Even before he executed his plan, Arkaneh knew he was going to hate having to make it happen in Ussermis, his hometown. At first he tried looking for vacant warehouses in the other cities of the Axfield district and even some further away, but Ussermis came up as the only place where he could do it.
The reason was that all of the warehouses he picked for his plan happened to be in proximity to his uncle's house, the one he had lived in most of the life, since his parents died. As he sat next to Griffiths in the passenger’s seat of a car, the familiar streets ahead of him evoked old memories, ones he didn’t appreciate. I left these streets a long time ago in the hope that I would never have to see them again… it feels as if nothing good ever happened to me here. Only loss and sorrow… these are the only things these streets ever gave me. They're the streets where my parents died and the ones where Elina died. Curse this place.
Three other cars parked at the end of the street, all within sight of each other. They were the backup unit that Griffiths had gathered from the outpost in Waterchester. About a dozen men, all armed and waiting for a simple command to take action. All 4 groups were already in position, each in its own warehouse, thinking they were backing up another group that was supposed to make a gun trade with Code Sanguinary. The only thing that had to happen now was for one of those groups to get attacked by the Justicars and alert Griffiths using the radio communication device.
SmartWrists weren’t allowed to be taken into jobs in any mob gang in Alataria. Like wearing Elastics to avoid incrimination, the ban on having SmartWrists during illegal activities was also a rule that every criminal naturally followed in order to avoid leaving any incriminating information that might fall into the hands of the police, or even worse, the Justicars, in cases of death.
"Do you think it will work?" Griffiths asked.
"What makes you think it won't?" Arkaneh said.
"I don’t know… I guess I'm just nervous. Sitting here like this drives me crazy."
"Trust me, I'm having a much worse time than you."
"I don’t like putting our brothers in danger like this."
"There are 6 men in each group, plus our backup unit is more than enough. They'll be fine." Griffiths still seemed on edge, despite Arkaneh's words and relaxed manner.
The two were dressed in golden gloves and shoes, their masks of matching color rested on their knees. By now, Arkaneh had learned to hate that color. The color of money.
The color of greed and corruption. The color of Reus Mallistrom. Some gangs have their own dictums. Lady Dread has 'Fear only two', and Men of Midas has 'A golden key can open any door'.
Money can open any door you want, take you to any place you want.
Everyone has a price. That’s what Reus believes in, but he's wrong. By the time my plans are over, I'll show him where someone can get without relying solely on money.
"Alright, what is it with you?" Griffiths turned to Arkaneh.
"You look… I don’t know, upset or something." Arkaneh didn’t even notice it himself. His grim facial expression was a result of the floating memories of his days in Ussermis.
"Nothing," he replied coldly.
"Bullshit. I know that look. It's the one that says you're thinking of something you wish you hadn’t."
Arkaneh breathed a long sigh. He's right, I'll give him that.
"Do you have any regrets, Griffiths?" Arkaneh asked him.
"Regrets? I don’t know… why?"
"I look at these streets and all I feel is regret. You see, I grew up here. My uncle has an apartment a few blocks away, where I lived since I was 13."
"Oh." Griffiths didn’t seem that interested, yet Arkaneh carried on.
"My parents died while trying to visit some friends in Servein. Before they even made it to their friends' house they caught accidental fire in a firefight that took place right where they were, between Henrick Trife's crew and some Ferals. I wasn’t there, so I can only imagine how grizzly it was."
"I'm… I'm sorry about your—"
"I do remember, however, very vividly, how my girlfriend was raped and beaten a block away from here."
"Y-Your—?"
"We were coming back from watching a late movie when 4
Ferals caught us." Arkaneh went on to tell Griffiths the full story about the life-changing event that happened that night, resulting in Elina's death.
"Fuck, man, I… I don’t know what to say," Griffiths said in response to the story.
"During the time after that I chased the guys who did this to me."
"And…?"
"One of them was already dead by the time I got to him.
The other two… I killed them myself. I made sure they felt the pain they inflicted upon me… twofold." Griffiths seemed half-shocked, even though he was no stranger to violence. "The last one fled the country. I never found him."
"I see. Who was he?"
"Gantel Riggs. He fled to Norway, from what I heard."
"Well—" Chatter over the radio communication device disrupted the conversation. The voice came through scrambled and unclear. "Come again, I couldn’t understand that," Griffiths said into the device.
"I said, we are under attack! The Justicars are here!" the voice yelled.
It worked. The Justicars attacked one of the warehouses. "Which frequency is that? Which group is it?" Arkaneh urged him.
