come to known from the Zoot Suit Riots, he was using it in the original context the way they had once used towards those born between a child of a full blooded Indio and a mestiza or vice versa. In South America the old term and meaning as far as cholo went still applied especially in places like Peru. He was not at all comparing himself to Mexican Americans as thei cultures were different. He meant it the way they had been known however just like South Americans prior to the 20th century. Hearing him say this, made her sad. She wondered how much of what he believed was influenced by the fact that she and her parents had left? He seemed to hate Colombians from Colombia more than Colombian Americans and even Colombian Americans, he did not prefer the company of compared to other South Americans.

Ramona was on her way with El Buho and Franco to a peace meeting with the Lords. it was agreed that each party would bring two soldiers each. "I don't mean to sound like a necia..." Ramona began. "But why are we going to make peace with these fools exactly? And what made you bring me along? I mean I'm grateful for this and I'm glad to knock out more of Hector's debt but I'm just surprised you didn't want somebody else who put in time in el barrio like Buho did?"

"The reason I called you along senorita, is that despite your youth and lack of..past experience with our organization you do have military training and that is something I need."

"You gonna have me roll up on the Lords in a Lazer? Cause that's about as far as I'd be of use to you with that. In a situation where we're shot down, we're only supposed to fight if we have to. We try and avoid enemy soldiers. We wat to avoid getting captured and killed."

"Ah but they still don't hire somebody without a tactical and strategic mind to be part of the United States Air Force. You have to be able to think fast. You're in the air at thousands of feet. Down here? This is nothing for you. And as for your other question, nina, well its about time we have represenation for hispanos if we should get a seat at the table when it comes to dealing with Milky Malone. I don't want to work with PR's but if i have to choose, better them than Mexicanos or Central Americans. They think their shit don't stink cause they're closer to El Norte than we are. Anyway, I'd much rather still deal with the Sicilians but either way whevever we land with the blancos, we'll have to have a get along to go along policy. And Rockford? We may not want to admit it from an Eastie pride perspective but theyve got more going on than we do. Higher crime rate and more activity."

"That also means more heat, hermano..." Stated El Buho. "Right now the area we stay in is just mainly known for home invasions. Waston PD wants to jam up the Rockies? I say let them. We still do what we need to do but we do it in silence. I don't think that makes us less hardcore. It makes us smarter."

"That doesn't matter! Not in this case, hermanito. The fact is, they might have more heat on them in Rockford, sure. More shootings and more police attention. Bueno. But they also are taking more risks. They've got their cards on the table while we're sitting here waiting with our hand close to the chest. Which is fine if you have a good hand but if you have a good hand and you don't use it, what's the point? We've got the muscle to at least make ouselves a powerhouse and come to an understanding with la gente. The Aztecas and Marabunta? They gotta go. For good. We can probably let the Lords stay in the neighborhood as long as they respect our territory."

"Why the diplomacy now?" Ramona asked. "I thought the Lords were an enemy? I get choosing battles but why them over somebody else? What sets them apart?"

"What sets them apart is I like their by laws. They have by laws concerning honor. Los Aztecas y Marabunta have no such thing. The Lords have shown themselves to be a force for change. Especially in Liberty City. When have you ever heard of any South Side Mexican or Salvadorans do this? Or even those North Side Rifas that pride themselves on being campesino trash?"

"Pretty sure most gangs have by laws and honor is high up in it. It doesn't really matter much. No matter who says it. It's just words," Ramona said stating her opinion. "Yeah and besides we aint seen shit from Manny Escuela in over a year. He's all about this shit about education and making the streets a better place and he ends up vanishing and then that queenpin in Bohan gets pinched and they say he has ties to her the last time he was seen he was going to her apartment..."

"So what are you trying to say?" Demanded Franco. Ramona believed that most likely Manny had been killed. Buho it seemed had a different view. "It probably means that he wasn't being honest about going straight. The LCPD thought he was up to shit behind the scenes no matter what he said with all the cameras and the smiling and all of that. There's also the possibility he's a snitch. Think about it. She goes away no long after the last time he visits and she gets a 300 year sentence?"

"Bullshit and hearsay..." Franco stated. "When I was visiting Los Parceros in Dukes I met Manny. I got a good feeling about him. He mighthave still been willing to kill but i do believe he wanted to keep the streets drug free and he was willing to go to extremes to do t."

They pulled up to the peace meeting in the parking lot. The Spanish Lords got out of a Patriot. "Entonces vienes a hacer las paces, ¿eh Franco?"

(So you come to make peace, eh Franco?)

