The temperatures in the small town were always cruel. The shops used to shutting business very early. Locals usually take refuge in the warmth of their homes before nightfall. Police don't leave their heated patrol car, not even for all the pizza in the world. Land without law, the strongest rule. As the sun goes down, the visceral city emerges. The landscape changes so fast, its movement of colours and smells. They flow from the sewers of society. They are the residents of the parallel city, who inhabit the most hostile. Smugglers, pimps, hookers and various other perverts.
My vehicle walks at a man's step along the frosted street. The ice squeaks crushed by the tires. With the window down, I greet as I pass my colleagues from the illegal. The arm resting on the window, is caressed by the girls who slide some bills as a contribution. They all work happily and safely, knowing that we are watching over their protection.
Leaving the main street one block ahead I see a silhouette. There is no Sioux in that corner. Excited by the possibility of some fun I approached keeping the car stealthy. He's not a customer, he's selling. In our area. He must work alone, no band would be so suicidal as to enter our territory.
I approach with the low window and I make a sign. The ember of his cigar shone in the darkness. He emerged from the gloom as if crawling, consumed by bad life, in clothing that had known better times. He approached hunched over, like a bad cartoon. I smelled it strong and sour before seeing it at all. When I had him in range I opened the door violently, knocking on his legs. He fell backwards before he understood what was happening.
"Son of a bitch" I said as I got out of the car. When he first saw me he started to back up, shaking - "This is Sioux territory" - I started kicking him, pure fun. When I heard a weak whining over the sound of my blows. I stopped and I checked his clotes while, with my free hand, I slapped him. I took out a bag of about 5 grams of cocaine and a nearly new pack of cigarettes. I smiled in ecstasy.
"If I don't kill you, it's to tell your friends. This is a no-go area" I spat on the floor, lit a tobacco from his package - "I'll share you one" - and threw it lighted over his chest.
I got in the car and slowly drove away. The rearview mirror reflected the rat sneaking into an alley. While I was driving I opened the big bag of coca and decided to turn it into my dinner. I took a card between the car's mess and used it as a paddle. I loaded the dust to the maximum and vacuumed hard. My body tensed as I felt the bitter substance slide down deep into my nose. One rigid hand held the steering wheel, the other closed the bag and put it in the shirt pocket. When this was over, I took out a cigarette and lit it. The flame of the Zippo flashed in my eyes, I took a long puff and drove myself to the tank.
Arriving at the building he honked his horn and a light was seen through a small door on the side. After identifying my car, the metal shutter in the garage began to open with a noise of chains. I passed through the warehouse, the boxes of furniture to be assembled are stacked up to the ceiling. Inside the boxes are actually the most sophisticated weapons on the market. I went to the offices. I open the door and see Pau and Wally on the couch, they liked expensive whisky and there is no whiskey more expensive than in my office. I think they are the only two people who have that level of confidence. Others would end up with electrodes on their balls.
We had a plan to eradicate a rapidly growing rivals gang. They are not a threat yet. Their leaders are clever, but violent and irrational. People who understand only about blood and money. It took us a long time to delimit territories and find peace between the gangs. A fragile peace, almost a lie; but it was far from war. These, the free birds, are a group of ex-prisoners who organized the seizure of a territory from the prison. When they were released on probation, they executed their plan and in a matter of weeks the entire northern territory had changed its administration. It was a bloody night, hundreds died. The other gangs did not intervene, maybe it was a mistake. From there the cartel began to grow rapidly, its borders began to expand. The leaders were restless, their territories had not been attacked but the "jackals" were growing like a plague of locusts. They increased day by day. Cargo robberies began first, then the kidnapping of sex workers. Yesterday the first murder took place in Hindu territory. When your area ceases to be safe, your subordinates begin to lose respect for you. When they don't respect you, they don't pay you. It doesn't make sense to pay for a security you can't guarantee. The balance is delicate. But the problem ends today. We plan to eliminate the plague of a single movement, without its leaders they are nothing.
It will continue.