"It's the one on Brine Street," Griffiths wasted no time and readjusted the radio frequency to the backup unit's. "Get to Brine Street! The Justicars are making an attack on us!" Within a few seconds, all three cars at the end of the street drove away and disappeared.
"Brine Street…" Arkaneh thought for a second. "That means the Grove Street group has the rat in it." He looked at Griffiths, who seemed almost reluctant to accept the horrible truth, that a snitch really had infiltrated his ranks. Gunshots and unclear yells were heard over the radio.
"Raymond!" Griffiths called through the radio. "Raymond, answer me! What's the situation?" Raymond? That's that kid who talked to me before, the one who got his name from his father… I didn’t know he was leading the group on Brine Street.
Between heavy gunshot fire and static noises, no word was understood on the other end. "Goddammit, I can't understand one fucking word he's saying!" Griffiths snapped. "We've already lost so many brothers recently… we can't lose anymore… I can't lose anymore." At that moment, Arkaneh noticed something that surprised him. Behind the lack of leadership skills and the drug and alcohol addiction, Griffiths truly cared for his so-called brothers. I guess every thorn has its rose. "…killing…!" only one word sounded clear among the rough chatter.
"Say that again," Griffiths said.
"They're killing us!" It now sounded clearer.
"Has the backup unit arrived yet?" Griffiths asked. "How many dead so far?" There was clear dread in his voice, as he didn’t really want to know the answer to that question. To his fortune, he received more unclear chatter of gunfire and yelling as a response. "Say again, I didn’t hear that!" he still received no clear answer. "Oh, fuck it!" he started the car.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going over there to help them!" This was NOT part of my plan. This is far too dangerous. I refuse to risk my life for the likes of members of this wretched organization! This fool is going to get me killed!
"There are only two of us, we won't make any difference!"
Arkaneh cried.
"Well, you're not the lieutenant here, are you?!" Griffiths yelled and started driving towards the warehouse on Brine Street. "Fuck, it's like you don’t even give a shit about our guys!"
"It's not that—"
"Then draw your gun and get ready to fight." A sharp turn made by Griffiths took Arkaneh by surprise. He drives like a maniac. Arkaneh's pistol rested in his hand, ready to be fired.
The thought of shooting Griffiths at that moment passed through his mind, yet it quickly faded in the light of common sense. There's no telling how many Justicars are there. There could be twice our number. We're not even sure if the backup group even got there when they talked to us on the radio.
"What about the other groups, Griffiths? We should call them as well to have more men.
"Yeah, do it." Arkaneh grabbed the radio and started ordering on behalf of his lieutenant the other 3 groups to get to the warehouse on Brine Street. The other groups are pretty far from that warehouse. By the time they get there the fight may be over. Still, it can't hurt trying, and there's no point in letting them stay there anymore now. All of a sudden, Arkaneh could hear the vague sound of gunshots from afar. The warehouse on Brine Street was nearby now. A few minutes of driving later, Griffiths pulled the car over and the two got out of it with guns drawn. The backup unit's cars were parked right outside the warehouse, next to the Brine Street group's car. So the backup unit is here…
Loud gunshots and screams came from within its thick concrete walls. Arkaneh looked around and saw a few people looking out their windows, wondering and worrying about the origins of those noises. APD will be here soon too. We don’t have much time.
"Griffiths, since we don’t know what's going on in there exactly, and where everyone is, you come in from the front, I'll go in from the back. That way, one of us may put some fire on them from behind and help the rest of our men," Arkaneh said.
"Alright. Don't forget your mask. And don’t you fucking die on me," Griffiths said as he placed his golden mask over his face.
The two split up, with Griffiths coming through the front steel door, and Arkaneh going around the structure towards its back exit.
Arkaneh held his handgun tightly, keeping his eyes and ears open for any enemy that might come up on him. He hadn’t prepared for this, yet now that he was in the situation, he tried to be at his best in it. He had no fighting experience, and although he knew quite a lot about strategy and tactics, his skills as a soldier were almost non-existent. Damn Griffiths…
that moron is going to get me killed. Ever since I started executing my plans, from the moment I joined the attack on that convenience store, I've made sure to put myself at minimum to no risk. I made sure to get to that store as a backup squad, in hopes that by the time I got there that battle would be over. When I took a dozen men to Swillstorm to see if the Justicars would show up, I made sure to stay in the van in case they did and I had to make a quick escape. And now… now I'm marching straight towards a death field.
Finally, once he made it to the back door, he could hear more gunshots from inside, along with a few unclear yells.
With his weapon aimed, he approached the door slowly. He reached for the mask that hung on his belt, but before he could put it on, he could feel the barrel of a gun pointed at his forehead. It was then that he heard a familiar voice saying, "Hello, brother."