The sports car sprinted through the pavement leading to the Brotherhood warehouse, the booming music signifying his presence. Its driver coming to a screeching halt, outwardly unaware of the dagger-like glares he was receiving. He bolted past his adversaries in an effort to reach his destination. "What the hell?" Matt stammered, lifting his head from his assignment. Emmalyn, who's belly began to project outward was amusing nearly one year old Nathaniel. Alyssa was lazily lying across the couch as the ruckus from the outdoors grew louder.
Maero irritably exhaled, walking from his chair to inspect the source of the commotion. The answer astounded him nonetheless. "Yo, what the hell are you doing here?" he roared and nearly every Brotherhood was on the defensive. Shogo, who had a burdened appearance about him, pleaded to Maero, "Look, there is something that you have to know. I am not here for trouble." Maero gawked at his former gang rival and motioned for him to come into the gargantuan storehouse. There, Shogo stood, awkward, worn and distressed.
"What is it that you have to get yourself scalped in order to tell me?" Maero scolded, sinking into his tattoo chair. A tense minute wafted through. "Jyunichi is gunning for the Brotherhood….Emmalyn to be specific. This Saturday to be exact. Not to mention, they're coming to torch the place." Shogo blurted, a worried expression forming slowly. Emmalyn sat straight and Alyssa took her son from the vicinity. "What the hell are you talking about?" Emmalyn retorted, anger rising. "Listen to me; I know what Jyunichi is up to. I'm warning you well in advance. They want to take you out, this weekend. If you don't believe me, you can kill me." Shogo bargained. Maero, Emmalyn and Matt glanced at one another. "Tell me as to why you're warning us?" Maero pondered, peering at Shogo.
"I'm done with the gang shit. Jyunichi's taking this too far by going after Emmalyn, especially when she's pregnant. It's one thing to go after you, Maero. Eliza's behind this too Emmalyn, watch your back." Shogo presaged. From within the neighboring room, Donnie could eavesdrop onto the secrets Shogo was spilling to his former enemy. With eyebrows cocked intuitively, Donnie eased away from the shop, slipping into the sunset sky.
On this particular evening, Foreign Power was a mere ghost town because whenever the leader of a notorious street gang made an appearance, civilians who were wise – left the premises. Jyunichi, followed by a few faction of Ronin pored over the car dealership, inspecting the latest model of a shiny jet black Zenith. Alejandro, with hands in his pockets, sat on his desk. He watched the group.
Time passed and a crimson and gold Voxel drove wildly in the streets, nearly ramming into aimless pedestrians. Within minutes, the car's owner ambled out and waltzed rapidly inside of the building. Alejandro was still sitting at his desk, completely invisible to his customers.
"Jyunichi! Jyunichi!" the small man called, his equanimity that of a small child. Jyunichi slowly rotated towards Donnie, showing him little curiosity. His followers demonstrated similar approach. "Aren't you with the Brotherhood?" Jyunichi serenely asked, unfazed by his presence. Donnie nodded and with this, Alejandro's ear perked in the instant. "Just a few minutes earlier, I overheard Shogo telling Maero of your plans!" he squeaked. Jyunichi strode closer to Donnie, overshadowing him and leaning in. "What…plans?" he hissed.
Alejandro took notice of Donnie's gulp. "The plans to murder Emmalyn and torch the warehouse." He sheepishly affirmed. Jyunichi's lips pursed tightly, the veins behind his head throbbing. With a swift finger gesture, he and the Ronin crew set out to hunt Shogo, leaving Donnie seemingly alone in the dealership. Alejandro felt the heat of his blood boil watching Donnie stand there, somewhat in self-victory. Donnie's celebration was cut short as he noticed a burly shadow come from behind and a hand roughly grab the collar of his jumpsuit. "So, we have ourselves a little weasel, huh?" Alejandro sadistically mentioned, dragging Donnie out of the edifice. The small man yelped, fear stabbing every sense.
Alejandro tossed Donnie against his Voxel, dropping a multitude of blows to his face. "What do you get out of it Donnie?" he snarled in his ear, knocking one last punch to this man's jaw. He snatched Donnie from the ground, slamming him against the Voxel, setting off the alarm. "Turn the alarm off." He commanded. Donnie did so without hesitation. "Who…who the hell are you?" Donnie whined. With dark eyes, Alejandro came head to head with Donnie, "The worst nightmare you'll ever fuckin' have." He flung the trunk open, stuffing Donnie's minute frame inside, smashing the trunk shut.
The time of night wore on, Maero had several Brotherhood dispatched throughout Ronin territory. Everyone had best not attack the Brotherhood frontally, as everyone knew well that Maero had incredible muscle on his side. In the words of the 3rd Street Saints Leader, Dean Roscoe, if the Brotherhood discovered you were going to attack, be prepared to battle a impressive monster.
"Please, come back alive, babe." Emmalyn beseeched Maero, her arms snaked around his thick neck. Her soft lips delicately kissing his, Maero intensified the kiss as the scent of black raspberries and vanilla lotion pranced around him. Emmalyn parted his lips, savoring every moment. Maero broke away, eyeing her hungrily, "Don't play with fire, it's what got us here in the first place." He droned, making her shiver. "Stay put." He instructed, passing her a stern expression. "I've got business to take care of."
Maero strolled heatedly out of door, skipping each step downstairs before finally departing from the house. He was not silly as to leave Emmalyn all on her lonesome; guards of Brotherhood were stationed around the perimeter. Emmalyn watched on as his beast of vehicle moseyed out of sight.
Racing through the clandestine passageway in proximity of the docks, Maero's Compensator shoved through thick dirt and gravel. Swinging around the bend, the truck could barely roll on two wheels. Speeding like an asylum escapee, Maero finally arrived at his target.