

L.A. Ninja II: Rise of the Cartel

By Adrian Huerta

Published by Feela Finston Books

Copyright 2014 Adrian Huerta

Smashwords Edition

this book is dedicated to my daughter Valentina, who has inspired me so greatly during the writing of this book; and also to Phoebe, whose passing has impacted me greatly, and for whom I think about in each day's zephyr;

LA Ninja II: Rise of the Cartel

Table of Contents:

Chapter I: Life After the War

Chapter II: Acting on a Whim

Chapter III: The Tolan Brotherhood

Chapter IV: Dealing with Change

Chapter V: Breaking Old Habits

Chapter VI: Night Out on the Town

Chapter VII: The New Moons

Chapter VIII: Tragic Destiny

Chapter IX: It's a Small World, After All

Chapter X: Falling for the Girl

Chapter XI: Coping with New Skills

Chapter XII: Score One for the Cartel

Chapter XIII: New Cools, New Fools

Chapter XIV: Blast From the Past

Chapter XV: The Angry Flower

Chapter XVI: Rise of the Cartel

Chapter XVII: Finding Love Again

Chapter XVIII: Never Satisfied

Chapter XIX: The New You

Chapter XX: Don't Trust the Hunch

Chapter XXI: Going Back to Cali

Chapter XXII: A Sign of Danger

Chapter XXIII: Brotherhood and Betrayal

Chapter XXIV: Surprise Goodbye

Chapter XXV: Trusting Intuition

Chapter XXVI: Starting a New Life...Again

Chapter XXVII: Shut and Open Case

Chapter XXVIII: Vida

Chapter I: Life After the War

Edmund lay with his girlfriend on a blanket, on the soft beach sand. She squirmed and giggled endlessly as he tickled her sides. She could not escape his grip. They rarely went to the beach at night, or in the day for that matter, for in LA the beaches were patrolled well. Still, Edmund and Gloria decided to chance it on this late evening.

Gloria rubbed Edmund's tightly shaved head. He loved it when broads did that. He smiled, but he could only see her from the faded light of her iPhone. He put his cold hand on her, under her shirt against her cold stomach, and then quickly up to her breast. He could always have his way with her.

The waves crashed thunderously, and the darkness and emptiness of the sand made them feel desolate. It made them feel even more alone and isolated from the their crazy LA world. They could barely hear the sound of the Motown oldies playing on her radio app. She tried pushing his hand away, but not with urgency. "What," he said before he kissed her and cupped her breast tighter. She gave up her fight.

They didn't feel the cold as things heated up between them. They kissed with more passion, and she moaned with pleasure as he kissed her neck and moved his hands down to her pants, working quickly to unbutton them and reach down to her. Her crotch was thick, but he didn't care. He unbuttoned and pulled his down partially, and then he took her.

Edmund was a proud-ass gangster. He had been down for his shit since fourteen, which now at nineteen, made him hardcore. He was known as Rider from the Harbor City Hoods gang, and he proudly showed off his "HCH" tattoo on his arms, back, and head. He started ballin' even harder, too, since he started his own circle of street soldiers, moving a gang of meth and weed, and finally earning cash and respect. He knew he was the shit.

"Watch this," he told Gloria. "I'm gonna tag this shit up for the west side." He sat up and grabbed his backpack satchel.

"Where you going?" she whined in protest.

"You'll see, girl," he said as he kissed her and ran off, disappearing into the darkness. He reached the beach wall and pulled out a can of spray paint. He began tagging it with the outline of an "H". As he worked, his mind became focused. He rarely tagged walls, as the act was left for the younger gangsters, but he loved doing it. He gave himself a pass on it anyways, since he was so down for so much other crazier shit.

He finished the outline and he reached for his bag to nozzle another color. He didn't see the cops roll up on him, and before he knew it, he was trapped by two of them. "Freeze right there!" a cop yelled out as the light from the flashlight sat suddenly upon him. He knew he was fucked.

"Put your fucking hands up now!" the cop ordered. Edmund calculated his chances of making a run for it, but he knew in an instant that he had none. This was it. He let go of the thought of fighting.

"Keep your hands up!" the cop ordered again, with a firm holler. "Do not move! If you move we will fire on you!"

The other cop approached and then kicked the satchel out of Edmund's reach. He then grabbed one of Edmund's arms and then the other, cuffing him. "What is your name?" the cop barked as he searched Edmund's pockets. The other cop began searching the bag, pulling out the two cans of paint and tossing them down.

"What is your name, asshole? You are under arrest," the cop said calmly.

"Look here, partner," the other cop said, pulling out a small piece of foil.

"And what might that be?" the cop said, almost with a laugh. He flashed his light into Edmund's eyes, and then around his head and arms. Edmund subtly looked out into the distance. He thought that he could make out a faint silhouette of Gloria, but he couldn't be sure. That bitch was gonna get away. He sighed and rolled his eyes slightly. He fucked up. He should have never brought that ho down here. It was her fault.

"And lookie here," the other cop said, pulling out a baggie with white rocks in it. Edmund did not flinch. He knew they'd find the dope, but he didn't see the cop add a second baggie to the piling evidence against Edmund, enough to bust him for dealing, which carried a higher sentence rather than just possession. The first cop continued with the flashlight, lifting up Edmund's shirt to look at the tattoos on his back.

"Looks like we got another small time gangster from Harbor City Hoods," the cop declared in victory.

"Fuckin' eh," the second cop declared. "Looks like we got him for meth and felony graffiti and vandalism of public property."

"Another shit stain off the streets is what I call it, partner."

"Fuck yeah," they laughed, before taking Edmund to the car and to county jail for booking.

***

The L.A. Ninja quietly finished off his shift and began his long walk home. Life had become dreary and routine. He was permanently under a dark cloud of sorrow. He had been fortunate enough to find work in construction and was currently working on a large building renovation project in downtown L.A.

He found some solace in walking home to his apartment, passing the busy streets and vibrant parks. It had proven too difficult to stay in his parent's home with the constant reminder of his shattered life. Instead, he chose to live in some cheap random apartment near the jobsite in a poorer part of LA. He blended in as a nobody, and it suited him fine. Day in and day out, his sad, tragic life had become a depressed state of deep hypnotism.

Gabe made it to his street and he approached his building. He was sweating in the late summer heat as he reached the entrance to the shabby two-story building. The busy street noise blended in with the clicking of the rust colored metal screen door that he pushed open. He walked into the dark hallway and walked to the first door on his left. He unlocked it and found his excited pit bull, Roxy, there to greet him.

"Hey girl! How was your day, huh? Did you miss me?" he said, crouching down to pet her. "Let's get you outside," he said, leashing her collar and heading back out. It was quieter than normal. There were only six apartments on each floor. He'd been there for six months and had seen the tenants from each unit.

Gabe knew he was not his normal self. He was some detached version of himself. He never noticed the little things anymore. He paid less attention to everything. His sadness shrouded his senses, placing him far away from the prodigious ninja that he had once been. He walked Roxy back out the front door of the building and he noticed the young girl from down the hall, outside, coloring something on the asphalt with a piece of chalk. He wondered if she had always been there. Had he simply not noticed from only minutes before? He made brief eye contact with her and then he moved on, taking Roxy to a nearby patch of grass.

Roxy quickly relieved herself and then Gabe walked her on towards the park. They spent a lot of time at the park. Roxy led the way, walking a slow mopey pace, unwittingly reflecting Gabe's demeanor, perfectly. They had grown so close since he'd rescued her and it was as if they'd always been together.

The passed an alleyway to the right, and they both ignored a drunk sitting by a dumpster, talking to himself. They crossed the street when the traffic cleared and they ended up at the park. Minutes later they found themselves at a bench under the increasing shade of the dwindling day. There were a few kids playing and a few other people exercising. Gabe looked out at the expanse of the grass and large trees, following them with his eyes as they extended the length of three city blocks.

He felt peace, the kind of sad, bitter peace that was the only feeling left after a war and each day's sun rise meant that life just kept going on. His mind drifted back in time then. He saw his mom cooking dinner in the kitchen. It was the same scene that he replayed often. It was the way he best remembered her. She smiled at him while mixing something in her pot. She wore a dirty blue apron, which Gabe hated at the time, due to its stains and frayed edges. "Get a new one already!" he'd bark at her like an ungrateful little asshole son. He felt the guilt over it bite at his stomach. He would give anything to see her in that apron again. He'd give anything to go back to that moment and tell her that he loved her apron, and that he loved her and he was sorry for all the times he'd been such a jerk. He didn't cry, this time.

He looked out and saw some cholo gangsters in white t-shirts hanging out by a tree in the distance. They were drinking 40 oz. beers covered in paper bags. Gabe wondered if they were no good gangsters, or just kids kicking it, as he once did. A woman jogged by them and a couple of the guys followed behind her, mockingly, before giving up and laughing. One of them crumpled up paper bag and threw it at her.

Gabe didn't care about them. He didn't care about the gangsters anymore. The city seemed overrun, and they were too great in number for him. His fight was over. He sighed as he realized that he had forgotten Roxy's favorite ball. He looked at her, and his eyes followed her brown and white skin down her back to her tail. He loved her now. He patted her huge head. "Sorry for forgetting your ball again, Rox."

She licked his hand once, as if to say that she didn't care. It had once amazed him how much it seemed that she understood him, but he was used to it now. Gabe thought of Amaya. He wondered where she was in time and space. He wondered why she never visited anymore. He dreamt about her sometimes, but not as often as he'd hoped. He carried immense guilt for not being there to protect her. He knew she'd be alive had he been there. He knew Mom and Dad would be too. His face turned to stone. He stared at the limb of a large tree. He thought about hanging himself from it later that night. He could easily do it.

***

Sergio Munoz sat in his airplane seat, flying towards South America, completely unsure of what to expect. He went on leave from the force with the possibility of full re-instatement upon his return, which was what the deal Lt. Mendez had agreed to. Lt. Mendez had been all too eager to get Munoz out of his life. He left his friend and partner, Ryan Carter there to fend for himself. He trusted that Carter would be ok, but he still felt bad doing it. For now, Munoz was following the signs that God was leaving for him. He was following God's destiny for him, and it was taking him to Chile.

He was nervous. He had tracked down his family and he found his grandmother. On the phone he only spoke to one of his cousins, Rafael, but he was assured that Grandma was not only welcoming his visit, but had been expecting him. He thought it an odd thing to say, but he was not shocked by it. Sergio had been feeling that his decisions were being guided by an unseen force. He wondered if it were God, Himself, something else, or maybe just his imagination and nothing at all.

Whatever God, or his own imagination, was compelling him to do, he'd never been more certain of his trip. He was desperate to connect with his family. He had grown confused jaded by his work on the police force. He knew that evil was winning in the war of good versus evil. He had seen too much evil and atrocity. He had seen too many victims and too many shitbags being guided by the hands of the devil. He felt helpless to do anything about it. For every criminal he took off the streets, five more popped up to replace him. The system was not working, and guys like Lt. Mendez just made everything worse. He was losing his faith in the world.

The flight was longer than he ever expected. He had never left the country, not even during his four years with the Army. He finally dozed off on the plane though, and when he did, he dreamt. It was a dark night, and he was by the light of a fire. He could hear horses, and he looked to his left to see a few rustling in their barn enclosures.

"Sergio," he heard a woman's voice call out, in Spanish, over the radio. He put his hand on his side to feel his radio, but he was distracted by the light of the fire. He wandered towards it. He looked out into the sky. He could see the bright moon in the sky and some mountaintops in the distance. He strained his eyes, and he could see people the size of ants, dancing on the mountaintop.

"Sergio," he heard the woman call out again. He reached for his belt to grab the radio when he saw a woman with short grey hair smiling at him from next to the fire. He wondered if she was a ghost.

"Hello?" he said.

"Sergio, welcome home," she said in Spanish. She smiled and he felt comforted by her. "Together, we will find you, my son." The fire dulled and the woman disappeared. The horses neighed out again. He approached one of them and looked at the whites of his big eyes. The horse called to him by nodding his head playfully.

"Tito," Sergio said. "Hola, Tito," he said again, brushing his hand over the dark horse. Before he knew it, he was riding Tito on the sand. Tito ran hard, and Sergio barely held on, but he peered out over the ocean and watched the dancing moonlight shimmer along side them. He felt an incredible peace come over him. He woke up suddenly, still on the plane.

"Senor?" he looked up to find the flight attendant holding out a plate of food. "Dinner?" he asked in Spanish.

"Si, por favor," Sergio said. He would have to get used to talking in Spanish again.

***

Edmund made his way through booking and processing and found himself sitting in a county jail cell. He'd been to County once before, on an assault charge. He had done six months in the youth authority detention facility too, for his part in a jacking a car. He knew this time would be different. He would be locked up for longer this time. He had been on guard all afternoon. From everything he knew, he was being watched closely. Eyes were everywhere.

He tried to look tough. He kept a straight face. There would be rival gangs there. He would have to fight. He could never let his guard down. They would show up, if not now, maybe later, and for sure before it was all over. He was ready to fight. He was ready to throw down and show everyone that he had what it took to wear his colors and represent for the 'raza', and for Harbor City Hoods.

At night, though, he thought about how he had fucked up. He filled with regret and anger. He had been careless. He should have stayed with Gloria, he thought to himself. Nah, fuck that, he said to himself. He should have never hooked up with her. It was her fault. He should have left her back at the pad with the rest of the hoodrats. He should have just cruised it, out to the streets to slang that rock, make that paper, and handle his business. He should have known better. Bitches only got in the way. He'd never make that mistake again.

He was lucky to get through his time at county jail with only a few scrapes. The prisoners had been packed into bunks in an open area, like sardines. He had seen some of the homies from the 40th Street Rollers that he knew. They weren't rivals, and they had some stories to tell. It was that fool, Ceezo, that started shit and wanted to tangle. He was bigger in size, but Edmund held his ground and finally got him in a headlock, but not before he broke Ceezo's ribs. That action, along with the meth charge and the tagging, got him six years in the Lompoc State Penitentiary.

Chapter II: Acting on a Whim

Deep into the middle of the night, a dark ninja crept through a densely wooded forest in the Santa Cruz Mountains of central California, carefully staying hidden from the light of the moon. He had stopped only once, to marvel at the size of the immense conifers, never before seeing trees of such large proportion. He thought the land strange, and foreign to his native Japan, but similar, still, in some ways. His focus was infallible though, and he finally, after trekking through the woods for two miles, zeroed in on his target.

He silently came upon a large property in a cleared area, at the flattened peak of a low hill. The ninja crept quickly through the grass, undetected, and then he stopped short of the large two-story home. He froze in the darkness of the shadow of the moon. He peered over the large property and spotted light from a television coming from a downstairs window. He saw no other lights.

He quickly moved and found the electrical panel, snipping the power source with his cutters. The dark ninja then leapt, grabbing the edge of the balcony before pulling himself up. He easily shredded the vinyl plastic cover to the balcony door, before inserting a pick to pry the latch up. He then slid the door open and he was in the master bedroom of the house.

He looked over the sleeping wife of his target and fired a single poison dart into her neck, ensuring her an endless sleep. He then moved quickly and silently on his toes, out of the bedroom. He could hear the shuffling of steps downstairs. He could hear the muttering of the mark, whom seemed drunk, the ninja thought. The dog growled slightly, and the ninja could hear him become nervous and agitated. The ninja crept down the stairs towards them, spotting the dog, then firing another poison-tipped dart. The dog whinnied once before faltering in confusion.

He went downstairs and spotted the stumbling man walking towards the front door with his flashlight. The man had been too drunk to notice his dog going down. The dark ninja came upon him without notice and drew his sword, striking the man down from behind. The lethal gash dropped him as he let out a crying gasp. The ninja finished him off with a vicious slice across his neck.

His mark was down. His mission was complete. He then quickly and quietly left through the front door, careful not to leave prints or any other indication of his presence, even going as far as retrieving the darts from his two poisoned victims.

***

Edmund Reyes had a lot of time to think now. Six years was a lifetime. Six years before, he was only thirteen. He had learned so much and gone through so much since then. It was forever ago. He tried not to dwell on that, but it was hard. He tried not to have regret, but it was hard too. He should've known better than to let his guard down. He would not make that mistake again, he vowed.

He was still barely adjusting to life in prison. There was never a quiet moment. His cellmate, a Chicano by the name of Jaime, seemed cool, but there was something off about him. Edmund didn't trust him. He hadn't slept well in the three days since arriving. The guards were assholes, but Edmund didn't let them faze him. They could talk shit and call him whatever they wanted. He was more worried about the hard dudes in the yard. They had been getting closer to him each time he went out.

The annoying loud buzz went off like clockwork and the cell locks released. It was time to go out. "Today's cherry picking day, homes," uttered Edmund's cellmate, Jaime.

"What do you mean, fool?" asked Edmund. Jamie chuckled.