The leader was a Puerto Rican male with tannish brown skin and brown eyes with a pencil thin mustache standing at 5'9. He wore a black and gold tracksuit jacket on. He had three men with him, the first of which was Afro Carribbean and he wore a Bandits cap on backwards and he wore a white t shirt and dark blue jeans almost black. Aside from the hat he wore no colors. He stood six feet talland his hair was in short dreads. The next was a lighter skinned male with a crew cut wearing a gray t shirt and blue baggy third was an overweight man in a gold t shirt with an even golder crown in the design. He had bronze skin and a five'oclock shadow and stood at 5'5. "War hace dinero cuando eres el gobierno de los Estados Unidos. Pero cuando estás en nuestra línea de trabajo, las cosas son todo lo contrario. La paz trae más ganancias. East Watson es lo suficientemente grande para todos nosotros."

(War makes money when you're the United States government. But when you're in our line of work, things are the opposite. Peace brings more profit. East Watson is big enough for all of us.)

The man in the Bandits cap sneered. "¿Asi que? Incluso si hacemos las paces con usted hoy, eso no hace nada por nuestros problemas con los aztecas y Marabunta."

(So? Even if we make peace with you today, that does nothing for our problems with the Aztecs and Marabunta.)

El Buho stated, "No estamos aquí para hablar de ellos. Esto es sobre nosotros y usted. Podemos preocuparnos por el resto más tarde. Lleva tiempo reconstruir."

(We're not here to talk about them. This is about us and you. We can worry about the rest later. It takes time to rebuild.)

Franco realized something was up. "Where the fuck is Lord Tony? I want to deal with somebody who's actually in charge.

The leader smirked. "That's one way we could do this...another way is that we don't make friends with none of you. Cross the crown you get dealt with..." Before they could do anything, the four gang members had guns on Ramona, El Buho and Franco. The first had a Glock 17 on him, the man with the Bandits cap had a Mini Uzi aimed at them, while the fatter guy had a .357 in one hand and a 9mm in the other both aimed at Ramona's face.

The crew cut kid carried a .380. She knew on a good day she could pumble this fat fuck but even an otherwise unskilled man could still kill her with two guns at close range. Sure, she could have attempted to disarm him but in case she wasn't fast enough, she'd be shot and even if she did overpower him, his friends still had them. Plus they were outnumbered four to three. It was true they had guns on them but the leader was already patting them down and taking the pistols from them. "Shoot them if they move..."

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at, cabron?" Demanded Ramona. "Shut up, bitch!" Screamed the leader of the Lords. "The way I see it, you don't get a king to forfeit by taking all his knights and bishops...even his queen..." He licked the side of her face and she went to strike him but found his pistl as well as those of the other two men. The man with the Uzi had Franco and Buho covered.

"So what you thinking? You take me hostage Los Parceros give up our territory in East Waston? That'll never happen."

The black Puerto Rican said, "Maybe we see how much your Parcero cucarachas in Dukes will pay for you! I know the hermanos in Liberty would have a lot they'd want to say to you too."

"We can make mucho deniro off this one..." The fat one said looking at Ramona.

Just then, Ramona spotted Hector in her side vision. He had on a baseball glove and he ran over towards them. The Lords saw they had company and were trying to get him to go away. The leader hid his gun and warned Ramona and the others, "Not a fucking sound!" In a harsh whisper.

Ramona was unaware but he had followed them and had been throwing the ball against a wall about fifteen feet away from the Lords vehicles. From where Hector was, he saw one of the Lords putting Ramona in the back of a van and another carried a black gym bag. "No hagos, eso hombre!" Cried El Buho as one of the Puerto Ricans shoved her in.

(Don't do that, man!)

He had glanced at the van just long enough to see they had guns on them. One of the Puerto Ricans said, "Hey, vete para alla!" Shouted one of the Puerto Ricans at Hector.

(Hey, get away from here!)

Hector replied, "Mi bola esta abajo del carro," (My ball is under the car)

He took he glove off of his hand ducking down as if he was bending down to get a ball so the Puerto Ricansa ignored him. The young Colombian American came up with an M9 and started spraying. He shot the guy with the gun to Ramona's head, the fat one first hitting him in the head and chest. The man fell over discharging his pistols. Ramona tackled his falling body just long enough to grab the two guns. He also struck the black Puerto Rican in the right shoulder wounding him an he forgot all about Franco who he had a gun on. Buho took the Uzi from him while he was distracted and let off a sixteen round burst into his back. Ramona took the two pistols and fired, two shots from the 9, one from the .357. The two shot from the 9mm struck the leader in the chest while the .357 slug lodged in his stomach. The gang member fell over bleeding.

