Chapter 7: The Black Dragons
As the small group walked towards the bar, Christina asked Laura, "She's younger than a good number of us. I know she's the leader, but…why 'children'?"
The Mexican smiled and answered, "Have you noticed? Marissa doesn't see herself as a child…and doesn't act like one either. Sure, she asks a lot of questions as kids do, but all in all…I think she sees herself as something in between."
"Maybe you're right…it's a bit unnerving…"
"Tell me about it. Even when I first met her, she was like that."
Chris then moved a little quicker until he was beside Marissa. It had been agreed that if the inhabitants or bouncers decided that they didn't want strangers in the bar, he would take care of it.
"Everyone ready?" she asked.
The other four took steadying breaths, but nodded.
"Here we go," she said, braced herself, then opened the door.
The instant she did, they were blasted by music, a hard metallic sound that immediately cut, as though it were the end of a song. Inside, the tables were near full, occupied by men as well as women. Some were wearing what most called the new punk-style (including the disgusting way of piercing noses and Mohawk hair), some looked like they had been in gymnasiums (same as Mark)…and all of them wore black jackets.
And all of those hard faces were staring directly at the small group.
Two of the said faces walked quickly to the door, and one said, "Hey, can't you sissies read? No kids—"
Chris immediately said, "Yo, Chuck, it's cool. These guys're with me."
The one that spoke, Chuck, peered at them with narrowed eyes, which made a long, pale scar that went down the left side of his face from forehead to cheek become more pronounced.
"Hey, you serious? Why're you bringing snot-nosed brats here, pal?"
"We need to talk to Jack. We've got some hot business. Red-hot."
"You do, huh? Hot enough that you're bringing brats to the HQ?"
"More than you think."
He sighed and looked at his companion, a hard-faced teenager with straight and short black hair and brown eyes and a compact-yet-muscular body, then said, "Fine. We'll take you to see him, but it's up to him as to whether it's really important or not."
"Thanks, Chuck," Chris replied, glancing at both men.
"Follow us," they replied tersely and lead the way.
As the group walked, Laura noticed that the others in the bar were looking at them suspiciously, and then greeting Chris as a brother. She frowned.
They went up the stairs and entered a spacious, yet cozy room. In one section was a large table with chairs, with a bar-like counter and stools. Past there was a small kitchen and a smaller room.
Laura wheeled on the others and said, "Chris, they greeted you as one of them! This is your secret?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes, Laura. I'm a member of the Black Dragons. I'm Chris the Night Gunner."
Now she looked furious. "Why! These are nothing but street punks! They don't even look decent…and you're one of them! You're—"
"Laura!" Marissa cut in, "That's enough!"
"Back-stabbing trouble, that's what I said—"
The young leader's tone became icy iron as she said, "Laurine Mariz, stand down, now!"
There was nothing but silence.
Marissa continued in the same tone, "Why do you think that Chris kept it a secret in the first place? Because of this very reaction of yours! Snot-nosed brats, indeed…you're acting like one right now."
She had the grace to blush at this.
"Keep comments like that about the Black Dragons to yourself," she added and then turned to the two escorts. Chuck seemed seething below the surface, although the other was looking at them oddly.
"I'm sorry," Marissa said to them, "It won't happen again…will it, Laura?" The last she aimed at the older girl.
"Not again," she replied quickly.
The two men nodded and the one studying them said, "We'll let it pass, then. You handle your underlings well for someone your age…state your business."
She nodded and said, "I'm Marissa. This is Laura Mariz, Christina, Mark…and you obviously know Chris Sato."
He nodded.
"Have you heard of a group called the True Liberty Movement?"
Chuck growled as he heard this. He looked as if he wanted to cut loose, language-wise, but replied, "Yeah. Buncha no good trash heaps…they decided they'd try to use our HQ here for somethin'…"
The other man nodded, adding, "We showed them that they should go elsewhere. Took down two of my boys in the process, though."
"Hey, you wit' those losers?" Chuck asked suspiciously.
"No…no, they're not. I can tell. Anyway, why're you asking about them?"
"They've made a strike and took our families hostage."
Now both men looked enraged, and the mysterious teenager motioned for her to continue.
