Lawrence was sweating. Granted, there were several factors as to why that was the case, but still. Having to host, being presentable, and attempting to make a good impression on a senior who might have had a reason to not like us. I could see how that was cause for stress.
His skin was clammy, he tumbled over his words on occasion, and how he walked was too deliberate, having to think over every step, every movement. Again, he could just be trying to consider the guests, but still.
“And you’re proud of this collection you have here?”
Inez had her nose turned up while she asked. Incredulous. She walked in step with Lawrence, but her pace was more measured, almost like she was the one leading the way. Lawrence struggled to keep an even stride with her.
The whole thing was hard to watch. Where I had the sharp teeth and bite, Lawrence was supposed to have a tongue of silver. What did it say, when the face of the gang looked so unwell?
“We might not be at the Mazzucchelli, but we do have several pieces that would be worthy of such a place. Take this piece, here.”
Lawrence raised an arm, pointing to the specific piece he had mentioned. The last one down this hall, in the East wing of the museum. A painting.
Wasn’t any artwork I’d seen before. Must have missed it during my one and only proper visit to the gala.
It was a quaint, reserved work of art. One that wasn’t trying to be flashy with its colors or technique, but rather creating and capturing a mood that one had to sit with and contemplate. It didn’t strike so much as it did stir.
A portrait of a man. Elderly, with a soft expression on his face. A few, small brushstrokes reflected a certain sadness in his eyes, but he didn’t look particularly troubled. It didn’t consume him, it didn’t swallow him. There was a distinct line between his lips, turned up, so slight. There was a gloom that the man had lived through, but he learned to live through it, live with it.
Quick dashes of violet hues shaped the man’s face, shoulders, upper body. His hands were clasped together, in his lap, one resting on top of the other. The coloring was kept simple, monochromatic, focusing more on forming things through lighting and shading. The presentation had a surrealness to it, but the overall sentiment was so very real. Despite the torrent behind the man’s eyes, and maybe behind the painter themselves, there was a calm that permeated the piece. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, myself, aside from a strange mixture of longing. And dread.
If I had come across this while I was going through the gala, I probably would have given it a pass. It was too real, it hit too close. The eyes looked through me, too deeply.
I stayed back as Lawrence waited for Inez and her crew.
“Not would be,” Inez said, “It has been. I’ve seen this piece before. You just stole it from their walls.”
“We all work in the same industry,” Lawrence said, “Is crime not our craft?”
Inez turned to get a better look at the painting. I only had the back of her head to work with, now, but I could read her body language. She wasn’t being very subtle about it.
Her shoulders stiffened, lifting them up. She rolled them back, and as she relaxed again, Inez angled her head. Turning her nose upward, over Lawrence. With heels, she towered over Lawrence, and he was already taller than me.
I could only imagine the look she had in her eyes. I wasn’t envious of Lawrence at all.
“I deal, young man. I make offers and then others take them. Power, wealth. That is how I build these things. Respect. I do not need to resort to simple thievery like the common thug.”
Ugh. She wasn’t even addressing me directly, and she still got me heated. I knew why, though. Because it was my gang she was putting down. My people, and that included people like Sarah.
Lawrence was rankled, too, but I saw him work to keep his composure. Lawrence laughed. It was a nervous one. Not a good look.
Shit. At this venture I’d be doing a better job than him.
No, wait. Fuck that. If I was in Lawrence’s position, this would have turned into a bloody mess, quick. Literally.
And the last thing we needed right now was a mess.
My hand closed into a fist as I watched Lawrence struggle.
“You could say we had set the stage to play the role of the common thug. But even so, would the common thug be able to rob the biggest art museum in the city, on the night it would be the most guarded, occupied by the rich and the elite? Most, if any at all, wouldn’t even make it to the front steps of the place. We managed all of that, and it was but one part of a grander plan.”
Lawrence hoped that would be enough to impress her. Hell, I did, too.
Still facing the direction of the painting, her back to me. Nothing in her posture suggested that at all.
“By grand plan, do you mean running into the smoke of a convenient fire?” Inez questioned.
