Judge by the Cover_High School, Drama & Deadly Vices

by Melissa Abigail

  “Konketsuji,” Tyler snarled. “Thinks he’s hot shit ‘cause he’s got some wheels.”

  Ryu whipped around sharply. “What did you call me?”

  “Oh, you can hear now?” Tyler said in mock surprise.

  “You got a problem? It’s not my fault you effed-up the ambush with the Vipers,” Ryu snapped back.

  Tyler didn’t respond, his eyes narrowed, jaw slack as though intent to say something but unsure of just what. The last group mission had been only half-successful. The fact that five thugs built like oxen had been beaten so badly by a bunch of Syndicate brats was more than enough to destroy their street cred. Would-bes and wannabes wouldn’t come an inch within Syndicate turf on Main or steal their profits as the Vipers had tried to do. But the fact that their leader, Wild Dog, had been murdered? It was not a part of the plan, and Matsumoto? Matsumoto loved plans.

  “Doesn’t matter does it? End result is the same,” Tyler finally said.

  “If the end result is the same, why’s Father having me lead this job instead of you? Oh, that’s right—cause you’re an idiot. Bakayaro kon’yaro.”

  Pure loathing, a flash of it, burned in Tyler’s eyes. Ryu tensed his shoulders and braced himself for the impending strike. Before any blows could be thrown, Clyde popped his head into the room, leering in from the doorway.

  “Oi! Break it up you two—Kit's calling y’all to the basement.”

  Slow to sever eye contact, the two filed out of the room with Tyler’s lead. Ryu dodged as Tyler kicked back his heel to trip him. Ryu retaliated with a swift smack to the back of his head.

  They were always like this.

  Maybe it was because they were so alike: both the most messed up in the house. Yet, Tyler was never subtle about his jealousy towards Ryu. Ever since day one they had shared a single room and bunk bed. After being forever forced to climb to the top and hating it, Ryu began to brag about how wonderful it was. That's when Tyler nearly fought him for it. So Ryu "compromised" and permanently took the bottom. They had been ten-years-old then, but still, the petty rivalry didn’t end there. When Ryu began the process of getting tattoos at fourteen, so did Tyler. Ryu got his ears pierced at fifteen, so Tyler got spacers. And every time Ryu got another set of ear piercings, Tyler would go up to a larger gauge. Ryu often thought the spacers and plugs in his ears that stuck out to the side looked ridiculous, and he was sure he'd wind up regretting it. It was a fact that a lobe could only stretch so big before you start looking like your name's supposed to be Dumbo.

  Katsuo greeted them formally, surname only, arms pinned to his sides.

  “Aniki,” they said obediently, then bowed deeply.

  Katsuo regarded them strangely, a deep scowl on his face. By the time the pair had reached the basement, they had managed to land a few hits on each other; their warring was made obvious by their tousled hair and dishevelled clothing.

  “You two. You’ve been fighting again?”

  They stared back calmly, not speaking. Given Katsuo’s tone, it wasn’t a question to be answered or debated.

  “Yamero-yo. I've already told you time and again—this needs to stop. You are the oldest boys in the house. Think about the example you set for your brothers. The Syndicate works best when there is harmony among us. It’s time you start saving all that passion for your missions.” Katsuo paused briefly, allowing the message to register before shifting gears. “I’ve gotten an update from Albert. The others are in position, waiting and ready.” He then focused on Tyler. “Don’t forget, you are strictly back-up tonight. Follow Ryu’s lead. It’s an order.”

  Ryu glanced at Tyler; his eyes were aflame with brows so drawn together they almost looked like one.

  Ryu smirked.

  It was a clear demotion.

  “Y-Yes, Aniki,” Tyler managed, unable to hide the fluster in his voice.