"Why come to the Black Dragons, though? Not for jollies, I know, but why?"
"Because we could use your help when we go and rescue them."
"You want to make an alliance with the Black Dragons and break out the hostages?"
"In a nutshell, yes."
"Why should we help you?"
Marissa eyed them coolly, as she had seen Michael and her father do often, then replied, "You want revenge and those terrorists gone. We want our families freed, and we're not about to cave in to the enemy. Simple math, if you think about it. Besides…what'd you guys do here last night?"
"Hey, we didn't do anythin'!" Chuck retorted.
She nodded, "How'd you like to have something to boast about: That you were part of something that took down a bunch of terrorists, got your revenge and saved a lot of lives?"
The teenager thought for a moment, then said, "Wait downstairs, Chuck."
The gangster grunted with a nod and left, closing the door firmly behind him.
The remaining Black Dragon man smiled and looked at the group.
"There's one code we have above all others: You mess with family, we mess with you. Chris is family, to both us and the Foundation, Marissa. Or should it be Miss Miles?"
Laura's eyes went wide, and Marissa's did as well. She barely managed to ask in a somewhat controlled tone, "You knew?"
"Of course I knew. Chris doesn't tell anything sensitive, just about other kids and some other stuff. You're Marissa Miles, the daughter of Devon Miles, Executive Director of FLAG." He paused before continuing, "You're new to this, but even I can see that you're a good leader, especially when dressing-down one of your own on the spot."
Marissa was quiet for a moment before she asked, "Looks like I'm at a disadvantage. You know a lot about me, but I don't even know who you are."
"Oh, sorry. Chris?"
The young man nodded and said, "This is Jack Hunter. He's the leader of the Black Dragons."
Seeing the reactions, milder ones than were expected, Jack replied, "Sorry for the deception, Miss Miles, but I needed to test you. What visitors say to the home underlings isn't necessarily what will be said to the leader, much less the truth. Remember that."
"Mr. Hunter," Marissa started to say.
He chuckled nervously and scrubbed a hand through the messy hair. "Hey now, that makes me sound old. Call me Jack."
"If you'll call me Marissa."
"All right, Marissa it is." He then looked at the others before saying, "I know this isn't all there is to you. How many strong are you?"
Chris replied, "50 strong."
"Fifty? What's the range?"
"Nine to nineteen. Half are capable of fighting."
He nodded. "Marissa, I want to get together with you and your strategists, so that we can go over the plan, if you've got one."
"Oh we do," she replied, "Laura's one, Becky Curtis is another…and the third one…is not the conventional strategist. Your guys will have to keep the nature of the third one under wraps."
He nodded, then said, "Can't wait to meet him. The rest of you guys, wait up here for now. I'll see about getting ya somethin' to eat and appropriate stuff to drink."
"Thank you."
Outside, Jack's eyes widened when he saw the black Trans-Am.
"This is your third strategist? You're not putting me on with a show, are you?"
Kitt replied, indignant, "I beg your pardon!"
Laura tried to hide a smile when she saw him turn as white as a sheet.
"Jack, this is Kitt," Marissa said, her own smile visible, "Kitt, this is Jack Hunter, the leader of the Black Dragons."
"Hello, Jack. Marissa is correct, but to be more precise, I am the voice of the Knight Industries 2000. K.I.T.T. for easy reference…or Kitt, if you prefer."
"Hey Kitt, while I get Becky, can you bring up the battle plan?"
"But of course. I take it that the Black Dragons have agreed to the alliance?"
He chuckled and said, "Yeah. So you're the third strategist?"
"That's correct. It will be easier if you watch the plan from close up. Get in, but please don't touch any controls."
With that, Kitt opened the driver's side door, to Jack's surprise. As soon as he sat down, the AI brought up the plan from earlier, explaining it in detail, as well as the situation itself.
When Marissa came back with Becky, she found Jack asking Kitt questions and nodding at some of the answers.
He turned and saw the three girls, then said, "It's a sound plan, with very few weak spots, namely with the chance of an ambush and the amount of fighters you've got. If it's all right, I'll see about strengthening those spots."
