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No one knew how the war started, or even when, but it has never stopped since it did. There had been generations of gang members lost in the gun fights between the Street Familias and the Rascal Brotas. It was almost second nature for them to shoot each other on sight, so far had this feud had gone. Each leader always dreamed of bringing this war to an end for good, but they always ended up six feet under before their dreams came true. Everyone on both sides wished for peace, but no one wanted to admit being the first to break under the struggle, so the fighting went on.
It is in the time of leader Lance, from the Street Familias, and the leader Jamaal, from the Rascal Brotas, that things started to change, all because of one little boy.
~~~
Lance looked at the little kid sitting in the corner; eyes closed, hands folded, and shook his head. He had come a few months back, his parents fresh in their graves, and Lance had agreed to take him in. It wasn’t that he was getting soft for little ones or anything, but the kid had saved his life.
The story was, a few days before Lance was due to be initiated as the head, he had gotten a bullet in his leg from a drive by. He had pulled himself into an alley and hidden out, wrapping his leg in his own shirt to keep the blood from spilling.
The kid had happened by later that same night. Lance didn’t know how he knew where he was since he had been completely silent, but all the same, the kid had walked into the alley as if that was his entire purpose in life, and had set about to cleaning Lance’s wound before Lance could even tell him to scat.
The kid had stayed with him throughout the night, and in the morning, his leg had felt as if it had never been hurt. Since then, he had watched out for the quiet kid.
But that was several weeks back, and our story is now in the present. The kid was still too young to be jumped into the gang, so he hung out, talking about some book to the younger kids and keeping them in line.
~~~
Lance stood up, walking out into the center of the warehouse. “Familias!” he cried, “Soon this war shall be at its end! Soon the scum that call themselves Brotas shall be wiped from this earth!” It was a familiar speech to the gang, but they cheered all the same. Those who had them, which was basically anyone who had already been jumped, raised their guns above their heads as they yelled, the kids screaming underfoot. “Tonight!” Everyone quieted now, for this wasn’t the norm, “Tonight we shall launch our greatest attack against them yet! The end is near, and we shall emerge the victors!”
The people, ranging from twelve to eighteen, all cheered, each one with blood already on their hands, consciences shot with their enemies long ago. The blood lust in the air was tangible, sending the younger ones into a frantic as they fetched bullets for those who called for them.
Each person knew they could be one of the ones going to the morgue that night, but it was for the gang, they would go out warriors, so they could go out satisfied in an attempt for peace. The only one not cheering as they prepared to launch their attack, was a small boy, sitting in a corner, praying. His name was Samuel, or as many called him, BB, short for Bible Banger.
~~~
As soon as his prayer was said for his friends about to go out on the streets, he prayed some more, this time for those they were about to fight, so that they too may escape unscathed.
He did not wish for anyone to be hurt, and everyone had long since accepted his “naïve” dreams of a peaceful coming to the end of the war. To him, they were not naïve, but facts. He knew that they could do it, if only given the chance.
~~~
Lucas watched BB, and as soon as he was sure he was done praying, he approached him, a smile on his face, and receiving one in return.
“I can’t wait!” he yelled above the noise.
BB’s smile faded until only the constant light in his eyes remained.
Lucas shook his head. “Man, you have to get over this peaceful settling idea. It’s hopeless. I am telling you as a friend- It. Is. Hopeless.”
BB just shook his head again. “Come on, let’s get the bandages ready. We’re gonna need them,” he said, before scurrying off, using his ten-year-old body to dodge between the larger kids who were hyped on blood lust, Lucas right behind him.
~~~
Raymond, or Ray, glanced around him, looking for any Street Familia who would dare come close to the border. He was on watch, and had to stay as such until daybreak, which was still hours away.
Something, a small whisper in the back of his mind maybe, something like a prayer, seemed to guide his eyes towards the corner of the house at the end of the street in front of him.
He strained to see in the dark, and as soon as his eyes adjusted, his hand flew to the gun at his side. It was in that stance he froze as he saw not one, not two, not even five, but at least twenty Familia lining the sidewalk.
His first instinct was to draw his gun and shoot, but even if he could have seen them well enough to aim, he had one priority first – the Brotas.
With a curse he flew off down the street, sticking to the shadows until he had run the several blocks to the Rascal Brotas hideout, yelling the alarm to all those who had decided to stick out the night there. As soon as he had finished telling the who and from which direction, kids under the age of twelve rocketed out the door, acting as messengers to all the Brotas who had homes to sleep in.
~~~
Lance motioned for the group behind him to move forward, and they did so silently. They all knew that by now some one had been sure to see them, but it never hurt to be careful just in case.
He scurried up to the head of the line, and glanced around the corner. A bullet whistled by his head, but there was no sound. They were using silencers.
He cursed under his breath and motioned to the others to duck along the houses to either side. As they moved, bullets poured into the air. More than one fell to the ground. There were screams, moans of pain. He heard gunshots echoing from their own side, and screams from further down, signaling that they weren’t the only ones taking hits.
He took one deep breath, held it, and stepped out from under cover, fired into the darkness, before dropping to the ground. It was going to be a long night.
~~~
The teenager whom BB worked on cursed as the needle deftly went in and out of his skin, staunching the bleeding. It wasn’t from pain he cursed, but habit at the thought that he had actually allowed himself to be shot, to hold back his gang. To be injured without helping one’s own, that was unforgivable. He would have to work to earn his name back.