That was the other thing, Edmund thought to himself. Jaime not only talked a lot, but he was always playing games. Edmund followed Jaime out and sized up the shorter, stockier, gangster once again. There was still a high probability that they would end up fighting each other, sooner rather than later. Jaime looked strong. He was in his forties. Maybe he was slower, but if he got a hold of Edmund, it might be lights out. Edmund hoped it wouldn't get to that, but if it did, he'd clock him so hard and pound him in until he gave up or died. Whatever it took.

"My old lady was supposed to put money on my books," Jaime went on, but Edmund only half listened as they walked down the stairs. He could see out into the yard now. It was like being at school, he thought. School for all the shady, crooked, thieving, murdering fucks in the land.

"Catch you later, homes," Edmund said as they got out into the yard. He could feel the stares on him. He walked straight and proud though. No fake gangster lean. He kept his head and eyes forward. He felt nervous, anxious for when somebody would strike. He knew it was coming at any moment. He heard some commotion and he turned to his right to spot a fight in the distance. Two guys were throwing punches, and they fell onto the ground, in a wrestle. A small crowd of eager onlookers cheered them on. A guard casually walked towards them to break it up.

Edmund then spotted what he was looking for, leaning against a wall in the shade. He found someone he knew, Pesky, from back in the day. He was lucky not to be alone in such a dangerous and wild place. Pesky had once been a veterano gangster from Harbor City Hoods. Edmund barely remembered him, but he recognized him from his HBH tattoo during lunch on his first day there. Pesky was now in his thirties, and completely doped up on smack, but he was still a familiar face in a foreign place.

As soon as he reached Pesky, Edmund spotted two hard looking gangsters coming towards them. Pesky smiled. Nerves shot, Edmund barely heard Pesky ask him if were ready for 'this'.

On the outside, Edmund tried his hardest to look unfazed, but his mind was trembling with fear. This was it, he thought. These guys were going to test his manhood. They were going to see what he was made of. Adrenaline began to flow through Edmund's veins. Pesky was in on it, clearly. He should've of known not to trust anyone.

Edmund took a deep breath and readied himself for whatever was to come. Like Fonzie would, he turned around and leaned back against the wall and lit a cigarette. He saw the two gangsters clearly now. They were almost upon him. They stared at him, and he froze a hard, serious, look. He didn't flinch.

"What's up, homes," one of them said, greeting Pesky with a handshake.

"Brother," Pesky greeted back, in Spanish.

"Edmund Reyes," the gangster said. Edmund nodded. "They call you, Rider, from the Harbor City Hoods, right?" Edmund nodded. "Come with us," he said. Nervously, Edmund walked forward, in between the two hard-looking, fully tattooed, bald headed gangsters. They were in their forties, Edmund guessed, and they were built strong. He could see a long scar from behind the ear of one them, which stretched halfway down his neck. Edmund wondered if they were from a mafia. He wondered what they wanted from him.

They led him to a small group of men that looked like serious dudes. They all had hard looks, stone cold faces, and tattoos flooding across their shirtless bodies and arms. They stopped in front of a smaller guy, very tough-looking, nonetheless, and surprisingly, with a full head of hair. Edmund wondered if he was the leader.

"So what's your deal, homes?" the small man asked. "Are you some kind of tough guy?" Edmund didn't answer. "Are you?" the small man repeated, impatiently.

Edmund was confused. "Nah, homes," he answered. "I just kick it."

"Harbor City Hoods ain't shit in here. You know that? From now on, we're going to make you our bitch," he said. They all laughed. Edmund became infuriated. "You are going to be our designated slut, you got that? That means you are going to make money for us and blow and fuck whoever we say, whenever we say, you got that?"

"Nah, homes. That ain't gonna happen!" Edmund answered sternly. He stared at the little man and he could see himself lunging at him. The group of six men broke into laughter.

Edmund noticed the large 'G13' tattoo across the little man's neck, and recognized him as his gang rival from the Guerreros. Shit was about to go down.

"I think he is about to shit his pants, homes," another man said.

"I think his pee-pee got hard," another said.

"Fag!" another said, in Spanish.

"Do you know who we are, homes?" the small man said again, after finishing his laugh. Edmund shook his head. "Good. It's better that way. Do you know what you need to do?" Edmund shook his head again. He was confused. "It's easy. You do exactly what we tell you to do. If you do that, we will take care of you and you will be out of prison in no time. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, homes," Edmund lied. He had no idea what was going on.

"Orale," the man went on. "Alright, just keep your nose clean and we will have you transferred out of here. We will let you know what to do. We will always be watching you. If you fuck anything up or get hooked on dope while you're here, we will pull your card and have you cancelled. You get one chance, homes. One chance." Edmund nodded. "Orale. Then get the fuck out of here. Go play on the monkey bars or something before I change my fucking mind." The group laughed.

"Orale," Edmund answered and walked away.

***

Sergio Munoz found himself in an awkward situation, now in a very foreign land, riding in a car from the airport in Santiago, Chile. His persona as a detective was hard to turn off. His eyes constantly scanned. His mind constantly calculated. His heart never trusted. He listened to the driver, his chatty cousin, Andrea, speaking. He had to constantly ask her to repeat herself. He could hardly understand her strong accent as she spoke Spanish. To make things worse, his Spanish was not so good, but it was good enough.

She chatted him up about how happy the family was to meet him and have him visiting. She talked about relatives that would like to see him and how they were all connected, and she told him of the things they had planned during his visit. She seemed honest and excited, from what he could read. He wondered how a stranger could feel such seemingly honest enthusiasm for some estranged cousin from America. People always amazed him. He listened to her, but his mind was only half there. He felt like a burdensome asshole. How could he have imposed on this poor young girl the way he did, forcing her to spend her day driving him all around? He sighed with regret.

Even so, he had already apologized and offered to pay for gas. She insisted that it was no burden, and even with his keen detective eye, he saw no lie in her eyes. He decided to go with it. He'd make it up to her later. He watched the roads instead, and he could tell that Chile was not anything like he expected. He noticed that cars were not speeding excessively, and that the drivers used their turn signals more often than not. He noticed the smoothness and clear markings of the highway, the lush green landscape, and he had already noted the friendliness of the people he'd encountered at the airport. There was no litter trash, either. Chile seemed far from the third world country he had imagined it to be.

The ride from the airport was long, just over an hour and a half so far. He watched the scenery get more mountainous as they began to carve in and out of them. Andrea explained that they were passing through the heart of wine country as he watched the hillsides of endless vineyards stretching up sometimes very steep terrains. He was impressed.

Andrea was nice. She never minded repeating herself, and she too had asked Sergio to repeat himself on occasion -no doubt due to his foreign accent. She was pretty, he noted. She wore very little makeup, had curly brownish-red hair, just past her shoulders. She had kind green eyes, a nice smile, and a thin frame. He clocked her in at about 110 pounds. She was his second cousin, he found out, granddaughter of his grandmother's brother.

They passed by the sea on the coast of the Pacific Ocean, the very same one he'd known from California. It was so simple a concept, but still surreal, that he was connected to the same body of water from LA, and that in some small way, he might of touched Chile before. They veered east again into the mountain valley, and it was there that the scenery became more sparse and country-like. They finally made it through a small town and up a hill at the edge of the epic Andean mountain range to Sergio's grandmother's ranch house.

He felt largely out of place. He again felt stupid for making such a rash decision and now imposing himself on others, forcing them to rearrange their lives to support him. He felt like a jerk. They were family, though. Maybe they wanted to see him? They held an important part of his history in their hearts and minds. He was going to meet his mom's family, and they knew better where he came from than he did. Then, too, maybe it would just be better not to be so lonely. Whatever the reasons, he knew that he'd been compelled to do it, and it was way too late to turn back.

Nervously, he entered the old shabby one-story home, which was the first thing that had a third world feel to it since he'd been there. He greeted a young cousin, not much older than twenty, and then an aunt, maybe in her fifties. They were nice and offered him food and tea, which made him think of Gabe. He wondered about him frequently. He wondered what the LA Ninja was doing in that moment.

He saw the small room that he'd be staying in, sacrificed by a nephew who agreed to bunk in his brother's room. After settling in and taking a shower, he finally met grandma. He'd seen her before. It was an odd sensation meeting someone that he'd only seen before in a dream. It felt like a clear, present, distorted version of déjà vu. As if grandma had known what he was thinking, she smiled knowingly when her large green eyes met his. She then hugged him tightly as if she had missed him.

She spoke Spanish to him with a tear of joy in her eye, offering him tea, coffee, and bread. He was not hungry and he didn't care for tea, but thought it wiser to accept it and sit at the table. His grandmother was more mobile and energetic that he'd imagined. Her gray, bob-cut hair bounced and her long dress twirled when she turned to and from the counter. A collection of relatives gathered around the kitchen table as Grandma began to talk to Sergio.

Grandma took her seat, finally, across from him as she spoke of his mother. She went right into the important stuff, which he appreciated greatly. She spoke to him, answering questions that he never asked, but had pondered often. She spoke to him as if she were reading his mind, and she looked at him as if she could see through him. She amazed him with intricate details of his mother's childhood in Olmue, Chile, riding horses and dancing to her favorite music. She had old pictures ready, which she laid out for him. They talked and drank tea for hours, until he felt too tired to go on. He slept for twelve hours that night, the longest he'd slept since before he could remember.

Chapter III: The Tolan Brotherhood

Gabe awoke in the middle of the night to hear yelling in the distance. His neighbors were fighting again. His neighborhood was by no means quiet or peaceful. Even so, he had no trouble sleeping through the sounds of the nearby bums in the alley, the gunshots, or the partying of the other neighbors through the late hours of the night. It was the neighbors with the little girl that sometimes caught his attention, waking him up from time to time. Maybe it was because they were Latinos, or maybe it was because he felt bad for the child, or maybe it was just because they were his closest neighbors. He wasn't sure of the reason, but he always seemed to hear them more clearly than any others.

Gabe could hear the father yelling now, and then he heard the sound of glass breaking in between his bursts of yells. A door slammed. Gabe kicked the sheet off his legs. He wore a light layer of sweat. He sighed and sat up, rubbing the sweat from his forehead into his hair. The streetlights shone enough light through the frosted window glass for him to see clear enough. He tried to remember what he'd been dreaming about as he got up to pour himself some cold water from a jug in the fridge.

He could not hear the man yelling any longer. He wondered if the fight was now over. He thought of the woman that lived there and wondered if they were married. He wondered why she stayed with him. The man had hit her before, and Gabe had suspected that she hid it by wearing sunglasses. Gabe tried to mind his own business, and even though almost nothing at all interested him anymore, he had noticed that at least. He noticed her. She was pretty.

He bit down as the cold water stung his throat as it lumped through. He looked at the clock on the stove. It read 1:44 am. Everything was quiet again. He walked a few feet over in his tiny apartment and quietly opened the unlocked front door. He peeked out through a two-inch opening down the hallway to the right. In the dim light he saw a little girl playing on the hallway carpet outside the door of her apartment. She had wavy black hair, and she was dressed raggedly, wearing a dirty white pajama top, and from what Gabe could tell, she had no shoes on. She had some toy figurines that she was walking off the wall to the disgusting brown carpet floor and back. Gabe stared at her curiously, and he could see that she was ignoring the world around her. She was lost in her own. Bothered by it, he closed his door without making a sound and tried to go back to sleep. He had to work in the morning.

***

Gabe made his way up to the fifth floor of a mostly empty and demolished building at his jobsite the next morning. His foreman had briefed him and a few others over the plans for the site once, at the start of the job, but he had hardly paid attention. He knew what he had to do on a daily basis, which lately had been completing the demolishing of the fifth floor for refurbishment. The old factory building would become new office spaces.

He began prying old two-by-fours off the wall with his large hammer. He was mostly alone on the floor. There were others on scaffolding, flushing the exterior, and others clearing debris. He felt alone, which was how he preferred it. He looked out across the fifth floor and he was surrounded by open space. The walls to the outside had been partially demolished too, and he could see out into the downtown skyline. He added another two-by-four to his pile and looked across to the Citibank building that towered over him.

He could feel a light breeze over him. Was that Amaya, he wondered? Is she the breeze? He walked closer to the edge of his floor and he could see down to the street. He could see his foreman talking to the heavy equipment operators. He could easily jump. He looked over and out into the horizon. He looked for a sign, just as he did everyday before, and like those times, there was nothing. He sighed and walked back to pry more wood off.

***

Benicio Ortega, a short, thin man, sat in the lobby of the LA Superior Court building. A small statured Japanese man in a black pinstriped designer suit approached him and sat beside him as they shook hands.

"Our friend did not take well to our offer, I'm afraid," Benicio said, in broken English with a subtle Spanish accent. The Japanese man nodded silently. Benicio handed him a piece of paper with a name and an address on it. "Please take care of this," he said. The Japanese man took the paper and nodded before getting up to leave.

Minutes later, Benicio was called in by a secretary to see State Assemblyman Williams. Assemblyman Williams talked on the phone while Benicio took his seat across the simple wood desk. Benicio noted that the assemblyman was carrying on a cryptic conversation. It didn't seem work related. Benicio thought about the politicians he'd met so far, and they were an interesting lot, he thought, most of them far more self-absorbed and egotistical than he would have expected. He finally hung up and then the forty year old, nicely dressed assemblyman addressed his visitor.

"Hello, Mr...?"

"Benicio. Just Benicio."

"Right. Well Mr. Benicio. Why am I listening to you?"

"I was very interested in backing your next campaign for re-election," Benicio stated in broken English. He stared down at the assemblyman. He had been doing his research, and he knew that the assemblyman had been carrying on an affair with another woman and he had questionably close ties to developers wishing to expand oil and gas drilling in the coastal waters off of San Luis Obispo, which the assemblyman had voted in favor of allowing.

"Yes," Assemblyman Williams answered. "I have noted that, which I am grateful for by the way. But, what is it you think you'll get in return? What could you possibly want? Is it an immigration bill?"

Benicio didn't laugh. "No. There is a special rehabilitation project that has been started in the northern part of the state. The funding to keep it open is up for a vote."

"I see," the assemblyman answered. He leaned back in his chair with a cocky grin. "Go on please."

Benicio went on, "well as a committee member on the State Penitentiary Commission, you are well aware of this already." The assemblyman glared at Benicio without acknowledgment. "We have a vested interest in seeing that the rehabilitation center be funded and kept in place. It is helping many of our Latino brothers stay clean and out of prison, as normal working members of society. Surely a hard working, moral man such as yourself could support such a cause. Can I have your commitment that you will vote in favor?"

The assemblyman chuckled. "You must be out of your fucking mind. That rehab center is nothing but a school for hardened criminals that is somehow sitting outside the process and jurisdiction of the rest of our system. That place is anything but a rehab center, which is why we are closing it!" the assemblyman said, raising his voice while maintaining an arrogant smile.

Benicio sat back, relaxed. "We have a strong belief in the power of the judicial system and what that rehab center can do for our people. We can make it well worth your while to vote in favor. Perhaps seventy-five thousand reasons why it is good investment."

The door barged open, suddenly. "You have Congressman Michaels in three minutes Mr. Williams," the secretary said.

"Got it. Thanks," the assemblyman said as he stood up and reached for his jacket. He looked directly at Benicio. "I am one of the key serving members on the committee. My vote means a lot. Make it one-fifty, in cash by Friday. Now have a nice fucking day," he uttered with disgust as he walked out.

***

Edmund Reyes, also known as Rider, from the Harbor City Hoods, had been on a strange journey in the prison system. He was now arriving, after a long bus ride, to California State Field Rehabilitation Center in the outskirts of Yuba City, California. He had learned, while on the bus ride, that he and the others were being sent to this rehab center that would be training them on how to fight, which bizarre as it sounded, seemed a lot better than prison at Lompoc.

Edmund and the others were escorted into a barren facility that seemed to only have minimal security, a far cry from the super locked down prison he'd just come from. He was not even processed, but instead, led directly to a cell. Edmund noticed that many other things were different. There was virtually no noise, and no chattering inmates, which was unheard of, and he had no cellmate, even though there were two bunks. The feeling was eerie, and he became slightly nervous. Either way, the escape route was on his mind right away. It would be almost too easy.

The next morning he was awoken out of bed by the sound of banging on his cell door. An older tattooed gangster was yelling at him to get up and get outside. Before the dreary Edmund could make sense of anything, he was shuffling his feet towards the yard where he noticed that the sun was only barely coming up.

Confused, he followed the crowd of sixty or so inmates, none of whom he recognized, but as he was gathering his bearings, he noticed that they were all younger, as was he. The man who woke him up pushed him and yelled at him to line up. He was about to go off on the old fuck and knock him out, but he felt too tired. There was some grumbling among a few of the other inmates, but another older gangster walked right over and yelled for them to shut up. Slowly, everyone got into a sloppily lined formation. It reminded Edmund of the army movies he used to watch as kid.

