South Los Angeles Street was busier at night than during the day. Music played loudly from a few apartments. People danced, sang, took drugs, and had sex in the apartments. Clients roamed slowly along the street looking at the merchandise on display until they decided to approach someone.

A black electric SUV with heavy tint exited the 101, turned onto South Los Angeles Street and stopped in front of City Hall, before reaching East 1st Street. Four teenagers of various ages alighted from the SUV. The driver was Malik, the oldest, who would be twenty in a few months. Malik was almost six feet tall and was muscular. His very presence had been known to quell arguments. Tyrone, his brother, walked around from the passenger’s side and sat in the driver’s seat. Tyrone, the second oldest was seventeen. He recently got his learner’s permit even though he has been driving since fifteen and, since he was seven, he could run faster than any car. Tyrone was not as tall as Malik and was very slender. Before driving off, Malik told Tyrone, “Take your time and park at Joe’s in a quiet place as we usually do. Come right back here to meet us.”

           Malik joined his sisters on the sidewalk to await Tyrone’s return. They were all dressed in a black long-sleeved sweater vest with a black cargo pants and black steel toe boots. He looked around nostalgically at the place he spent the first five years of his life. He had not been to this area in more than fifteen years. They left almost a month after the great massacre fifteen years ago.

           Back then, Tyrone was two years old and was being put to sleep when the shooting started. They lived a few blocks away in Block D which was the middle part of a U-shaped housing complex with Block C and Block E on either side of it. They lived on the fourth floor of the six-story complex. An argument broke out in the street below them. There was shouting between rival gang members, then someone pulled out a gun and began shooting.

Everyone scampered into the buildings around. Members of the opposing gang began shooting in retaliation. Soon it was an all-out bloodbath that lasted a little over four hours and culminated in the deaths of one hundred and thirty-seven people with one hundred and seventy others injured. Tyrone screamed for the entire four hours. Their mother, Keisha, their grandmother, Stacy, and their grandfather, Jamal, stayed in Malik’s room and they took turns trying to quiet Tyrone.

Now, Malik’s mission took him back to that same building, all because The Undertaker was getting greedy and began paying less money to the Jiminez Cartel than he should be paying. During the briefing for this mission, DEA agents told him that the gangs were not well organized back then and there were several rival gangs jostling to take control of the area. Daniel Greaves, aka The Undertaker, had recently aligned himself with the Jiminez Cartel before that fateful night. His gang was in control of Block D. Block C was controlled by Luis Ramos and Block E was controlled by another small dealer who they only knew as Psycho.

According to the FBI, because of The Undertaker’s reputation for being savage as well as his affiliation with the Jiminez Cartel, the other two groups were careful not to let a single bullet hit the walls or windows of any apartment on Block D. Malik did not believe that story. Even if he did, it did not explain the eight severed arms that were found in the corridor outside of their apartment. The events of that night still haunted Malik and he hated discussing it. Two weeks after that nightmare, their father appeared, and helped them move to a better place south of West Adams Boulevard.

In the cool smoggy evening, under the streetlights and the light of a falling first quarter moon, this was the first spot they found that was currently unoccupied by anyone. Seven-year-old Michelle sensed an old man, a little way around the corner, trying to stand up. She left her siblings quickly to help him up while Malik was speaking to her older sister.

“OK Karen, what have we got?” Karen was eleven years old and kept her black hair short, in a pixie cut with chopped layers. Karen held a tablet in her hand. She was connected to the Department of Defense’s military satellites and used them to scan the area. She had been searching wireless cameras and cell phones for information.

“Everything looks quiet,” Karen said. “I am tapped into the cameras for the building. The Don is most likely in an apartment on the sixth floor. There are no cameras or cell phones inside the room, but I am getting something from a cell phone in the corridor outside. There are armed guards outside the door and along the corridor. The Don’s car is in an alley at the back but there is no other confirmation that he’s inside.”

“Michelle, what do you see?” Michelle, the youngest, was only seven and this was her first mission with them. Michelle had helped the old man up and he was thanking her when Malik asked his question. She excused herself and ran hastily from him before Malik started to panic. Her shoulder length, relaxed hair bobbed as she ran. Already she could hear the fear in Malik’s voice as he said, “Michelle? Michelle? Where did you go to?”

