Broken Kings (House of Cards Series 0)

Cuarto Paso: Las Consecuencias

The four Barrio Boys stared down the nine Madrid Mob and the civilians on the streets around them picked up the tension, fleeing the scene quickly. What had started as a fun, laughter filled birthday for young West and his friends was quickly converting into something a lot more primal and dark. And just as exhilarating for all involved, because if this life didn’t hold some appeal to them all, none of them would be here now.  Reaper felt the small spark of the caring man he could sometimes pretend to be going dormant again, the calm and quiet necessity of violence filling him with the potential to be deadly. It wasn’t his goal today, he held no animosity for the nine men preparing death for them, but he would not allow the Madrid Mob a victory today.

And even though the Madrid Mob had managed to catch Reaper and the others unaware, that didn’t mean they were caught unprepared. Maya had an extendible police baton, Reaper had a set of brass knuckles, West had a hunting knife (which made Reaper wonder just how rough Lobo’s job as a drug runner was) and Carlitos had the most practical weapon; a cell phone to call in backup. It would take the small army of Barrio Boys less than ten minutes to arrie, so it was up to Reaper and the rest to simply survive in the interim.

“We’ve got no bones with you. Move along and we won’t leave you bloody.” Carlitos called out. His words weren’t exactly the bluff that the Madrid Mob thought they were; all four of the Barrio Boys they were facing off against were vicious when cornered.

“You putas have no clue the hell that is about to descend on you. Even if we were to leave, which ain’t gonna happen, there’s more like us coming for you. There’s good money out there for you and your Barrio Boys. Someone wants to wipe you all off of the map and we’re going to cash in on this.” The small group leader explained. Although his words sounded tough, Reaper noticed how he never stepped forward and away from the safety of his cohorts, still timid despite the supposedly superior numbers. This was no gang leader, just a tough out to prove himself and gain some cash. But his words were no simple threat.

Carlitos stilled and Reaper’s internal alarms were going off, reviewing what they had just learned while the part of his soul that learned to revel in the violence was taking over. His body tensed for a violent fight, eyes spotting Wolf giving Carlitos the knife discreetly while Reaper’s brain zeroed in on one fact: without any proof to convince him, he knew that somehow Logan and the mafia men had figured out that the Barrio Boys were the ones behind their recent string of terrible luck. They might not know that they had brought this fate upon themselves by taking out Adrianna, but it wouldn’t matter even if they did. She had been a pawn piece on their chess board and Reaper and Carlitos seeking out vengeance now was just going to cost Barrio Boys in blood, sweat and life. Part of Reaper wished he could feel bad about it but he knew that even without his interference, these men and few women had chosen this life for themselves and would have met the same fate eventually.

“Are we going to talk or are we going to dance? I want the chica, she’ll squeal real good for me.” One of the Madrid Mob spoke up, probably trying to challenge their small thug leader into action.

“You have no idea how much that comment just made you a target feyo.” West said from his position next to Reaper. The four Barrio Boys all knew the sad history of Reaper and Carlitos, and although Maya was not one to cower behind her lover, she knew that he was beyond fiercely protective of her. He had lost one love of his life because he tried to keep her safe at an arm’s distance. Now he always kept Maya close and she chose to fight at his side because of it.

"Like I'm afraid of a little girl or a baby like you." The mouth Madrid Mobster snarked back and West just smirked at him.

West might be young, but the violence he had endured and used stained his smile with a weight that slowly made the cocky mobster facing off with him look away first. He was now unarmed, having given his knife to Carlitos to use, but that did not make him harmless by any stretch of the imagination. Reaper had seen the same look on his own face before and knew that the young man had learned it from him. It was a chilling reminder of the sort of legacy he was giving to the Cuban and even though now was not the time to be considering a possible lifestyle change but Reaper's mind grasped on to it and decided to save it for later review.

