The Libertarian Gangster

Sectores: one of the most feared gangs in all of Detroit. They kill, kidnap, and harass people every night at midnight. The ones who have done business with them in the past, and the ones who have degraded them are usually the ones who get hurt first.

Not only are they known for harassing people at midnight, but they are also known for spray painting the walls of buildings to mark their territory. They write their gang name, "Sectores" meaning "sectors" in English on the back of certain buildings, and anyone who is spotted near their marking at midnight is taken. Not many people are spotted near the markings because they know what it means. They stay away.

Only five people in the group are allowed to spray paint. The gang consists of only 20 people, which means it's a special privilege to be able to mark the walls of the city. They range in age from 18 to 30. The youngest member of the group's name is Deandre. He just turned 18 a week ago. He didn't choose he gang, the gang chose him. He was walking home from a drug deal, and was kidnapped and taken from his family. What he didn't know was that the drug dealer was a member of the Sectores. The drug dealer forced to become one of them, and he isn't allowed to return home.

Now, the Sectores love telling stories of their crimes and tomfoolery, but one story in particular they never like to talk about. It involves Deandre, and goes a little something like this:

It was a chilly Saturday night on "marking day." They were in the basement of one of their marked abandoned buildings,

"Deandre, you're one of us now. If you don't do what we say, you'll get capped." said the notorious leader of the gang, Santos Hernandez.

Deandre wasn't necessarily a bad kid. He got decent grades and maintained a clean police record. That's only because he never got busted for buying crack and heroin from alley dealers. His family life wasn't the best. His dad walked out on him when he was only two years old, and his mother was an alcoholic. The only one that was ever there for him was his brother Jamal. Jamal is older than him by two years, but he's like a father to Deandre. He did believe in the after life and often prayed at a baptist church in North Detroit, but it ceased when his mother became an alcoholic.

"I didn't choose to join your little group." Deandre said glaring at Santos.

Santos grabbed Deandre by his leather jacket,

"Listen, kid. You chose to buy drugs from us on a day that you knew you shouldn't be lurking the streets, but you chose to go against our rules, so now you have to pay the consequences."

Santos let go of his jacket and started walking towards the stairs. Deandre just glared back at him, making full eye contact. Santos just smirked and slammed the door at the top of the stairs. Deandre soon followed, and left the building to begin the marking.

Deandre started to walk towards a building to mark. He had the bag of spray paint in his hands. The colors ranged from red to purple, and all cans were running low. Suddenly, old memories popped into his head. He remembered the good times he had with his family before everything turned into pure havoc. He remembered how his mom used to tuck him in before bed. He remembered how his older brother beat up a kid at school because he picked on him, and he found a reason to escape this gang and flee for safety. His brother was his motivation.

Deandre stood in front of the building. Santos never told him what to write specifically, so he thought of an idea. He wondered if he wrote something that made them mad, maybe they'd kick him out of the group. He opened the bag of spray paint and pulled out the black, blue, and yellow. He shook the yellow can and started his work.....

The next morning, Santos went to the building that Deandre marked to see what mind of a job he did. He stopped walking suddenly when he got to the building. Deandre didn't write "Sectores" on the wall. Instead he wrote, "Deus Adjutor Meus." Santos' face slowly dropped. He let out a frustrated growl, then pulled out his phone. He called his fellow gang member Raul. Raul answered after four rings.

"Raul! Look this translation up right now!" He said, yelling into the phone.

"Dude, what the hell are you talking about?" Raul said sounding stumped.

"Deandre wrote something in a different fucking language on one of our buildings!" He yelled even louder.

"Tell me what to look up."

"It says Deus Adjutor Meus." Santos could hear Raul typing. The typing stopped and there was a pause on the phone.

"Raul....." No answer

"Raul......RAUL! What does it mean?! Answer me!" Santos was full of anger.

"It means "God is with us."

There was a long pause. Santos' breathing and heart rate increased. The phone was being clenched in his hand. He hung up the phone and ran back to the gang's headquarters, where everyone was located.

He slammed open the door and pulled out a pistol. He pointed it at Deandre's head

"Who the hell do you think you are!" Santos said sweating

"I'm Deandre Johnson."

Santos slapped him across the face. By now the other gang members were making a circle around the scene.

"Don't you ever be smart with me!" Deandre just smirked at him, which earned him a punch to the stomach. He fell to the floor in pain while clenching his stomach and moaning in pain.

"Why did you write what you wrote?" Santos whispered in his ear loud enough so that everyone could hear him.

There was a pause.

"I wrote what I wrote because God is my savior. He has helped me through so much, and he's helping me get through this right now. Do you know how much I've been through? My dead beat father walked out on me and my mom was never sober enough to remember me and my brother! I'm also surprised I'm not dead yet with all the fights and drug deals I've gotten into. Somehow, I've managed not to get caught by the police and I'm fairly surprised. I also don't want to be in this gang and The Lord knows that. I wrote that so you'd let me go home. I know how much you guys hate Christ but he's my rock and refuge. So, by now, I really don't care what happens to me. So do with me what you want for a punishment, I really don't care"

They all stared at him after his long venting session. Deandre was breathing heavily and sweating. Some were frowning, others' jaws were dropped. They've never heard anyone stand up to them before. Deandre was the first. Santos didn't look too impressed. He stood there thinking; thinking about what he could do to Deandre. He looked at him.

"Stand in that corner over there." Santos said pointing to the left corner of the room.

Deandre looked at him, questioning what he said. He slowly walked to the corner.

"Turn around and face the wall."

Deandre turned. All he heard while standing in the corner was a handgun being loaded. A tear rolled down his cheek. He thought he'd get to go home; he was wrong. He was getting the ultimate form of punishment: execution. Right as the gun was being aimed at his head, he whispered, "Deus Adjutor Meus, my God is with me."