“Here I am!” she said while rounding the corner.

“Don’t stray from us like that! We have work to do,” Malik said. “Now, tell me, what can you see?”

The old man remained focused on them as he hobbled away from them and around a corner. He stopped at a lamppost with a blown streetlight and leaned against it. There he saw the two hundred and sixteen people inside the various buildings around, and one hundred and thirty-eight people on the streets. He also noticed that Tyrone walked slowly to the staircase instead of the elevator. He opened the door on the fourth floor of the parking lot, then ran to the bottom of the staircase and opened the door before the door on the fourth floor closed. Undoubtedly, Tyrone realized there were no cameras in the stairwell, so he took the opportunity to have some fun. Once outside, he resumed his slow gait until he rejoined the group.

Michelle began training with her siblings a few months after she turned six. She was always secretive about her abilities but, based on what she had revealed over the past year, she would have sensed the same things the old man noticed. She answered Malik, “Most of the people in the apartment buildings around are asleep or completely wasted. Some are watching television and about twelve are having sex. They all have weapons on them or close to them. Around the buildings and in the back are a total of seventy-two men, heavily armed with an assortment of knives, handguns, and automatic rifles. The second and fourth floors each have a room with a lot of weapons. No one is in either room now but beware of people on that floor looking to upgrade their weapons. The Don is in an apartment on the fourth floor and is currently involved in a heated discussion with The Undertaker. By the time we reach, we may not be able to capture the Undertaker alive.”

“Forget the Undertaker. Our main target is the Don,” Malik said as Tyrone arrived and stood next to his sisters. Malik reviewed their roles, “Once we reach the entrance things are going to move quickly. Despite the FBI’s request, I want as many lives saved as possible. When we enter, Tyrone will race ahead of us and slightly injure their arms to keep them from reaching for their weapons or trying to fight us. If they persist, Karen and I will fire a warning shot into their stomach. If they refuse to surrender, we shoot them in the head. Michelle will watch our backs and let us know if anyone is trying to ambush us. You all are still kids. I know you are much more mature than your ages, but I don’t want you all killing people unnecessarily. We clear the ground floor, then head straight for the Don and try to capture him inside. Failing that, Michelle, keep an eye on him and we will try to catch up to him while he is fleeing or trap him in his van. Ready?” Everyone nodded. “Let’s go.”

With that, they crossed the East 1st Street and walked down the sidewalk. There was one more block of businesses before the residential area began. They passed in front of a shopping center with Jake’s Auto shop, Will’s Dine and Dash, and The Vape Shop on the ground floor. Upstairs were some hair dressing saloons, nail technicians and other perfume and beauty shops. Opposite these shops were BiggPharm Pharmacy, Superior Anime Comic Book Store and The First Book Shop. After these, the streets in front of the apartment complexes were occupied with many people playing music, liming, gambling, and conducting various types of illegal business.

Along the way, a young boy on a bicycle noticed them and rode up to them. He was quite curious and rode alongside them while asking questions. “Aye, yo! Wuzzup homies? You looking for a little fun tonight?” The kids kept walking and did not answer. The boy rode off, turned and rode back to them. “You got a party somewhere and you’re low on supplies?” The kids ignored him again. The boy rode down to the corner again, turned and returned to them. “These girls are cute though, maybe they’re a little present for the boss?” Still no answer. Since they were near to Block C, the boy added, “Ese, you better turn back and go home 'cause we ain’t got no babysitters here!”  

The cyclist stopped his bicycle when the kids turned off the road and walked towards the entrance to Block C. The group at the entrance watched them suspiciously. It was their job to know everyone who would have any business in the building. Tonight, with the boss in a meeting upstairs, they could not accommodate any uninvited guests. One of the men at the entrance stood up and looked at the boy on the bicycle who shook his head. His comrades took out their guns and casually held them in their hands in front of them. The man who stood up first looked at the group and asked, “Are you lost homie?”

“We are here for Don Jiminez,” Malik said.