"You Parcero putos are dead! Done!" Ramona sneered. "No.." She said. "You're dead. And so is any chance any of you ever had at making peace," With that she aimed both pistols and fired into his skull,. The 9mm round put a nice hole in his forehead but the Magnum round put a bigger one that was not only right next to it but practically on top of it. The man's brain matter exploded all over the tire of his own vehicle. She fired two more shots from each gun even though she had to hold on more to the Smith and it gave more kick. Now he was missing a nose and he had brain matter oozing from the bloody spraying hole where his nose had once been.

"That motherfucker's trying to run!" Yelled El Buho as the sole survivor ran."You did good, hermano.. He said to Hector. Ramona's heart pounded. "I'm not thrilled you did what you did but I'd be dead if you didn't...so thank you..."

"Thats 8 grand I'm removing off your debt now, chico. Buho, get the car and take him back. Me and Mona are going to get that last Lord cuca!"

He started up their van and they began to chase after the Lord gang member down the street who was taking off with his pistol in hand and had been in such a panic he hadn't thought to get in the Patriot. It didn't matter much anyway since Hector had slashed the tires. None of them had seen it but that was another thing he had done in the several times he had pretended to lose the ball and ducked down. He saw the van coming after them. "Take him alive, Mona! I want to make an example out of this piece of shit!" Yelled Franco.

The man fired back at them letting off seven shots but Ramona shut the door of the Burrito and the rounds went through but missed since he wasnt able to see her. She opened it and aimed out with both pistols. She fired the .357 again and one round from the 9mm also hit the man in the left shoulder but went out a through and through. She missed with the .357. She aimed for the back of his legs and fired. A round hit him in the back of the leg and the same happened with the .357 but it blew out his right knee from the inside. He fell over and they grabbed him forcing the wounded Lord into the vehicle. Ramona fired the remaining rounds next to the Lord's ear.

Soon enough they pulled up the barrio. "Get rid of the van, all right? Matter of fact, take Hector with you. You two need to resolve some issues based on what I hear..."

Frano had Buho and the two brothers from Colombia take him up into a safe house they had on the edge of Simon Bolivar Avenue. He asked Hector, "Hermanito, got any suggestions for what we should do to that puto as an example to the Lords?" Hector got an evil look on his face and then whispered to their leader. The Colombian male chuckled. "I like the way you think. We'll get that set up."

With that, the two began to drive the van out of the area. Ramona was in the driver seat. She put the radio station on and the song Lowrider by Cypress Hill played. As she drove she asked, "So I know why you have a problem with me and i get it. I abandoned you in your time of need...I should have waited until you were 18. But you were staying with Tia Roberta..." Roberta was not really their aunt but just a kind Colombian elderly lady who looked after them when their parents were deported. "Why do you have a problem with mama y papa? You weren't so angry when I left."

"Huh. I wonder what the FUCK could have changed that?! But serio, Mona, as for our parents? We visited them when we could. You used to sneak us down there illegally. We could have just stayed. They could have let us stay. We could have gotten jobs down there."

"I thought you hated Colombia?"

"I do. It's not like other Sur American countries that have success. But we would have been a family."

"They wanted what was best for us and they wanted us to have the life they didn''t growing up."

"You sound just like an American propaganda poster. How is it better off if we wind up here without parents? As for Tia Roberta, you know she fucking died two years ago, right? Diabeties took her. Me and El Buho handled the funeral. YOU wern't there. So don't bother visiting her grave."

"I wanted to help us have an easier life. Don't you get that? With what i was tying to do...what I still want to do...I can make us a family again. Get us our own place. I have money saved up."

"Whatever you got, it aint enough... He growled. "And I'm gonna tell Franco to stop letting you earn off my debt. I can handle my own business."

"Is that how you ended up needing to be bailed out by Franco?"

"Well,I think I handled myself pretty well against those Lambaches. You and Franco and Buho would have been taken and killed if I hadn't helped. You let them get the draw on you when you were armed and you have military training and you're worried I can't handle myself?"

"Look, yes you did save us. But don't let that get to your head and it's true I did join the Air Force but it looks good to get my parents back in the country if their daughter is in the armed forces."

"Don't bother," He said in a low murmor. "You're allowed to petition them to stay in the country when you turn 18 since we're both citizens. When i did, I tried."

"Yeah, well you're a guy in trouble with the law..."

They found a good spot in the woods far outside town. They lit a gas trail and lit the van on fire and made sure to put a lit gas rag in the tank. They talked as they walked.

"I wasnt then. I was doing good in school. You, I gave up on cause you left willingly they left against their will. But the fucking gringos, man they said no. They don't care about reuniting families. And mama y papa they came here illgally before and i know it's a long way but shit we went down there to visit them. If thy wouldn't let us stay down there, they could have come back up with us. Laws or not nobody should let laws stop us..."