  There was something magical about the brothers. Each had their place. Albert had stellar intuition, and could tell precisely what was wrong with a scheme long before others saw the fatal flaws in it. Bradley was a born hustler and could sell water to Poseidon; he was just that good at convincing anyone of almost anything. Even Dan could lie his way out of most situations. Yuan could hack into pretty much everything short of the great Firewall of China. Clyde wasn't particularly good at anything, but he knew random facts about all sorts of stuff, which occasionally, surprisingly, came in handy. And Ryu? He had been called Devil Half for a reason. Before he could ride a bike, he had mastered the art of the chokehold, pressure-points, and weapon disarmament. The year he’d learned his multiplication tables, he learned how to wield everything from a switchblade to a kendo shinai. By the time he was old enough to take his entrance test for Shady Glenn Academy, he’d already fired a semi-automatic pistol. Twice. And at the age of fifteen, Ryu was a foot soldier fully-trained as an assassin who scarcely missed a target.

  But this wasn't his real power.

  Ryu's real power lay in the mind. He was able to detect patterns and habits, pinpoint insecurities, then see through the thickest, fattest layer of deception for miles around. And he knew how to use it to his advantage to manipulate others. With just a look he'd make grown men cringe with fear at their own shadows. It was a skill hardly anyone could boast about. It was a skill that made him invaluable to White Flower. It was also the skill that made him feared among others twice his size.

  Tyler was a basic foot soldier more suited to hand-to-hand combat. He was quick with his hands, and terrifyingly, especially good with knives. He and Ryu were the same age; however, Tyler was born in the tail-end of January and Ryu, early November. Tyler was the elder by birthright, but he was slipping. It would only be a matter of time before Ryu would outrank him. Permanently. This hit was a test that would prove that he deserved to. As for Tyler, he was sure to fail because he was always trying to be Ryu, but he wasn’t Ryu. Ryu did what was best for the group and didn't go out of his way to fight. He faked crazy. Tyler, on the other hand, lived crazy. In other words, for Ryu, being "soulless"—terrorizing people—was just part of the game, an act. But Tyler genuinely hinted at something else. He loved to do whatever he felt like without thinking twice. He'd also lie, but not the way Dan or the others would for survival. Sometimes Tyler would lie for no reason at all. This was the kind of thing that made Tyler scary. But he didn't scare Ryu. Ryu had mastered the art of indifference.

  And it's kind of hard to instil fear into someone who can't feel.

  It was after dark, and Ryu’s heart thrashed against his ribcage. He strolled on from the crosswalk, dressed in black and grey like a chameleon disappearing into a grimy landscape. His composure? Excellent. His mind? Laser-focused. When the block at last came into view, he glanced sidelong at Tyler who was across the street. Ryu gave the nod, and Tyler was off, backtracking around a chain-link fence until he was out of sight. He’d be waiting for Ryu at the Mazda, their getaway. The one trade-off for having a set of wheels, unfortunately, was having to share.

  Ryu redirected his focus on the block and there was the building, front lot flanked by a white Lexus. So the doctor was in. Working late perhaps?

  The evening’s mission was a simple one, even if the target was different from the regular. He was an MD by the name of Vincent Yap. How could a mere doctor stroke the ire of a crime boss? Turns out he was a crook in his own right, a shady physician who wrote phony prescriptions right out of his office for at least seven, maybe eight years. It must have been a great thing he had going considering the upper floor units and probably half the neighbourhood housed an endless supply of addicts and miserable nobodies. Also known as “patients." Yap and Matsumoto had had a great partnership.

  That was, of course, until the doctor had gotten himself caught by undercover cops.

  Matsumoto had discovered this second-hand, for Yap didn’t chance breaking the news personally. It had been twelve days and the authorities were all over his practice, but for some reason there’d been no arrest. Rumou
r had it Yap was going to talk. If there was one thing Matsumoto didn’t like, it was untrustworthy people. Rats.

  “It’s a given. If he can’t be silenced, well, he must be eliminated.”

  Those were Matsumoto’s words.

  So Ryu had to oblige. The downside was if cops were onto Yap, this place would be on their radar. That meant if cops were on the prowl, they might actually do something if they saw something, a rarity on the East Side. Ryu had to be careful. Fortunately, the others were there on lookout. Plus, Wednesday was a one-off day for stuff to go down. No one would see it coming. And, besides, this was just some old-man doctor anyway. Easy.

