GUNS and GANGS

Chapter 9: The Sound of War

In the dimly lit confines of the secret weaponry room, I stand poised before the dartboard, my expression focused and determined. The room is cloaked in shadows, illuminated only by the soft glow of a single overhead light, casting long shadows that dance across the walls.

My hands move with practiced precision as I select a sleek, aerodynamic dart from the nearby rack. The weight of the dart is familiar in my grip, its smooth surface cool against my fingertips.

With a deep breath, I draw back my arm, my muscles coiling like a spring ready to be released. Time seems to stand still as my gaze locks onto my target, the bullseye gleaming faintly in the dim light. In this moment, I'm is not just a mother, but a skilled marksman, honed by years of training and discipline in the clandestine world of espionage and intrigue.

With a swift, fluid motion, I release the dart, sending it hurtling through the air with deadly accuracy. It slices through the silence like a whisper, soaring toward its intended destination with unerring precision. For a heartbeat, the room holds its breath, the tension palpable in the air.

Then, with a satisfying thud, the dart finds its mark, embedding itself squarely in the center of the bullseye. A small smile of satisfaction tugs at the corners of my lips as I step back, admiring my handiwork.

It's a testament to my skill and expertise, a reminder of the quiet strength that lies beneath my unassuming exterior. But there is no time for complacency in this dangerous world of shadows and secrets.

With a determined resolve, I retrieve my darts and returns them to their rightful place on the rack. Knowing that my training is far from over, that the challenges I face are ever-evolving and relentless in their pursuit.

As I exit the secret weaponry room, I carry  a sense of quiet confidence, a silent assurance that I'm ready for whatever trials lie ahead. For in the darkness of the shadows, I am a mother, a warrior, and a force to be reckoned with.

    
A shrill ring pierces the air, shattering the tranquility of the passage. My movements falter for a fraction of a second as I reach for the source of the interruption, my hand instinctively gravitating toward the sleek smartphone nestled in the pocket of my training attire. I look at it to see it was an unknown number. I hesitate to pick it but eventually, I did.

"Hello. It's Jackson." The voice one the other end says. I was surprised to hear that voice; one I was once familiar with, one that was little before.

"Jackson?" I ask in surprise still trying to make sure I wasn't mistaking him for someone else. I knew there was only one way to make sure of that.
"Password." I say, but more in a question tone.

"The Cross." He says sharply. I sigh. I knew something terrible is about to happen. Something called "War."

He fills me in on everything and I was taken aback completely; My sons...they have gotten themselves way too deep into the dark. I have to stay strong, I have to fight and I have to do it with The Cross.
       

                                                  ***

As we approach the front door, we both exchange a brief glance, a silent acknowledgment of the shared apprehension that hangs between us. With a deep breath, I reach out and grasp the doorknob, turning it with practiced ease as we step into our home. And there, seated in the cozy embrace of our favorite armchair, is our mother.

Her face illuminated by a gentle smile of welcome. Her eyes sparkle with warmth and affection as she takes in the sight of her two sons, our presence a balm to her weary soul. With a soft gasp of delight, she rises from her seat, her arms outstretched in a gesture of maternal embrace.

In this simple embrace, we find solace and strength, a reminder of the unbreakable bond that ties us together through the trials and tribulations of life. And as we stand there, locked in a tight embrace, the worries and cares of the outside world melt away, replaced by the comforting embrace of family.

"Where's Dad?we have something to tell him." I say, fear showing on my face.

"Something dark and sinister." Peter continues.

She looks at both of us as if she was prepared for this. She grabs our hands firmly and places them on her chest.

"You have nothing to worry about, nothing and no one will cause you harm, not anymore." She says sternly. Every word she utters, seems to have a backstory, reason and objective.

"Mum, bad people are coming after us, gangs and every bad thing that lurks in this city. They wan to harm us; you and Dad." Paul says, hands on his read, racing his hands through his hair.

"Your Dad and I will take care of it. Trust me." She reassures us.

And just as she finishes, a car honk is heard outside. It was Dad. The door opens to reveal his tall imposing figure as he takes in the scene before him. We were all looking at him, sitting, anticipating.

"Dad." We both say at the same time.

"Welcome home baby." Mum stands up to welcome him. They stood together for a while; mum backing us and Dad facing us, his eyes moving from Peter and I then to mum. After what seemed to be like eternity, they break closeness and face us.

With a deep breath, Dad begins to speak, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of authority born from years of experience in the criminal underworld.

He recounts the details of the impending gang war, his words painting a grim picture of the violence and chaos that threatens to engulf their city. As he speaks, his gaze never wavers, his eyes locked on our faces, searching for any sign of fear or uncertainty.

"I'll talk to Godfather Jasper about this immediately. I'll see what I can do, put aside our enmity and work together but it's but gonna be easy." Dad addresses us, preparing us for what's to come.

"Dad. How close were you with Red's father?" Peter asks.

"I'm not. We never talked. I never had a chance to. Godfather and He were close, best of friends actually. It's a long story, one for another time and we haven't much."

"You both stay with your mother, I'll be back." He says and then leaves but not as a Cop.

He left as what he was born into. He left as a gangster because you can only know one if you're one of them. He left to see the best; Godfather Jasper, The Elder Man. He left...as the Black wolf!