He sighed. "Then I realized...they didn't want to be near me enough to try and get citizenship or whatever and you were missing...they always asked where you were in letters. They must not have needed their son bad enough So i learned not to need them anymore. Or you."

She hugged him against his will and he yelled, "Get the fuck off me!" She wouldn't let him go. "I didn't leave you...or at least I never meant to abandon you. What will it take for you to forgive me?"

"I don't know..." He said. "We used to be close but I'm not a kid anymore. It's not like I need parents or an older sisters love the way i used to. I don't know what it would take. So much time has passed, hermana. And I don't know if we can ever fix it. i don't think we can. But whether we do or don't...if you're going to work for the Parceros...do it for yourself, earn some plata since you're back. Move on with your life. But DON'T do jobs for Franco for me. I'll do that on my own. We're not kids anymore. I don't need you to change my diaper or put on my socks. "

"I wouldn't be much o a sister if I let you go out there and fail would I?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm not your responsibility. Whether I fail or succeed in the streets, en el mundo...that's on me." p

"I love you, Hector. Even if you hate me. You're my brother and nothing will ever change that."

"Love?" He scoffed. "Take a look around. We're in East Waston. Love doesn't exist."

They got back to the barrio and it was night. El Buho had a bottle of Tequila and he poured a shot for Ramona and for Hector. "We hammered those Lord putos today. Hector, I know Franco's been putting you aside and so have I but it's cause i know she wouldn't want me letting you get hurt while she was away."

"I can handle myself..." Hector growled. "And if you guys thought that I couldn't...i could just as easily say that not only did today prove I can it proved you can't."

The Colombian gangster chuckled. "Well don't get carried away now..." Ramona told Buho, "If you wanted to do what i want you wouldn't have let him get involved with barrio bullshit to begin with pendejo..."

"Yeah yeah coulda woulda shoulda...shut the fuck up and drink..." He said and the three took their shots. Parceras also praised his actions against the Lords paying compliments to Hector. He ignored all of them except the ones that were half Colombian and half of another South American nation. He slapped hands with Parceros indiscriminatley but he wasn't gay so it didn't matter.

Franco greeted them and he wss clearly drunk but he said, "As you can see...I'm a little too partied out but Don Hector? What you wanted for that last Lambe puto? It's taken care of. Come with me!"

He had them walk up with him up the high rise projects. They got to the top and Franco pointed to the Lord gang member. The man was nailed to a billboard that overlooked the neighborhood. It was a Cerveza Barracho sign. There were several Parceros and Parceras swinging baseball bats and hitting him with the balls they hit. Some missed entirely. Others were just not even bothering to swing the bat at him and instead just threw baseballs as far as they could. The Lord was screaming bloody murder and his face was both red and partly blackish as far as the dried blood. H had bruises up and down his body and he was stripped down. He had originally been wearing a pair of black boxers but one of the Parceras thought it would be funny to force him to wear panties. Nobody knew where the thong came from

Hector and El Buho burst out laughing. The colors of the panties was also black and gold.

Ramona demanded, "How did this happen?"

"It was Hector's idea/..." Buho said. "He just had some of the pee wees go down and get as many balls as they could from the batting cages. He's been going there a lot himself practicing."

Hetor hit the baseball as he tossed it up and it beamed the Lord in the chest. "¡Te corremos cobardes! Malditos puertorriqueños nunca pueden estar en la cima. Cubanos y dominicanos tampoco! Pequeños países pequeño tiempo! ¡Tus seguidores no son líderes!" Yelled Hector.

Theresa whistled as Hector hit the man with another ball this time in the left knee. "If you can hit that accuratte H, you need to be in the major leagues, homie. Play ball."

"Nah. Cause I was aiming for that little bitches nuts."

Ramona saw El Buho looking at the man through binoculars and she snatched them from him. "Hey, I was watching that!" The colombian American protested. "This aint Republican Space Rangers, estupido! This shit is real life!"

"Hey why do you care, Mona? That hijo de puta was gonna kidnap us. i don't know what they would have done to you.I mean the Lords say they don't do...THAT to women but i heard different from people that aint them."

"I can take care of myself. But I don't need you encouraging that."

She walked up to Hector. "Stop this. Right now Put him out of his misery. Or let me do it."

"No. You kept me from rolling with you before even though it's my ass on the line and I'd rather get the money back my own way. I've BEEN HERE. In the barrio. Defending the neighborhood from Lords, Aztecas, all that. You're an outsider. You told me no before with helping go after our enemigas. Now I'm telling you to fuck off. What's happening is happening. This little Rican bitch is gonna learn what happens when he fucks with my boys."