The man who woke him up stood in front of everyone, as did two others dressed in white t-shirts just like his. They stood at his side. Suddenly, Edmund realized that there were no guards. He woke up to full attention now, wondering where he really was and what this really was.

"You homeboys are the lucky ones," the man yelled out. "You have been chosen to be here as part of our rehabilitation program. You are no longer part of your gang. You are no longer from the streets that you came from. You will leave all that in the past, including whatever you did to get locked up. You are now part of the Tolan Brotherhood. The Tolan maintain pure minds and pure instincts, and we are all united as one. This rehabilitation program will teach you how to be Tolan. You will stay clean and off drugs, you will be organized, and you will learn to use your body as a lethal instrument. Upon your successful completion of the program, you will go back onto the streets and work for a street leader in your business dealings. If you have any questions, you will keep them to your fucking selves. If at the end of this program, you still have questions, you will get buried in a hole." The veterano paused and confused grumbling overtook the crowd of inmates.

"Shut the fuck up!" the veterano yelled out. "You may have noticed that we have minimal security here. That is on purpose, and also because we do not need it. If you attempt an escape, you will not be caught and sent back to prison. You will be executed on the spot."

All three men in t-shirts walked back and another strange looking one in raunchy, loose, brown and blue colored clothing came up. He was not Chicano, Edmund could clearly see. He was some kind of Asian. He looked angry, and he glared at seemingly everyone. Edmund was in the front row, and the Asian man with long hair made direct eye contact with him and pinched his eyes in a tight glare as he did. Edmund was tough, but he felt slightly uneasy and scared by the stocky man's poisonous stare. He yelled something out suddenly that nobody understood. He yelled again, and another Asian man stepped forward, answering back.

The smaller Asian man spoke to the group of thugs. "Ready to begin training!" he yelled out in broken English. The mean Asian yelled again, and the man translated. "Please do jumping jacks," he said. "Fifty!" he added. Almost everyone broke into laughter.

"Fuck you, homes!" one cholo in the front answered, receiving a chorus of laughter. The mean Asian walked up to him and faced the stocky cholo. "What, homie, you don't scare me. I ain't doing shit, fool! What! What you gonna do?" A few more laughs echoed out from the group. The Asian stood still and maintained his glare. "Yeah, that's what I though. Suck my dick, you Bruce Lee motherfucker!"

The mean Asian drew a sword that Edmund hadn't noticed before and in the blink of an eye, slashed it down with full might, across the smartass cholo's torso. The mean Asian sheathed his sword as the cholo's body fell instantly to the ground. He stared down and spit at the suddenly lifeless body. The mean Asian walked back to his spot in the front. The group became deafly quiet, and the only sound was that of the birds chirping in the cold morning air.

Edmund stood horrified, unable to move as he tried, unbelievably, to grasp his situation. The silence went on forever. Edmund couldn't stop staring the body of the dead inmate that was still bleeding out. Why wasn't anyone coming to get him, he wondered?

The small Asian translator finally spoke up. "Matsumoto is not the kind of warrior that you are familiar with, here in America. He is samurai. He will teach you to be the kind of warrior that your leaders want. But you will come to understand that he is your master. You will obey him. Or else...well, you know," he added with a chuckle. "Fifty jumping jacks!" he yelled out again. The group of untamed thugs obeyed as the mean Asian lit a cigarette and maintained his glare.

Chapter IV: Dealing with Change

Sergio Munoz met his cousin, Rafael, on his second day at the ranch in Chile. He was thirty-one years old, and he worked as a translator for the Chilean Navy. He had taken time off work to hang out with Sergio and show him around, as arranged by grandma. Sergio had taken to him right away, and they talked in English as they walked through the ranch to the stables.

"It would be a dream for me to be a policeman in America!" the jovial Rafael declared. He opened one of the wood gates and led a beautiful dark brown horse out.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about it, Rafael," Sergio answered, trying ineffectively not to sound cynical.

"Please, everyone just calls me Rafa!" he smiled as he began saddling the horse.

"Ok, Rafa," Sergio replied. "It sounds good to be fighting crime and putting criminals away, but..." Sergio stopped himself. He decided to shelve his negativity until they built a closer relationship. He could lay all the bullshit down on him then. He watched Rafa tighten the saddle buckle and then begin slipping the bridle on.

"But what?" Rafa asked without looking. Sergio looked up towards the mountains, following the tree line until the trees blurred into a broader green canvas, eventually changing to a clouded greenish, grey color towards the top. He could not see the mountains that stretched for a hundred miles beyond the peaks that he stood below, but he knew that they were there.

Rafa handed him the reigns to the horse. "Here, you take Tito. Hey, are you ok?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm cool," Sergio replied. "I was just looking at the mountains. They are amazing. How far have you gone into them?"

Rafa laughed, and then raised his voice as he went for another horse. "Not too far. Maybe fifty or sixty kilometers."

"Shit! Really? On horse?" Sergio asked in astonishment.

"No, no, no," Rafa laughed. "Not on horse. Only ten kilometers or so on horse. When I had a Jeep, I would take it far into the mountains, many years ago. Now I only go with horse. It is much easier," he added.

Sergio mounted his horse nervously. He had only been on a horse once, on a trip to Mexico with his aunt when he was a teenager. Rafa popped up beside him, suddenly, on his own horse. "Have you ridden a horse before?" Rafa asked.

"Only once, when I was a kid."

"Well, there is nothing to it. Pull the reigns in hard to stop, and give them a light shake to make him go. Now come on, hee-ya!" Rafa yelled out, making his horse go. Sergio abruptly leaned forward and gave his reigns a shake and his horse took off in a gallop, following closely behind Rafa's.

They followed a flat dirt path leading out from the back of the ranch and onto a trail. Sergio felt nervous still. He could hardly take notice of his surroundings. He could only concentrate on not falling off the violently jolting animal that carried him. He was amazed at how strong and powerful the horse had to be to carry him so effortlessly. He wondered if the horse would tire, but it seemed far-fetched at the moment. The mighty animal had more than enough to give.

They climbed steeper, over a thin trail, and then they reached a more gentle grade to climb. Surprised by how high they'd climbed already, Sergio finally looked out and could see the expanse of the valley below. His eyes followed the valley to the sea nearby and a city in the distance. He was blown away by the beautiful vista.

"Vina Del Mar," Rafa said, noticing Sergio's stare. "That is the city of Vina Del Mar, which connects to Valparaiso," he added. "We will go higher and you can see better." They continued a climb for another twenty minutes when they finally arrived at a ridge. Sergio felt more comfortable on his horse, and his confidence grew. He felt invigorated by his accomplishment.

They stood over the ridge on horseback and they looked out over the vastness. They could see the coastline directly west of them, bright blue from the sun shining directly upon it. Sergio followed the coastline toward the right, looking north until it disappeared behind some hills, he guess ten miles away. South, to the left, the coast disappeared into the city skyline of Vina Del Mar until he could see nothing else but city. The view of the concrete city brought on a feeling of excitement and familiarity, and for once on his trip, he didn't feel like he had made a huge mistake in coming.

"This reminds me a lot of Los Angeles," Sergio declared. "This is just more beautiful and clean."

"Really? That is great," Rafa answered in Spanish. He seemed to bounce a lot from Spanish to English, which Sergio didn't mind a bit. "I love this part of Chile," he added as he stared out.

"How far is the beach from here?" Sergio asked, pinning at about five miles away.

"I'm not sure, but it takes about an hour on horseback."

"Really? That's not bad. Maybe next time, huh?"

"Yes, for certain. Maybe tomorrow or Thursday. But today, we will ride back down and have a lunch in town. We will hang around until dinner, and then we will go out tonight to Vina." Rafa smiled at Sergio.

"Hell ya," Sergio said with a smile. He hadn't done anything but be a cop for as long as he could remember. He was way out of his element. Even when he once went on vacation with the only girl he came close with, he never really let go. He felt different now, though. His job wasn't holding him down anymore. He was not a cop anymore. He had no enemies here. He was a million miles away from any resemblance of his past life. There were no Guerreros, no 17th streeters, and no Harbor City Hoods. He would not be awakened by any homicides, GTAa, or robberies. He would not have to watch his back so close. He could relax and let down his guard. He felt that Rafa would watch his back too. Suddenly, he felt so excited about going out that night that he wanted to scream as if he'd just scored a goal.

***

The dark ninja did his best to blend in. He sat in a booth on the far end of the Rough Suspect, a low-key strip club in San Francisco's SOMA district. He wore a casual suit with no tie, and he kept his eye on his mark as he drank his tonic water on ice. He had followed him there and noted that he had not gone alone. His friend sat off at a distance, alone. The ninja figured him to be a bodyguard, but wondered curiously why he needed one.

A woman approached the ninja. He moved his eyes only, slightly to the right as watched the voluptuous stripper in a white bikini walk to him. She was pretty, he thought. He turned his head and watched her closer, studying her, imagining the sweet smell of her dirty blonde hair bouncing across his face. She looked at him and smiled.

"Hi baby," she said as she came to him. She put her tits close to his face, and her scent invaded him, and it was sweeter than he imagined. She put her hand on him as she caressed the back of his head and cheek. "How about a lap dance?" she asked seductively. She was just his type. He had a thing for blondes, in a big way, but he was here on business.

"No," he said, simply, trying to disguise his Japanese accent. He smiled, and shook his head as he gently pushed her arm away. "Thank you." It felt good to touch her. He would be back for her, he promised himself.

"Awe, too bad. You smell good," she added. "Maybe later then?"

"Ok," he replied before she walked off to another table. He had never lost focus on his mark. He went back to his drink, pretending to watch the next female performer work her striptease number while he really watched the thin Latino senator.

Finally, after almost an hour of watching the senator go in and out of booths with a couple of strippers for lap dances, he saw the bodyguard make his move to leave. Two minutes later, the senator who had come out of a lap dance booth walked to the back of the club with a stripper only seconds behind him. The dark ninja got up and headed towards the exit. It was time to make his move.

Once outside, he quickly moved to the entrance of the alley and opened a trashbag behind the dumpster. He pulled out a rancid overcoat and a wig with long white haired dreadlocks and put them on. Within seconds, he was walking down the alley with a bagged beer bottle. He spotted the senator's town car parked down the alley.

The ninja reached into his pocket and felt for the grenade as he slowly continued down the alley. He readied himself to launch it through the window when the car passed, but it remained parked. Perhaps the senator was having his fun in the back of the car in the alley. It would be even easier this way, he realized. He took his hands off the grenade as he noticed the driver smoking from the window.

He made his approach in the dark alley. He kept his head down and he stumbled a bit, kicking a cardboard box, as he pretended to lose his balance. He stopped and took a fake swig of the tea and he armed a poison dart into a thin bamboo launch tube. He reached the driver and the ninja let out a disgruntled sounding grunt. "Awe, fuck off!" he heard the driver say.

The ninja pretended to cough as he launched the poisoned dart into the man's neck. He coughed again as he watched the man grasp for his neck and pull out the dart. "What the fuck," he said. The dark ninja loved to watch his poisons work. They were his prideful forte. He watched as the confusion set over the driver. Within five seconds the driver's hands were tingling as the poison first began to affect the nervous system. He tried to look at the smiling stranger, but his vision was blurred and worsening quickly. It then spread through his arms and legs as his temperature rose. He then lost all motor skills as he effectively became paralyzed. His breathing became heavier then and he gasped for air, as his internal organs and lungs began to fail. Then finally, he was not able to breath at all, and within seconds, his heart would stop. The ninja smiled and chuckled. He reached in to retrieve his dart from the driver's lap and put it in his own pocket.

The dark ninja then crept to the back of the car and opened the door.

"What the fuck!" the senator yelled out in shock. The stripper looked at him from her knees, horrified, with the senator's member just inches from her mouth. She screamed and the senator yelled out again before pushing her aside and moving fast to get up and out of the car. Before he could, the dark ninja used a dagger to strike the senator in the stomach. He pulled it out, knowing he'd struck a fatal blow, but he wasn't done. He stuck him again, in the neck this time, for good measure.

The screaming stripper tried to make a run for it out the other side of the car. The dark ninja threw the dagger flying through the air to strike her with the blunt end, sending her to the street. He came upon her then. Blood spatter from the dagger spotted her white bikini top. He turned her over to face him. The stripper lay knocked out, unconscious. She had dark, short hair and fair skin. She was pretty. She looked Russian or eastern European, he thought. Her naked skin lay pressed against the dirty, wet asphalt of the street. It was a pity to waste a young hot girl like that, he thought, at least before he could have a chance to fuck her for himself.

He kneeled down closer and he could smell her perfume. He savored it. American girls knew how to wear perfume. It mixed somehow, with their hot American body oils to create a slutty, wet smell that was unique in the world. He grabbed her chin and stared at her. Her cheek was soft. He put one finger into her mouth and he felt her wet tongue, but it was her scent that began to paralyze his brain. He wanted her. He felt a controlled rage come on, rising up inside of him, the way it always did when he took an innocent life. He smiled then, just before he put his other hand on her and snapped her neck.

***

The wind had picked up lately. The first cold air blasts of the year rushed upon Gabe and Roxy as they walked through the sand at the beach. They had found a spot in north LA, up the 101 Highway, near some steep cliffs that was more secluded than the others. They tried to get there at least twice a week. Roxy ran free, rushing out first to run through the water while Gabe found a spot to kneel in the sand. She eventually tired, and she meandered about, building her internal catalogue of scents. It was just after six, and the sun was moving deeper towards the horizon.

Winter was coming, Gabe noted. The summer had been too long. Another blast of cold wind brushed through him and he savored it. He told himself that Amaya was in the breeze. He told himself that when the rush of wind came blasting through him, he was with her again. He knew, deep down, that it was the reason he came to the beach as often as he did. He watched Roxy sniffing rocks near the cliff. He closed his eyes and let the fading sun warm his face. The breeze was constant over him, and he inhaled deeply, gasping for every inch of it.

He struggled to fall into meditation. His mind was too busy. His spirit was clouded with sadness. He felt the confliction in his soul. His mind scrolled through his victims in a mish-mash of images and actions. He saw their faces as he had killed them, most of them anyway. There were others, he knew, that had fallen from a distance or from the grenade blasts. He could not remember their faces, but his mind conjured them up anyway. His mind filled in the blanks with random faces from his life that his memory bank had seemed to keep stored for one reason or another. He didn't know, and he didn't care. It didn't matter. They became real to him. They were his burden and shame, and the reason, he knew, that he was still there left to suffer on earth for.

Gabe then thought of his beloved. Amaya was the love of his life. He saw her face, mostly in the good times in Japan. In his mind he reached for every memory he had catalogued. Some were vivid and exciting, like when they took pictures among the colorful people of Harajuku, or when they went dancing in Rappongi and they pretended to be rich aristocrats, or when he'd sneak her on base to eat American food. Other memories were quieter and more subdued, but they nonetheless were the best ones.

He knew that she was slipping away from him. Of all the memories he had, his mind drifted to only a few. They talked in the dark once, in the Sasaki home, long after Amaya's parents had gone to sleep. It was the first time they had really dreamt of a life together, with kids, dogs, and with them running a store in America where they'd sell teddy bears full of zippered pockets and blankets full of good luck cat pictures. They'd call the store 'Catburger', because even though Gabe said it sounded gross, Amaya insisted that it was cute. They talked all night in the dark, trying to fall asleep, but had been unable to. It was the best time he ever had. He had so many more memories, but as some cemented themselves permanently, others faded away, maybe forever. He opened his eyes in a startle.

Roxy was in front of him now, resting on the sand as the breeze picked up again. It stung his eyes slightly, and they begun tearing up from the wind. He patted Roxy's huge head. She seemed to understand him. She seemed to absorb his sadness somehow, which he could see in her melancholy state. He wished he could be happier for her, at least in her presence. That would be impossible. He had no control over his thoughts. He couldn't meditate. It was no use trying. He wondered again why Amaya never visited anymore. He wondered where she could possibly have gone in time and space. Was her soul gone? Had she been reborn? Was she with him? Was she with her parents? Was she floating aimlessly across the earth trapped in the breezes? He wished he knew.

He wished he were floating too. He felt regret. He felt anger. He felt sadness. He felt guilt. It was an endless cycle that showed no signs of letting up. The time had helped him get on with his life, in some sort of way. He could function and interact with people. He could work, but that was mostly all he could do. He spent most of his time thinking about bullshit that was neither productive nor spiritual, and certainly not helpful.

