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Teratism: Where Is Your God Now? (Broomhandle45 and Lait)

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Broomhandle45

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Morjete.

Like any proper South American locale, it had all the amenities that people thought it did if they watched the gritty, hard boiled action movies. But Morjete was a special slice of heaven, the place where people that were too dangerous for Rio De Jeneiro found themselves, the place where ex-FARC decided to call it quits, gangsters and thugs all seemed to just migrate to it. The promise of a life working for a Colombian Cartel was almost too much for some scum of the earth, until they got to Morjete and realized that crime, much like law, operated under a system of checks and balances people who wanted an anarchist dream were usually dead before the next week. The reality was is that there was no business in chaos.

You cut a man in the stomach and he bleeds until he dies, you cut him on the shoulder and you can cut him again, and again. That was Morjete, a man slowly bleeding, never dying, but always in pain.

In a dreary, two story building on the north side of Morjete was someone, or some people who knew that morbid metaphor well. The bathroom sink turned on, and a pair of calloused hands gathered the water to splash across his face with a heavy exhale. There was a time when Gabriel De Sena was proud of the intricate tattoo across his neck, and maybe in some ways, he was. It was like a noose he couldn't escape from, as well as the ugly, jagged enter and exit wounds skirted across his chest. It was luck, the doctor would tell him. Maybe it was God giving him a second chance, or maybe he was just some stubborn motherfucker who didn't want to die to a bunch of idiot kids with guns and a lot of ego.

Really, in the end, what did it matter? He was still alive to get shot another day. But at least now it was on his own terms. He ran his fingers through his medium length undercut and headed out of the bathroom, the day had barely started and he was already in a contemplative mood. Rain always did that to him around here. But some days, he really did wake up and wonder if he was dreaming. If everything that had happened was some bad memory and he'd wake up and he'd be with Elvio and the others like nothing was wrong.

But the world never spun how you wanted it to. He knew how reality worked, he knew that when he sent six heads in a box in an all too clear message that Gabriel didn't enjoy doing. But he was free, in a town where freedom meant no affiliation to a gang, no debts to be paid...freedom was it's own reward, but everyone had to eat. He knew people, lots of people...people who enjoyed his particular skillset. It was funny how people were so easy to smile and shake hands when they knew he wasn't a Preto anymore, how people didn't look at him so much in fear as they did wariness. He kind of liked it, if he was being honest. Maybe it was the stupid child in him that was still bleeding out on a street corner for an initiation to a gang that had only about four people, thinking that it was going to be a good thing, and it was all for a good cause. Now he could do good causes.

What was one person's 'good' was another person's 'bad', but at least now he had the choice...to a point. He slid on a shirt over his worn, scarred chest and headed out to the kitchen, where Shizuko was making a breakfast of rice and beans, with grilled sandwiches. He noted there was a faint little hum in her voice, her light hair cascading down her shoulders. She had cheered up a little since she was living here, it was hard to believe it was the same girl he found months before.

“Good morning, Shi.” Gabriel said as he sat at the table with a faint sigh, looking out the window. Even in a crime ridden shithole like Morjete, life still moved on. The Asian teen nodded faintly, shifting food off the skillet to prepare him a cup of coffee. He didn't ask where she had learned to cook, or why she insisted on doing so. She never talked much, and barely responded to anyone but him in the first place.

“Message for you this morning, Gabe,” Shizuko said, her Portuguese was slightly rough and jerky. But she rarely spoke in the first place. He arched a brow, digging into his grilled sandwich. “From Mrs. Anderson.”

“...Come again?” Gabe swallowed lightly, tongue slipping over his lips to catch stray flavors. Shizuko nodded faintly, her expression as impassive as ever as he let out another long, weary sigh. Today was just not going to be his day, was it…?


“So nice of you to be punctual, Gabriel,” The even, husky voice of the Northern Heavenly Saint purred through his phone. He never liked dealing with the Four Heavenly Saints, all of them knew more than he did, and he was always hired for very specific purposes. It went against his usual terms to follow such a strict job, but there were some calls you just couldn't ignore.