Buho took the cans and said, "It doesn't matter now. i think he's done...you can only take so many balls to the face before you die. Especially with bullets in him. He's done."

Two Days Later

Hector banged on the door of an apartment in East Waston at the Mariana Apartment building. It was filled with people both Colombian and Colombian Americans. There was a paisa who owned a Colombian resteraunt with his family but he was also a drug dealer and used the place as a front. He was supposed to kick a percentage of his profits to Franco but he had not been doing this. The man's name was Jerry Rivera. He was a long haired dark skinned man with curly black hair down to his back a handle bar mustache and a patchy black goatee and beady

black eyes. he was chubby and was 5'6. His wife had recently divorced him due to him cheating on her. They had four kids, three sons and a daughter. The woman was a pretty light brown skinned Colombian woman with short black hair and glasses. She was middle aged but aged well except her eyes always looked tired.

Hector knew their sons well. Her oldest son was selling meth god knew where and had been busted a few times for it. The middle son had been somebody that Hector had played video games with and was rmored to be a closet homosexual. As the story was told, supposedly a Caucasian lady that used to babysit the youngest two children, had caught the middle child, having sex with another man. Hector didn't know if it was true but he had stopped hanging around him after that. Hector had with him, four homeboys a four man crew that he often took collections with. The first was a medium brown skinned Colombian American. He stood 5'9 and wore a white tank top that showed off his muscular arms but he usually wore a black jacket over it and a Pro Laps black cap on backwards. His name was Jesse "El Tamposo" Roybal.

The second homeboy was Luca "El Cerebro" Salas a dark brown skinned man with neck length black hair and bangs that wee always in his face. He was always dressed in punk rock style clothes and looked more like a brown goth than a homeboy from the barrio but he was down, he just usually was more about being the brains of the operation and planning than muscle. he was 5'6 and rather scrawny but he was at least quick in a fight which made up for his lack of size or muscle.

The third was also a light brown skinned man with jell spiked black hair and he wore a Liberty City Rampages cap on backwards with a blue bandanna under it and a red one over the bottom half of his face. He was 5'11 and had been to juvie and had also done a year in jail as well. He had a tattoo of Jesus on his chest but it was covered up by the Jingoist jersey he wore. Since there was nobody home, they went to the Colombian food spot itself.

They stormed into the place. They had about ten customers but as they saw the men with masks and bandannas on they knew that was their cue to leave. "Yeah, that's right get the fuck out!" Screamed Hector. "You don't get to finish but you don't gotta pay!" He had a .30 caliber M1 Carbine with a pistol grip and a folded stock. He had been given it as a gift two months ago by Franco. Elisa ran up yelling, "Get out! I'll call the cops!" Hector raised his Rifle. "You sure about that?"

"Hector, I know that's you!" She cried. "Fuck her, man you should shoot the bitch she said your name..." Stated Tramposo. "Waste the puta!"

"No...I'm not gonna do that. I know where you live. I know where your kids sleep. And if you call la policia on me...even if I'm locked up...my family will be paying them a visit. Only reason I don't shoot you in the fuckin face now is cause you were nice to me when you and your faggot son were friends even though your piece a shit husband wasn't."

"You can't kill him..." She begged tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why do you care? You're divorcing the pendejo. Go. Go home."

They began to trash the place as she ran. Her husband was in the back hiding. "Somo Parceros! Ustedes tiene que pagar!" Screamed Hector as the man was in the kitchen.

(We're the Parceros! You guys have to pay!"

"Nel..." Replied Rivera. That was the wrong answer in English or Spanish. The man tried to point a .45 out of the freezer door but Hector slammed his hand with the door and disarmed him. He screamed in pain as the bone was smashed and a crunching sound popped as he slammed it.

There was a pointed metal flash reducer on the barrel of his rifle. Hector jammed it in the paison's face taking off a piece of flesh. He bled like crazy. "Utestedes tiene que pagar!" He repeated.

"Nel..." Rivera repeated, stubbornly.

The Rifle barrel came at him again and again. The sharp flash reducer tore off little chunks of his head until it looked like hamburger meat. Then the crew began to work on him as he fell over twitching going into shock as he voided his bowels and emptied his bladder.

The take wasn't much. Just $1500 which Hector would give a thousand of as another bit of money to Franco and $500 for himself. The ounce of heroin, bag of weed which was worth about $160 and the eighth of coke would be divided among his homies to turn a profit. "Jesus Christ man...i never killed anybody before..." Said Luca. "Man the fuck up,it 's done. That fat pig is in hell, man. He got what he deserved. I NEVER liked that boboso. Punk ass paisano. I should have burned that place to the fuckin ground. With every one of those cochinos inside."

