* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Ya gotta teach me how ta do that some day, Chuck."
Gunn's cousin Lester piped up as the group rounded the corner of
3rd street and onto 45th. Lester had rolled into town a few weeks
back, unannounced and unexpected. Usually when one joined up with
Gunn's vampire hunters it was a personal vendetta, but Lester had
given no explanation. Just that he wanted to stake himself some
undead monsters. It was peculiar, but Gunn wasn't about to argue
with a man who desired nothing more than a little stake action.
Let him kill the vamps and keep his tale of woe to himself.
Charles wasn't going to loose sleep over it.
"Do what?" Gunn asked offhandedly.
"That thin' with the ball. Sweet, bro."
"Right. Sure thin', but first I'd s'gest that ya build up
some muscle, Cous'." Gunn rolled his eyes, about to say more
when he realized that something felt off. It was suddenly very
quiet. The group was a little later getting back than he would
have liked, but it wasn't like everyone would have already hit
the sack. There should have been several members of his crew
hanging out on the streets, keeping watch, if nothing else.
"What's goin' on?" he asked, lowering his voice.
Rondell tensed. "I dunno, but I sure as hell don't like it.
Somethin' bad's goin' down. S'like we're bein' watched."
"Vamps?" Chain guessed.
"Nah. They stopped that stealth stuff a long time ago. After
years a'ambush, the ol' game of hide an' seek just
doesn't carry the same thrill as it used to for 'em." Gunn
replied dryly.
A streetlight flashed on. Everyone jumped and backed away.
"What the--" Bobby whipped out a stake from his pocket.
"Chill." Gunn snapped. "Just the city's
automatic timer, man. Nothin' ta get all jumpy about."
Bobby couldn't relax, though. "How can you be so sure?"
Because I could feel 'im if 'e were 'ere.
Gunn said to himself. Ty always lets me know that
'e's around. Likes ta leave sick lil' notes for me. At
least, there'd be a dead body or a car blazin'....
"How can you be so SURE, Chuck?" Lester echoed Bobby's
question when several moments passed without an answer from Gunn.
"I just do."
"How---"
"Keep questionin' me an' that'll be the last question
ya ever ask." Gunn snapped, putting down any further
inquiries from his friends. "Let's go inside before whatever
it is comes out ta shake our hands." Or rip 'em
from our bodies... either way...
The boys gathered together in a cluster, moving quickly and
quietly to the warehouse's side entrance. Alonna and the other
girls were sent inside first, followed soon after by the others.
Nearly everyone had made it inside when a slick limousine pulled
up to the curb and a man in a well-tailored suit stepped out.
"We got company." Gunn stopped on the threshold to the
warehouse, ushering the last man inside.
Chain's eyes blazed as they always did before battle. Ever since
he was a little kid he lived for the action, suspense, thrill...
whatever it was that could give him a buzz. The Latino youth was
so high strung that he seemed to literally
need that action to survive. I knew
it was vamps. I'll break out the crossbows--"
"Not vamps." Charles held up his hand.
"Lawyers."
Alonna appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, in the doorway that
her older brother still stood in. "So it's worse than Chain
thought!" She cracked a nervous smile. "Here we were
thinkin' it would just be a normal batch of bloodsuckin' fiends.
Lawyers is in a category all by themselves."
"Alonna, go back upstairs and tell the others to keep quiet.
Be ready for anythin'. I don't want our visitors knowin' just 'ow
many of us there are."
"In case there's somethin' more to this lil' visit? Like a
demon stashed in the trunk?"
"In case he's from Social Services,
'Lonna." Gunn shot back. She knew what he meant. If the feds
found out just how many homeless kids were living in the old
building, it would be instantly condemned and all of Gunn's gang
put in group homes, youth centers, or any place designed to
"reintegrate children into society". He knew how well
homes for orphans worked and wasn't about to make his friends go
through what he had at the Plummer Street Shelter. "Move on,
little girl." His voice had an almost pleading tone.
Getting the message loud and clear, Gunn's sister took the stairs
leading to the upper floor two at a time.
Relieved to be alone at last, he turned to face the enemy. As an
older man in his mid sixties stepped from the lap of luxury and
into Gunn's world, the boy of 17 began to muse just how many
forms evil could take. He was used to the oozing demon variety...
the fangy midnight brigades... but he knew that evil could just
as well take the form of... an elderly man stepping from a
limousine with a large briefcase in his hand.
"Evenin'. Anythin' I can do for ya?"
"Charles Gunn?"
Well, that just about confirmed that this wasn't merely a social
visit. Most people who came down here were not of this man's
clearly high social stature. And the fact that he seemed to know
Gunn didn't help to ease the knot of fear that had started
to form in Charles' stomach. How exactly did this man know his
name? "Who's askin'?"
"Winston Reynolds Brown." The man extended his hand in
greeting. Gunn merely stared at the hand as if it would poison
him if he touched it.
"English, ain't ya?"