“Well, you know me,” Gabe said dryly, rubbing his forehead at the impending headache. “I was always taught to be a gentleman, what do you need, Mrs. Anderson? Happy to help.”

“It's cute when you try to kiss my ass, Gabe. But let's not act like anyone enjoys my phone calls, mm?” Her laugh was light and airy, and if Gabe didn't know who she was, he almost thought that she was being flirty. But the Northern Heavenly Saint being flirty with you sounded more terrifying than arousing, even if she was a beautiful woman in every sense of the word.

“Right,” Gabe said, a slight chuckle escaping. “Still, what's the job?”

“Got a bit of a...incident going on in my territory, Gabe. Some Argentinians are sniffing around my property trying to find a pair of lost kittens, the man who is looking for them is rather...influential, and it would do me more harm than good to personally handle the matter. It seems his kitties have some claws, and he's looking to get his hands on them. It's all supposed to be a very hush-hush affair, but I'm almost insulted they thought they could get away with it. Do me a favor and clean the streets up and find those wayward kittens. My schedule is rather clear, so I think I'll be stopping by to see them myself.”

Kittens. Girls. He was being the courier for two hookers now? Wait, what?

“Yourself?” Gabe mumbled. “May I ask why?”

“Yes, but you won't get an answer. You'll find them on the North Mile. Bring them back as untouched as their pretty little heads can handle. I'm counting on you, Gabe.” Before Gabe could say anything, the line went dead. He closed his eyes a moment and hung the phone up on the plunger with a heavy sigh. Unsurprisingly, Shizuko was watching from the doorway.

“Dina up yet?” He asked, and she shook her head.

“Good, guess you and I have to find some lost kittens.” Gabe said, rising up. “Get your gear, we're leaving for the North Mile.” Fancy term for Main Street, but it was a straight mile that lead right into Argentina, that meant it was also an interesting place to find the most smuggled goods and sometimes, where the human trafficking moved through.

He was really hoping it'd stop raining, but it just seemed to have gotten worse when the phonecall was over.
 
"DON'T TOUCH HER. DON'T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER. Your fight is with me Lonzo, not my sister."

"You broke a big, big rule Deidra. She's just as much a part of you, which mean she belongs to me just as you do. You think you can leave my gang with your head still on your shoulders? You think you can leave with my secrets? With everything I've built to create this empire? No, niña bonita. It doesn't work like that. This is my world and you do not get to ruin that."

"I'm not staying in this shit-hole gang. I promise you I'm leaving this place and you'll watch as I do."

"Deidra, cariña... I let you into my home with open arms. A brat who'd just lost her parents looking for a place to come back to at night. I let you take and take from me and now you want to leave without me taking anything from you...?

You know the drill boys."




No matter how many times she cried, or how many tears came from her dark gray eyes, or how many times she told herself she wasn't in pain and that it was all just a shitty dream, the pain that seized her body refused to vanish. Being someone with such a high tolerance to pain, what they did to her— what the Tigre Tigers did to her was her limit. Deidra Vasquez knew damn well that leaving a gang was the equivalent of handing off your life it's leader. Wherever she and her sister Vera went, they'd follow looking for her to be brought back alive only to kill her.

It'd been a couple days since she'd actually left and knowing Lonzo all to well, by now he was offering loads of cash on the low to whoever could find and kill the two of them. From day one she knew it was stupid, stupid mistake to join them but she had no choice. They were the best gang and the only gang in El Tigre that was predominantly feared by others. Why pass up a chance like that? Raids and robberies were easier when you were feared. The police didn't attempt to catch or fight them head on because they knew how troublesome a gang they were and Deidra was sure some of them were being bribed not to do so. Then again why set herself up for trouble like that? Thinking about it, it was all for Vera. All to protect her little sister... To do the job their parents couldn't. Not by will, but because they died trying to give them a better life. They died getting caught between the jealousy of two men. A war between what was more like children fighting for who went next on the swing.