They tore off up the road in the dark red beat up old station wagon. "Man, I never got to use this thing before..." Hector growled with a grin high on adrenaline. "That's just with the barrel, bro. Can you imagine what'll happen after I use this shit on an Ass Taker, a Cuca or a Cuck Lord? I'm gonna light them all up like the fourth of July."

"You're loco, hermano..." Stated El Tamposo. "But that's why we're boys, man. Fuck anybody that fucks with us, dog. I swear to God, bro...that rush when we finished that punk off..."

"You think his sons gonna come after us?"Asked Angel. "He's a fag. Expulsarnos significa algo diferente a los empacadores de chocolate."

(Blowing us away means something different to fudge packers.)

" No not the maricon. The oldest. I know dude was slinging meth and from what I heard he was carrying a fuckin .380 everywhere he goes."

"Fuck him...I'll kill him next too if he has a problem with it. He's better off without his papa. Shit, even his own kids knew once they started to grow up what a worthless piece a shit he is. You know none of them were talking to him, right? Not his fag son, or his two normal ones or his hija. I did them all a favor. Everybody assume familia is sacred right? But that's just not true. Sometimes your own familia will sell you up the river."

"Hey, but Ramona's cool, man..." Stated El Tramposo. "You just wanna fuck her, man..." Stated Hector. "Go ahead, bro. I don't give a fuck about her and she's easy."

"You know you're wrong for that, bro..." Stated Angel. "Maybe families are fucked up sometimes but I don't think Ramona ran away just to hurt you and shit, man. I think she was trying to help the family. It was real dirty the way they deported your parents, man."

"They didn't care enough about me to send for me to go back there. It might have been hard down there and I would have hated it but isn't it that what family is for? To be together? Do you know what it was like visiting down there? No matte how good it went i KNEW I'd have to go home and not see them again for a year sometimes...and Ramona? Shit was good until she left. But I took care of myself these last few years. It's just a good thing she flaked out later and not sooner but she still flaked out on me, that's why I got emancipated. Fuck her and maybe one day I'll even leave Waston. Go to Liberty City maybe."

"What? That's blasphemy, man!" Stated El Tramposo. "You can't leave Dub Town for the fucking sewers of Algonquin, Parcero! Stay here where it's clean. Or at least go to Vice City. Fuck Liberty, man!"

"Lot of Colombian women in Liberty..." Angel said. "You sure about that? Mr. Wayuu who is soverign and not Colombiano or Americano?"

"I don't know. I thought about Venezuela but shit is even harder there. This whole planet is a slum. Maybe nowhere will ever be home. Maybe I'll wander the earth like a drifter. Or maybe I'll join fuckin NASA and leave this bitch for good."

East Waston

As Ramona drove with El Buho as well as El Hollin and El Carbon in a silver bobcat with the two Afro Colombians in the back insisting upon it as they wanted to have a conversation between the two regarding their days of smuggling between Colombia and Panama and the enemies they had made doing so including cops in both countries, Ramona and Buho conversed on another subject regarding what Franco wanted them to do this time. He hadn't said how much he would tak out of Hector's debt or even how much he would pay the four of them but they were doing a collection the same as Hector had with his crew. "You remember Big John?" Asked the Colombian American gangster.

"Of course. How could i forget him? He's cool. How is he anyway?" She remembered him as a humble obese teddy bear type who was also a major cocaine connection in the neighborhood. He was als an old friend of Ramona's.

"That's just the thing, mija...he hasn't been paying his dues to us...and you were his friend...so I got an idea..." He whispered it into her ear. "Christo, man...that's fucked up..."

"It's what Franco wants to do. Can't let personal relationships get in the way of business you know?"

"I guess..."

She pulled up and got out. "Just go in and knock like we told ya. Normally, we'd need the mind of a fighter pilot cabrona but this takes a more delicate touch on your part..."

It was just after eleven at night when she knocked on his door. She knew he would be up. He was happy to see her. "Ramona! Como esta!"

"Soy bueno. Y tu?"

"Can't complain," The big burly Colombian, a man with slicked back black hair wearing a white tank top and black sweat pants said, a light brown skinned male with a black goatee but no mustache. "So what's up?"

Right behind her was El Buho, El Sollin and El Carbon who proned Ramona and Big John onto the floor at gunpoint. El Buho went to sweep the house holding a Remington 870 while his two homeboys had 9mm's. The only other reason Ramona agreed to this was on the condition that they not beat up Big John and that was also part of why she wanted to make it look like she wasn't in on the robbey either. In a nearby room, was Big john's girlfriend. A beautiful Mexican homegil in her twenties withh brown eyes and long dark hair poured into a form fitting black blouse and skintight jeans.