"Bloody smart, you are. Shouldn't have expected anything
less, I suppose."
Gunn shook his head 'no'. The man was trying to be friendly, and
Gunn would have none of it. At least, not until he found out
exactly what this guy's agenda was.
"Wantin' somethin', Brit?"
"Please, call me Winston. No need for insults. We hardly
know each other." Charles remained stone silent. The man
stepped back a bit and cleared his throat, sensing the hostility
in Gunn's actions. "I was told by a friend that I would find
you here. Nice to see that you do not disappoint."
"Cut the crap. I asked ya what ya wanted an' all I'm
gettin' for my trouble is what sounds a heck of a lot like
stallin'.?" Gunn's patience with the man had just run
out. "No more of this beatin' around the bush stuff. I think
you'll find that I got a real short attention span."
"Comes from being raised on the streets, I'd wager."
The man chuckled and bent down. The motion set Gunn even more on
edge than he was before, raising his fists in a defensive
position. "No need for that, my boy." Winston unlatched
his briefcase and withdrew a manila folder of documents. "I
have here several documents."
Social Services. It had to be. Damn, he'd fought so hard to avoid
this situation. Time for Plan B, then.
"You have a rather sizable amount of children within your
ranks, yes Charles?"
"Got a lot of guys, yeah. But they ain't children."
Gunn set his jaw firmly. At the very least, he could stall for
time in hopes that the others would take the hint when he didn't
return that something was wrong. The longer he kept Mr. Winston
busy, the better chances his friends had of escaping.
Winston met Gunn's hard gaze this time. He wasn't about to let
himself be intimidated. "No, I suppose they aren't. Seen
much fighting in your time, Mr. Gunn?" Silence. "I'll
take that as a yes. So I'd also assume you've been up to your
fair share of mischief."
Where was the pansy going with this?
"Including a certain incident that occurred down under the
Starford Railroad Overpass at around 3:00 yesterday
morning?"
Gunn began to shake his head in disagreement, but Winston
continued on as if he had never asked the question, but merely
made a statement of intent. "Random acts of violence give
you a thrill, kid? Such as setting dumpsters full of garbage on
fire... spreading gasoline all over the wooden rails... and
killing a dozen people?" Winston accused.
Gunn was dumbstruck. His boys had been out around that time, yes,
but nowhere near the Starford lines. "No sir. My boys were
across town at 3am. Nowhere near this firey inferno yer talkin'
'bout."
"Can you tell me what you were
engaged in at that time then, sir?" Winston's accusatory
tone didn't falter a bit, but grew more confident with each
unanswered question. "And mightn't you be able to
collaborate your story with an alibi?"
What were we doin'? Well, hell, just savin' the world
from a country club of vamps. Well, that is, they
were country club members when they was
alive. Gunn thought. But he couldn't just tell that
story and expect anyone to believe him.
"I'm afraid you'll have to come with me, sir."
"Why? None of my boys ave done anythin'." Gunn
glared.
"Just come along and save us all a lot of aggravation."
"Show some proof that my men was down there, first. Then
I'll be more'n happy ta come with ya."
A motion from inside the warehouse distracted Gunn momentarilly.
What's goin' on in there? In
the split-second that his back was turned, Winston approached
Gunn and slapped a pair of handcuffs down on the boy's wrists.
Gunn struggled, but found his bound arms a severe hindrance.
Wonderful time to be without a weapon. He
mentally chastised himself for being sloppy. In LA, a guy never
wanted to be caught outside without some means of protection. If
it wasn't vamps, it was crooked cops, or crooked lawyers. Or
crooked cops masquerading as crooked lawyers.
The owner of the scream-- Alonna-- came barreling out the door a
moment later, with Rondell, Junior, and George hot on her heels.
Gunn could only imagine what was running through his little
sister's mind. She must have seen what was happening from one of
the upstairs windows. "You can't take 'im! 'E ain't done
nothin' wrong!"
Rondell's eyes were wide. Evidently, he had tried to stop her
since he still held her blanket in his hands. They must have
attempted keeping her away from the windows. She didn't need
to see what was going on. Despite their best efforts it obviously
hadn't worked.
"Get everyone out!" Gunn barked as Winston dragged him
toward the limousine. The man was surprisingly strong for an
elderly man. Unless he wasn't a man at all, Gunn mused.
Before he could think further on this, however, two more goons
emerged from the limousine to aid their boss in dragging the
struggling youth into the car.
The last Alonna saw of her brother was his head being jammed
through the car door. She wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but
was held tight by Chain who had his hand over her mouth.
"Damn, girl. You wanna get us ALL hauled off?"
Silent tears coursed down Alonna's cheeks in rivulets.
We'll get ya out, Gunn. They can't prove a
thin'...
The police took off. Evidently, it was just Gunn that they were
interested in. The others' emotions went from relief to immediate
panic. Those people had Gunn, no one knew exactly why, and any
one of them could be next.