God, she was as bad as Mrs. Carter, maybe even worse. At least Mrs. Carter was able to congratulate us, give us our props. She even welcomed us. Inez, though? What was her fucking problem?
But, that was why we invited her here, to the museum that Lawrence made his base. It was just that the process was like pulling teeth.
Something I wouldn’t have been opposed to inflicting upon our… esteemed fucking guest.
Lawrence took a noticeable second to provide a response.
“Smoke and mirrors, Lady Inez, deception is one of the most important tools we have at our disposal, and I think we showed a good display of that, on that night. If you believed that fire to be a convenience, then we did our job better than we expected, and we more than earned our seat at the table.”
Inez straightened out her back. As if she wasn’t tall already.
“Not a fire, then, but a hellblaze. And if you’re the one who lit the match and threw it, young man, then it proves just how reckless and hot-headed you really are. By throwing caution to the wind with this stunt to impress the panel, you risk causing a fire you had no control over.”
“Doesn’t everything come with a bit of risk? Given the circumstances, we did well enough to win over the panel, did we not?”
Inez had folded her arms, squared her shoulders, judging from her outline. Most of her body was covered by a dark brown long coat, with a texture that suggested it could have been skinned from an animal. What kind? I had no guesses, there.
In this exchange of words, it was Inez’s turn, and she was taking her time. She stared ahead at the painting, deep in thought. Seemingly. I did not envy Lawrence in the slightest.
I stayed back, closer to the shadows. Right where I belonged.
Keeping watch until something went wrong. Which it might.
I willed Lawrence to get his head back in the game.
If it wasn’t so clouded with pills.
Then, finally, Inez spoke.
“This painting, it’s a very particular piece. A relatively obscure piece from a relatively obscure artist, only recognized by critics due to his storied past and the people he influenced. Either you only happened to pick this by chance, or you actually have some developed taste.”
Lawrence faced the painting. I saw him fix his posture. Not completely straight, but straighter.
“The latter,” Lawrence said. Breathy, but it was with the most confidence I’d heard from since Inez’s group got here. “LIke I suggested, I do know what I’m doing, and that extends to my gang, too. You’re right, this man’s work isn’t well known or appreciated by the general public, but I did come across some his paintings while digging into other stuff. Movies, and then documentaries. Some of them talked about his art during his time in East Asia. It was only for a brief time, but if you compare-”
“Yes. I am aware. After his visit, his art moved from the idyllic portrayals of landscapes, to almost exclusively self-portraits. His style shifted as well, veering away from his more picturesque attempts at realism to this more abstract, yet stark approach. The art and subject matter had changed so intensely the few peers and friends he had refused to believe it was his work.”
“It wasn’t so much what he decided to paint, it was how. They weren’t prepared to see how the man saw himself, when he returned.”
The two conversed, on a level that seemed more even for Lawrence. He was able to keep up, or she was letting him keep up. But if that was the case, than he had already lost ground, here.
And we would have wasted time inviting someone over, only for them to insult us in our own home.
That was the last fucking thing we needed, right now. We got here, we earned our spot. We were riding that wave up. We didn’t need anyone to come and knock us down.
Inez’s turn. Again.
“It’s been suggested that he’s always had that particular view of himself. From personal journal entries, to accounts by those who could only stand to be with him for more than a few minutes. Manic, self-destructive, obsessed with the idea of creating something that he perceived to be worthwhile and would last. To be one of the greats. That was his fuel, but it burned him on the inside. And flames have a habit of wanting to burst, escape into the open air.”
Turning again to Lawrence, she continued, no longer willing to give him any space to speak. Like I figured, she was playing him. Us.
“Do you know how he died?”
Lawrence was sweating. More from nervousness than anything else in his system. I’d bet.
He was about to answer, but Inez cut him off. Toying with him.
“He died a young man. Got into opioids during his time in the East. Overdose.”
I could see the look on his face. I could bet I had the same look when Natalie gave me Alexis’ name. Like we had seen a ghost.
Lawrence was too out of it now to give a proper response. Too shaken.
