The Matters of Power

Chapter 32- The Eastside Gang [7]

"The heart of the beast, and we're the main course for its dinner." Yan mumbles discretely as we head towards the back of the building. It feels wrong that I would be entering and breaking into the building that offered me a job as a model, but the one who controls the Eastside Gang is based here. While the rest of Swift Cross is planning to strike at any of their hideouts, the four of us are going in alone with the keycard that will give us easy access and without the police being on us. Carl points towards a door with a keycard reader, "There, that's the one. Marcus, go open it, we'll keep watch." He hands me the keycard and pushes me forward so that I leave our cover, and I cautiously approach it in case there are any guards ready to jump me. My hand starts to shake at the thought that an alarm goes off because of this keycard, but to my surprise a beep is heard and the dot above the handle turns green, indicating that it actually worked. I give a thumbs up to the other guys and they hurry to the door as I hold it open for them. The interior is errily silent as we expected some resistance to our entry. Yan's phone goes off in a series of vibrations, "The guys are saying that they found their hideouts. Come on, we got some time before their boss probably gets wise and we miss our chance." There're so many ways to go in this building that I don't have an idea on where to start. Is there even a basement? I sense motion faintly above me, about two, no, three floors above us. "I heard something above us," Carl says, "it might be them." Just like that, we agree in unison and quickly go up some stairs, pass the first two floors to see some light coming out of a room. "...Yet why are we dealing with his bs?" We listen to the conversation as we hug the wall to not get spotted.

"What's up with you? This is the first time I've seen you all mopey in a long time, especially not in front of the boys." The other one sighs, "You know, all of this recent stuff's got me thinking. This Swift Cross gang we've been trying to root out, it's clear we're losing our momentum and possibly our footing in their turf. Maybe-" The third one, who is holding a cup of coffee, interjects. "I wouldn't try to leave if I were you. Have you seen the boss right now? He's close to a mental breakdown for some reason, and let's not forget that he still holds the 'evidence' that he has on all of us. At this point, I think we would be better off sinking with this ship than abandoning i-" Carl loses his footing all of a sudden and drops right into the doorway, in view of the thugs in the room as I was so close to catching him. Now that our cover is blown, we have no choice but to confront them all at once. "Wh- who are you?! You're not one of us." "No, we're not." Quarter coldly replies, "We're here for your boss and put an end to your little reign of terror. You have a lot to answer for what you've done." Their smug and arrogant faces start to melt away to show fear and desperation, no doubt aware of what is going to happen to them. "N- no! We won't go down like this!" One of them rushes to the back and grabs hold of a gold club. "You don't know our boss! He's crazy, crazier than us! We can't back down, not to you." The rest grab anything they can grab and try to defend yourself. Quarter looks back to me, "Marcus. Go on ahead, find their boss. We'll hold 'em off and find you as soon as we're done here." As much as I want to not leave them right then and there, I understand that he wants at least one of us to go ahead and find them before they possibly get away. I nod and quickly leave the room, hearing the sounds of fighting behind me fade away as I go through several flights of stairs to try and find him with my abilities. Three floors later and a small recovery, I sense a single person inside an office, in clear distress and frustration. It must be him. 

I look at the door to see that it's one room over the office where that guy tried to hire me for the model agency. I open the door to, my surprise, see a familiar face pacing around. Our eyes lock on to our shock of seeing each other, "...Miles?" "...Aren't you that Marcus fella from a few days ago?" I nod and starts to give a hostile attitude to me. "So, you are the one who has been giving hell to my gang? I must admit, I was perplexed when I heard about an entire gang from San Anton High causing so much trouble, but I didn't think it would be you of all people. So, this is how it's gonna be, huh? You gonna try to stop me once and for all like some hero?" He seems so calm about all this despite his situation. "But why do all this? Why do you try to lead a gang when you already have a respectable business with your dad?" "Because..." He starts to approach me and flings a fist towards my face, "this is the only way I can help my dad!" I easily dodge out of the way, temporarily stunned at his response. Miles keeps throwing punches and kicks at me though I try my best to avoid his attacks and try to reason with him. "How could you say that this is the only way to help your dad!?" "He's the only person in this world that I know that tries to work an honest life! In this world where people are ruthless and try to cheat their way in life, he's always done right to everyone even as others tried to take advantage of him!" He tries to throw a lamp at me, shattering in pieces mere feet behind me. "I can't let my dad go down the path like those other adults, so I was given the chance to take that fall so we can live life better!" "By bullying other people and using your powers to take advantage of others?!" "The thugs are all scum," he says, "as I'm doing the world a favor by keeping them under control or else they would prey on other weak people, or worse, their own peers in school. How can you say I'm the bad guy?!" It's clear that he is delusional in his righteous reasoning despite his troubles, but I can't let him continue for everyone else's sake.