“There ain’t no Don Jiminez here,” the man said. “Why don’t you go put these little kids to bed?”

“We would all sleep better after we put the Don behind bars and shut down his operation here.” Malik began a staring contest with the man. The man moved first, and his friends followed his lead to raise his gun to Malik. Before any of their guns were raised up fully, their severed hands dropped to the floor still clutching their weapons.

It took the men a few seconds to realize why their guns were not firing and to feel the pain in their arms. Malik and Karen pulled out their weapons and pointed them at the men who were clutching their arms and screaming. Malik said, “If you pick up your hand and move quickly to the hospital, you can still save your hand. Or, my friend can pass again and slit your throats this time.”

Amidst the chaos and shouting that erupted in the street, the men decided it was prudent to accept Malik’s generous offer. Picking up their severed arms, they ran away from the kids shouting to comrades around to attack the kids. While the prostitutes and clients ran for cover, the dealers revealed their weapons and were advancing cautiously towards the building. Malik and his sisters joined Tyrone at the top of the steps and continued into the building quickly amidst bullets speeding in from some nearby street warriors.

Tyrone swept through the first floor in under four seconds, stabbing everyone in their arm or the side of their torso, then returning to his siblings. Malik shouted to the injured opponents, “You are badly injured and should get to a hospital as soon as possible. If we see you with a weapon, we will have to put you down.”

The team turned to their right and moved down the corridor to the closer staircase. There were several damaged light fixtures, and many had blown bulbs. The dark corridors provided a lot of cover for their assailants. The doors to many of the apartments were broken or completely gone. While Malik led the way, Karen and Tyrone peered into each room to ensure no one was planning to ambush them. Suddenly, Michelle said, “shoot the door on the left.” Malik did so and a body on the other side of the door dropped to the floor. “Four in the room on the right,” Michelle said at the next pair of doors, “and two coming up behind us.”

Malik entered the room on the right and exchanged bullets with the men in that room while Karen fired one shot into the head of each of the two guys who were approaching from the rear. When Malik came out of the room, they ascended the staircase. As they neared the landing of the second floor, Malik said, “Let's keep going up and head straight for the Don.”.

Michelle had an update, “The Don is leaving the room and is heading to the staircase on the far side.”

“OK. We will go through this floor then, just like downstairs, and try to catch him as he is coming down,” Malik said.

Michelle said, “No. The corridor is filled with men with automatic weapons. Tyrone might get hit. You will have to clear the corridor and Tyrone will follow and clear the rooms. The Don will most likely pass us, so Karen should start to hack his van now. I will keep Karen covered near the entrance on the second floor.”

“OK. Ready?” Malik opened the door and was welcomed by a torrent of bullets. Running through the hail of bullets, he used his handgun to eliminate shooters as he approached them. When he ran out of bullets, he put his guns in their holsters and borrowed a dead man’s weapon. Tyrone waited with his sisters inside of Michelle’s invisible shield until Malik passed the first pair of doors in the corridor. Tyrone zipped over the crushed bullets lining the floor. Men were already attempting to exit the room to attack Malik from behind. Tyrone tried his best to only stab them in their arms, but some gangsters persisted and needed their hand removed.

Karen was close to completing the hack on the Don’s black armored van parked at the back of the building when a bullet tore through a window on their right and hit Michelle’s shield.  Instinctively, Karen let go of the tablet with her right hand and drew her gun to the general direction the bullet came from. “Higher,” said Michelle. “A little higher. And a little to the left.” A second bullet flew in through the opening on the window and joined its predecessor on the floor next to them. “Now.” After firing, Karen shielded her gun and resumed her hack on the van. “He has passed us and is almost on the ground floor.”

“OK,” said Karen, “I’m done. Let’s go get him.” The girls followed the trail of bullets and blood and caught up with Malik and Tyrone. Malik wore a bullet proof vest under his sweater, not to shield him from bullets since they had no effect on him, but to prevent his clothes from being completely shredded. Now, his long-sleeved sweater was long gone and even his vest looked under duress from the number of bullets that hit him.

