Saints Row: Bullet to the Heart

Untitled Part 112

~*Stilwater, 1963, Sunnyvale Gardens apartment complex.*~

Summer once again as friends and neighbors, schoolmates and semi close knit folks out enjoying summer activities. Ice Cream trucks circling blocks luring everyone out with whimsical melodies. Yes, it was that awesome time of the year again. Kids out having a day playing hoops in the streets, of all ages, playing with the hydrants that the summer sun beat down on their scorching concrete and asphalt. Trick jumps on bikes off makeshift ramps, echoed gasps as some hit the hot streets. The smells of grilling, sweet, smokey meats cooking as they sizzle on fire hot grills. Music overlapping, others reverberated around the tall towers as an impromptu block party took place.

As most summer fun leads to day-long fun, the sun finally dips low, giving the city a much needed enjoyable evening. Kids are still playing tag as mother's call for bath time.

Until a shot rang loud, echoing off the brick complexes, a common occurrence in recent times, causing most to scatter, screaming in search of cover. Mothers and fathers, uncles and aunts, with older cousins screaming in fear it was their babies, snatching the young ones into the Highrise.

The scene, once joyous, now was chaotic. When the scramble settled, hearts raced with anticipated anxiety of, who was it this time? A head count of kids started.

Was everyone together?

There's two friends, in the collective older kids, who mustered up the courage to see where the shooting came from, peering from their hidden location, they walked but a few feet just around from where they were, shadows stretched and danced in the dimly lit parking lot.

The street lights needed repairs, but it was just enough to make out the clothes of someone they knew, laying on the hot pavement in a pool of blood.

A scream. Another mother lost her baby.

A man clad in a red suit standing over the top of the victim, smoking pistol in hand, turned to get into his equally red car. Tires screeched as he peeled off away from the complex.

Another funeral, which was the third person from the neighborhood that they knew of. His mother wailed, still inconsolable. The two boys watched through clouded vision. She needed to be held as she viewed her baby laying in the casket. The older of the two hands clutched tight and vowed he would stop whoever that was in their normally quiet neighborhood.

First, they asked around. "Who was that man in red?" The older boy asked.

"He with Los Carnales. Los Carnales gets what's theirs."

"Los Carnales?" That was the information they had received.

"Yeah, they've been slinging that dope here. Shaking down Berney's at the corner too. Anyone who has been fighting back gets popped." Shaking his head, took a pause. Snapping remembered. "Ya'll friend was selling for them."

"Ricky never did anything like that!" the younger of the two demanded.

"Believe what you want." Their informant walked off, greeting someone else.

"You ain't believe that, fool?"

"We'll check it out. I know someone else to ask."

The urban section of Sunnyvale Gardens was Los Carnales prime target. And it wasn't long before they marked their territory.

Now crime was always present, pickpockets, car radio theft, purse snatchers, breaking and entering, but Los Carnales had become the first organized gang of Stilwater, founded by Alejandro Lopez, even had children born and raised in Stilwater. Who would later replace their father in the control market? Their names, Hector and Angelo.