His mind went back further to his past, in the days of hanging out with Anthony. They were the only carefree days of his life. They rolled the streets in Anthony's Honda almost everyday. They drank beer and smoked weed with friends, but mostly with each other as they went from one party to another. They had a gang of girls to choose from, some of the finest ones in LA, Gabe remembered. If only he would have not been so shortsighted and impulsive in joining the Marines, the disaster would have never happened. If only he would have been content with hanging out with Mitch and Drool, he would have never met Amaya, and she'd still be alive. If only he...

Roxy's growl brought Gabe out of his trance. She was staring behind him, wagging her tail nervously. Startled, Gabe turned to look as a cop was walking upon him. "Shit," Gabe muttered.

"How ya doin', Sir?" the cop asked. Gabe got to his feet slowly and fumbled to leash Roxy.

"Uh, fine, officer."

"Good. Listen, are you aware that dogs are not allowed on the beach?" the cop asked. Gabe's mind raced, wondering what was about to happen.

"Uh, no," Gabe replied, calming himself down. He slipped his cube amulet out from a pocket in his sleeve and in to his free hand.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna have to cite you for this. Does this animal have a license for the county of Los Angeles?" As the cop flipped his ticket book open, Gabe held out the amulet. It shone brightly in the receding sunlight, and the amulet emitted a prism of light, causing the cop to look up and stare. The amulet seemed to spin on its own, causing the prism light to dance. Gabe took a deep breath and weakly channeled his life force the best he could.

"I have a permit for this dog. She's a service dog and she helps me out. You understand, don't you, officer?" The officer stared at the diamond in the center of the cube. Gabe could feel that he was just holding him in trance, just barely. "I can show you the permit papers later," Gabe added. Gabe suddenly felt nervous that the cop would not buy it. "I..." suddenly, two surfers came upon them and stopped at Roxy.

Gabe breathed a sigh of relief, and he closed his fist around the cube, breaking the weak trance over the cop. "Cool dog, bro!" one of the surfers said as he petted Roxy's neck.

"Thanks," Gabe said as he kept on eye on the cop's confused face.

"Great, well I guess it's ok," the cop said, slightly confused, but obviously uninterested in citing Gabe all of a sudden. He smiled and turned to walk away, and soon, he and the surfers were gone again. Gabe breathed a sigh of relief. He was losing his touch.

Chapter V: Breaking Old Habits

"Knowing your surroundings is key," the older prison gangster in white went on. Edmund found himself among a group of others, listening to the older gangsters talk about running the streets. Only, this was unlike any knowledge he'd been passed down before. It was a lot crazier, he thought. "In your cholo days of running the streets as a gangbanger, you were taking chances that you shouldn't have been. Those risks are what got you here. Territory is only part of it. You need to stay in communication with your veterano. Your radio will allow you do that as well as keep tabs on the chota (police). The chota are keeping tabs on you. They are your enemy. They communicate via radio, and we will listen to them in order to know their strategy, movements, and intentions."

Edmund was learning a lot now, only four days into program that was not like any other rehab that he had ever heard of. From the break of dawn, they were getting schooled on what he could only say was how to throw down harder and be on a team against the cops. The lessons from the psycho Japanese samurai on how to scrap and kill went on until twelve. They broke for lunch after that and then got into groups to learn classroom instruction on everything, so far, from evading police, lethal and non-lethal pressure points on the body, surveillance, maps and geography, and the structure of the Tolan.

Edmund had been informed that he was now property of the Tolan. He, and whatever friends and family he had, would be murdered if he tried to leave or ever divulged secrets about the plans or operation or existence of the Tolan. He had already seen three murders at the hands of the samurai in the four days he'd been there. He would have been scared shitless, were he not so interested in the training and elite membership that he was a part of. He was becoming stronger and smarter. He could defend himself like never before. He was beginning to change for the better. He couldn't wait for each new day to begin.

***

Benicio Ortega sat in the living room of his three million dollar mansion in the Hollywood Hills. He was a cousin to Juan and Javier Cortez, but he had earned his keep to get where he was. He had been a ruthless killer in his early days, taking out rival cartel members in the ongoing war for the establishment of dominance in their region, deep in Mexico. He had been known at that time as "El Corazon", meaning "the Heart", on the account that he loved to stab his victim's through the heart, even after they had fallen to their deathly demise.

That was then, when he had been fueled by the vicious murder of his mother by thugs. Her jeweled, gold-plated, lead tipped knife was all that he carried with him now. Benicio found Buddha, a few years later, and went as far as taking a pilgrimage to Tibet to be in the holy land. He came back to Christianity, later, but Buddha saved him and forced him to be a more levelheaded version of himself.

Benicio used his conference phone to dial into a conference call with his boss, Juan, and some of the other key members of the cartel.

"This is Benicio," he announced himself. There was only silence. His watch read 2:00. He opened his laptop and logged on. He had set up a network for the cartel to use in a secure way. Their phone lines, computers and all Internet, including email, went through a satellite connection that they leased from a private company in Brazil. The had gotten their nephew from Cal Tech to devise an encryption algorithm with a private Mexican firm to hide their data from governments and the feds, who would be more than ecstatic to tap their communication lines. It had been working so far, and cartel communications were otherwise off the grid.

"Hello," Juan finally said, in Spanish. "Let's begin. Benicio?"

"Yes," Benicio answered. "I was able to get support from Assemblyman Mitch Williams for our effort. The yes vote cost us one hundred and fifty thousand."

"Really? That is a bit expensive."

"He is a real piece of work," Benicio added. "I wouldn't mind sending him to the afterlife."

"Not if we don't need to. The papers picked up the state senator's murder in San Francisco, but they made no connection to the assemblyman's death at the cabin. Our ninja is doing well. Let's keep it that way."

"Yes," Benicio agreed.

"The feds will eventually get involved. That is to be expected. We must have the vote before the committee first," Juan added. "Where do we stand?"

"We have six yes votes. Two committee members won't be voting. We need two more votes to secure the victory."

"Good, good." Juan replied.

"I am meeting with Assemblyman Rios on Friday," Benicio went on. "He is cheating on his wife, and I have a video of him getting a blowjob from a minor, thanks to our nephew who used Bluetooth to steal the video signal from the senator's phone. He will vote yes if he wants to keep his wife."

"Good. How about Senator MacArthur?"

"He has not agreed to see me," Benicio conceded. "I will have to find another way."

"Ok. Will you get it done?"

"Yes, cousin. I will."

"Good. Gloria? What is the status of the rehabilitation center?"

"Yes, Sir," Gloria, another Cortez cousin, answered. She was the prime liaison for all communications into and out of prison, as well as for the rehab center. "The first set of gangsters are in the second week of the program. The training is going well. The martial arts instructor is a bit less patient than we were expecting."

"Meaning what?" Juan asked.

"He has taken three individuals to death."

"Really?" Juan asked in surprise. "Ok. I don't see a problem so long as we are taking the proper steps to clean up the mess."

"Yes, Sir," she answered.

"When will they hit the streets?"

"In four weeks. The veteranos from 17th street, Guerrero, and Harbor City are ready for them."

"Good. Everything is moving along. Our shipments are moving along well. We have four weeks to the vote. Please inform Oz that the plan is to proceed as is. We are ready."

***

Sergio Munoz and Rafa headed out in his 2008 model Peugeot, for the city of Vina Del Mar. Sergio was full of the bread, cheese, and avocados that grandma Titi had put together for a meal that they had referred to as "once", pronounced, "own-say". It was the number eleven, in Spanish, which Munoz learned was a countrywide evening tradition of having a two-hour long meal with family and friends every evening. Powering through filling food and taking in agonizing questions from his nephews with strange accents would take some getting used to. Not overdoing it on the avocado and cheese would be a must for the next time.

'Once' went from nine to eleven that evening, and they were now making their heavy approach into the city after only a ten-minute drive. It felt too late to be going out. Munoz hadn't gone out and partied in years. As a cop back home, his nights had been filled with stakeouts, following leads, and stalking bad guys. If he was lucky, he'd end up tailing someone to a club, but being there on duty was way different than being there for fun. He wasn't sure if he could just play it cool and be a normal person.

They walked into a karaoke club called La Roux, which was another thing Munoz had been skeptical about. Karaoke clubs were not exactly cool back in LA, he at least knew, and as he thought would be the case, the club was empty. They grabbed a table in front of a small stage and Munoz looked up towards the TV monitors where a Madonna video played. He rolled his eyes in agony. Rafa ordered them a couple of pisco sours and brought them to the table with a smile on his face. Sergio was convinced that Rafa just did not have an angry bone in his body.

The night was the lamest of lames, Munoz thought to himself. He would go along with it, either way, not seeing much choice in the matter. Rafa seemed pretty cool earlier that day, and he'd done a good job of selling a night of fun. He decided that he'd just make the best of it and try to appreciate the effort of his new friend. Maybe he could load up on enough pisco sours to force the fun to happen.

"I have a good feeling about tonight," Rafa said, reassuringly. There was something familiar with him, Munoz noted. He thought of Carter and wondered if that was it. He quickly dismissed it though, noting that Carter was far more cynical than the seemingly always positive and happy Rafa. Maybe it was the job that made Carter so jaded. Maybe deep down, Carter was naturally a happy guy, but because of the job, he'd become a cynical asshole. Sergio then wondered if he was as jaded as Carter. Was he a naturally happy person too, down deep under the layers of bullshit? Munoz wondered. In his long shitty life, he had never had a chance to find out. It wasn't just the job. It was the shitbag cholos and gangsters. It was...he stopped himself from going there.

"Why do you think so?" Munoz asked.

"Sometimes you just know, you know?" Rafa said with a smile. He held up his drink, "salud."

"Salud," Munoz replied as they toasted. "Well I hope you're right. Do you sing?" Munoz asked, darting his eyes to the stage.

"Yes! Shit yes!" Rafa boasted proudly. "I love to sing, watch!" he said before taking one more sip and bolting onto the stage. Munoz watched in amusement as Rafa picked up the microphone and began to speak, in Spanish, asking for "Everything She Wants", by Wham.

Munoz figured that he was talking to the bartender or someone else camouflaged in the dark club that he hadn't spotted yet. Before he knew it, the music started and he could see up on the televisions displayed sporadically through the club that words would be on display soon. Munoz noted a few interested patrons smiling in anticipation, and then Rafa began to sing.

"Somebody told me, that everything she wants, is everything she needs..." Rafa closed his eyes and swayed his body from side to side as he belted out the next few lines, showing off his talent in the pitch and tone in his voice and putting in enough passion to capture the small audience. Munoz was impressed.

A few girls came out from seemingly nowhere and sat down nearby to watch closer, and Rafa seemed to turn it up a notch on intensity. "Somebody tell me...why I work so hard for you," he belted out as good as George Michael would. Some light applause sounded off as he accentuated. Minutes passed, and as he ended the song, every last person in the bar broke into applause.

Rafa bowed graciously and then smiled as he jumped off stage. He pulled one of the girls watching, over by the hand. Munoz watched and listened to the foreign Spanish accent, trying to understand the conversation. He caught only bits and pieces, but he could hear her telling Rafa that she was expecting her boyfriend at any minute, for which he then gave up and joined Munoz at the table.

"That was pretty damn good!" Sergio Munoz declared. Rafa beamed his usual smile and sipped from his pisco sour.

"Thank you, cousin," he said, simply. "Maybe later we can sing together? Maybe something from the Eagles or the Temptations?" Sergio managed a chuckle.

"No, I don't think so. I can't sing for shit," Sergio replied. Rafa smiled.

"Hey," Rafa replied. "That's the first laugh I've seen from you. I was beginning to think you didn't know how to have fun!" Sergio was taken aback.

"What?" he replied in surprise. "Really?" Had he been so serious? He wondered. Did he really not seem fun? Was he not fun? He felt confused and slightly insulted by the criticism. Maybe Rafa was right. Maybe he was a bit uptight.

"Yeah, well, I don't mean it as an insult. But you seem so serious all the time. I know being a detectivo in LA must be a difficult thing. I can see it in your face and demeanor. I can see the way you watch the door and watch the road traffic. Your mind is always figuring. You are always casing everything, even now, you probably know where everyone is in this bar!"

Sergio smiled and looked down at the table. He knew Rafa was right. He just didn't know how to turn it off. He didn't know if he wanted to turn it off, even if he could. "Yeah, I guess you're right," Sergio conceded. "Maybe I can try to have fun. I have been a cop for so many years. My guard is always up." Sergio took his drink and downed the rest of it.

"There you go!" Rafa sang out in elation. Sergio felt a bit better. He could be loose, he thought to himself. His eyes watched the door as patrons seemed to be streaming in more constantly. "Now, let's have a few more drinks, sing some songs and meet some chicas!" Sergio laughed again.

"I'm in for meeting some nice girls, but I can't sing like you. You are very, very good. I am very, very bad!"

"Come on, you are related to us! We can all sing, grandma Titi can sing too!"

"No shit?"

"Not shitting."

"Shit."

"Yes!"

Chapter VI: Night Out on the Town

A cool, breezy, gloomy day enveloped a Saturday when Gabe sat up in bed wondering what to do all day. He would rather be at work. The weekends were the worst part of his existence as a live person on earth now. They meant he had nothing to do but let his mind think freely, which was bad because it enabled his sorrow. At least his mind could be partially concerned by work while at work.

Most Saturdays and Sundays he put on the TV first thing and watched the news or some other mind numbing bullshit like the Price is Right or Judge Judy. He'd spend the rest of the day doing sit-ups, reading new and old books on history, Buddhism and spirituality, and of course, hanging out with Roxy. He ignored everyone, even though some neighbors or park or grocery store strangers tried to talk to him sometimes. He could carry on a conversation of small talk, even when he was in zombie mode, with no issue. He missed his teacher too. He wished with all his heart that he could go back in time to when he sat, drinking tea with Sasaki on the veranda, with Amaya in his arms. He thought about calling Sasaki everyday.

Gabe got out of bed and knocked out fifty push-ups. Today, he would take Roxy out, so he threw on some shorts and a t-shirt, leashed her and headed out his front door. As he exited his building, he saw the little girl that was his neighbor, playing with a toy on the front steps. Roxy stopped to sniff her, as he'd done a few times before, and the little girl stopped playing. She stared at Roxy, and then at Gabe, with her curly locks dangling, and she asked if she could pet her.

"Yes, of course," Gabe answered, squatting down slightly. He was pretty sure that those were the first words he'd ever spoken to the young girl. "Her name is Roxy," he added. The little girl smiled as she patted Roxy's huge head. Roxy seemed amused, but would only stare off in the distance to the park with her half open mouth. Her long slobbering tongue hung out and oozed drool with each panting breath. She was so stubborn, and he felt slightly embarrassed by the way she was acting.

"Roxy," she repeated. She seemed fascinated by the huge, beautiful brown and white pit bull with green eyes. Just then, Roxy slung her tongue across the little girl's face, dousing her with dog drool.

"Roxy!" Gabe's voice rose as he pulled her away. "I'm so sorry!" he offered, with an embarrassed smile. He went to hand the little girl a cloth from his pocket, but she was already using her sleeve to clean her face. She laughed.

"It's ok," she said, reaching to pet Roxy again. Gabe felt even more embarrassed, and then he noted the toy in her hand, and it struck a curious feeling in him.

"What is that toy you're playing with?" he asked. She stopped petting Roxy and went back to her toy.

"This is the L.A. Ninja," she answered, to Gabe's bewilderment. "She is Myra's best friend," she added, then producing a dirty, ragged pony toy. Gabe watched as she put the ninja figurine on the dirty blue pony's back. Gabe suddenly felt saddened by her. He told her they had to go, and then they moved on.

They crossed the street, which seemed quiet for a Saturday, and then they wandered through the park. Roxy did some business and then Gabe decided that they would wander off into another direction. The park was quiet too, but they passed by a family that was setting up for a kid's party. Roxy seemed not to notice them. She seemed like she was in a funk, a gloomy mood lately that she just couldn't shake off. Maybe it was the weather.

While he was thinking about it, and her, he didn't notice that they had arrived at the edge of the park. Then, there across from them was a skate park and the back edge of a warehouse where some young kids were jumping and running. Gabe watched in amusement as four different teenagers ran fast, following each other as they jumped off a seven foot wall, climbed up a tree in a single bound and then ran across the skate park before sliding down the rails, on their shoes. Another climbed up a vertical brick wall, using only his momentum and his feet, before he did a backflip that landed him safely on the concrete floor. His friends clapped for him.

"Do you freerun?" one of them asked Gabe, upon noticing him watching.

"Me?" Gabe asked in confusion.

"Yeah," the hip looking teenager answered. He was a white kid, and his brown hair hung just to the top of his neckline. Gabe felt put on the spot. He wanted to join them and test himself. "Come on!" the teenager urged. "Just try it!"

Gabe put Roxy's leash down beside her and told her to wait there. The teenagers watched in amusement as Gabe began a medium trot and then leapt onto a tree branch. He could hear the amused and impressed commotion from the kids, but he ignored it as he fell back down to the ground, landing perfectly on his feet. He felt out of practice, weak, and imprecise. Determined, he ran to the wall and jumped vertically, using his hands to reach for the top, pulling himself up by his already strong momentum.