"¿Quién está en la habitación, hermano?" Demanded El Sollin ready to come in there blazing.

(Who's in the room, bro?)

"Big John, ¿en esto tú? Ella está caliente, hermano."

(Big John, in this you? She's hot, bro.)

So was the .357 Mark-4 pistol she began to fire as the startled El Buho came through the door. Luckily, she was so scared that the bullets put holes in the wall instead of him. "Fucking bitch!" El Buho blurted as he reached out socked her in the and wrestled the gun away. His eyes looked like fifty cent pieces as he came back into the kitchen pushing the girl ahead of him. The take was a large bag of cocaine and several hundred dollars, $700, to be exact. As the two Afro Colombian gunmen tied up Ramona and gagged her and gagged the two residents and they left them on the floor, El Buho growled, "This bitch tried to shoot me!"

He looked like he wanted to shoot her but El Carbon stopped him. "Es solo un robo, amigo. No lo convirtamos en un asesinato. Estamos vivos, están vivos. ¡Vamonos!"

(It's just a robbery, 's not make it a murder. We're alive, they're alive. Let's go!)

When they were finally let go, Big John was suspiscious and two days later, he got word that Ramona was linked up with Los Parceros and had been in on the robbery. They were Parceos and they controlled the neighborhood from Roanoke Avenue to Salem Boulevadard. They had to be paid. Old friend or not.

Ezra

At the suggestion of Archie, with things going fairly well, he had dropped by an internet cafe and signed up for Love Meet. He was checking out different women. He checked out one profile that said Celtic Queen. She was a woman with long brown hair, somewhat thick eyebrows, and green eyes and pink full lips. She wore her white lab coat and had glasses on and looked like a sexy librarian. Her profile read as followed.

Age: 34

Loc. South Waston

Job. Surgeon

Sexuality: Liberal Democrat

Build: Contortionist

Likes: Second wave feminist literature, foreign men, Irish preferred but also accents I can't place. I love French and other foreign films, erotica, lesser known bands, independent film festivals, reading the kama sutra and other eastern cultures especially literature from Muslim women. So empowering! I want a man who is not threatened by a woman with ambition and likes to be challenged but will also challenge me. Is open to any kind of differing political opinion except Republican. Enjoy days at the beach, reading about the human anatomy and am SUPER into astrology. It's a real thing. No male Scorpios please. Looking for a man who would be as willing to stay indoors and watch movies with me when sick as he would be to dancing on a saturday night.

Dislikes: Republicans, inept doctors, health insurance companies, sexist patriarchal religions that exploit women, doctors who ask me out, Pissawasser beer, local whiskey, Weazel News, and men who expect a woman to shave 'down there' it's enough I have hairless armpits.

Ezra oddly enough liked her and thought sh was at least pretty and interesting enough to be curious to see if she was crazy or not. He requested a date with her.

Next he checked out a woman of Puerto Rican descent. Her handle was Sunrise Eastie Girl. She had long wavy almost curly brown hair, caramel skin, big brown eyes, full heart shaped lips and she was weaing professional clothes uncluding a silver jacket over a black blouse showing her c cups and a brown skirt. Her long bronze legs were also crossed and in the picture she had her eyebrows raised.

Age: 32

Loc: East Waston

Job: Defense Attorney

Sexuality: Often

Build: You won't be disappointed, papi

Likes: Salsa, Cumbia, Reggaeton, Bachata Maiachi, dancing, spicy food, traveling, flashy cars, muscular men, hairy men, running marathons, winning cases, seeing the Swingers lose at ball games,

Dislikes: Cops, cheaters, men from Waston, women from Waston, small dogs, cats, granny panties, panties in general, bras, men who can't take a punch during love making, Brucie Kibbutz, motorcycles,Fame Or Shame, men with smooth chests.

He next found an African American woman named Light Speed. She was dark skinned and had neck length hair that was coconut brown, long eyelashes, full lips and a pearl white wore a blue sweater with a silver necklace with a heart in the middle.

Age: 30

Loc: Rockford

Job: Mechanic

Sexuality: Chinese Christian trapped in a straight woman's body

Build: Thicker than an actress or model thinner than the best singers

Likes: Trying different foods, different languages, going for long drives at night, sex outdoors, vacationing at Cape Coq, fixing and customizing cars, rebuilding old cars.

Dislikes: Men afraid to cry, skinny guys, Lazlow Jones, Maisonette 9.