  Ryu at last met the base of the building and he narrowed his eyes, recalling the mental image of the floor plan he had three days to memorize. He looked both ways. No sign of his brothers, but he was certain they were in position. He continued on to the back, through the alley, round behind towards twin dumpsters. The back door was in full view. At any moment, the doctor would leave for the day and Ryu would be there, ready to plant one between his eyes.

  Zzzzt. Zzzzzzt.

  Ryu froze, feeling a strange vibration in his pocket, from the side of his jeans that didn’t hold his Glock. That couldn’t be right. No one was supposed to be calling him just then. He peered around before cautiously pulling himself into a corner, phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t answer with words, but his heavy breathing was sure indication to the caller on the other line he was listening.

  “Dev—listen—real talk,” Albert whispered, his voice rushed, disjointed and neurotic, like the movements of a squirrel. “—it’s a no-go.”

  Ryu knitted his brows. “Slow down. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, Doc knows. I got a gut-feeling he’s been tipped off. I haven’t heard from B. We’re not alone. Someone other than us is staking the place.”

  Ryu could feel his skin crawl. Someone else? Did that mean what he thought it did?

  “Where are you? Have you seen Tiger yet?”

  “Seriously, I don’t even know. Me and D had to move a block farther than planned—some super-sketchy dude was giving us this ‘look.' Anyway, the update is this—Y hacked into Doc’s computer. He erased everything linking back to the Syndicate. Me and D were on lookout—we saw B go in, you know, sayin' he was fundraising for Air Cadets. But I’m telling you he went in and hasn’t come out. It’s been twenty-fricking-minutes.”

  Not a good sign. If Albert was panicked, then something was about to go wrong. Horribly. Ryu sped back through the alleyway and circled around to the building’s front. He yanked at the doors. Locked. He whirled around and stared wide-eyed at the parking lot. The Lexus was gone.

  “The hell?” Ryu muttered breathlessly, a terrible gut-feeling coming over him, his senses surging into overdrive.

  The doors were locked. The doctor’s car was gone. Albert and Dan were not in the planned location. And where the hell was Bradley? Call it what you might. Intuition. A psychic episode, maybe. But Ryu preferred the words “common sense." First he heard the rush of footsteps, then he saw the shadow from behind and before he could count to one, he felt nothing but a searing ache in his side. He stumbled, seeing stars from yet another blow, this time to the side of his face. He could taste the salt of blood on his tongue. Next he was being carried—no—dragged.

  “You sure this is the one?”

  “Positive, man.”

  “Really? This kid?”

  Ryu blinked, his vision going in and out of focus. Then he heard someone say something in Chinese. Must have been one heck of a joke because the laughter that came after sounded like it were channelled through a megaphone. Ryu blinked again, his vision slowly cleared and those blurry figures became people: two guys in monochrome tones, their smiles wide, their looks terrible. Bad news was written all over them.

  “You search him yet?”

  Those were the words that sent off Ryu’s alarm bells. He passed a hand over his left side, but before he could reach they sailed forward to wrench his arms back. No! He let them get to it first!

  “Check out this gun. Damn. This kid was packing, for real?”

  A split second. That’s all it would take for these guys to turn it on him and render him at their mercy. Ryu couldn’t let that happen. He trained hard for times just like this one. Ryu channelled his power. With the roar of a feral creature he ducked, sending at least one of the guys over his head. He didn’t think, he only reacted, and in an instant he’d gotten both men off his back and on the ground. Ryu stepped to the guy who had taken his gun, now unconscious, studying his ugly, tired mug. This guy wasn’t ordinary. Something about him—them—was hardened. Experienced. The pieces came together. These were hired goons. The doctor had protection. Albert was right, one hundred percent.

  Ryu stooped to retrieve his gun when suddenly—

  “Aniki! Run!”

  “Pick it up, and both of you are dead.”

  Two voices. Ryu knew them both. Still bent over, he lifted his head and the numbness seized hold. Bradley had his arms up, clinging to the arm locked around his neck; behind him with a firm hold was that a–hole with a pistol against his skull. He looked the same as the last time Ryu had seen him: sides of his hair shaved, top piled high and slicked like a crown. He stared with those droopy, hard-to-forget eyes, like the look of someone perpetually sleep-deprived. He was the one thug who Ryu despised most—the one guy who’d done him in once before, one year, seven months prior to this day. The one who, if Ryu wasn’t careful, had the power to murder his unbeatable reputation and more: Jo Szeto.