Having cleared the second floor, Malik opened the door to the other staircase and shot the men lining the staircase who were waiting for them. The others entered and followed him down the stairs. Karen shot the men on the upper floors who were trying to ambush them. Upon reaching the ground floor, Michelle announced that the Don had reached the van. When Michelle sensed that the Don was in the van, Karen locked the doors and disabled the drive system so that it could not move.

Karen called the FBI on the tablet, “We have the package and are awaiting pickup.” The kids emerged from the building and saw the Don’s men around the van trying to retrieve their boss from the vehicle. The kids shot the men around the van and waited for the FBI to arrive. There were still gangsters in the upper floors who were shooting at them, but the sound of the incoming sirens and the accuracy of Karen and Malik made them retreat. Only once did Tyrone have to run up to the fourth floor of Block D to disable the arms and ammunition of a small group who were planning to launch a final rescue attack once the doors on the van opened.

After the FBI took over, they gave Malik a clear plastic bag with some new clothes. They left the kids behind a van for a few minutes while he changed. “I wonder how many were killed and injured?” he said softly.

Michelle said, “Forty-two people were killed, sixty-two are critically injured and one hundred and twelve are not badly injured.”

This was not as bad as the massacre fourteen years ago. “Is everyone OK? T?”

Tyrone said, “I’m fine. I got some blood on me but none of it is mine.”

“OK. Good thing we have clothes in the trunk. You’ll clean up before we go for mom.” Malik tossed Tyron the rag he was using. “You can wipe some of the blood off now. Girls, are you alright?”

Karen and Michelle chorused, “I’m good.”

“I know Karen loves shooting guns, but, Michelle, was this too much for you?”

Michelle shook her head then said, “I am good.”

Most of the people they killed were youths in their late teens and young adults. Malik probably went to preschool with some of them, but he was too young to have any attachments to them. He recognized some of the older ones who were young adults when he lived here. Most of them refused to back down probably because they needed to prove their worth to the Don, or perhaps because they survived so many vicious battles that this was no different. One man, Big Tony, clearly recognized him and surrendered without having to be warned.

Malik saw Big Tony after bursting through the door to the stairwell on the third floor, the staircase was lined with the Don’s men, who immediately began shooting at him. Big Tony stood on the next landing up, with a toothpick in his mouth and his gun pointed at Malik but did not fire a single shot. After Malik shot the men around him, Tony dropped his gun and stood still with his hands up. He wore a suspicious smile on his face. It was the toothpick that made Malik recognize Big Tony and the scar on his arm confirmed that it was him.

Malik gave Tony that scar years ago before they moved away from that place. Tony always liked their mother. A few days before the massacre several years ago, Tony met them in the hallway and insisted that Keisha leave the kids with her mother and go to his apartment. Malik did not like the way he held onto his mother’s arm so the little five-year-old held Tony’s arm to pull him away. Tony let go of Keisha and raised his hand to slap Malik, but Malik squeezed hard and broke his arm. During the first massacre, Tony was in the hospital recovering from the surgery to put a pin in his arm. Tony visited them afterwards, when he was released from the hospital, and was much more polite and respectful to Keisha. Once they moved, Malik had not heard from or seen him until that night.

Tyrone wiped off as much of the blood as he could and gave Malik the rag to put in the bag with the remnants of his clothes. Tyrone stood tapping his feet nervously while they waited for the agents to return.

The Team Lead and two other agents approached. “Your orders were to kill everyone!” the man shouted. “Do you know the kind of pressure you put on the hard-working nurses and doctors in at the nearby hospitals who could be better using their time and skills on law abiding citizens who really need their help?”

Malik stood and kept his arms at his side while the man spoke. Tyrone stopped tapping his feet and stood with his arms folded. The girls stood behind their brothers. Malik answered, “some of them surrendered, sir. I could not kill someone who is surrendering.”

“I told the chief that he should have sent trained, disciplined men and not a bunch of loose cannons! I’ll have a talk with him about this in the morning,” the man shouted. His cell phone began ringing. Looking at it, he added in a quieter tone, “You kids better go home and get some rest.” The man answered his cell phone, turned and walked away from them. The kids heard him arguing with the other person on that call. The kids strolled back quietly to the parking lot, keeping an eye out for any other attackers.