Inez toyed with that, too.
“This artist thought he could be more than what was around him, and then, more than his own self. That was why he painted what he painted. He wanted a legacy that would last well after he was gone. And in the end, maybe he got that. I do wonder if this was what he had in mind, exactly. As I mentioned, relative obscurity.”
This conversation was going off in a totally different direction, with Inez at the lead. Not at all how I would have liked for this thing to go. But here we were, because of her.
Lawrence, finally, managed to get enough of his bearings back to say something.
“I wouldn’t be able to speak for him, but I suppose it would almost be fitting, that he’d be disappointed.”
Inez paused, brief.
“Yes. That’s one thing we can agree on.”
Lawrence shifted in place. He looked as if he’d need assistance just to keep standing on two feet.
Dammit. He insisted that’d he be fine. And we all let him go out there, like that. Part of that was on us, now. On me, on D.
I was starting to sympathize with Lawrence, though. He had to have felt the exact same way when dealing with me. Dammit.
Lawrence spoke, and it wasn’t with much spirit. If anything, it sounded like he had little left.
“But, yes, as hopefully you now see, I- the Fangs, we know what we’re doing, and we wouldn’t have gotten that seat if we hadn’t-”
A clear sound rang throughout the wing. Inez shifted to face Lawrence straight on. Her heel struck the marble floor, producing a note that resonated through everyone. It made me freeze and want to recoil, and I was already hanging as far back as I could.
Being as close to the epicenter as he was, Lawrence shook, needing a step back, stumbling that made me scared that he’d take a fall. He didn’t. But he could have.
And I was getting scared that I’d have to insert myself into this.
Inez made herself clear.
“Really, young man? You play with fire and steal the painting of a man who did the very same? Did you already forget his ultimate fate, or is this another sad facet of his tragic legacy?”
Lawrence stammered, but nothing came out.
Inez took his turn, and pushed the game further.
“I know why you invited me here, today, and I have no problem telling it to your face, young man. Yes, I did cast a vote against the Fangs.”
By this point, it wasn’t a surprise, anymore.
Taking it in, Lawrence made himself stiff, bracing himself for more. Because more was coming.
“I can’t and won’t tell you how others voted, but I can give you my reasons. Mrs. Carter was right, changes are happening in Stephenville, and a gang like yours represents that very clearly. However, I disagree that these changes needed to be embraced. Much like fire, your gang is unpredictable, wild, liable to destroy everything in your path, turning it all to cinders. Do we really need a group like that, at the table? Do I?”
You’re not that far off, I thought.
Lawrence, though, looked as if he didn’t have a single thought in his head. Struggling wasn’t the right word, because that would have suggested an attempt, an effort. There was no such struggle in Lawrence, no fight. Not anymore.
He had completely given up that this would go well.
I did, too.
Inez then turned, her sharp eyes piercing through me like daggers. The hair at the back of my neck stood at the ends, and I was aware how I was standing. Leaning towards her, slight, needing just a brush of wind to push me and make me lunge right at her.
I balled up my fist, doing everything I could just to keep standing, keep myself staying here.
We didn’t need that, we didn’t need that mess.
Her stare was like a dagger, because it was short, cold as ice when it passed through me, and left me in a startled yet readied state, ready to retaliate. She pulled back, though, pulled the blade out of me.
“And I’m concerned with the kind of fire you have at your disposal. I’ve read the official reports by the police, but everyone has. Explosives, thermite. But what truly worries me and the others who voted against you is what the police didn’t report, what’s being whispered in hallways and back corners, because we have ears, there. We listen. And we heard something about the Bluemoon, or someone very similar to them.”
Lawrence replied, it surprised me that he did.
“The Bluemoon is gone, probably dead. No one has seen them last year.”
“Last year wasn’t that long ago, young man. Solace did have a part in waning the Bluemoon, but none of us really know what we’re up against, with that. It can always rise again, it might even take on another shape, another phase.”
Inez sounded so pleased with herself, as if she was the only one who had cracked the code. In truth, she wasn’t so far off, but that arrogance rubbed me the wrong way. Raw. Red.