His curses slowly faded as he looked up at BB, a mere ten year old, who was keeping him out of the hospital. Something inside him calmed, and he even smiled softly, before drifting off to sleep.
As soon as he was asleep, BB moved onto the next person lying a few feet away, already close to death from having to wait for the first to get sown up, his blood now coating the floor even with his bandages. BB regretted not having gotten to him sooner and muttered a small prayer under his breath as he dropped to his knees beside the man. Lucas was behind him carrying, his small bag of needle and thread.
~~~
Long after everyone was supposed to be asleep, a single small shadow ducked out of the building, heading straight for the Brotas’ territory. No one raised a hand to stop him as he crossed borders, nor even when he slipped into the old house the Brotas slept in, and right now kept their injured in.
The shadow quickly set to work sewing up wounds and leading his enemies to the path of recovery. When his patients woke up to look upon his small face, he only smiled and shushed them to sleep again.
Once everyone had been taken care of, BB ran back to the Street Familias warehouse.
~~~
Lance surveyed his gang, everyone whole and healed, not in the least surprised. BB always did such good work. He was a definite asset to the Familias.
~~~
Raymond stood in a corner, his leg that had been shot up just last night whole and painless, unable to believe it, or the vision he had had as he had slept. In all the time that they had fought, this was the first for such a thing to happen. Every single one of the Brotas had been fixed just the same, and they took it to mean that they were meant to win this war. He took it to mean that they had a small friend.
~~~
Lucas watched BB, who was kneeling in the corner praying. Lucas would stand by his friend no matter what. If BB ever needed help, Lucas was the rock he could hold on to.
~~~
It was near sunset, and BB was no where to be seen. The battle that day had been the fiercest in Familia history, and Lucas worried that the sight of blood and gore had gotten to his friend. Anxious, he darted to the door for the hundredth time, trying to see his friend in the coming dark, and froze. There was something coming. That was for certain, and it sounded like….a grocery cart?
He squinted into the night, trying to make out the shape, before smiling and running forward to help BB push the cart into the warehouse.
There were only twelve people in at the moment, so the twelve fast food meals he had brought satisfied those there, including Lance and Lucas.
As Lucas sat next to BB, enjoying his burger, he heard his friend murmur about body and blood, but ignored him, shrugging the words off to BB’s healing chatter.
~~~
Raymond walked hesitantly up to the head of the Brotas, Jamaal, and spoke to him about the kid that had come in the night. The head glanced at him sharply, but he knew what Jamaal was thinking. What was the purpose of a Familia healing Brotas while they were at war? Was he banking for a favor? Or was he trying to get information?
The head set a trap.
~~~
BB prayed long into the night after everyone had gone to sleep. As he stood, crying, he walked out of the building unhindered, and into the arms of the enemy.
~~~
Lucas glanced around, trying to figure out where BB was, and trying to dodge around Lance, who was trying to do the same.
“YOU!”
Lucas froze at the word, and spun around to face the angry head.
“Where’s BB?!” Lance demanded.
“W-who?” Lucas stuttered out, stalling for time.
~~~
They took measure of the little boy, noticing that he stood wary, his body tense. There was only one gang who would dare to try such a thing with them, to try sending a false messenger of peace while at war, to try and succumb them into a false sense of security. When asked he gave the affirmative- he was Familia.
“What are you doing here?” Alberto demanded.
BB sat in silence.
~~~
“BB!” Lance screamed. “Where is he?”
Lucas scooted backwards. “Who are you talking about?”
~~~
“Answer me, brat!” Alberto demanded, “Why are you here!”
~~~
“Where is Samuel!” Lance screeched, lifting Lucas up by the scruff of his shirt.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about!” Lucas yelled, squirming against the wall.
~~~
Alberto glared at the brat, before slowly grinning. “Fine then, I know you won’t talk, we’ll return you to your ‘Familias’,” he said with venom. The Brotas surrounding him, all of whom had seen the boy healing their own, looked at each other nervously.
~~~
The messenger shifted from foot to foot under Lance’s cruel gaze. He had only been able to get anywhere near the warehouse because he was a child. Getting in had been another matter. It was only after he had revealed that he knew the whereabouts of BB that he had been able to get in to see Lance. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to be here anymore.
“What do you want?” the head demanded.
“The Brotas wish to return a small boy to you tomorrow on the baseball field,” he stuttered out quickly before running out the door.
Lance let him go.
~~~
The field was coated in an eerie silence as the two gangs lined it on opposite sides. Every person there was carrying a gun, excluding those too young by gang standards. One small boy slowly walked forward across the base lines and pitcher’s mound to the Familias.
Unable to contain his joy, Lucas ran forward to meet BB at the middle.
Alberto raised his gun too quickly for any of his own gang to see, and fired one shot.
BB halted, halfway back to his own gang, a small hole opening up in his chest as he crashed to his knees, falling forward into Lucas’s arms.
The Brotas roared and turned on Alberto before the Familias had a chance to react, beating up their own head who had killed the boy who had healed them.
All the noise and violence they caused did no good as blood poured onto the field, a child of the street dying who had saved them many times over.
 Rudyard Ascher · Wed Mar 26, 2008 @ 01:54pm · 0 Comments |
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