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Chapter 40
🕑 Added 2025-03-02 15:16:38 +0000 UTCChapter 40 c
Previously, the man who suggested going to the 6th Street Gang lowered his silenced pistol, thin wisps of white smoke drifting from the barrel.
He handed the gun to the next person.
That person hesitated, then accepted it and fired another shot into the body lying on the floor.
In this way, the pistol was passed around.
By the end, everyone in the room had blood on their hands.
“Great. Now we’re all in the same boat. Leave contacting the 6th Street Gang to me—just wait for the money.”
…
Five days later.
When Fidel returned to the shabby motel, he saw more than just the people from the last transaction. There were several others wearing cowboy hats and clothing with Stars and Stripes patterns.
They belonged to the 6th Street Gang.
Fidel immediately sensed danger and turned to leave.
“Grab him!”
He heard the 6th Street members shout behind him. Without a second thought, he sprinted for the exit.
However, the moment he reached the stairs, more 6th Street goons—lying in wait on both sides—slammed him in the face with a rifle butt.
Fidel went down hard, his back crashing onto the floor. Blood streamed uncontrollably from his nose.
A heavy combat boot stomped on his chest, and several kinetic rifles aimed at his head.
“Trying to run, kid? You still feel like running?”
Fidel hurriedly raised both hands. “No, I’m done running.”
“Thought so. If you come clean, maybe we won’t beat you too badly.”
The man who owned the boot stepped aside, motioning for his people to haul Fidel upright, then told someone to bring over a chair.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m Marmeler. If you’ve ever been around Santo Domingo, you should have heard my name. Now tell me what you know.”
Pinned in place by two large 6th Street enforcers—like a cat forced into a bath—Fidel swept his gaze across a few individuals behind Marmeler. They had done business with him before, but now their heads hung low or they looked away, avoiding eye contact.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Don’t play dumb. I know exactly why you come here.”
Marmeler held a kinetic pistol and pressed the barrel to Fidel’s forehead.
He grinned, revealing poorly maintained teeth. “I advise you to think carefully. You’re in our hands now, and no one can save you. Even if you’ve got Padre behind you, he won’t be able to help this time.
“The only way out for you is to cooperate with me.
“You know how chaotic Heywood is. It’s not as bad as Pacifica, but nobody bats an eye if an extra corpse or two shows up by a dumpster.”
Inside the dingy motel, Fidel was tied to a chair.
One eye was swollen, his lip split, and his body covered with fresh wounds. It was impossible to tell how harshly they had tortured him.
“Padre will kill all of you,” he rasped.
“I doubt it. Well, since you’re so stubborn…”
Marmeler glanced at a man standing behind him and gave a nod. “I’ve lost my patience. Do it.”
The 6th Street Gang always claimed they were not just any ordinary gang. Their slogan was “Bring justice to the city.”
That was why Marmeler had tried to make Fidel “see the light.”
But seeing how Fidel refused to budge, Marmeler’s patience ran out. He decided to use force.
A man in a black, skintight netrunner suit walked over. Clearly, he was a hacker.
He opened a metal case, revealing a compact, high-tech device.
He powered it on and drew a personal link from his wrist, plugging it into the machine.
Then he pulled out another cable from the device and connected it to Fidel’s neural port.
Naturally, Fidel resisted.
But he was tied firmly to the chair, unable to fight back.
A dangerous red glow flickered in the hacker’s eyes.
Almost everyone had some ICE to guard against hacking, much like having doors and windows for security.
However, an ordinary ICE system was no match for a skilled hacker with the right gear—it might as well have been paper.
Effortlessly, the hacker bypassed Fidel’s ICE and rifled through his mind.
“Got it.”
He told Marmeler about Padre’s recent collaboration with a certain gunsmith. Unfortunately, Padre was very cautious—only a handful of people knew details about this gunsmith. Fidel was not one of them. He didn’t know any critical information like name, gender, age, phone number, or address.
Still, the hacker did uncover at least one useful detail: Jackie Welles.
Jackie had once been part of the Valentino Gang and was not only acquainted with Padre but apparently also a friend of this gunsmith.
So Marmeler had the hacker impersonate Fidel and call Jackie, promising a big payout from the 6th Street Gang. Supposedly, Fidel had struck a deal already. All Jackie needed to do was bring Leo to the motel, and 6th Street would offer both Jackie and Leo leadership positions.
Jackie hung up and immediately went to find Padre.
Padre sensed something was off.
He trusted Fidel enough to assign him these tasks. Fidel wouldn’t betray him—6th Street must have set him up.
…
Back in the present.
At Padre’s stronghold, over a hundred of his men quietly inspected their weapons.
Though the place was busy, nobody spoke.
They simply checked their guns in silence.
A grim, lethal tension hung in the air.
Leo arrived at the stronghold and went to the second-floor office, where he found V, Jackie, and Padre together.
“You’re here, Leo.”
He greeted the three briefly and got straight to the point.
“How’s the situation?”
“My men checked that motel where the deal was taking place,” Padre said. “They found 6th Street members coming and going, plus hidden reinforcements nearby—somewhere between fifty and eighty people.”
Jackie’s fury was written all over his face. “Those 6th Street punks…”
Padre turned to Leo. “I have a history with the 6th Street Gang. I’m sorry for dragging you into this, kid. But don’t worry—I’ve already spoken with the Valentinos, and they agreed to send more people to patrol your apartment block.”
Leo appreciated Padre’s thoughtfulness.
Still, he had no intention of waiting around for trouble.
After all, you couldn’t spend your whole life guarding against thieves.
On the way here, Jackie had filled Leo in on the details.
Leo knew this branch of the 6th Street Gang had set its sights on him.
They didn’t have his name, face, phone, or address...yet.
So if he truly wanted peace of mind,
the best way was to wipe out that branch of the 6th Street Gang once and for all. Plus this was a good opportunity to gain some easy points without it going out of control.
Gangs in the city weren’t unified armies—take the Valentino Gang in Heywood, for instance. It had many different factions.
It was the same for the 6th Street Gang.
The ones targeting Leo were just a single splinter group, not the whole gang. So he could take advantage of this and convert them into points.
“What about Fidel?” Leo asked. “How do you plan on handling that?”
Padre looked a bit surprised. “He’s one of my people. I can’t just leave him to die. That would destroy morale.”
Padre also knew that if he openly clashed with the 6th Street Gang to save Fidel, his side would surely lose more men than just Fidel.
Looking purely at numbers, it wasn’t worth the cost.
But not everything in life could be measured so simply.
Leo already had a plan in mind. He turned to Padre.
“Even though you say this is between you and 6th Street, I’m involved too. I won’t stand aside. Actually, I have an idea that might keep your casualties to a minimum.”
…
Half a day later.
At the shabby motel.
Several 6th Street members spotted a vehicle coming down the road in the distance.
“Watch out, there’s a car approaching,” one of them reported over comms.
He raised his arm to signal the driver to stop.
The SUV slowed, then came to a gradual halt.
