Devil's Gambit

Chapter 31

Until the human equivalent of a dirty grease vat came waltzing down the street.

"And what's a bunch of yahoos like you lot doing on my turf?" Marco yelled, spreading his arms out to the side. "My, my, what a pickle you've got yourself into, Luke," he chuckled at Lucas from where he sat on the curb.

The man holding the gun turned back to him, a newfound rage boiling in his eyes as he sneered, realizing Lucas had not only lied to his face, but was associated with the sleaziest man in Southside. Lucas closed his eyes and bowed his head, thinking of Harley as he prepared himself to die. He wanted Harley to be the final thing he saw.

Marco sauntered up to the man in front of Lucas, yanking his own gun out from the waistband of his jeans and pressing it against the Northsider's head, followed by a sharp click as he pulled back on the hammer with his thumb. Lucas' eyes shot open, the fearful expression he once had moments ago infecting the middle aged man's face as he paled.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to lower the gun from my friend, here," Marco breathed heavily into the man's ear.

"I don't take orders from people who are not God-fearing Americans," he hissed, side eyeing Marco as the gangster's head reared back slightly in offense.

"Now am I not a patriot, too? Do I not bleed red, white, and blue?"

"You're not a true patriot," the man seethed in disgust.

"I fought for this country, and I fought to preserve your right to be a shithead with stupid ass opinions!" Marco backed away suddenly, standing with his legs spread in a widened stance, gun still aimed at the Northsider as he gestured for him to come closer.

It was at that moment a group of cop cars with their lights on and sirens off came cruising down the street, using their cars to block the entrance of the road as police started to get out of their cars in a very. . . leisurely. . . pace.

The man actually turned away from Lucas to look back at Marco's taunting body language, not so willing to allow mockery from Southsiders to go unchecked. "Come on, buttercup! You want a fight? We both brought guns to this gun fight!" Marco jabbed, beginning to bounce on the balls of his feet.

When Officer Davies was informed by dispatch that there was a protest occurring on Main Street in Southside, he wasn't exactly certain what he would be getting himself into.

A few people with handmade signs standing on a street corner? Sure.

But not the absolute clusterfuck that beheld him after he turned his SUV down Main Street.

"Sweet Jesus," he breathed, following the rest of the squad on their move to barricade the road with their vehicles, before stepping outside along with Officer Lund, who had parked next to him. He rushed over to the greying cop in his late fifties, hoping to receive some kind of direction. "Officer! What's the protocol for something like this?" Davies breathed, glancing over at the convoy of trucks with huge American flags attached to their beds flapping in the wind, as well as the group of people brandishing weapons wide out in the open.

Officer Lund merely shrugged, hooking his thumbs in his utility belt as he merely watched the scene unfold. "It's a protest. We're just here to monitor the situation."

Davies glanced nervously at the scene before him again, the once bustling line of stores looked deserted, like it was an old Wild West town. He half expected a tumbleweed to go rolling by. That was when he finally noticed the individuals off to the left, and a gasp left his lips.

"That man is holding someone at gunpoint!" He exclaimed, pointing with his left hand at a man sitting on the curb in front of the corner store, another man clearly holding a gun towards his head, and another man. . . hopping around? Davies wasn't too sure about that one.