Chapter 39: People I Don't Like

Chapter 39: People I Don't Like

The Crimson Eagles had many different meeting spots each one different from one another. They didn't work off a structure like the Brass Kings. What they gained in flexibility and adaptability came at the cost of protection. That lack of coordination was as much of a weakness as a strength. Their terse and disorganized nature hurt them often, and they paid a price for it during the war.

Our gang exploited this to great effect during the war. We carved out chunks from their territory before they managed to communicate and react. But where we swatted down one group, another sprang up like weeds, almost like we had no lasting effect on their gang, even as we ate up swathes of their territory.

Eve, at the directions of Kayson, staked out the place for a couple of days. She discovered one of their rare leaders stayed there, often for hours at a time. There was also a reedy man with glasses, who only rarely departed from the repurposed office after sunset.

Kayson suspected the man to be one of the few Crimson Eagles accountants. An actual part of their structure that could tie down their loose gang.

Targeting him would unravel more threads and give us more to pursue and follow. It was a chance to dig into their organization and capitalize on the information and target them in a way the Brass Kings had failed to so far. We could bring them to their knees. At least, that's the dream Kayson sold us on.

Kayson kept the info only between us, unwilling to risk an information leak.

There'd been far too many coincidences lately sparing the Crimson Eagles. They knew the right to avoid a typical haunt and circumvent an ambush or even a point of weakness in the divisions. These coincidences seemed to fall often on the Seventh Division's operations, and as a consequence, some of our squads paid a heavy price.

Without a doubt, there was a mole; a fact Captain Atkins seethed about to her Lieutenants.

Our group hunched near the targeted office building; we'd parked our bikes a couple of blocks away. Thanks to Eve and muting us, there wasn't a chance any spotters heard us as we went through the alley; thanks to Kayson, no one spotted us either. The building was around three stories tall. A prim and proper brickwork tower with a trim screamed 'boring law office' than a street gang hotspot. While Kayson spied inside, we saw a total of three Crimson Eagles filter in and out.

Well, what we waiting for? Aint we gonna go in and start this shit show? I asked, not too happy with the flecks of rain soaking into my shirt; I felt naked without my Brass Kings jacket. Kayson arched an eyebrow; he still had his spiders crawling all over and inside the building. If were here to nab some accountant, let's go in. He aint bound to be that tough, and I doubt they got heavy hitters in there.

I withdrew a small bottle of booze, donated by Eveand poured some on my shirt to complete the image, letting the rest go down my throat to really sell the picture of who I was.

Then I kicked the door open. Four heads snapped at the sudden noise of the glass door violently banging against the walls. They were all decked out in Crimson Eagle jackets, lounging around and sharing a joint. Their leader mustve ducked upstairs cause I couldve sworn that Kayson said there were five to worry about. That wasnt ideal but I let it slide off me. I wasnt that Luca at the moment, no. I was an obnoxious drunk Luca wandering the streets with a bone to pick.

Fuuuckers! I roared, careful to moderate my voice from getting too loud. Letting a bit of a slur in. Letting the liquor that burned down my throat feed me. Who do ya think ya are? Setting up shop in my apartmentshit heads! They gave each other confused looks. Not sure what I was going on about. This was clearly an office building. Then their eyes shifted. There it was. Deciding which one got to teach this drunk a lesson.

One of them cleared their throats; he had a shaved head and a crooked nose.

Wrong place. This aint an apartment. Scram. The guy slammed his fist into his open palm.

No! Ya got the wrong place. This is my home! Not yours! Get out! I stumbled around a bit, dropping the small glass bottle and hiding my smirk as it shattered on the ground, and they winced.

This is not an apartment building. If you keep going on like that, youre gonna regret it. The guy scoffed, getting to his feet, and finally dragging his lazy ass off that sofa. Most of them followed the lead, rising as well. I took a long puff of my cigarette. They wanted me out, sure. But I didnt give them quite enough bait to follow me if I booked it. One of the bastards was still leaning on the couch, puffing the joint without a care in the world.

Perfect target. I stumbled my way closer to the group. They were still stuck deciding which one would take the first swipe at me, tense but unwilling to kick off a fight. I positioned myself right behind the guy choosing to ignore me. He was far more interested in his drugs.

Then I unzipped my jeans, the rest of them too shocked to react anywhere fast enough to stop me from whipping it out and pissing on the back of the guys head.

All of them were dead silent. My victim dropped the soggy jointlanding on the couch and still smoking; I let them register the fact that some drunken asshole just forced his way into their hangout session and pissed on a guy in a street gang.

I didnt get to finishone of them snapped out of the shock and lunged forward. Between all of the recent training, the fact that they were expecting a sloppy drunk and not a sober enemy, and that natural instinct to not get covered in pissI managed to dance out range, pull up my zipper, and make a break for the door. They stumbled after a chant of profanity and promised to bash in my brains in a wonderful chorus. I reached the glass doors, shoving my way out and leading my prey onto the streets.