Infinite: Power

Chapter 5: Thunder

K-Town, Los Angeles

Year 2009

Run. Run, you idiot. Run, if you stop, your head's gonna—

Bang!

"Jesus Christ!!" He cried, throwing himself away around the corner and hiding from the shots. Instinctively, he put his hood on and ran across the street as though the Devil himself were chasing him. The sensation of having his back without protection at the reach of the eyes of those who were after him was another impulse to keep running away. He ran following a crooked line, as stupid as he might have looked like from the distance, so he wouldn't get sent to make friends in Hell before he was even twenty.

"You're not getting outta here, kkuma!" Hoho shouted and another bang followed his voice. The boy didn't feel the shot anywhere near. Hoho was probably drunker than he had suspected, drunk enough to aim.

"Bad news or good news?" He mumbled to himself while slightly turning his head around to peek. Accidents could happen.

Running away from more than ten guys in a city they knew better than the tip of their... noses was not smart. But the kid had a plan. A simple, non-smart plan, and the only one his illogical mind gave birth to after months of painful process.

Shit! Around four other gang members were coming ahead of him. Dang, he definitely had to stop overthinking things because he wasted time. At any rate, he couldn't turn around. The way to his freedom was straight down the road; he had to keep moving forward. One of the men ahead of him pulled a handgun from his pelvis and pointed to him.

"You're not going anywhere, goddammit!" The man with the gun was panting. "You goddamn fast, huh?!"

The boy stopped, and with a bittersweet flavor in his throat, heard Hoho and the others approaching him from behind.

"Wouldn't you be fast if a horde of drunk, pestilent cunts wanted your momma and sister?" The boy kept turning around, glancing here and there. He was around two hundred meters away. Two blocks away from freedom.

"Your momma, I like your momma, but I got tired, I need sum fresh meat, if ya kno what I'm sayin'?" The man with the handgun spoke. The boy tried to keep a poker face, even when he felt as though ice cubes slipped all the way down his backbone in slow motion when that prick mentioned his mother. "Where's you momma and lil sis, kiddo? You better hurry before we kill yah."

"Sure, right away," The boy placed a hand in his pocket, and every man around him pointed their guns to him. He carefully pulled it out empty. "No, I ain't got them here, yah kno." He imitated him mockingly. Were they stupid? Did they seriously believe he would trade them? "You wanna shoot me, you son of a bitch? Go ahead. You'll never find them."

"You, fucking brat, you think you're so funny, huh?" The man approached him, pointing him with the gun. The boy shrugged with an amusing grin. His end was near, by all he could tell. "Laugh at this, motherfucker!"

BANG!

The shot was deafening. The pain was burning, pinching, piercing, eternal. The boy clenched his teeth. He stumbled for the ripping agony he contained. He did not scream while falling onto the ground. He was panting and forcing himself to stay quiet as the humiliating tears ran without control down his cheeks. His heart pumped and pumped blood stronger and faster. Suddenly the oxygen was taken from him, as if it was stolen by invisible sucking black holes around him. With his head feeling a thousand times lighter, he turned his eyes to where the pain came from. Black ink seemed to burst from his chest and his hands had automatically flung there to make pressure. He looked up as to search for aid. Soft thunders were making their way to K-Town and the clouds were blinding him from the stars. Tears fell at each side of his face. He saw lightning flashes, sending white sparks into his brain.