The kids cheered again as Gabe then launched himself soaring from the top of the wall, executing a perfect sideways flip before landing on his feet. He had almost lost his balance in the landing. The teenagers cheered as he walked back upon them, slightly out of breath. He felt upset by his lack of ability.

"That was awesome, man!" one of the teenagers remarked.

"Dude, you are amazing!" another added. Gabe thanked them for the exhilarating moment and then took Roxy with him back to the park.

***

The samurai and the dark ninja found themselves at the Rough Suspect, looking on from a table in the back as strippers took their turns on stage. The samurai carried himself as a dangerous man with nothing to lose. He wore dark, loose, baggy clothes. He was unshaven and scruffy. His long hair looked greasy and it was in a loose ponytail. He weighed close to two hundred pounds, but with his clothes and heavy walk, he looked like he was two-sixty. As if that were not enough to tell everyone that he wished not to be fucked with, he was also a heavy drinker, and he'd been drinking vodka straight, since he and the dark ninja had gotten there.

The dark ninja, dressed in a black suit, passed himself off easily as a Japanese businessman, blending in with the lot of them in San Francisco. His mean streak and highly specialized skillset were undetectable by almost any observer, including whatever the government could muster in its arsenal. It was not so easy to do, though, hanging around with a murderous samurai. He felt nervous with the volatile, temperamental, and increasingly drunk ronin at his side. At least the ronin seemed to be hanging on to his composure, for the time being.

The ninja finally saw what he'd been looking for in the blonde stripper who had just begun her shift. He had come just to see her, and he knew he'd be back for her again and again. He kept an eye on her as he ordered another refill on his water. The samurai ordered another double vodka.

"Slow down," the ninja ordered him, in Japanese.

"Fuck you," the samurai answered back.

"I won't be dragging you around tonight. If you do something stupid then the Mexicans will fire you and you won't be paid."

"Fuck them." The samurai answered coldly. "I don't give a shit about those stupid Mexicans. I will kill them all." He was hopeless, the ninja thought to himself. "Why don't you just worry about yourself," the samurai went on. "You aren't going to find the ninja by coming to strip clubs every night to chase cheap hookers."

"You don't concern yourself with the things I am doing," the ninja replied, coolly. "I will track him down when the time is right." The ninja watched the blonde talking to one of the extra bouncers the club hired, most likely because of the senator's murder in the nearby alley a few weeks before. She smiled and seemed to flirt with him before moving on. He watched her take over for their waitress and come their way with the tray, just as he expected, and right on time.

"I believe the water is for you, sir?" she said with a smile, setting the glass down for the dark ninja. He cracked a slight smile and anxiously awaited the extra second it would take for her scent to flow unto him. He invisibly took it in. He'd remembered her scent, along with her perfectly fake tits and her curly bouncy blonde hair. He noted the beauty mark next to her mouth, and he wondered if it were real, or fake like her tits.

"Thank you," he said, disguising his Japanese accent.

"And for you sir," she said, putting the vodka down for the samurai. He ignored her. "I've seen you here before, right?" she asked the dark ninja. He smiled, showing her his most tender look.

"Yes," he said. "I came back with hope that you could dance for me," he said, showing his accent. He then reached in his jacket pocket and he showed her a fifty-dollar bill.

"Why yes, sweetie! I can do that. I am going to dance in about an hour. Right after that, I will give you a special dance," she added, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled and then she moved off.

"Pathetic," the samurai scoffed. The ninja ignored him. An hour and two more double vodkas for the samurai later, the ninja found himself following the blonde to a private booth.

He sat on a bench as she stood before him, smiling. She cut her eyes seductively at him as she danced slightly from side to side, touching her bare stomach with her hands. She was tight and fit, he noted. She turned around slowly and her white g-string glowed brighter with the weak black light inside the booth. She reached behind her and pulled the string off her white bikini top. She came upon him, mounting his bench, feverishly assaulting him with her scent, kissing his cheek again while she ran her hand through his short hair.

With one hand, she grabbed onto a rail behind him. "I remember you," she said. "You smell good." He began to harden. She put her tits on his face and his nose and mouth fell between both of them. She rocked her body slightly, allowing him to feel her and taste her. She moved off the bench and slipped her g-string off. She turned around and sat on his crotch, feeling his hardness. "You like me a lot, don't you," she said before turning back around to use the rail behind him to pull herself up. She put one leg on the back of the bench and then her bare, shaved crotch was in front of him, only an inch from his face. He savored her scent as he stared at her most sacred body part.

It only lasted minutes. When she got back down, she smiled and kissed him on the lips. He pretended that the kiss was just for him, because she liked him. It wouldn't be the last kiss, the ninja knew. He had plans. He watched her, still rock hard, as she put her bikini back on. She came back upon him. "That's fifty dollars, baby."

He smiled and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. He handed it to her and when she reached for it, he grabbed her by the arm, sternly, but just soft enough not to startle her. "If you are available to come to my hotel and spend the night with me, I can pay for it. Say, five hundred?" He let go of her arm and she stood up straight, thinking about his proposition.

"Give me three hundred now and you have a deal."

He smiled. "I will give you what you want. But my cousin and I will stay around until the club closes and we can leave together."

"Ok, but this is just for you. Your cousin is not part of the deal. I'm not a prostitute!"

He laughed and then smiled disarmingly. "My cousin is not part of the deal," he added. "Just me. I promise."

An hour and a half later, the samurai and the ninja made their move for the exit. The blonde, who had said that her name was Jordan, walked with them. The dark ninja had sensed that the bouncer, who'd been staring increasingly at them, was about to make a careless move.

"You need any help, Jordan?" the large bouncer asked abrasively, staring the samurai down.

"No, Oscar," she answered with certainty. "I'm fine. These guys are gonna give me a ride home," she added.

"I don't think so," he said, making a close approach, staring hard at the samurai. The samurai glared back and uttered a slur in Japanese. "That's it!" the bouncer barked. "You boys need to leave!" he said, grabbing the samurai by the arm, escorting him out. The ninja followed them, with Jordan in hand.

The ninja braced himself for what he feared would not end well. He kept his face down, already knowing where the cameras in the entryway of the establishment were, knowing how to hide from them. He felt the situation becoming hopeless. Maybe the samurai would do nothing, he wondered as they walked out the door.

"Let it go!" the ninja said to the samurai. The ninja held onto the nervous blonde. The samurai then grabbed the bouncer by loose skin beneath his lower lip. Before the bouncer could fight back, the samurai pulled a knife out and swiftly and viciously insert it into his lower sternum. As the bouncer began to fall to the ground, he let out a scream filled gasp and two more bouncers came running from the bar. The samurai produced a one and half foot long blade and readied to cut them down. The dark ninja intervened, producing two metal stars and lodging one, from a twenty-foot distance, into eye each of the bouncers. The strikes were powerful enough to reach the brain behind the eye socket. They would die.

The ninja began running, pulling the horrified blonde with him. They all ran to the car and made it out.

***

Six weeks had passed since Edmund had entered the rehabilitation program for inmates. He sat in a classroom and listened as the veterano went over territory stations, escape routes, and safehouses. He was excited to go back out for fight training. It was what he looked forward to the most in each day. Under the instruction of the crazy-ass-samurai, or Crazam, as the inmates had referred to him by, they had learned a great deal about hand-to-hand combat. Edmund had been learning judo techniques and knife fighting, using wooden replicas.

The classroom information was tremendously valuable though, he knew, which was something they spent far more time doing. He had no idea such information existed. The Tolan Brotherhood had setup revolving safehouses around the major cites in California. Edmund was in the LA group, and they had studied the six safehouses designated through out the city that he could run to in a pinch to evade police and be safe at. The safehouses were run by veteranos who'd been trained in the Tolan operations.

Edmund had also learned to operate a specialized radio and they had three channels that they could use, guaranteed to be safe from prying ears because of basic encryption. The safehouses would listen on police bands and inform the team of movements. Even so, Edmund had studied the police code-base and had the ability to decipher for himself, if needed. They were provided additional information on stealing cars, including how to disable engine demobilizers, and what makes in models were easiest to go for, as well as what do to with a car after it had been stolen.

Most importantly, they studied the art and skill of managing a team of drug pushers and gun movers, and what psychological signs to look for in the determination of a weak link. Weak links in the process would be eliminated in order to preserve the sanctity of the Tolan Brotherhood business model. Edmund was becoming a skilled businessman with a purpose, and that purpose was to efficiently move drugs and guns, and eliminate anyone that got in the way, including police and rivals, using a concerted coordinated tactical effort. He was ready.

Chapter VII: The New Moons

Gabe had moved up to the twelfth floor of the construction building during the week before. As with every floor before it, the remnants of the crew that stripped the floor of its contents were still visible throughout. He had bundled up with a warmer coat, as the wind was not only strong, but the air also much cooler of late. In November, or any winter month, there was no threat of snow in LA, but the weather did cool to what would could be considered fall-like in most parts of the world.

He began prying out drywall chunks and the wood 2x4 frames behind them. The windowless building without walls in most areas was dreary, grey, and ominous. It suited him fine. He had begun forming a pile of debris towards the center of the wide-open floor. As he walked back, he stood out near the edge of the open floor. He took off his sweaty hardhat. He could see down to the construction site, but he saw no trucks and no foreman. He saw the single large crane with nobody operating it. He wondered where everyone was.

He looked straight ahead and he could see the lights on in the building across from him. He could see the silhouettes of business people talking and marking up a whiteboard. He imagined that they were talking about stocks and bonds, or maybe coming up with an idea for a commercial. He wished for a normal life like theirs.

He wished that he could go back in time and just start over. He sighed a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was tired. He was tired of fighting the pain. He was tired of waking up each day and not feeling any better about anything. He was tired of waking up each day and being stuck in the same sad life. He was tired of thinking about Amaya, and his mother and father, in the afterlife. He was tired of the helpless feeling he had of being left alone, utterly alone, with everything he ever loved stripped away from him.

Tears filled in his eyes as he opened them. The wind howled in his ears. He was closer to the edge of the building. He felt himself leaning forward. He closed his eyes again. He was tired of fighting. He leaned all the way forward, and as he began to fall off, a powerful gust of wind came over him, pushing him back up slightly. In the same moment, his eyes opened and a large hawk cawed loudly as it flew close to him. In a startled reflex, his body twisted and he reached for the rebar of the building and hung on before he could fall too far. He held on, and then he easily pulled himself up and back on to the ledge. He could only think of the hawk's angry eyes as he watched it fly off into the distance.

"Gabriel!" he heard a man call out. It was his coworker, Jaime, coming to clear debris. Gabe stood up and brushed himself off, grabbing his helmet and putting it back on. "Gabriel! Are you ok?" Jamie came running towards him. "Did you almost fall? Why aren't you wearing your harness? Are you ok?"

"Yes," Gabe answered, subtly wiping tears from his eyes. "I'm fine. I'm ok. I was just looking out for a second and a gust of wind came and..." Jaime cut him off.

"That's why we wear the harness, carnal! You scared the shit out of me!"

"I'm sorry," Gabe replied, assuring Jaime that he was ok. It took another five minutes of convincing to prove to Jaime that he was ok, and then another fifteen minutes of Jaime recounting his own tale of near-death experience on the job. He seemed like a nice man, Gabe thought. It was the first time they'd actually talked since Gabe started working there. He asked him to call him Gabe from that moment on.

Gabe couldn't believe what had transpired. His heart couldn't lie. He had tried to kill himself. He had literally started the fall to his death. He was on his way, presumably, hopefully, to meet Amaya and his parents in the afterlife, but what had happened? Had the wind saved him? Did the hawk save him? What was the hawk doing flying so close to him like that? Gabe continuously pictured the hawk's eyes glaring angrily at him. Was that Amaya? Had she saved him? His mind was buzzing.

He felt alive again. He felt like someone gave a shit about him, whether the wind or the hawk, there was someone there. He finished off his shift without thinking of anything but Amaya, convinced that she had saved him. She had come to him as a hawk. He walked home, more confused than ever. If she wanted him to live, for what purpose was it? It was surely not to continue on in construction and demolition. It was surely not to exist as a lost soul in a sorrowful plane of existence. What was he to do?

He walked Roxy to the park when he got home. He felt better somehow, more energetic. There was hardly a soul to be found in the cold, windy weather, and he felt some rain sprinkles that would surely deter any possible visitors. They found a spot in the grass under a large maple tree, and he sat. He closed his eyes and his thoughts began to flow.

He thought of the hawk, and he thought of his purpose. He remembered Amaya and he thought of her kind soul and deep respect for the natural world. He wondered what she would do. She would surely tell him to do the right thing, as would his father. His words echoed in Gabe's heart. Mom was there in his mind too. She smiled at him, telling him to follow his heart and be happy.

He thought of Roxy, his only friend in this realm. He could see her eyes squint when he petted her, and it always made him feel happy. He'd brought her happiness by saving her from the bowels of the scum of the earth that were the Guerrero. He saved her. He could save others. He could use his powers and save many. Was that it? Was his purpose to save people? Was his purpose to fight crime? Gangsters? Should he take down more gangsters? Was he supposed to be like a hero, like Batman? He felt confused. Bringing death did not feel right. It was not right.

He woke up from his trance with his heart beating fast. It was dark in the park, and Roxy sat next to him. He did not know how much time had passed, but it was the first time he reached meditation since leaving his old house. He knew that he had not yet fulfilled his destiny. He did not know what that was, but he knew he was not done in this realm yet. There was still work to do.

***

Sergio Munoz was in the shower, humming the tune of Sexual Healing, by Marvin Gaye. He bobbed his head slightly as he worked the lather from a bar of Old Spice, Swagger scent. He had gone shopping for his trip the week before taking off, and this was one of his changes. One of many to come, he thought now. He had wanted a fresh start. He embarked with the purpose of making a big change in his life, and that big change was amounting to many small changes, including switching from Dial to Old Spice. It made him feel confident. It made him feel like the shit.

He smiled to himself. He was liking the new Moons. He laughed as he thought about the name 'Moons', and he didn't really hate it that much anymore. Maybe it would be ok for Carter to call him that, he decided. He felt like he had more swagger too. He felt like he was beginning to have fun, and now he was smiling and humming as he danced in his shower. He had never danced in the shower or hummed a tune before. He almost didn't recognize himself. He thought of the night before, partying Karaoke style with Rafa. He'd not had that much fun, ever, in his life. He felt happy.

He never balled up enough to sing that night. Rafa had though, twice on his own, and once more at the urging of the crowd. The crowd, Munoz remembered. The bar had become packed with people and it was jumping by two in the morning. Rafa had the crowd begging for him to sing. When he finally did at the end, with Sexual Healing, he had sent them bananas. Munoz felt so proud to call him his cousin. They danced with girls, and he met a few hot ones. He had no idea Rafa was that cool. He couldn't wait until the next time.

After breakfast, Munoz met Rafa to go horseback riding again. They headed up the trail into the mountains again, this time taking a different route. Munoz felt more confident on the steed, and the horse seemed to sense it as they made the climb.

An hour later, they reached a clearing on a plateau. The clearing was full of grasses, and there was a stream flowing across it. It surprised Munoz. On Rafa's advisement, they let the horses go to graze the fresh, sweet grass.

"This used to be part of an outpost," Rafa said, pointing to a grouping of rocks. It appeared to be a disarrayed assortment at first, but then upon closer inspection, there was more there. Rafa hopped up some steps carved into a giant boulder and he reached a flat space. "Come up!" he said.

Munoz went up and then looked out over the expanse of the valley below and to the mountaintops across. "In the old days, the Aragonia would signal fire when confronted with danger. We are part of the Aragonia peoples."

"Are we?" Sergio asked.

"Yes. Remotely, after many, many generations of Spaniard intermixing. But yes, we are descendants of the tribe."

"That's pretty cool. They must have been a great tribe."

"Meh, they were ok," Rafa said with a laugh. "They got their asses kicked by the Spaniards, but I guess so did the Maya, Inca, and Aztec." Munoz laughed. "But they did leave our family a special gift, that maybe you're aware of by now."

"Really?" Munoz felt confused. He looked at Rafa, curiously. Rafa was looking into the distance.

"Yeah, come on!" he called out, making an aggressive move in sliding down the rocks. Munoz followed. "Let's get back and Titi can tell you all about it." They called for the horses and headed back to the ranch.

Later that evening, Titi, Rafa, Munoz, and a few of his cousins gathered around a fire pit in the backyard. The backyard was beautiful. There was a large open area on a concrete patio with a fire pit in the middle. Beyond the concrete ran the rows of grapevines, numbering around thirty by Munoz's guesstimate. There were horse stables on the left and right sides of the backyard. Munoz felt very comfortable there.