The three others nodded after a moment.
Jack nodded, "Good. Now, I know it's just about sunset, so you guys can stay here for the night."
"Jack, with all due respect," Marissa replied, "Every minute that we do nothing—"
He smiled and replied, "Marissa, a good leader also knows when the troops need to rest. Besides, it'll take me a few hours to bring in some backup of my own. May as well use the time to rest and refresh yourselves."
She was quiet for a minute, and nodded, asking, "All right, but where do you intend on all 50 of us staying at?"
"You saw the 3 story building beside Viper's Outpost, right? Well, it used to be a hotel. A few of us live there, and it's mostly empty. Plus, I know the landlord. It won't be a problem."
Marissa nodded, "I'll tell the others, then. Jack?"
"Yeah?"
She paused for a moment, then said, "Thank you."
He smiled and replied, "Haven't been thanked much in my life, especially when it's battle related. Nice feeling. Anyway, no problem. Anything to help out Chris' friends and family….and boy does he ever have good friends."
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Michael and RC looked about as they drove. It was already sunset, and soon it would be night-time. The older man had a feeling that the kids would be stopping somewhere for the night, unless they decided to push it until dawn…which RC didn't think was likely.
"A bar that gangs frequent," he murmured while waiting for a traffic light to turn green.
"Come again?" RC asked.
"Something Kitt said in the recorded message: 'even if you come upon us, say at a bar that gangs would frequent for instance, please don't try to take us back to the mansion or stop us.' That's got to be a coded message as to one of the stops on their route. Problem is, I don't go to places like that often unless it's a case…and I definitely don't visit the local bars."
The young Negro man chuckled, bemused.
"What's so funny?"
"I wasn't goin' to mention this, dude, but ever since I moved to the Foundation, I've been checking up on the local gangs. My rep as the Street Avenger caught wind and came here to LA…and some of them filled me in."
"Oh, that's just great," he muttered sarcastically, "I'll bet Devon will be thrilled when he hears this."
"Hold on, compadre," Rodrigo said from the backseat, "Anything to find those kids and Kitt is better than nothing."
Michael took a deep breath, then replied, "Sorry, RC. This whole mess has got me on edge. First Devon and the others are taken hostage, then the kids take off with Kitt."
"Forget about it, my man."
"So, how many do you know frequent bars?"
RC closed his eyes and thought for a moment. "Well, there're at least 10 gangs in LA, but only half of them go to bars."
"Five gangs…that's a start."
"Yeah. First one's the Nightshades. Their territory is in eastern LA, and they've been seen often at a spot called Vick's Cabaret. Don't let the name fool you. It's little better than a bar. Their leader's just called Joe. Middle-aged guy you'd expect to see working out, and notorious as a double-crosser."
"Doesn't sounds like the kind of place. Next?"
"Diamond Snakes. They're biker-types, and brawlers besides. Territory is in northern LA, and they own a bar, called Fading Wheel. The head honcho's a balding guy, named Diamondhead. And lemme tell you, he's as lethal as his name. They're allies with another gang."
"Hmm…maybe, but I don't think Kitt would tolerate going there."
"The third one's a totally Hispanic gang, Rey del Muertes. They hang out in the Spanish ghetto section of town, near the coast. They don't ally with anyone and have a feud with Nightshades and the Diamond Snakes."
"Next?"
"Crimson Shadows. Just like the Diamond Snakes, they're allies with another gang. In this case, that's the Nightshades. They're two of a kind, so I've heard. Their base and the bar are outside city limits, the Bloody Mary."
Michael looked sick at that. "And the other one?"
"The last one's the Black Dragons. Their HQ is secret, but I heard that a friend of the gang owns the bar they go to all the time, Viper's Outpost, which is in the southern part of the city. The members vary in age, but their leader is a sixteen-year-old kid named Jack Hunter. They're hard fighters, right up there with the Nightshades in power but he's a brilliant leader. I heard they use both brawling and some martial arts. Their allies are the Diamond Snakes."
"Which one are we closest to?"
"Diamond Snakes."
"So that's where we're going!" Michael replied. By then, the traffic light changed color and the vehicle continued on their way.