  “You…” Ryu breathed. He gradually came to a stand, not daring to touch his gun.

  “Been a while,” Szeto muttered, a grin on his thin face as though the encounter was something he long anticipated. “Found your friend inside. Not too bright was he, though—coming in there alone.”

  “How long have your guys been working for the doctor?” Ryu asked, glaring coldly.

  Szeto snickered in response, but Ryu was dead serious. He didn’t know what part of what he had said was funny.

  “Working for the doctor? Yap’s been working for us. You White Flowers honestly believe he’s been just supplying to you and pocketing all that cash for himself? You’d be wrong. He’s been handing over his dues. Besides, half the shit your mob's been getting were fakes anyway—provided by yours truly.”

  Ryu felt suddenly ill.

  So Yap was either a victim of extortion or the seediest of middlemen, a co-conspirator with the Rooster Kingz, a street gang notorious for its Triad connections. Matsumoto had miscalculated—this hit was doomed from the start.

  Ryu glanced at Bradley whose eyes were round and glassy, his face, paper white. This crew was not about to get tangled in this web. Change of plans. Priority number one? Get out of there.

  “Let him go,” Ryu uttered behind clenched teeth.

  “Not a freaking chance,” Szeto sneered, then shifted his arm to point his gun at Ryu. “Obviously this runt isn’t the real target here. It’s you. But for real, we could use a kid like him `round our block. What you say, little brother?”

  “Screw you. You ain’t my brother,” Bradley snarled. Rather brave for a kid who'd just had a gun to his head. Admirable, if not stupid.

  “So? What—you’d rather work for the Japs? You think they care about you? You’re Chinese, fool! Wake up!”

  “Shut your hole or I'll shut it for you, Szeto!" Ryu snapped. "Does it matter? All of us are the same, aren’t we? We’re all doing the same thing. In the end, nothing matters except whether we live, die or make bank!”

  "What do you think this is? Sesame Street?" Szeto jeered. "All the same? Ain't nothin' the same about us, you wannabe-yakuza half-breed."

  Ryu's blood brimmed to the surface with Szeto’s eyes locked menacingly on him like two red laser pointer dots. Half-breed? Ryu had been called every foul name in the book. Every one. But none of them roused his fury quite like that o
ne. Ryu trembled, in his head mulling over all the possible forms of retribution he could deliver. He was consumed, so consumed he could barely detect, hardly feel the vibration from his phone. Once its faint buzz crossed his ear, he refocused and the light bulb went off. Ryu smirked at the caller's timeliness. He raised his hand, allowing it to hover precariously over his vibrating pocket as though he'd hidden a weapon there. At the same time, Ryu spied danger through the corner of his eyes. At least one of Szeto's buddies had finally come to, crawling to his knees and lumbering to his feet. Between this and Ryu's hand over his pocket—all of this was just movement enough to steal Szeto’s attention from Bradley who then made the two-part strike–takedown that sent Szeto spinning into the concrete.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t before Szeto's pistol went off into the air from a finger still hot on the trigger.

  “RUN!” Ryu hollered to Bradley, then made a mad-dash for his Glock. Before anyone could blink twice, they heard the sound they dreaded most: sirens. Szeto scrambled and bounded away like a jackrabbit. Ryu followed suit, not at all eager to be questioned and frisked by the cops or begin round two with the other jokers. Bradley had gotten a head start in the opposite direction, and though prayer scarcely entered Ryu’s mind, he prayed that both of them would get out of this mess unscathed.

  Albert must have seen the cops first.

  He must have tried to warn him with that second call.

  Ryu sprinted across the street, past the chain-link fence. The Mazda. He had to get to the Mazda. But just as he started down the sidewalk, the lonely strip where the old factory was, and the abandoned buildings perpetually marked “For Lease," he saw the car was not where he had parked it. It was gone… and so was Tyler.

  Ryu gaped into the distance, incredulous. Tyler had bailed.