Titi spoke only in Spanish, and when she did, everyone seemed to listen. Munoz had tried to build a profile on her from the start, but he had trouble reading her. Even now, as he sat beside her, he couldn't figure her yet.

"Rafa has told me that you've been having fun together riding horses and going out. That makes me so happy. I hope that you are having a good time, my grandson," she said to Munoz, in Spanish.

"Yes, grandmother," he answered in his best Spanish.

"Please call me Titi. Everyone calls me Titi. Even your mother called me Titi," she added with a smile.

"I never really knew my mother," he answered somberly. "But that is nice to know."

"Yes, my son," she answered. "I know. What happened was very tragic. I was very saddened to learn of her fate. We were all very saddened." There was silence and only the sounds of the crackling fire could be heard.

"Your mother's life was not in vain. She had you to bless the world with," Titi added. Munoz felt stupid. He'd never felt like any kind of blessing to the world. "You have done a great deal to rid the world of evil and protect the good people. It doesn't not matter that you have left your job now. You are here for a reason. You are here to connect with your real family and find your way out of the darkness." She paused and smiled at him. He felt confused, but happy that she had such sweet sentiments for him.

"Thanks, Titi," he replied. A horse whinnied quietly from a stable. Sergio's cousin, Andrea, brought some tea out for him. He accepted it. She handed the other one to Titi.

"I wanted to talk to you, my grandson, Sergio," Titi went on. "It is your destiny to be here. It is your destiny to learn about your true self. You have a gift. You have the gift of the eye. The eye gives you the ability to see things from a different time and place. They are things in the future or past or present. Do you see things in your dreams? Do you have déjà vu? Do you sense things before they happen?"

Munoz stared at her, unsure if she was being serious. He looked at Rafa, sitting across from him, and Rafa smiled and nodded his head, signaling him to answer. "Sometimes," he said, feeling nervously. "But doesn't that happen to everyone?"

"Yes, perhaps," she answered. "It is only part of the gift. You have only scratched the surface of your natural abilities. Your mind and heart are too clouded to be open to your full abilities. You carry far too much guilt and anger. You have too much guilt over the deaths of your mother and father. You wished you could have saved them. You wished that you had not been born because you believe that they would still be alive today, were it not for you. You carried this pain and guilt with you as you became a man and crusaded against the forces that would do such harm to others, blaming them and society for their death and your pain." She paused.

He sat quietly stunned. She had him perfectly profiled. She understood him better than he did. He felt little. He felt insignificant. He felt embarrassed and petty. She'd seen right through him. He wanted to cry. He felt so weak.

"It is ok, Sergio. It is ok. It was not your fault. Their death was not your fault. Your life and your crusade was not your fault. It has not been in vain. It has brought you here to us. It has brought you here to me. You are home now. I have been waiting for this day to come, where I can hold you and tell you that it is ok. I love you."

Titi stood up then, and took a step towards him. He stood up and hugged her. He began sobbing and he could not stop. She whispered to him. "It is ok. It is not your fault. It's ok. You are home now." It was perfect. He never knew what was in him, exactly, but it seemed to come pouring out in that moment, with each breath filled cry.

After some moments of sobbing, Sergio eventually sat back down. "I..." Sergio didn't know what to say. He tried to regain control over his emotions. He wasn't sure what he felt. He only knew that he hadn't cried in front of anyone before. It was ok, right? Because they were family? He wasn't sure.

"Please," Titi interrupted. "I know that you have trouble expressing your feelings. It must be hard to be an officer. There is a time and place for that though. You are home, and in time you will find that you can express yourself freely here. You will have to learn to communicate better with your emotions if you want to see the other side."

"Other side?" he asked.

"That's what I call it. It is the realm of the time, like another place we cannot see but only through a window. It is where time is different. It is where the spirits roam."

"Do you mean we can talk to ghosts?"

"No," she laughed. "I cannot. Perhaps you will someday. I do not know. The gift affects everyone differently. I know that you can see events before they happen. You can see them when you dream. You can most likely sense auras and good and evil in people even though they do not speak."

"How?"

"Look into the fire," she said. "Let your feelings go. Breath easy. Let go of the guilt. Your mother and father may be with us, here in our presence. Your mother would not want you to carry around such guilt. It was her destiny to pass on. You must let it, and her go. You must relax and rid the blame from your heart. Try not to see. Try to open yourself. The feelings will come to you. Breath easy. Open your mind. Trust us. You are safe here. You are home."

Sergio concentrated on the fire. The flames were bright, but captivating to stare at. The crackling pounded through him. He felt the warmth. He felt the quiet. He tried to ignore everyone's eyes on him. He had to trust them. They were of the same blood. He blocked them out and tried to let go of the guilt, but it was hard. He pictured his mother, the way he always had in his mind, from one of the few pictures he had of her. He was only a baby in the picture, and she sat with him on a bed as he lay in a diaper. She had pale skin, long black hair, and she wore a smile. That was his image of her. He fought back a tear as he tried to let go of the guilt and blame. Titi was right. He should let go. But it was hard.

The flames seemed to flash with intensity. The crackling intensified too. Sergio began breathing faster as his heartbeat sped up. He felt hot. He felt confused. "Let go," he heard Titi say. "Let go, my son," she said again. He thought of Gabe. He pictured himself in Gabe's home and talking to him in his kitchen. He thought of Gabe's family and their bloodied bodies. He thought of the Guerreros and the gangsters. He thought of Carter and then of his own graduation ceremony from the Academy. He thought of his first post after graduating from Army boot camp in Texas. He thought of how he'd felt. He had been proud. It had all been part of a plan that he wasn't fully conscious about. He'd been on the fast track for revenge. They took his mother. It was the gangsters. They took his mother. His anger shot up and flames flashed brighter before they fizzled out with a popping sound. He looked down and he'd shattered the tea mug in his grip.

"That is good," Titi said. "You carry more anger than I thought. Here," she said, handing him a second cup of tea. "I had an extra one made for you," she added with a smile. He looked up when he heard Rafa clapping.

"Very good!" Rafa added with a smile.

"Drink your tea," Titi begged. "It will soothe you. Please go out and have fun with Rafa tonight. And try from now on to relax a bit more. Have some pisco sours, dance with a girl, sing, dance, and remember, let your feelings go free."

Chapter VIII: Tragic Destiny

Pimpin' ain't easy, but it's necessary, Edmund had always said to himself. He had always considered himself a hustler and a gangster first, and nothing else second. Ever since he was as little boy, he wanted to be a gangster. He learned young, while hanging with the older homies from Harbor City that being a gangster meant that you had to put in work. You had to make the world your bitch. You could never take shit from anyone, not a cop, not a fool on the street, and especially not a rival gangster. Taking that shit meant that you were a weak-ass punk and not hard enough to be a gangster, which was why you had to be as tough as you could be. You had to be crazy and down enough to do anything it took to earn respect and keep it. Edmund credited his hardness as to why he was now out of prison and walking home from the bus station.

He walked with a new feeling of power and invincibility. Somehow, as shit would have it, he took his already hard self to an even higher level. He feared nobody on the streets, not any Guerreros, not any 17th streeters, and not any cops. As soon as he got his strap back, he'd blast anybody he came across that so much as looked at him wrong. He only feared the Tolan, who he knew would be watching him. They could easily kill him. The Tolan could be anyone. They could be anywhere. He would not see it coming, but he wouldn't have to. He was ready to stay on their good side and make bank, just like they promised. Like they said, they invested in him.

He went home first. He still had all his shit as his mom's house, where he'd been staying since forever. He loved her, which was more reason for him to leave. She never knew shit about what he'd been up to. She didn't know that he pushed meth and chiva (heroin). She didn't know he jacked people, walked around strapped, hated cops, hurt innocent people, and blasted at rivals like the Guerreros and 17th streeters. She didn't know he was a down-ass gangster. She wouldn't understand, even if she did.

She wasn't home when he walked in and packed a duffle bag. He took his .380 pistol and what was left of his weed and headed for the safehouse. When he got there, they opened the door for him before he even knocked. The safehouse wasn't as he expected. It was more ordinary than he'd built it up in his head. He expected guards, a few pit bulls, and maybe even an iron gate, but it was none of that. It was just a regular old pad.

Edmund got his orders from a pretty woman with heavy proportions. She was Chicana, he noted, and down for her shit, which he could tell, by the way she talked and from the Old English tattoo on her neck. They talked for a few hours, and she explained some details of their short term plans to take control of a certain mapped sector of Los Angeles. Edmund's first mission was to deal out three 8-balls and take out a rival. He was given an earpiece, a cellphone, and an untraceable 9mm pistol. He was told to leave the house only after nightfall, which he did.

He took the car, a normal looking Nissan Altima given to him by the safehouse, to fiftieth street and Warner. He got out and walked to the corner. He went into the liquor store and came back out with an energy drink. He wasn't nervous. He'd been selling dope since forever. He knew where he was, too. He was in a predominately black neighborhood run by the Crips. He wasn't nervous about that either. "He's on his way," he heard in his earpiece. That would take some getting used to, he thought.

"Southwest side. White t-shirt," the voice said again. Edmund took another drink. He reached into his pocket and fingered the two baggies and the rocks inside. He thought quickly about going to his mom's and smoking that shit up, but then dismissed it as quick as it had come into his mind. As he expected, a black man in a white t-shirt came upon him.

"What's up, loc?" the barely twenty kid said. Edmund spotted the letter buckle with a "C" on it and the blue laces on his shoes, both trademarks for a Crip gangster.

"What's up, dog," Edmund answered back. He never sold to the blacks before, but he knew that his goal now was to take over their territory. He'd have to deal with them a lot more now.

"One-fifty, right?"

"Yeah," Edmund answered.

"Shit, that is some crazy shit price. But if that shit's legit, then I ain't gonna pass on that, you know what I'm saying? Shit!" the man laughed.

"Yeah, you know. You all are some new customers and shit, so we are just trying to do y'all right. If this shit ain't the real deal, you just call us back and we'll hook you up. But that ain't gonna happen, 'cause we ain't be slangin' the whackness 'round here, dog."

"Right, right," the man sang out and laughed, and then discreetly handed Edmund a wad of cash. Edmund gave him the baggies inside of a brown paper bag from his energy drink. They parted ways after a fist bump.

"You're clear," the voice said again. Edmund got in his car and wondered where they were watching him from. He didn't see anyone. "New plan. Our mark is on his way to a party. We can hit many of them at once. Go to 81st and Crenshaw and wait. Nod if you acknowledge." Edmund nodded.

Edmund began to drive. He was nervous now. He never had pulled a real hit on anyone. He'd gone on drive-bys before, to blast up rivals. He was in the passenger seat once, and he blasted his .380 out and tried to hit a skinny fool from the Guerreros that he saw running in a commotion when the gunshots started to bang. He didn't hit him, at least he didn't think so. He tried to, but this was different. This was a new level of hit. This was an exact hit and not some random blast at some fool's direction. His orders were clear, and he could not fail.

He pulled up on Crenshaw, hung a right at 81st and then pulled over. He was deep in the hood. If any Crips came upon him, they would blast. His windows weren't even tinted. He couldn't hide. Twenty minutes passed, and then thirty. Then the radio silence broke, "the house is five down on the right. Here's the plan..."

***

Gabe walked home on a Friday night to find several cop cars outside of his building. The scene was eerily familiar, and it brought back a terrible flashback of the night his family had been slain. He saw a cop car leave and watched as it sped past him in a hurry. He got to the building and he was confused. The police stopped him before he got to the entrance. They questioned him, asking him his name, asking for identification, and asking where he'd been all day. It was during the next set of questions that he began to put the story together.

They asked him how well he knew Carlos Hernandez or Margarita Ochoa, to which he gave only a blank stare. When they said they'd lived with a little girl in apartment 1A, he knew something had happened. His heart sank as he thought about the little girl being hurt, or worse. They went through a series of questions related to what he could remember last seeing or hearing and what he might possibly know about any friends they might have had. Gabe wasn't much help, but he could only think about the sad little girl he'd often see playing by herself. "Do you know where she could have gone?" the officer asked.

"What? Sorry. Who?" Gabe asked, confused.

"The young girl, Vida."

"Oh, sorry," Gabe answered. He rejoiced in his head that she was not dead. "No, I'm sorry. I can't recall any type of family or friends that ever came over to see them. Most of the neighbors keep to themselves, including me. I'm sorry."

"May we search your apartment?"

"Yes, of course," he answered. The cop, an older white guy, and another officer, a Latino, led the way past the police tape. "Which is it?"

"1-F," Gabe answered. "Please, I have a dog. She is friendly, but probably scared of all the noise," Gabe added. He opened the door and Roxy came up to him. He patted her and went for the leash. He stayed with her by the door. "Can I take her out, she's been holding it all day. You guys can have a..." the officer cut him off.

"Your window is open. You know, that is very dangerous."

"Yes, well I leave it open for my dog. I don't have anything to steal. My dog needs to go out," Gabe pressed.

"Yes, of course," the Latino cop said. "This place looks clean. We'll be done shortly."

Gabe walked Roxy to the park. They watched for a few hours until the last of the cops moved on. He wondered what had happened. He had caught a glimpse of the door to the neighbor's apartment as he had walked out. He knew nobody would know anything. The meth heads across the hall might have heard something, but it occurred in the daytime, so they either slept through it or mistook it for the sounds of their daily paranoia. There was another loner down the hall that Gabe last saw locked out of his apartment two months before. There was a family with children upstairs, the landlord, a few more loners and a college kid. Maybe one of them had seen or heard something, but he didn't think the chances of that were good. His heart saddened again.

He walked back to his apartment and entered. Roxy ran straight to the sink and wagged her tail, giving Gabe a curious look. He watched Roxy inquisitively, wondering what she was doing. "What?" he asked. Roxy didn't flinch.

"What?" he asked again. Roxy made a fake sneezing sound to summon him, still wagging her tail. She stared at the cabinet under the sink. Gabe walked over and opened it. Something was amiss. He pulled the trash bin out and saw that a tiny person was hiding under his coat. He wondered if it was the little girl. He cleared his throat loudly. "You can come out now," he said. The little girl from next door peeked her head out from under the coat. "It's ok. Everyone's gone. Please come out from there. You're going to get run over by a cockroach." She eased herself out. He helped her up.

He panicked. He wondered if he could get in trouble for harboring her. But he didn't know, how could he be in trouble? He tried to calm down. He crouched down. He saw how dirty she was. Her long, curly hair was tangled and greasy. Her t-shirt was ripped at the shoulder. It had smudges all over it, probably from the bottom of the sink. She was skinnier than he remembered. "Are you ok? Are you thirsty?" She did not flinch. "You don't have to be scared," he said gently. "I'm not going to hurt you. Please have a seat," he said, motioning to the stool next to the counter. He didn't have space for a kitchen table.

She walked over and sat while he got her a drink of water. "Here you go," he offered. It was from a pitcher in the fridge. She drank it immediately. He looked closer at her. She was pretty. She had dark skin like his. She had pretty, big brown eyes. He had no idea how old she was, he guessed twelve or thirteen. He had not much interaction with kids. They both kept quiet. "Are you hungry?" he asked. "I don't have much, but I can make you a sandwich. How long have you been hiding? It must have at least been four hours or more." She said nothing but he got to making her a PB&J anyway.

"My mom and stepdad are dead," she said, finally. He showed her a look of sympathy and kept making the sandwich.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I was afraid of that when I..." he stopped himself. He wasn't sure how to talk to such a young child. He wasn't sure what she would understand or not. He wasn't sure what she was doing there and why she had broken into his apartment. Why had she not gone with the police? Was she afraid? Was she traumatized? Could he ask her these things? Would she know what he was asking? He tried to remember what things he understood at her age. What could he understand when he was only thirteen?

"I'm glad," she said, finally.

"Glad about what?"

"I'm glad they're dead." Gabe stopped what he was doing. He was stunned.

"Why would you say that? You don't mean that, do you?"

"Yes. I mean it. I hate my stepdad. My strung out mother is, was, no better. I hated her too. Almost as much as I hated him."

"Holy shit," Gabe blurted out. "Whoops, I mean, wow. Sorry, I didn't mean to curse in front of you." She gave him a look of confusion.

"I like your dog, Roxy," she said. "Roxy," she called out and began petting her. Gabe refilled her water and put the sandwich down on a paper towel.

"It seems like she likes you too," he replied. "My name is Gabe, by the way."

"My name is Vida," she replied.

"Vida? I thought the cop said Phoebe?"

"Yeah, people are always getting it wrong. Vida is a weird name, but I guess that's what you get when a smack head names you."

"Oh."

"Anyways, I kind of like it now."

