Living the life of a manual laborer was a burden most people accepted without complaint.
Fifty-eight-year-old Ananda Mitchell spent twelve hours a day cooking, cleaning, and washing laundry at the Grover Ridge Nursing Home.
By the time she made it home, she was exhausted.
Her feet hurt. Her back was aching. All she wanted was a hot bath, to soothe the ache in her body.
But it was hard to relax with her grandsons out on a night like Halloween.
"You may as well relax, woman... You already know that Lemario has taken Dorian with him... It's his birthday."
Ananda Mitchell gave a nod of agreement.
She always worried about her grandsons being out past curfew. It was something that would always disrupt her peace, or allow her to sleep.
Their neighborhood was not the safest place in the city, and she dreaded the thought of something happening to her grandsons. They were the only family she had left.
It was just like Lemario to influence Dorian to break curfew, and not even let her know that they were safe, she brooded in silence. But, punishing them had to be postponed until she heard from them...
That was where Mr. Mack had always come in at.
He was her voice of reason and the virtue of her patience.
Thomas Macklin had been her closest neighbor for over forty years. He had been babysitting for her kids and grandkids since the early seventies.
A military veteran that walked with the limp of a shrapnel-torn left leg, Mr.Mack was like Big Nannah's surrogate husband. He kept her company when she needed someone to hear her vent about the trials of her life.
When a sharp knock at the door resonated through the apartment, it caught both of their attention.
They exchanged a look that spoke volumes.
Who the hell would be beating on a person's door like they were deranged, and charged up off of candy...
Only the hellions that lived in their apartment complex.
"Trick or Treat," came a muffled voice on the other side of the door.
Mr. Mack waved Big Nannah back to her seat on the sofa. He was the closest one to the door and wanted to spare her the trouble of getting up.
When he opened the door and saw the man standing before him, his brow crinkled in confusion.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the Reaper." The man stated and began trying to push his way through the threshold of the apartment.
A tussle ensued within the doorway.
Mr.Mack stood his ground and used his foot to brace himself against Kenny's attempt to muscle his way into Big Nannah's home.
"Ananda, run!" he cried out, certain that the man before him had come to send someone to the cemetery.
At that moment Kenny's original plan to kidnap Swaylo's grandmother, and force him to submit to an ambush, went out of the window...
He had to implement his second option.
The bark of gunfire thundered through the darkness of the apartment building and drew the attention of every night stalker on the block.
Slugs doubled Mr. Mack over like a lawn chair and ended his struggle to keep Kenny from entering the apartment.
Ananda Mitchell stumbled to her feet and tried to run for the back door. Her chance of making it was futile.
Kenny rose his pistol to take a shot, but a surge of weight knocked him off balance. A bullet discharged from his weapon and blew a hole into the 60-inch television.
Mr. Mack emitted a snarl like an animal as he clawed at Kenny's gun hand, attempting to wrestle the weapon from his grip.
A frantic growl of derangement met Mr. Mack's effort to detain the intruder, as Kirkwood Kenny headbutt him, snatched his gun hand free, and shot him point-blank.
Brain matter blew like a sneeze of spaghetti across the carpet that was laid within the front foyer.
Big Nannah stumbled against a chair that sat out from the dining table, near the entranceway into the kitchen.
Using the stove to push herself to her feet, the bark of gunfire drew her attention a heartbeat before her eyes met with those of the man who had just put Mr. Mack's brain on the carpet.
She tried to take a stride toward the rear door, but bullets sent her sprawling across the linoleum floor.
The feel of blood oozing from her body compelled Big Nannah to do something that she hadn't done in a while...
Pray that God gives her a chance to see another day.
Before he could enter the apartment and finish off Swaylo's grandmother, a cluster of guys came running in his direction.
Kirkwood Kenny had to get back to the car before they could corner him inside of their territory.
Without breaking stride Kenny ran along the walkway of the apartment building, shooting shots to make the cluster of men scramble for cover.
Gunshots were exchanged as he made it to the passenger's side of the car.
The rear windshield shattered. Shards of glass could be heard cascading across the concrete.
The expulsion of air, that came from a blown tire, struck by a bullet reverberated through the darkness.
Kenny knew that every second spent pent down behind the car allowed the group of gunners to circle his position, and catch him in a crossfire.
He slithered across the seat to take possession of his assault weapon.
When the drumroll of his AR15 thundered through the darkness, everybody began diving for cover.
Before they could recover their bearings, Kenny dove across the seat, slid beneath the steering wheel and sent Karen's car speeding away from the apartment building.
Gunshots followed in his wake until he made a screeching turn onto the intersecting street.
After he hit Memorial Drive and merged into traffic heading west, Kirkwood Kenny drove to the MacDonald's and had Karen drive them to Grady Hospital.
Time was running out, and he was tired of waiting for Swaylo to show up...
In a quest to beat an enemy, there are no rules worth acknowledging, except doing whatever it took to win...
And Kirkwood Kenny could anticipate one place that Swaylo would be before the night ended.
At the hospital, to check on the status of his grandmother.
When the screech of tires faded into oblivion, Brian Beasley and Corey Babineau entered Big Nannah's apartment to find Mr. Mack laid across the front carpet.
A quick perusal over every room visible, and Bald Bull saw Big Nannah stretched out over the kitchen floor; blood oozing from her upper torso and pooling around her body.
He rushed to her side, checked her pulse, and saw that she was still alive.
C-Murder began calling 911, to have paramedics sent to their location.
Bald Bull decided not to wait, and scooped her up into his arms."Go and get your car!" he barked, cradling Big Nannah in his arms like a baby.
Amidst the darkened streets of Eastlake Meadows, a collective effort was made by everyone in their neighborhood, to get Swaylo's grandmother to the hospital. Her pulse was faint. Her body was limp.
And blood was flowing from her and saturating Bald Bull's t-shirt.
Within that moment in which a person understands that his actions reflect the extent that someone else is willing to go, to prove a point, or do something despicable just to hurt them...
It's hard to accept forgiveness.
Guilt has a way of clinging to a person's shoulders, to make sure that they carry the full weight of blame.
When Swaylo was notified of what had happened, it hit him as a shockwave had rumbled through his insides.
The realization that what had happened, was a consequence built from ignoring the threat posed to his family by not acting to eliminate a proven enemy, had Swaylo driven to kill Kenny wherever he found him.
But, he was not the only person searching for Kenny.
Once the call to 911 was made, to report the shots fired, and a DOA in Eastlake Meadows, FBI agents began driving to that location.
Special Agents Anthony Price and Carl Wainwright sent the SWAT unit to the location of the domestic disturbance, as they went to investigate who had been involved in the shooting.
They never knew how close death was to their own door...
Until they found themselves at the business end of a gun barrel, in the hands of a lunatic.
Every man fears a day when the timeline of their life has come to an end...
The manhunt for Kirkwood Kenny did not work out quite as they had planned.
No one can account for what a man will do when cornered like an animal.
The potency of desperation is a powerful emotion, that disallows a reasonable response to its madness.
And Kirkwood Kenny had no plans of being taken in alive.