Ezra hit date for the other two s well. He had to laugh at some of the out of place answers. As he walked out, suddenly a dark blue Cavalcade pulled up, "THIS IS FOR MY HOMIE!" Screamed a voice and several shots rang out. Ezra felt pain in his side and then his front. He heard screams and the shatter of glass and he tried to reach for his own gun to fire back at the man who had shot him but he felt gravity pulling him down and everything went dark and he felt as cold as ice.

---

That's it for this chapter. Sorry I haven't updated I've been pretty stressed dealing with a lot of bullshit. Anyway...

El Tramposo is visually inspirded by Gabriel Chavarria

El Cerebro is visually inspired by the Guetemalan American actor Tony Revolori. He was actually threatened with death threats over the Spiderman reboot for playing Flash Thompson or whatever his name is. I mean yeah...the same backlash happened to Rue with Hunger Games I guess it's to be expected with us too. It's not right but then it realy would be better if we all just played our own cultural roles

Angel is visually based on Victor Ortiz

I won't say who but let's just say the people that Hector shook down are based on people from my past I won't elaborate on that I mean if you wanna know bad enough you can message me but I may or may not answer. It doesn't matter much anyway. As far as what he did to the man with the flash muzzler that's based on what Boxer Enriquez did as described in his book The Black Hand when he shook down a paisa that refused to kick up money to Eme back in 1989. The scene where Hector pretended to just be a random younster playing ball is based on a scene from My Bloody Life the book when King Lil Loco saved his fellow Latin Kings from being kidnapped by some Cubans.

The scene with Milky and the pool stick is based on a scene from In Too Deep with Omar Epps and LL Cool J, the shootout at the ball court is based on a scene from the 1994 movie Fresh, Ali i trying to be less violent but his rage does manifest itself. In terms of the scene from Fresh, while this is taken from hat I decided to ad an extra twist of it to wherw what if the father of the man who shot the people happened upon the scene and was horrified by it unaware that his son did it?

The idea for grinding the rivals into food and feeding them to their homies is based on an episode of South Park where Cartman did that to some redheaded kid and also based on that meme where you open a fortune cookie and it says that wasn't chicken. I decided to take that to the extreme.

So Gweilo Mo is based on John "White Devil" Willis the only white Triad who was a gang member from Dorchester that joined the Triads in Boston. So like Milky Malone, he's based on an actual real gangster.

Also that gift to Ali the Black Dragon will be his signature melee weapon. It might be unsual that he's not Chinese to get a weapon like that but a cane suits more what Ali is right now and even when he's gonna eventually be more able bodied after recovering, you'll see him still use it. Besides as far as jin goes I'd want a different melee weapon in mind for him. Not sure which ones just yet but I'll think of something.

The scene with Cameron datin Alison, Zilla's oc from New Arcadia was a long time coming and this is their first date as Cameron dated her before mark did since Zilla gave his blessin. A lot of that scene was inspired by The Departed but at the same time, the story he told her about busting a wise guy's son is based on an episode of the Sopranos where AJ does everything he described and gets busted based on what kind of pizza he ordered. All though Alison doesn't yet realize Cameron is a crooked cop, at the very least this conversation does set up the standard with her to whers she knows that he as a cop is not thrilled with the fact that some people who commit crimes get to walk and this will be part of what he uses to justify his own criminality down the line because while he is loyal to Milky he still will do his duty to the Waston Police Department and in some ways do somev vigilante shit.

Also despite the topic Freud did not actually say that it's just a myth and it's one The Departed didn't exactly help curb. However, when it comes to the youtube clip of the date scene between Matt Damon and Vera Farmiga that inspired this date, there was an Irish guy who said that it's because the Irish love secrets and drama. I mean he can tell us whether that's true of his culture better than us non Irish right? Anyway, I'm dropping a new album from my band Pink Frued. It's called Dark Side Of Your Mom. Seriously though if you don't get that joke you're not familiar with what Frued was all about and thought everything was caused by.

As far as Hector and what he did to that last Spanish Lord, it's kinda based on those Vice City missions as well as TBOGT with hitting people with golf balls.

Ezra got shot and that's the cliff hanger. Celtic Queen is visually inspired by Jennifer Connelly, Sunrise Eastie Girl is visually based on Rosylyn Sanchez, Light Speed, i don't know yet...I was thinking the lady that plays Tasha on Power but I'm not sure if i could see her as a mechanic though she has shown flexibility in roles that's not a role I am sure if i can see maybe only cause she hasn't done it. I'm open to suggestions.

As far as their sexualities the responses the women wrote is a combination of being based on what the actual love meet profiles say and based on some of the funniest answers to what your sexuality is on Reddit with Light Speed's being the most random. Same goes for the build thing too. That was easier to come up with on my own.

Anyway, until next time.