It pissed her off to no extent how savage the people in the slums of South America were and it pissed her off when no one understood this reality. It was a fight for your life everyday. You could turn around and there was a gun staring you in the face. Why? Because you looked at someone wrong.

As much as Deidra wished she could forget the reality that was presented to them she sighed, her thoughts returning to the moment and the excruciating pain that embraced her body again. She groaned, letting a heavy breath out through her nose.

"Vera you need to hurry up," she managed to say with a low rasp. "We can't stay in this area for too long. The main street is no good... You know people are looking for us. I'm tired of repeating myself." Her petite sister turned to her just as she finished squeezing water from a wet rag.

"I know, I know but you're hurt still. I know we can't stay here, but you also need to take a moment to heal. Running isn't going to make you any better... Can you even see out of your left eye anymore?"

"No, I can't... but I still have the right eye."

"Yeah, barely." There was a moment of silence, granted it wasn't too silent as rain fell mercilessly onto the abandoned home they'd found the night before. It wasn't in the best condition but it was better than sitting under some stairs in the rain. "How bad is it," Deidra whispered tiredly to her sister. Another piercing moment of silence before Vera stood and circled the small apartment. Watching through her right, bruised eye as her sibling disappeared into the apartment and soon returned with a small shard of glass and returned to her sister's side.

"It's that bad huh?" Vera simply held up the mirror piece before Deidra. "You... You look—"
"Like shit. Thanks"

At least Deidra had expected this much. She expected her face to look and feel like shit. Swelling, bruises of all sorts of color and pain. Pain everywhere. Everything throbbed, parts of her body she didn't know could hurt, ached. Snatching the glass from her sister and throwing it across the apartment, she stood suddenly.
"Lets go," she grunted. "We need to move."

"But Deidra, Jesus give yourself some time! No one is going to come looking in a broken down house like this!"

"That's exactly where they're going to look. They know we're homeless. They know we're going to hide in abandon places. Vera I know this gang shit like the back of my hand. How long was I working there? How long was I working for Lonzo? Huh?! Doing his dirty work, watching people die. Pointing guns at people's heads?! Huh!?"

There was nothing but silence from Vera as she stood to grab her sister's jacket and the hand made sling for Deidra's broken arm.

"Twelve years Vera... Since I was Fifteen. I've had to make so many disgusting choices just so we can survive. I refuse to let Lonzo have the satisfaction of taking our lives. So I'm Fine.," she replied through gritted teeth. "Morjete's not that much further. Let's get moving."​



Translation:

₁. niña bonita : pretty girl

₂. cariño : sweetie
 
The North Mile was an interesting place if you weren't use to the culture of it all, people acted like there was nothing bad happening, when it was always bad shit happening. Shizuko tilted her head up a fraction to the humid, heavy rainfall, her jacket rolling off the water as she cast her eyes across either side of the streets. Business as usual, people who didn't need to be outside were in, and when work didn't matter much about rain, people kept working anyway. There were always new faces that tried to act like they knew how to blend in, which would make it tricky.

He couldn't just start asking about two battered girls escaping an Argentinian gang, for the obvious reasons. He didn't like bringing Shizuko here, but she never complained...well, she never outwardly complained. But he could see it in her face when she saw exhausted, weary people being pushed along by men in nice suits, looking desperately for someone to care, to someone to think it was as unreal as they thought.

You couldn't just be the hero without having a villain on you, and sometimes it wasn't worth being that hero. But at least today, they could do something good...for a little while. He stuffed his hands into his jacket, walking further and further long the North Mile. He stopped, and Shizuko stopped with him as a pair of Range Rovers rumbled into town and parked roughly on the curb. The men slipped out, people barking orders in irritation as they slid out umbrellas and put on hats.

They were being subtle, but anyone who knew Morjete knew that North Saint was already watching, knowing what they were doing. Michelle was a particular woman, she liked things happening under certain circumstances. God knew what those were, exactly.

"Shizuko," Gabriel murmured. "I need you to do a favor for me, honey."