If she found out, if it came out…
Well, it’d be too late for them to do anything, wouldn’t it? We were already where we needed to be. The timeline of things would just be moved up a little.
Still, using Lawrence’s words, deception was one our most important tools.
“If you’re suggesting that the Bluemoon has been back and working with us,” Lawrence said, “Then you would be mistaken.”
Mistaken on a technicality.
Lawrence continued, “Rumors are just that. Unsubstantiated. Shapes lurk in the shadows, and when the human eye can’t make out what’s there, it fills in the blank for you. That’s how you get monsters, the things you can’t really touch, so you fear it. Like changes.”
That prompted the first, genuine reaction from Inez. She unfolded her arms, her hands moving onto her hips instead. The crew she had with her reacted, too, getting more tense, stirring. As though they were an extension of her.
All Lawrence had for an extension right now was me. I hoped that would be enough for him.
Inez kept that pose, a new sort of defense for Lawrence to try and penetrate. But he wouldn’t have the strength to do it. He was too out of it, out of sorts.
He was sweating.
“I fear nothing, young man,” Inez answered, “But as I said, I do know why you invited me, today. You want to win me over, change my mind? If nothing else, this day won’t be a complete waste if I can get some entertainment out of watching you try. Come. Show me if you Fangs really have teeth.”
And then Inez left, or took down towards another corner of the wing. Her crew went with her, leaving Lawrence behind.
With me in the distance, in that brief moment, it was me, Lawrence, and that painting. How it gazed, content with the chaos in his life, but ultimately doomed to it.
Lawrence looked away from the painting, to Inez, and I looked at Lawrence.
I watched him wipe his brow, and follow. For him, this was far from over.
For all of us, really.
I was about to follow, too, take a step, when my phone vibrated.
Giving the message a quick read, I walked, but not in Lawrence’s direction. I went other way, leaving Lawrence to his own devices, at a time when his own devices weren’t working so well for him.
I maneuvered through empty halls, displays and other paintings were my only company as I turned onto the path back to Lawrence’s office.
Pushing through the weighty doors, I returned.
Sarah, D and Isabella. They were all doing their own thing, but they all shared a collective air of anxiety. One I drew breath from, too.
D was sitting in Lawrence’s desk, her face illuminated by the open laptop in front of her. Her face was screwed up in a tight expression, studying whatever was on her screen, fretting over something. Isabella sat in the corner, in the shadows, not really doing much of anything.
Sarah. Sarah. Sarah.
Just seeing her, it lifted me, made me flutter. Repeating myself was lame, but it was either that, or tumble over my own words. And after watching Lawrence, I’d spare myself the effort.
“Hi,” I said, addressing the room. There wasn’t much else to say.
Sarah was already looking at me. She smiled, but it was dampened somewhat but the surrounding circumstances. Couldn’t blame her.
D was next, popping her head up from her screen.
“Only because you asked me, too.” I lifted my phone. I dropped it into my pocket. “Lawrence isn’t doing too hot. And that could be seen as joke, considering how hard he was sweating it out there, but there isn’t really anything funny about it.”
D frowned. She looked legitimately upset, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. Knowing her, she would have already had things in motion.
“He won’t listen to a thing I say.”
“He’s not listening to anything anyone says,” I rebutted. “I’ve come to learn he can get pretty fucking stubborn.”
“We all are,” D said. “You, Vivi, and me especially. Maybe even Sarah.”
She pointed at Sarah using her lips.
Sarah shrugged, a slight smirk on her face.
“That could be a fair assessment. Stubbornness has gotten me this far.”
She eyed me as she said that.
I smirked back.
“It’s gotten us here, sure, but it’ll only take us so far,” D said. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I asked.
D massaged her neck, tugging at her choker.
She then sighed. “We’ll need more than this if we want to keep the momentum going.”
“Like what? Any ideas?”
Shaking her head, D’s hair whipped around her face.
“I dunno. I’m tired.”
