Street Dreams

Chapter 2 - Kick in the Teeth

        Ren almost began to feel mentally exhausted from the planning.  He had mapped out the territory that the family had carved for themselves here, and knew the weak points, where brothers had reported being caught up or harassed by Italians, or where customers had confessed to already buying from someone else.  It was taking a chunk from their profits, and that never set well.  It was an affront to their strength, and they would show a strong front, even if he had to go to the lengths of his enjoyment.

        Hiroki would be going with him, he had already set that into motion, texting the frost-tipped brother.  Ren had long ago decided that if he were to become the kumicho, then Hiroki would take the spot he vacated.  He trusted his brothers, but Hiroki had proven a much better brother than many of the others had, even if it sometimes annoyed him.  He considered many of the brothers, but this would have to be a planned attack, with trusted men, and he would have to ensure that some of the dumber ones on the lower levels sat and worked surveillance for a while.  Admittedly, just about everything around the strip was controlled by some Italian group.  It was difficult to push outward from where they had opened their businesses.  However, strategically, buildings were bought up, and they began to form a diamond around an area of land they wanted to control, starting from the Harrah's on the South end of the Las Vegas strip, to the Hawaiian Marketplace, down a little further, which had already been established by members of the Hawaiian branch of the family several years ago, and into more residential areas to the East.  Like ripples from the individual points, their sales increased, between tourism, and local business.  They even owned one of the whore houses outside of the city limits.  

        He stood up from his plans and went to meet the group who had assembled to work with him.  There was going to likely be gunplay, and they were all strapped and ready.  He had picked a particularly rabid bunch, some who wouldn't appear too queasy by his methods.  Hiroki shook his head, looking at the other four.  Takayuki rubbed a thumb over his hooked nose, wide eyes looking at his brothers disdainfully.  The others knew better, it was just how he looked.  A hand came over and ruffled his hair, kept in a fashionable fringe, shaved on the sides, but brushed and gelled back, a bit like a shark's fin.  Chris, a third-generation American member was mixed, ensuring that he would have to work much harder to even consider advancement in the organization.  Luckily, the American faction was a little more lenient toward half-breeds.  Fujita was standing aside the door, checking all of his arms.  He was a little fond of them, and there was an abundance of them that came in via the various pawn shops around the city, some with less than legal backing.  When he was satisfied, he ran a hand back through the shaggy bleached blonde hair, exposing a scar on his temple.  "Ch... those fucking bastards.  Who do they think they are messing with the Mori-gumi?!  Eh?"

        Even in English, those who had not lived in America for very long retained their guttural speaking patterns, the rolled r's and swallowed g's littering the Osaka dialect that many of them used.  These were patterns that Ren only carried over when he needed them for emphasis among the family.  It was a small team of five, including himself, but it was all that was necessary.  He had already briefed them, and all were eager to prove themselves.  Perhaps Ren included Hiroki as a sort of compass, to keep him from going too far.  He wanted to retain his position in the family, otherwise his purpose for staying would be taken away.  He received a text regarding the breach only a few minutes beforehand.  Once he was satisfied with everyone's presence, and he believed them to be suitably riled, he calmly walked toward the door.  The eagerness to get this started was resonating within him.

        The drive was about ten minutes from the meeting place, one of their businesses, to the outer limit of their territory.  They stopped a block shy of where it was reported, and finished the way on foot.  Ren instructed them to stay quiet as they closed in.  The bright lights of the city dampened the stars to the point where they were barely visible, the sounds of the night were busier than in many other cities.  The gambling went on all night, and out in these streets, a prostitute crossed the street in the distance, probably moving closer to the strip without actually drawing any direct police scrutiny.

        A homeless person passed them, occasionally, they were common near the strip.  It was the easiest place to get a hand out.  A middle-aged black man in loose, ratted jeans and a long t-shirt and flannel staggered forward, greeting them with an overly pleasant demeanor.  "Hey, brothers!"  The man had obviously been drinking.  He stopped before them smiling, "You got any money I can get?  I'll be honest with you, I'm going to use it to get me some beer."

        Ren didn't want to waste time on the man, so he reached into his wallet and handed him a twenty.  It was the smallest bill he had on him.  When the man saw his perceived reward for his honesty, he bowed his head in mocking regality and thanked them.  He quickly moved on, as did the group.  They had to check the points where breaches had been reported.  He was certain that there would be another... but where?  They had missed the initial one, given the ten minutes it took to arrive.  However, they were probably still in the area.  A few streets further and they found a parked black Chrysler 300C parked along the street.  With litter occasionally blowing, and a condemned building looking out with dusty panes nearby, the car was certainly out of place.  Few tourists came this way, if they did it was often on their way to a hotel.  The group stilled as a local woman walked by, lighting a cigarette.  She paused to get into a car, likely to go home from her job.  When she was gone, they moved on.

        A familiar thud was heard around a building, along with a telltale grunt.  A hand lifted and the group stilled as Ren peered around the corner.  The scene made his blood boil.  Three Italians were grouped around Jirou, who was dwarfed before the behemoth of a man behind him, holding his arms back while the other two took turns hitting him.  The one had a set of brass knuckles on, the other using a baseball bat.  They had evidently been at it for a while as Jirou's face was swollen and bleeding in several places.  His normally calm demeanor was torn through with the desire to turn the men inside out.  Stepping past the corner with a gestured warning to the others, he pulled out a gun, methodically fitted a suppressor, and aimed it at a point on a brick wall.  He tilted his head back and to the side just slightly, his eyes a quarter hooded as his lips curled, "Teme!"

        The word growled out, though his entire body suggested a casual assertion that belied his anger.  When they looked up, he fired the gun.  The suppressor didn't completely silence the shot.  The telltale crack of the sound barrier being broken by the supersonic ammunition still split the air and echoed off of the walls, but it was far less earsplitting than it would have been without the addition to the barrel.  The three of them were shocked at the fact that he fired at them.  The one with the baseball bat got halfway through asking who he thought he was, but Ren jerked his head to the side bringing the other five to present and level their guns at the thugs.

        The Italians knew they were outnumbered, and proceeded to spit curses at the Japanese men.  Ren's face showed no sign of influence from their crudeness.  He began to loosen the cuffs on his jacket and walked toward the group.  Jirou stumbled toward him, then past.  "This is our territory, Italian.  Get the fuck out of it, and tell your boss that he will begin to receive presents if he tries to broach our land, again."  The tone of his voice made him sound like he was the 'reasonable' one.  His hands extended, "The city is big enough for both of us, and we can coexist peacefully, or you can be the dishonorable dogs I have heard of, and try to move in where you're not welcome."

        The Italians laughed, the derision was clear as their ringleader spoke, "You're outsiders, here, gook.  Tell your boss to fish boat your ass back to China."

        The other two Italians laughed, and Ren even joined in on the merriment.  It quickly ended, however, when he casually moved his arm, re-aiming the gun, and letting off a shot.  The small crack was heard again, followed by a yowled cry as one of the Italians fell down, gripping at his leg.  The ringleader held up his hands, and began to step back.  Ren turned the gun on him.  "It only takes one man to send a message.  Feel lucky that I am letting you leave here with your friend."

        Suddenly, the thug who was still standing near the ringleader became nervous, urging him to leave.  But the ringleader of the three of them didn't seem to want to back down.  "I'm leaving here with both of them."

        Ren shrugged, "If you aren't willing to leave without them..."

        Another shot cracked through the air.