She glanced up at him curiously as he stared back, his expression determined, if somewhat apathetic. Sometimes, it was hard to care when you knew the good deed would be ruined by the next one. For every moment of freedom, there was one moment that had him caged, this was one. Life in Morjete was shit when you didn't know people, and sometimes it was shit when you did. Gunrunners took the throw-away kids and gave them jobs, dangerous ones, but they had a place to stay and something to eat. More than most, he could find them, spirit them away to Judas or Kali and Michelle would know every single moment of it, but they'd be free. But it wasn't worth it, it wasn't worth living a life of hell for one good deed. Did that make him a monster? Maybe.

"I doubt I'm going to be the face they want to see," he murmured, glancing back to the men who were eyeing him as they walked past, he tilted his head respectfully, his expression clear that he didn't want any trouble, and they ignored him. No matter how good of a guy he was, or how good he thought he was, Gabe looked like a thug. Shizuko was a pretty, perky little Asian girl with a flawless face and eyes like cleavers that could turn into butter knives in an instant. If she couldn't put their mind at ease, then they were screwed and they'd be doing it the hard way.

"These two girls, they're probably terrified, or armed...or both," he grinned, glancing at her. "You've got a way with words, so why don't you find them?" Michelle never liked giving the whole story, they could find a million different girls looking battered and bruised, but...well, sometimes you just learned to understand what exactly you were looking for.

"...What are you going to do?" she asked in concern.

"Ah, you know," he smiled, shifting off the wall. "Play in the rain for a little bit, I'm a little protective, you know? I don't like so many guys looking at you, they're probably hiding, I'll try to keep them off you." Michelle wanted it that way, Gabriel knew. She liked her town clean, by the rules Morjete established, the Tigers weren't playing by those rules. She wanted an example made, who better than the man who earned his freedom that way?

She nodded after a long while as Gabriel shifted off the building, and she cast a look around before darting into the back alley. Morjete was filled with them. The buildings in most areas were like interconnected mazes that could have people getting lost. That was their advantage, Shizuko knew most of the alleyways and streets of how Morjete moved since she was young enough to remember.

He trusted Shizuko like he trusted Dina. He knew that once she understood what was going on, she'd complain. Shizuko was a good girl, good hearted and wrapped with barbwire. He had some stupid hope that maybe when she got older, she'd want to leave this stupid place, make something of her life. But what kind of place would they give a girl who only knew violence, cooking and sex? Gabriel wasn't exactly a cultured man, but Dina was doing a good enough job of that...when she felt like it.

He sighed, fingers running through his hair as he slid his hood off. Fuck it.

"You boys looking for something?" He asked as he came up to one of the men guarding the alleyway.

"Looking for you to fuck off," The man muttered in irritation. "Go somewhere else, buddy."

"Sorry," Gabriel said honestly, before his hand slid into his jacket. The man's eyes widened, and he was halfway into his own holster before he was staring down the barrel of a nickel plated 1911. He didn't get to say anything, not that it mattered. The gunshot rang out over the rain and the man's forehead exploed out the back of his brain, leaving a gooey mess on the concrete.

"What the fuck!?" Another man hissed, and Gabriel drew it's twin, pivoting half a step to put a .45 hollow point into his gut as he grunted in horrible pain, eyes bulging when he hit the pavement. He shifted into the alleyway quickly, his steps slow and easy as he heard the heavy footfalls in front of him. The puddles were doing him an excellent favor as he continued to walk towards the haphazard intersection and fired twice at the man in front of him, he ducked for cover and Gabe took a quick glance to his left and right and took a knee arms and spread his arms , firing a twin salvo that caught both of the Argentinians in the chest. He shifted his arms forward to the man who leaned out to fire from his cover and took four rounds to the head in a spray of bone and pink, hitting the muddy ground.

He rose up quickly, pistols smoking as he checked his magazines and shifted them into a pocket, feeding in full ones with a light sigh. Well, that should buy them some time, because he was starting to hear a lot more shouting. He always loved a shooting gallery in the Favela. From the sound of it, some more cars were coming. Dammit, Michelle...could a little more info killed her!?
 
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