"Yeah, I guess it's kind of cool," he admitted. He stayed leaning against the sink, watching her scarf the sandwich down. "I have to admit. I haven't really talked to many people in a long time. And maybe I'm out of touch with kids of the world these days, but you are handling the situation pretty well. And you seem pretty mature for your age. What are you, like twelve or thirteen?"

"I'm nine," she answered. That was much worse, Gabe thought to himself. He didn't know what to do.

"Gabe? Please don't take me to the police. Please don't tell them I'm here. Can I just stay with you? I won't get in your way. I can walk Roxy while you go to work?"

Gabe was caught off guard. "Look, Vida, I know you been through a lot," he replied. Just then, he thought about how much he had really been through. He thought about coming home to a murdered family. "Trust me, I know what you're going through, but that is just crazy. You...you...just can't stay here. That is crazy. Don't you have any family? A grandma and grandpa? What about your real dad? Any aunts or uncles? There must be someone?"

Vida stared down at the counter and began to cry. "There isn't anyone," she sobbed. "The police will take me away and put me in an orphanage. I'm scared. I don't wanna do that," she cried out, in between tears.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I'm sure your school can..." she cut him off.

"No!" she cried out. "I hate my school! Please!" she begged. She jumped off the stool, knelt down and hugged Roxy. Roxy licked her arm. His heart sank in both sympathy and confusion. Part of him wanted to at least let her stay the night there, but it was too risky. It was inappropriate and against the law. It was obstruction of justice. He could go to jail. It was wrong for so many reasons.

"I'm sorry," he said. She stared down, sobbing while she leaned on Roxy. It was hard to watch. "I just can't." He watched her and noted her stringy, ratty curly hair. It looked greasy. Her white t-shirt was stained and browned from not being washed. Her pink shoes were brown too, and had frayed sections where he could see the skin of her feet through. She was a mess.

She stood up abruptly and wiped her tears on her forearm. "Fine," she said, putting and end to her sob. "I guess I'll leave then." She walked towards the door. Letting her go felt wrong too. Where would she go? What if she really had nobody, or maybe she just couldn't think straight? His mind spun as a feeling of regret began to spill over him.

"Wait!" he blurted out. Her hand was on the doorknob, and she held it there as she faced the door. He couldn't break her heart further under these circumstances. He just couldn't do it. "Ok fine. Just for a few days though until we figure out what to do."

She said nothing and then turned around, coming back to pet Roxy. "I mean, there's gotta be something we can do," he added, mostly talking to himself now. "I mean, I certainly can't keep you. I'm not fit for that. I'm...I'm. Besides, there's gotta be at least a hundred different laws against that."

Chapter IX: It's a Small World, After All

In Chile, Sergio began to discover much more about his new world, and new self. Slowly, somehow, he was beginning to let go of the fear that his grandmother, Titi, was helping him to better understand. He had far more fear than he'd ever imagined, and it baffled him that he had never realized it before. He feared that he'd always be alone. He feared that his mother and father would never forgive him. He feared that he could never trust anyone in the world. He feared that he would be killed long before he could rid the streets of enough scumbags to make the pain go away. He feared that if he ever let go of his sharp edge and his crusade against the gangsters, that he'd have nothing and be nothing.

There was a lot there, deep inside, that had been driving him for most of his life. Much of it without him even realizing it, and now it was all beginning to unravel and surface. He wasn't alone, at least, as a man in the world or in his fight against the gangsters. He did have a family too, after all. He never thought that he needed them, or anyone else, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe, too, he had a great deal more than he ever thought.

He had Andrea to hang out with most days, as she was a teacher and off for summer break. She said that she had a friend who would be perfect for him, but then she also said she knew it would not happen. He wondered if she actually knew that because she couldn't see it in his future with her psychic-ness, or if she knew it because they were simply incompatible. He was pretty confused on the family power and who could do or see what. Either way, Andrea was fun to hang out with, and she showed him a few restaurants to eat at that were great. The outdoor one in the avocado grove was the best one by far. He'd never had steak and eggs like that before. The little things were mattering a lot.

Rafa had gone back to work during the weekdays, but he stopped by a few times during the evening. They were set to go horseback riding again today, so Sergio was out at the barn saddling his horse, which was something he was glad to know how to do now. Rafa showed up on time as usual, and before he knew it they were on route.

They took a path through the valley on a dried up riverbed towards the sea this time. It was a much easier ride on them, and especially on the horses. They asked the horses to run a lot, which they seemed to enjoy on the soft clay. They arrived at the beach in an hour that seemed like half of that. Sergio felt like a more capable rider, and he felt more confidence, even though he was still apprehensive at times. The power of the strong horse was still overwhelming and something he felt cautious towards.

He'd been there for almost a month, and he was still blown away by Chile. It was beautiful, almost identical in landscape to LA, a mirror image in many aspects, but still cleaner and more primitive. He'd always grown up like a Mexican and like a Chicano from LA, just like everyone else there. He somehow, and naively thought that life would be the same in every other Latin country, but Chile was a world apart.

Chile was South America, proper, and it was very different than LA, and very different than Mexico. The Chilenos seemed like they were part of something different. It seemed like they had a brotherhood of sorts with the rest of South America in something that they were all a part of. It was a feeling and an attitude in the culture and among the people. It was the history that they were a part of, with the writings on the wall from the revolutionary days of communism and the strong European feel in the cafes and shops that lined the streets. Sergio hadn't fully grasped what he was sensing, but there was something there that made it all that more exciting. It was good find out about this part of his existence.

They rested their horses on the beach sand. He took in the sea and the familiar cool air blowing in from it. The sand was not white, but a light brown color and pristine for as far as his eyes could see. He looked back towards the mountains and he could make out the general area of the ridge that they'd been to before. It seemed closer than it really was. To the north of the beach he saw two large white buildings in the distance. "What are those?" he asked.

"Ah, some condominiums. I own one there," Rafa answered nonchalantly while he fiddled with his saddlebags.

Sergio chuckled. "Are you shitting me? Seriously?"

"Why do you laugh," Rafa said with a wry grin. "Sure! A friend of mine is renting it from me."

"You own beachfront property?"

"Yeah, sure," he answered, putting on some Chapstick.

"How much does something like that go for?"

"Well, I paid about fifty thousand U.S. dollars for mine about two years ago." Sergio was impressed. That was totally affordable for him. The thought of him moving here suddenly grew to another level of realness. He could see himself sipping wine on his ocean front balcony.

"Wow, I could buy one," he thought out loud. He thought of his police pension and figured that he'd make it ok.

"You should! It would be very good for you to move here. Chile is great, no?"

"Yeah, it sure is."

"And now you know that you have family here, and me, and Titi. You won't be alone, ever. We can always be together and raise families together."

"That sounds like a pretty good plan," Sergio admitted.

"Look at these beautiful mamis over here," Rafa sang, pointing out three girls sunbathing in the distance. Sergio squinted, making out the shimmering bodies of three brunettes in bikinis, soaking up the sun. Before he knew it, Rafa was on his way over to talk to them. Sergio laughed to himself and looked back to the sea. He walked his horse closer to the shore. The waves crashed lightly and the tide made its way to their feet. He let Tito's reigns drop and Tito went into the chilly water to wet his ankles.

The water looked dark and green as it came in each wave, before it faded to a lighter brown as the sandy bottom came through in the shallow. He spotted kelp and seaweed in some waves, and then his eyes stretched out as the vast ocean became deep blue with a bright radiance. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes to feel the sea air. The sounds of the waves soothed him.

A flash of light in his mind appeared and then disappeared. He kept his eyes closed and it happened again, and then he saw a girl. He was dancing with her at a nightclub. The scene disappeared, and he tried to concentrate and go back to it. He eased his breathing and kept his mind clear. The scene reappeared and a woman with wavy, long, highlighted hair smiled at him. She captivated him with her beauty, and then she came closer to him. A new scene appeared, suddenly, and he was with her on a bed in dim light. She looked at him seductively, and he knew they were about to fuck.

Sergio's eyes opened in disbelief. He knew not where the scene had come from. He wondered how he could have imagined such a thing. He wondered if he'd just seen the future, but he told himself not to be a fool. He felt hot and a bit turned on. "What the fuck was that?" he muttered to himself. He wondered if he was going crazy. If he was daydreaming, where had he seen that girl before? Surely he would remember such a beauty. In confusion, his eyes drifted up to where Rafa was. He squinted his eyes, wondering if the curly-haired beauty was one of the girls Rafa was talking to. He watched as Rafa got punched playfully in the arm by one of them. Rafa laughed and then made a move to come back. Sergio said nothing to him about his vision.

Later that night, Sergio and Rafa found themselves leaving the karaoke bar, headed for a club called La Goose. Sergio told himself that his vision at the beach had been nothing but bullshit. He told himself that the woman he saw was probably some beauty that he might have seen at the airport, or in a movie, and that his mind had just conjured her up from memory. He told himself that he was crazy for believing in what he saw, but he still couldn't help looking for her at the karaoke bar. He had even gone so far as to make two extra trips to the bathroom even though he didn't have to piss, just so he could see if she was in the back of the bar. He didn't see her there though.

As they entered La Goose, the scene felt familiar. The body heat, the flashing lights, the pounding music, and the people in the background seemed to match his vision from the beach. It was a strange sensation of déjà vu, but it was not exact and not anything that he could pinpoint. It was like being at a place that he'd heard a lot about, but never actually seen pictures of or been to. It was like having an idea of what some place might be like and then showing up there for the first time and finding it to be just how he imagined it. The feeling was overwhelming, and it shot hope through him, no matter how hard he tried to deny the possibility of it. He became nervous and excited and he tried to go with the flow and let his destiny happen.

They got two large bottles of Cristal beer and headed through the crowd. The floor was packed, and it was two in the morning. They brushed by countless hot, sweaty bodies. Sergio kept is hands up and to his sides as he followed Rafa, brushing a pudgy guy and his hot girlfriend when another guy brushed him from behind, sandwiching him. Nobody paid any mind to one another. Nobody cared. If there were any airborne diseases or viruses floating around, the entire club would have surely been infected within seconds. Yet, it was not that discomforting. Not a one was rude. Girls smiled, guys smiled, and Sergio smiled too, helpless to do anything else. He thought of his piece for a second, normally in his left inside holster, but he didn't have it.

They got to a corner of the club where they could set their drinks down. The house music blasted through them. Rafa hollered something about walking around and then he left. Sergio was cool where he was. He was feeling the vibe. He wasn't a partier, but he always thought that in some life he could have been.

He thought of his friend Tony, from college, and remembered how he'd always been invited to go out and party. Sergio never went, even though the partying was in his blood. It was in where he came from, in the streets. Everyone partied there. It was all they did. He had rejected them and their culture of partying and getting drunk and high all the time. He resented them and all that they stood for, wasting their lives selfishly in their refusal to grow up and give back to the world instead of just taking and taking and taking. Maybe he was too harsh in his judgment. Maybe he had wrongly blamed them for what happened to his parents. He stopped thinking about it, just like that.

Ever so subtly bobbing to the beat, he looked out over the crowd, which he could see fairly well from his vantage point. It helped that he was on the taller side at five-eleven, but it was impossible to visibly capture everyone. The crowd was packed in tighter than any place he had ever been to, and he guessed there must have been a thousand people in a space meant for three hundred.

Still, he scanned the crowd as he sipped from his beer and tried to blend in as a regular person. He tried, impossibly, to forget about the girl from his vision, but he was looking for her with each scan across the crowd. There were one or two with similar, wavy, Shakira-like hair, just like the girl of his vision, but they were with other dudes, dancing. The rational side of him interrupted, telling him to stop obsessing. He felt stupid believing in something so foolish and ridiculous, but then, he couldn't doubt it all the way either.

He had a seen a lot of shit in the world. People did crazy things under the influence of drugs and religion. Others were magicians and still others, just crazy fucks. Could this power be so far fetched? Did people not believe in God, gods, and ghosts and demons? Did people not believe in psychics and aliens? In his head, he sounded like one of the whackjobs he'd normally go after, but he still...He wasn't stupid. He knew what he saw. He knew what he'd been able to do on the force. He knew that he could solve crimes, somehow, by concentrating and trusting his instincts. He knew that he had always been different. He just knew, just like he knew he had a vision earlier that day.

He knew it was a vision, similar to the ones he had as a cop, but this one was a bit different. This one came on differently, just like Titi had told him it would. Why would she lie? And why would the entire family be in it, like some sort of giant, across the world conspiracy to make him feel like a fool? No way. It had to be true, and he was there in the club now, still in the middle of the partially foretold destiny. Where was she? The suspense was killing him. He couldn't find her. He felt even stupider yet as he went on his tip toes for a better vantage point.

He laughed at himself, finally deciding that he was acting like a child and turned around to grab his beer on the speaker, and there she was. She danced before him, wearing a flowing cream-colored dress and dark heels. He looked at her, before she noticed him staring, and he saw the green beaded necklace and wavy, highlighted hair that he'd seen before. His mouth fell open for as much as her beauty stunned him, he was overcome with the feeling that he'd tapped some super power that had been within him for years. It was real. He had the power.

While Sergio was lost in the feeling of whimsical cosmic forces, she looked up at him and made direct eye contact. Her beautiful eyes zapped him out of his trance and tossed him yet further out of his mind. He thought for a moment how stupid he must have looked, staring at her like some possessed, slobbering idiot, but he was in the undertow of emotion, helpless to swim out from. "I saw you in a dream," he said in his Chicano version of Spanish.

"What?" she replied sharply, in Spanish.

"I'm sorry. I'm in the middle of..." he searched for the word, but nothing other than "déjà vu," came out.

"Oh, déjà vu?" she laughed out. She rolled her eyes. "That is not a new one," she said loudly, just making it over the music. "I've heard them all before." He inched closer to her and she looked away, displaying her disinterest.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It's not a come on. I know we are meant to be together."

She gave him a strange, studious stare and then laughed rudely. "Where are you from?" she asked, giving him a look of suspicion.

"California," he answered. Everyone asked it immediately upon hearing him speak. His accent and shitty Spanish was his scarlet letter.

"Ok, well are we going to dance or not?" she ordered.

He smiled. "Yes we are," he said, attempting to dance in rhythm.

They danced to the vibe of the house music and electronica, and Sergio's mind spun in bewilderment. She looked at him once in a while, mostly just to check if he was still there, from what he could read. He held on to what he thought was in their future. He wondered, since he was still stuck in déjà vu, when and how they would end up making love. It was a secret that she didn't know, and it charged him erotically somehow, giving him confidence. That was the confusing part though, he thought. What if he was altering his destiny in that moment? What if he was about to unknowingly change his destiny? What if he had already done something to alter it? What if he already ruined his chance to be with her?

He tried not to get nervous. He made himself relax. Relaxing and going with the flow had been working well for him so far. It made him feel less like a cop, but that hadn't necessarily been a bad thing for him. He watched her twirl as she moved in rhythm. She was beautiful beyond any chick he'd been with before.

One song went into another and Sergio did his best to maintain rhythm. Rafa had not come back, but he didn't care. The music changed to reggaeton, and she altered her rhythm, dancing closer to him. He could smell her. He reached out his hands and touched her waist. She seemed ok with it. She twirled quickly and she splashed his face with her hair. He laughed, as did she. She came closer yet, staring at him more intently. He wondered if she was drunk. He doubted it. Her eyes were too vivid and alive. She looked at him, not past him.

"You're cute," she said, finally.

"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said back. She laughed in disbelief. He knew he'd been saying everything wrong so far, but it did not deter him. He inched closer and his body was upon hers, touching torso to torso. He pulled her in with his right hand around her back. She leaned her head back and shook to the rhythm. Their bodies were synced, bonded chemically by an invisible force. She looked at him again, smiling so slight that he felt it more than saw it. He was in the scene he'd already seen. He leaned in, going with the flow of his feelings, and he kissed her. She kissed him back and she put her arms around his neck. She pulled back and leaned back again, holding on to him, shaking her head again to the beat.

He tried his hardest to avoid it, but he became hard. He knew she felt it on her leg, but she didn't seem to care. All he could think about was the taste of her mouth, and when he'd get to taste her again. It wouldn't be soon enough.

***

A week earlier, Anthony Ortega, from South Central Los Angeles, found himself walking into a prison cell that would be his new home for the next year in Lompoc State Penitentiary. As luck would have it, his cellmate would be none other than his friend from many years ago and notorious Guerrero gang leader, Julio Marquez, also known as Scrapps.

The one year detention for Anthony would be but a drop in the bucket of time that was Scrapps' nine years for grand theft auto and the attempted murder of an officer of the peace, but it would be good, nonetheless, to have a friend. They played cards as they talked about some of the old times, the times before things changed.

Scrapps had just finished explaining the rise of the Tolan Brotherhood and the new business strategy that came along with it. "And it's all because of one guy," Scrapps added.

"One guy?" asked Anthony in disbelief.