Miles keeps throwing punches recklessly and doesn't seem to care about all the pain that I inflict on him as I counter. Suddenly, as he throws his whole body at me in a charge, I stop him dead in his tracks and knee his face badly that he recoils towards the work desk. Seeing a small amount of his hands, he breathes furiously and, to my surprise, pulls out a switchblade! "Enough! One last chance Mr. Marcus, to leave this place and never speak of this again. I don't want to hurt you like this, but you've let me no choice!" I've never been in a situation where someone has pulled a bladed weapon on me, and I slightly shiver at the sight of the blade pointed towards me. Miles charges with the switchblade and my instincts kick in as I dodge every swing faster than I had done before. He's clearly good at using a blade but I'm better at dodging and manage to tire him out a bit as I deliver a strong punch to his guts. He drops to the ground on his knees, and I try to process what had just happened with my fight against Miles. "...No more...waste..." Miles grumbles to himself and try to approach him to see if I didn't do too much damage to him. Out of nowhere, he lunges on me, and I couldn't move in time, dropping hard onto with the floor with an enraged Miles holding the switchblade at my chest. "No more! After too much work, I can't let it go down the drain because of some high schoolers my year! No, I'm gonna need to set an example to you, to see what happens when you mess with things that you shouldn't look into!!" He aims the switchblade towards my cheek, unable to move out of shock. "I'm sure that your face will make a good reminder, no?" As he raises his switchblade, the silence is broken by hands clapping together, in a slow fashion. "Encore! More! Bravo!" Miles and I look towards where that voice was to see that Pot of all people sitting on the remaining chair standing, casually looking at us. "It's you... why are you here? What do you want?" Miles is more focused on Pot that he reluctantly let go of me and I can breathe easier. "What a night, isn't it, chamacos? It's been a good while since we talked, haven't we Miles? Care to explain?"

"I... well... this guy here thought it was a good idea to interrupt my business, and I was just about to-" Pot lifts his hand up to silence Miles. "No need to say more, this is me we are talking about. I just wanted to see how you would look when I would promote you to customer." Hearing that, Miles's face turns pale and drops his switchblade as he drops onto the ground. "No... why, after everything I've done?" Pot slowly approaches him, maintaining his posture. "The boss is unsatisfied with your performance, and already knew that your little gang was gonna be destroyed tonight. All I'm doing is following his orders, and I think that you know what you should do now that you royally screwed up." So, he was also working for Pot and his boss like the previous gang that we had fought all those months back? What is going on in this town? "Hey, who is this boss that you work for, Pot?" The words had suddenly come out of my mouth without thinking and I think for sure that I'm next on his beating list. "Well," he casually cleans his sunglasses without a hint of anger, "I can't say, but I'm sure he'll show his face when he feels that it's time. Anyway, you best be going now. I would like to discuss some things with Miles alone, and I also ran into your friends along the way who I made sure to tell you that they are waiting outside the back of the building. Run along, I sure the cops will be here in some time soon." Taking his advice to heart, I quickly leave the office just before I look back one more time, sensing that nobody else is here to block me and manage to leave where I entered. Just as Pot said, I see the others outside where we had hidden earlier. "Dude!" Carl spots me first and pats me on the back, "Thank God, I didn't think that Pot fella was the truth. What the hell happened over there?" As the others look at me intensely, I try to explain the fight with Miles and his reasoning for The Eastside Gang. They give somber looks. "So the guy was doing all this because of that?" Yan says. "I get the motive, but you can't just do all that and not consider other people's situations especially since they're the victims in this case." 

We stand around awkwardly, clearly thinking about the consequences of all this and hoping that we can continue the school year in relative peace. Quarter then interrupts the silence, "We should head our separate ways, go home and res up. Act calm tomorrow, don't let anyone think that we did something."

And just like that, we quickly go our different ways and I arrive at my home's doorstep just as it's dinnertime. I check my body one last time to see if I have any visible bruises, positive that there aren't any, and open the door.