If D of all people couldn’t think of anything, then we had a problem. But, expecting so much from someone so young…
It was reckless.
“More fire, more burning things,” Isabella said, from her little corner in the dark. “Like Inez.”
“Inez is giving us exactly what we needed from her. Lawrence, no, we just aren’t giving her what she needs. If we can’t show her why we earned our place… it sets us back, but not by much. We’re already here, and they can’t call for a vote to get rid of us so soon, right?”
Then I considered it.
“Right?” I asked, a little less sure.
“I don’t know how Mrs. Carter does things. Maybe? We probably in some grace period at the moment, but we shouldn’t push, it probably won’t last long.”
“We shouldn’t push it… but we are. I hope Lawrence… I hope we can get our shit together.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Sarah said. “I believe in you.”
From anyone else, I would have taken those a hollow sentiment. But from Sarah, it made me able to stand a little taller.
“Start by turning Inez into ashes,” Isabella said. “Burn her and her operation down.”
“For the next meeting, let’s go with someone who actually likes us,” I said. “My ego doesn’t need another beatdown.”
“Probably for the best,” D said, “But I think we should move on to something else. For the time being.”
She flipped the laptop around, showing me the screen. I walked closer to the desk to get a better read on it.
“You got this from Nathan again?” I asked, reading the message.
“Yeah, can you believe that? He’s been really helpful, lately. He’s the best.”
“I’m sure he didn’t have a choice but to help you. So, anyways, what is this? Something about a meeting?”
“Ah, right, not a meeting, actually, more like a gathering, or… what’s a good word for a lot of people coming together for a party but it’s not really a party like they’re not going there for fun and the cops might be there because there’s probably to be a lot of trouble?”
“Um… sounds like a riot to me,” I said.
D nodded. “Riot! Right. It’s going to be a riot.”
I could feel the energy in the air. A tension that reached. Reaching for the night sky, wanting to pull the moon and stars down to earth, crashing it all around us.
D wasn’t wrong about this. Where there was tension, there was the risk of a snap. And the risk was high. It reached.
A lot of people at the Wellport Skate Park. Kids, adults. Protesters and police.
Enough had gathered that this could get real ugly, real fast.
The entire park was packed, everyone standing shoulder to shoulder. No room to push through, unimpeded, on a skateboard.
There were several rings of people, surrounding the entrance of the park itself. Sort of like the bottom half of a target, if I had pulled back and up, looking from a roof.
Kids and younger adults in the park, doing everything they could, given the little room they had to work with. They still managed a lot.
Cheering, yelling into the open air, over loud music. Rocking back and forth to the beat. The bass boomed, contrasted by the higher shrills. Different groups in the crowd were chanting different things at different intervals, so it was hard to discern what the actual message was. The feeling, however, was made as clear and bright as the moon.
The first ring around the park and its entrance were the cops. Police cars were parked in wait, lights flashing, spinning through strong red and blue hues. Unlike those in the park, they were more stationary, communicating with other at intervals, getting the occasional update, making sure this wouldn’t get out of hand. As much as I wasn’t fond of a police presence in my territory, they were doing a decent job on keeping an eye on things.
Doing most of the work for us.
The second ring were the onlookers, those who were here just for the spectacle of it. Watching, taking videos, wasting their time. It bugged me, seeing them here, seeing everyone here. Too many eyes on my territory. Too much scrutiny and pressure. Pressure that could burst.
Then the last ring, the one farthest back, was us. The Fangs, watching everything and everyone, making certain that the situation wouldn’t get any worse.
In that way, I hoped D was wrong about this becoming a riot.
“I don’t like this,” I said out loud. I shared my sentiments with D.
“Me too me too,” D said. She hopped a few times, trying to get a better look, but everyone around was too tall for her. She made a growling sound.
If we watched from rooftops, we’d immediately get spotted by the police. We needed to keep a low profile, here.
D immediately casted that aside as she scrambled to the top of the van, standing on it. She put her hands to her eyes, pretending to hold binoculars.
“Wow, that’s a lot of people!”
“D!” I hissed, “Get down from there!”