The old man who Michelle helped earlier, was still leaning against the lamppost. They had developed so much over the years that he had been watching them. But he was not the only strange person fixated on the kids. The old man looked up at a dark figure, barely visibly against the night sky. The figure stood far away on top of a streetlight pole. The man was dressed in a black long sleeve sweater, black pants and black work boots. No one else noticed him up there. The shadowy figure looked in the direction of the old man who nodded at him. When the shadowy figure returned the nod, the old man took off.

The kids reached their parked van and took their seats while Tyrone went to the trunk, took out his spare clothes and changed. When Tyrone was done, he entered the passenger side of the van. While buckling his seatbelt, he said to Malik, “You can’t take their insults forever. You know what you did was right. It’s like granny used to say, ‘What you allow is what will continue.’ You need to stand up for yourself sooner or later.”

“Leave it alone Tyrone,” Malik said. “Let’s just get mom and go home. We should reach her restaurant in half an hour. She should be done by then.” Malik turned on the radio and drove to their mother’s restaurant to pick her up from work. Tyrone’s hands and feet tapped to the beats of the tunes playing on the radio. Karen was on her tablet reading up on her latest interest, astronomy. Michelle picked up her hand-held gaming device and tried once again to beat Tyrone’s three-year high score. The kids had to be at headquarters by 08:00 hours for a full debriefing. For now, they needed to pick up their mother, clean up and get some rest.

The old man was already several miles away when the kids were exiting the car park and pulling onto East 1st Street. The old man took the long route with very few cameras and moved swiftly to their mother’s café on the other side of town.

***

This was another slow night at Keisha’s café. Despite the name, Keisha’s was a four-star restaurant with a simple, yet elegant décor. Upon entering, customers were greeted by a hostess who offered to take their coats. The bar was just behind the hostess. The bar did not go all the way to the far wall but formed an L-shape so that part of the bar was visible from the entrance, and part was tucked away in a corner by the washrooms. Along the walls of the restaurant were wooden booths with wooden tables and red, padded seats with padded backrests. On the wall over each table was a picture from a Caribbean artist. The wide, open middle of the restaurant was filled with rectangular, wooden tables and wooden chairs with red padded seats and backrests.

The restaurant opened from eleven in the morning and, depending on the crowd, closed between midnight and two in the night. It was always completely booked weeks in advance, but the midweek crowd was usually quieter than the weekend crowd. On the weekend, there were always a few groups that ate and drank for hours. As such, there were some groups who had to wait for a table to become available when they arrived for their appointment.

Short, slim, pregnant Keisha was making her rounds to the three tables currently finishing up their desserts when she felt a warm happy feeling inside. She excused herself from the last table and hurried to the kitchen. She took out some of the extras from the meals that were prepared that night and put them in a take-away box. Then, she took a heavy-duty plastic spoon – not the regular spoons they gave to the customers who take away food – and placed it and the box into a plastic bag. Opening the back door, she saw the old beggar curled up near the dumpster.

“I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming tonight. Is everything OK?” she asked as she handed him the bag and a soda. She wasn’t really concerned about him because she knew that he was much more than he appeared to be. She never confronted him about this because he never asked how, in recent months, she always knew when he arrived. In fact, she did not know how to explain that to anyone. This was her fifth pregnancy and now she was accustomed to strange things happening whenever she was pregnant.

The old man took a deep breath and opened the box. He appeared to be captivated by the delectable aroma that enveloped him. Recovering, he cackled, and said, “Sorry to arrive so late, but this has been a wonderful evening. Regrettably I cannot stay here long either, but, before I leave, I must eat some of this delicious food.”

Keisha left him and returned to the kitchen. When she closed the door, she leaned against the door for a short while and smiled. The mission had gone well. Her kids were safe and were on their way to pick her up. She probably had fifteen minutes before they arrived. She snapped out of her reverie and told the staff to move faster. There was only one table left and they were presently paying for their meal. They should be finished cleaning up in twenty minutes.