Now he gave himself over the monster he had become, grateful that like always he had the familiar and annoying weight of the bullet proof vest his father had forced upon him years ago. It wouldn't stop a knife thrust but it would slow one down and give him a greater chance to live. Carlitos refused to wear one, and there weren't any that they could get their hands on that were small enough for either Maya or West to wear under their clothes without being obvious, but Malcolm had promised his father and so he wore it unless he was firefighting. His breathing deepened as he prepared for the growls and grunts of physical violence and slid the warm metal of the brassknuckles onto his hand. There was the grip in the center that would dig into his hand eventually, chafing at the callouses there and an awkward pressure between his fingers as his grip adjusted. But he had fought with them before and soon the discomfort of the brass knuckles faded and he simply picked out which of the nine he would take on.

The leader and the mouthy one were for Carlitos for sure, likely another two as well. Maya was surprisingly adept with that baton and West would be a hell of a grappler if his body weight ever matched his ferocity but they were both still smaller. Together they'd take one or two. The rest were Reapers. He might not be willing to kill but he would certainly make them wish for that mercy.

There was no more talking, all of the gangsters present seemed to feel the same change in tension and lunged towards each other with various cries of violence. This time Maya's warcry wasn't comical, or intended to be playful, it was a full banshee shriek and echoed off of the walls like a siren. The sound of the feminine snarl of blood lust made one of the Madrid mob hesitate and then Reaper was hurtling into a pair of men and couldn't focus past his own circle of pain and violence.

Long ago he had learned how to turn his whole body into a punch and felt skin shear and toughen as blow after blow trained his body. Now, equipped with hardended heart and hands, his fist were weapons of distruction. He felt the left jaw skid off of collarbone of one man but his right cross follow through crunched against the man's jaw. Reaper felt an impact against his ribcage and then his entire body bowled over, a second attacker riding him into the ground and ramming his own blows down onto Reaper's face. An arm sweep kept his profile from being broken and an body thrust freed him of the off balance, lightweight that had tried to take him down.

Another pair of bodies crashed into Reaper, a grappling bundle of Carlitos and the gang leader. Reaper saw a flash of metal, then the Madrid Mobster was screaming in pain, stabbed and left bleeding as Carlitos moved on to the next assailant. Malcolm could do no less and rolled to throw a stomp into his own attackers face before ramming his shoulder into someone's abdomen. A burn of pain skimmed down his back but Reaper didn't focus on it instead feeling whoever he'd knocked to the floor try to stab him again and suddenly his fist was trying to turn the other man's face into a pancake. Before he could permanently destroy the man's features, someone was screaming in pain and the sound of a gun shot went off.

This had been a fist fight, but the moment a gun sounded, everyone scattered for cover. Reaper was panting, not exhausted so much as suddenly aware of his pain. He couldn't check on it now, instead his eyes scanned to see that Carlitos had some how gotten a pistol and fired it into the mouthy Madrid Mobster's body while Maya pressed a hand to her face, trying to staunch a bloody wound. West was near Reaper's side of the street and the mobile Madrid Mobsters were doing their best to pull their more wounded compatriots out of the line of fire.  There were a few corpses on the ground and Reaper wasn't entirely sure one wasn't from him, except that he hadn't had the knife.

"I told you to walk away." Carlitos said, his voice deadly calm. He wasn't breathing hard at all, his body didn't shake with adrenaline or fatigue and it was a more intimidating sight than if he had hollered or growled. The Madrid Mob took this second and final chance and bolted, leaving behind blood, corpses and their pride.

"Malcolm, you have a knife sticking out of your back." West said the moment the coast was clear. But the gunshot had called the policia's attention and sirens were coming closer.

"To the safe house. It's mostly in my vest." Reaper grunted and tried not to move his torso too much. Unlike his mentor, Reaper's hands shook and adrenaline flooded his system, giving him a chance to flee to safety and first aid. But it would fade and the pain would start.

And all of this was just a precursor of things to come. The Mafia men belonging to Logan were coming for them, and Reaper was glad. Now was the time to end this and he was ready to be finished with his vengeance.