We were at the edge of the action. Too far to be noticed, but close enough to get a sense of things.
But there was still a sizable group around us, and it wasn’t just our Fangs. Some I could categorize as part of that second ring.
Some stared as D acted out. Stood out.
I hissed again, between sharp teeth.
Groaning, D hopped to the ground, dusting herself off. Exaggerating.
“I saw Uncle J,” D said, just under her breath, as if the man in question could somehow hear her, over all this noise.
“Over there!” D pointed and hopped, but she wasn’t indicating any specific direction. I knew to look for him now, though.
“I didn’t like this before, and now I’m worried,” I said. “Everyone’s coming out tonight, makes it seem like something big is about to happen.”
“Something big is happening right now.”
I looked to my side. Not at D.
Nathan stood, hunched over with a lean, hat and then hood over his head.
“And shit is about to go down,” he added.
“And if you know what that shit is, now would be a good time to tell us,” I said.
“I don’t,” Nathan said, shaking his head. “I just know about this.”
“I appreciate you giving us the heads-up, though. But, are you going to be okay, standing around us like this?”
“It’s cool,” he said, cool. “No one knows I’m here, and it’s not like anyone really cares where I’m at, anyways.”
That was from D.
“You’re always free to join us,” I told him. “We could offer you protection, whatever that means to you. D brought up that you’ve been a help, lately. Again, I appreciate it.”
“Nah,” Nathan said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hood. “Not my thing, this street shit. I’m just here because I’m here, you know? I didn’t ask for this.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
Up ahead, the crowd roared. I checked, but there wasn’t any new changes.
“Whatever happens here, it’ll fuck me up,” Nathan days, looking ahead. “So I have to let someone know, and the cops sure as shit won’t do anything about it.”
“In their defense, they’re here now.”
“Yeah, well, I still don’t trust them.”
Looking back into the crowd, I saw some of the cops, keeping everyone in the second ring at a distance. James Gomez was there, somewhere. Here in my territory. Even though I had given him my warning.
The park was stewing, the police keeping on a lid, but if pressure got to a boiling point…
“Let’s hope they won’t have to do anything but stand there,” I said. “D, any ideas?”
“I think… we should just see what happens.”
“You don’t think there’s a way to de-escalate this?”
“You’re asking the wrong person for that, Vivi. Our best bet would be that everyone leaves on their own, peacefully. But, knowing people, peace is kind of a pipe dream.”
It was disappointing, hearing that as a forgone conclusion.
“There’s only one way for this end. For everything.”
Isabella was leaning against the van, hanging farther back, hands tugging at her backpack.
Between D, Nathan, and Isabella, I felt somehow ancient. Sarah wasn’t here, having been sent out with the rest of the Fangs, extending our reach across the park and the surrounding streets. Lawrence was also absent, but he was sitting this out, entirely. After that performance in front of Inez this afternoon, he finally agreed to take the rest of the day off.
And as soon as we got settled, we could work on him, work on us. Me.
The constant running back and forth between different things. Taking care of the territory, meeting with the other gang leaders, and everything that was going on within the Fangs. Lawrence.
While I could sympathize with him wanting to push forward, he had his limits. He was human. I, however, was not.
“And let’s hope you’re wrong about that,” I said, to D and Isabella.
Before either of them could get a chance to respond, the crowd roared again, but it was more uniform, in response to something.
“My fellow soldiers!”
Heads everywhere turned. Mine included.
Off in the central area of the skate park, on top of one of a cement wall that repurposed into a ramp, someone was standing.
A man, from the overall build, but their face was obscured.
Couldn’t tell what the exact design was, from here. They were too far.
And as if to directly contrast the mask, their outfit stuck out like a light in the dark. A bright neon green coat that reflected hard spotlights that hit him. The beams moved in coordination with one another, to keep the masked man in focus as he sauntered around, yelling into the megaphone.
The amount of planning just to set that up, it didn’t sit well with me.
“How- how is the energy tonight!”
The crowd at the park cheered, loud. I saw some of the cops tense up.
“Someone had to bring them all here,” I muttered.
“And he’s getting them all riled up,” D said.
“That sounds amazing! Fucking fierce!”
Once more, the crowd responded in turn.
“Before we begin, I want to thank our sponsors, for allowing us this space to freely express the hurt, and the injustice, that has been brought down upon us as a people!”
The voice sounded familiar, but the megaphone distorted it, masked it. I couldn’t pin it down.
“What’s he talking about?” I asked. “What people?”
“You didn’t notice?” Nathan questioned. “Or maybe I’m just not used to seeing that many Asian people all at once. Not in this neighborhood, anyways.”
I tried checking the crowd again, but like D, I wasn’t tall enough.
“No,” I said, “I didn’t pick up on that.”
The man was still saying his piece. Yelling it.
“These past weeks, these months, have been nothing but torture for us. The assaults, the violence, all because of a few, certain individuals. Harrian Wong, and the Blue-fucking-moon!”
The crowd shouted. The cops started communicating amongst each other.
“They said the Bluemoon was one of us, looked like you or me, but what does that justify? What does that suggest? That we’re monsters? That we’re something to be feared? Is this what America thinks of us? Huh?”
Several people got up on the platform the man was standing on. Each were holding briefcases and heavy bags. Several were getting them open.
“Well fuck that noise! If they want to give us smoke, we’ll hit them like a fucking flood!”
“D…” I said.
One of the people by the masked man handed him a briefcase. He raised it into the air. The others started tossing stuff out into the crowd. I couldn’t see what it was from where we were.
But the cops were winding up. Tension.
“Countless victims, brothers and sisters who aren’t getting the protection they need. They’ve had to come to me for that shit!”
The briefcase fell upon, releasing the contents into the air. Paper, stacks of them, getting caught by the wind, carried far across the park and the rings of people.
The man kept lecturing while the papers soared.
“No more, yeah? We’re taking our shit back! I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time, and now, I am finally allowed the means. My own Helter Skelter.”
A crowd, a gathering, but it wasn’t a party. Loud pops blasted into the air like firecrackers.
This isn’t a party.
Screams, roars. From everyone.
I felt the people around us falter, get pushed back.
“They were handing out guns into the crowd,” I said.
“Not just they,” D said, “I think it’s-”
A gunshot stole that last word from D’s mouth. It was close, loud.
The panic was spreading out, far and wide. The crowd was rushing out from the park, continued to be egged on by the masked man. Firing, shooting at the rings of people surrounding them.
I pulled D on instinct, hugging her close, retreating back to the van.
“It was a trap, for everyone!” I yelled, “We have to get out of here!”
I turned and saw Nathan, already running away, getting submerged into a wave of people, rushing out from the park.
Police were already taking action, firing back, but they didn’t have anything lethal, just standard equipment to handle a riot, which this now was.
This was so much worse.
A literal, bloody mess.
I pushed D into the van, I left the door open for Isabella to get in.
“Close it!” D yelled.
I closed it.
The window was kept up, so I had to yell to coordinate a quick plan.
“Get the other Fangs! Make sure they’re okay, leave containing this to the cops!”
Make sure Sarah’s okay, I thought.
“What about you?” D yelled. More shots rang out, louder. They were coming closer.
With my thoughts still on Sarah, I answered.
“Maybe I can find the guy in the mask!”
“I won’t be long, I won’t be stupid! Go!”
The van started, moving in reverse. It didn’t move very fast, now that there was a lot of people trying to get through.
I faced the crush of people. Chaos and confusion gripped the scene and brought everything and everyone down with them.
I swatted at something close to my face.
Papers had scattered all throughout the place. Descending like gentle snow, which contrasted against the simultaneous and sudden hail of bullets.
My fingers wrapped around the paper, clutching it. As more flew around me, I-
I only meant to get a glance, but what I saw caught my eye. Stole it, really.
Standing stock-still, I watched the weather around me swirl. Snow and hail.
Etched into the elements, engraved deep with the color of an apparition, hundreds of Alexis Barnetts drifted past, dispersing into the open air.