"Fuck yeah, homes. One vato who calls himself the LA Ninja."

"Fuckin' eh. That shit was real? I heard about that fool in the news and shit, but I guess I just never believed it, you know?"

"Fuckin' eh, homes," Scrapps went on. "That fucker was real. Nobody ever caught him either. Don't get it the wrong way, homie, but that is one bad ass fool. That LA Ninja vato ain't no joke. He took out half our crew by himself, eh?"

"For reals?" asked Anthony, rhetorically.

"Yeah," replied Scrapps as he threw down a spade card. "I was there, homie."

"Put that on," Anthony replied, asking if Scrapps was telling the truth.

"No joke, dog."

"Did you see him?" Anthony asked. Scrapps paused and looked down. He lowered his voice even more.

"Nah, homes. Not really. He was like invisible or something, you know? Like he was always in the dark and shit, sneaking around like some fucking cockroach. We just know he was some vato from South Central that had it in for the Guerreros." Scrapps froze his movements and then inched closer to Anthony to tell him a secret. "You know," he lowered his voice to a near whisper. "The cops think they got him too, n' shit, but they didn't. They got some other fool."

"For reals? Damn, homie."

"Yeah," Scrapps said going back to his normal low voice and resuming their game. "It don't matter no more. He disappeared anyways. Nobody has seen his ass neither, and better not, cause he's gonna get blasted back to China!" Scrapps let out a laugh while he held his hand up and pulled the trigger on a pretend gun. "Right?" he added before shaking hands with Anthony for acknowledgement.

"Orale!" Anthony rejoiced, but something else clicked in Anthony's head just then.

He quietly continued playing his hand, and then it ended and he went to shuffle. He'd been strung out for so many years. He couldn't remember the last time he went more than a few days without getting lit up on crystal. He owed money. He stole. He ripped people off. His mom disowned him. He stole his sister's car and sold it for money to buy more shit with. He'd been fucked up for so long that he sometimes didn't know what day it was. There was something he knew though. He remembered his old friend Gabe. Gabe had been his closest homeboy from LA. They were roll dogs. Then something happened.

"You know what?" Anthony blurted out. Scrapps gave him a look that asked 'what'. "I think I know who the LA Ninja is."

Scrapps laughed and then repeated Anthony's words, sarcastically. "You think you know who the LA Ninja is. Don't make me laugh, homes!"

"Serious, homes. There was some fool I used to run the streets with as a little vato. His name was Gabe. He went off to join the Marines and shit, you know? He wanted to be like G.I. Joe n' shit. And then when he came back to LA from the Marines, his family got smoked. All of them dead, except him. They lived in LA, on 60th street."

Scrapps knew the story all too well. He'd been the one that pulled the trigger. He killed the LA Ninja's dad. His heart sank with guilt for a second, but then it went away. The story was now complete. He knew not how this could have eluded them for so long, but it didn't matter now. They had a vital piece of the puzzle. They had the LA Ninja.

Chapter X: Falling for the Girl

Gabe was in a curious state of confusion. His shift had ended an hour before, but as the night descended upon him, he sat in a quasi meditation, on the sixth floor, wondering what he should do. He broke his meditation then. He couldn't deny that he'd grown fond of Vida. She was a curiously smart girl. They'd gone over it a million times already. There was nowhere else she could turn. The authorities, the police, were his only option. He could talk to Munoz, if only he were still around. He had set off for Chile, from what Gabe could remember. Maybe he was back? But where? He wondered. He'd left the force.

What then, was left for Gabe? What could he do with this young child? She should go to school, but she refused. She asked for his help. Surely he could teach her, but that would involve a commitment. That would involve his agreement to become some sort of guardian. Surely someone would come looking for her. A school administrator perhaps? Maybe someone at her school would call the police and the police would come looking for her? He wondered.

Could he bring himself to do it? Maybe he could teach her math and science and history. Maybe he could teach her history and geography? Maybe he could teach her Shinto and Ninjutsu? He smiled and then almost laughed himself off the edge of the building. That would surely be ironic, he thought, to fall to his peril when he finally had a reason to live. Was that it? Was she his purpose? Was he supposed to take her and guard her and protect her? Was he supposed to train her? His eyes searched out for a sign. He looked for the hawk, hoping that she would come and caw in assurance in what he should do, but there was nothing except for the still, cold, night air.

He felt that it would be hopeless for him to reach full meditation with so much on his mind, so he left the sixth floor of his building and made his way home. When he got there, he greeted the child and asked her of her day. She had only left twice, to take Roxy out to the park, she'd said.

She sat on his bed, flipping through one of his books on Taoism. His eyes then found a few other books scattered on the bed that he'd given up to her to sleep in. "You having a good time reading that book?" he asked sarcastically.

"No. It's boring," she sassed back without looking up.

"Are you ready to move on and go talk to a counselor or a police officer? You should be in a good home with people that will take care of you and see that you get to school and..." she cut him off.

"I thought you said you would take care of me?"

"I never said..." she cut him off again.

"Why can't you? You are here alone. I don't want to go to an orphanage!" He looked in her eyes and he could see the deep look of concern of a child in fear. She was not broken as was he when his family had been ripped out of his life. She was strong, and determined not to go anywhere else. She had been scarred by her parents when they were here in her life, but now she was...He felt himself giving in. He felt that he was about to make a big mistake.

"Look, you're a young girl. You're strong, I can see, and you have great instincts for survival. And you seem to understand things about life that I never understood when I was your age. But I'm not your father. I have my own problems."

"What problems?" she asked. She was beginning to sob. "Maybe you just need a friend? I have seen you. I see you come and go. I hear your nightmares. I know you have so much pain."

"How you do you know about my pain? You know nothing about me!" Gabe raised his voice.

Vida lowered her head in sadness. "I'm sorry. I understand." There was a pause. Gabe stared off into space, hurt by the resurfacing pain of his own losses. "I didn't mean to jump into your life like this. Thanks for everything you've done for me, letting me take a bath and feeding me and stuff. I will be going now," she said. Gabe heard her get up and begin picking up her stuff. His heart sank. Nothing was fair. He was already too involved. If something happened to her now, it would be his fault.

"Wait!" he said. She stared at him and paused with one of her shoes on and the other in her hand. Her hair was still stringy and greasy looking, even though she'd taken a bath. Her clothes were still filthy. She was a wretched mess of a little girl. He couldn't let her go.

"Ok. You win," he said. The slightest smile came over her face. "You can stay on one condition. Your life here will not be free. You will learn. You will work hard. And you will do what I say." She smiled and nodded.

"Ok," she said. She gave him a red, teary-eyed smile of gratitude and put her shoe back on the floor. He stared at the sloppy child of misfortune and he felt somewhat relieved that she'd come upon him. He would save her. It was his destiny.

"Now, first things first," he said, staring again at her hair that was bugging him more and more. "We'll have to go shopping and buy you some decent stuff. Maybe some new clothes, and definitely some girlie stuff for you to, you know, uh, take a shower with and stuff like that."

"Ok," she nodded.

***

Gabe decided to take the next few days off of work. He spent the morning walking through Walgreens, picking out products for his new roomie. As it turned out, she was as much in the dark as was he when it came to buying the right stuff. They worked together and tried to read labels, but for the most part, that didn't seem to be the best approach. She was appreciative and modest. She was remarkably aware of the cost of everything, and when Gabe put the bottle of Pantene in the cart, she thought he was going too far.

They bought some Dove soap too, which they had both remembered seeing commercials about. He was surprised to find that she didn't wear deodorant, but then it made sense since she was so young. Other things were not so easy. He avoided asking a question that was on his mind, but he wondered if she had needed any feminine specific products like tampons or pads. He decided not to mention it unless she did first.

The trip to Walgreens was awkward, but they got through it. He could tell that she seemed more talkative than she appeared to be, and that she was holding back for some reason. He didn't know why, but he did his best to read her and let her be. They stopped in at the Chili's across from Walgreens, for lunch. She begged him not to, but he told her that her fight was of no use.

They sat in a booth in the semi-empty restaurant, and he asked her if she'd ever eaten there before.

"No. Have you?" she asked.

"Yes, many years ago. There was a Chili's on the base I was stationed at in Japan."

"Wow, you went to Japan?"

"Yes, I lived there for many years."

"That's pretty cool. I want to travel when I grow up. Maybe not Japan, but maybe Italy or somewhere like that." Gabe laughed. Vida laughed too. "I never seen you smile or laugh before," she said. Gabe couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled. He wondered how closely she had really been watching him, and for how long. It was just another reminder of how much of the world around him he'd been missing, and how vulnerable he had really become.

"Do you like sandwiches? Or hamburgers maybe? I'm not sure what a nine year old should be eating. When do you turn ten?"

"My birthday is August nineteenth," she said. "When's yours?" Gabe chuckled. The waitress came upon them then.

"August nineteenth," he said quickly. "Funny, huh?" he added with a smile. The waitress asked for their orders. "How about two cheeseburgers with fries. The Old Timers. And two cokes."

"We have the same birthday?" Vida asked in disbelief as the waitress walked away.

"I guess so," Gabe said, smiling awkwardly. "Look, Vida, I wanted to talk to you about the work we're gonna do, ok?" She scrunched her face and then a nervous look came over her. "I have spent a great deal of time of my life, learning. I have been very dedicated. Do you know what dedicated means?" Vida shook her head. "Dedicated means that you focus one-hundred percent on something and you never stop until it is done and mastered." She wore a confused look.

"Well, anyways, what that means for us, and you, is that you are going to spend all your time learning."

"Learning what?"

"Well, learning math and science and history, of course. Stuff you should be learning in school."

"Oh," she replied, disappointed. She scrunched her face as she looked at the table. He chuckled to himself. He'd seen her make that face a few times already. It was her look of disappointment, he noted. She was pretty, he thought to himself. He tried to remember the way her mom looked. She was pretty too, from what he could remember. He wondered if she was sad. He would be, he thought. He wanted to ask her about her feelings, but maybe not yet.

"Uh, there's something else," Gabe went on. "You know, it's probably pretty dangerous for you to be staying home all day by yourself. Even with Roxy. And if someone were to figure out that you're there alone, well, we both can get in trouble. You know?"

"Yeah, I know. I have to be dedicated to keeping a secret, right?"

Gabe smiled. "Yeah. Smart girl, you are." She smiled back. An idea he once had resurfaced in his head then. He could begin training her in the arts. He could train her in ninjutsu and Shinto, he could...he stopped his train of thought. How could he trust her with such a sacred secret? Unless, if perhaps, she did not know what she was really training for? Was that possible?

***

Killing was a dangerous pastime, even for a ninja, the dark ninja thought. The Tolan would rather not kill those who stood in the way of their vision for prosperity, but rather do it only as a necessity, was what they had told him. Not that it mattered what they wanted. He was doing a job. He didn't care if people died or lived. He wanted to get paid. Of course, it wasn't always so simple. The game of death required thought, planning, and careful execution.

They'd been reckless in killing the bouncers in San Francisco, burning the Rough Suspect with their fiery trail of death. He'd been forced to use metal stars, which although he'd had his fingers surgically altered so as to not leave prints, was still evidence of a ninja. Worse, he'd been forced to also kill the beautiful blonde stripper. He was not happy about that. He had planned to see her over and over again. The drunken ronin was reckless. He was causing unneeded trouble and bringing unwanted attention -attention that his employers would not appreciate.

That was in the past though. There was work to do. The dark ninja would not be leaving such a disastrous trail this time. He had the perfect skillset for coming up with crafty ways to isolate and bring fear to his victims in order to bring the business at hand to the forefront. It was not always an invisible endeavor, however. Leaving dead assembly and senate members, no matter how creative, was bound to bring attention.

In perhaps the final quest to ensure the votes that the cartel needed to keep the rehabilitation center open, the dark ninja made his approach. In the still of the night, he crept quietly under the darkness. In a rich neighborhood, in the Mission Hills of San Diego, the dark ninja maneuvered through a golf course. There sat a row of homes along the tree line that he followed from a distance, a tactic meant to avoid noisemaking dogs, the only beings capable of sensing his presence. Then, he finally spotted his target.

He was prepared for a secure location, as was common in the affluent neighborhoods. He reached the trees beyond the house and silently climbed up onto a high tree limb. He peered through a scope. All the lights were off, and the house was silent. He'd been watching for days. He'd seen the beastly Rottweiler, a friendly sourpuss at best, but still innately equipped with a loud bark and a strong defense.

He'd seen the booger-riddled boy, sauntering about outside in his motorized kiddie car. He was spoiled, inept, and undoubtedly loaded up with fat pills and sugar, the staples of the American diet, disguised in pretty packages. He should kill him on principle and save the world from his inevitable future of leeching from society, he thought, but he would probably not.

He'd seen the pretty teenage daughter of the assemblyman, talking and clicking endlessly on her phone in her bedroom. She rarely left the confines of her plush, pink safe haven, but he'd seen her come out to argue something with her mother. Daddy ignored her, even though she was the only one they gave a shit about and put out half an effort with. She might make it to college and then flounder after falling for a politician's son, have babies, and then follow in her mother's footsteps. She was cute, and his type, he thought. Maybe he'd have her.

He had seen the blonde wife of the politician. She was a prize, for certain, pushing forty, but thin and energetic, no doubt aided by the chemically laced shakes she seemed to drink to no end. When she wasn't on her phone typing, she was on her computer. He'd followed her to the tennis club for lessons and then to the supermarket for fat pills and sugar for the kids. She and husband ate together as a family, but they hardly exchanged glances and stayed on the phones most of the time. If there was something more sinister going on with her, which he was sure there was, she'd been hiding it well.

Lastly, the dark ninja had profiled the assemblyman well. He was lucky enough to be present when Benicio had tried to buy his vote. The dark ninja was initially impressed with his backbone and stern refusal to be bribed. However, after tailing him for a few days and getting the lowdown from Benicio's wiretap and Internet records, he was anything but a noble man. He'd been carrying on at least two affairs, one of them with a woman in the clerk's office, who incidentally was also dating another assemblyman.

In addition, the assemblyman had met with some people at a house reportedly owned by people connected to a rival Mexican cartel. The Internet records showed that he was carrying on secret chat conversations, sexual in nature, with two unknown individuals. His online chat profile was Phat Tiger, and he had some unknown amount of money tied up in an offshore Cayman account. Lastly, his email records showed that he had business ties with several lobbyists known for questionable dealings in every sector from agriculture to oil and gas, power and energy, and wind and solar. The dark ninja felt that he should kill him on principle too, but that had not been the agreement with Benicio. Benicio wanted him alive, for whatever reason, if possible. The sorry, ignorant and apathetic American public would have to live with the choice they made in their democratic election of a lying, cheating representative for at least awhile longer.

The dark ninja spotted his entry point in an open window in a room he thought to be the laundry room due to the exhaust vent near the window. He dismounted the tree and first went to cut the power, easily picking the lock over the panel opening and then shutting off the power to everything except for the upstairs master bedroom circuit. This would be enough to disable the alarm system from sounding off loudly. Benicio had already used the Internet to cancel the monitoring service and pay the early termination fee, so no help would be coming.

The neighbors had a palm tree and a balcony that he could use to get up on the roof and jump over to the target house. He made his way there and mounted the soft, queen palm. He climbed up, using spikes on his split toe boots and metal spiked gloves. He easily reached the balcony and mounted the rail before making a clean hop up to the roof. He ran quickly over the peak of the roof and then leapt across to the other house, easily covering the fifteen-foot distance.

Once there, he checked the tension on the rain gutter. It was too weak to hold him, so he attached a hook to the chimney and lowered himself to the window. He cut the screen and slid the window open. He let go of the rope and he was inside. The dog hadn't detected him yet. It slept in the assemblyman's room. The ninja reached into his inside pocket and with a small dagger, fished out a small piece of steak and tossed it out near the closed bedroom door of the sleeping politician and his wife.

He waited and then, after a few minutes, he could hear the dog near the door, sniffing. The dog grew agitated and began scratching at the door. The wife finally got up and let the dog out, which was when the darkly concealed ninja shot him with a dart. "What the hell?" the woman said, watching the dog scarf down something strange and edible. In her sleepy, dreamy state, she thought nothing of it and returned with the dog to her room.

The ninja quickly and flawlessly entered each child's room and bound them with rope and tape. He walked them over to their parents' bedroom and then busted through the door, tossing the kids onto the floor with a loud commotion. Without another word, he mounted the wife and knocked her on the backside of the head with the butt of his sword. He then picked her up and covered her mouth with one hand and put the blade of his sword to her neck with his other, as he stood behind her on the side of the bed. There was silence, and confusion, and then the moans and muted cries from the children began to overtake the silence.

The confused and scared politician reached to turn on his reading light. He hollered some profanities in his confusion as his eyes quickly noticed the darkly clothed intruder holding a sword to his wife's throat just two feet away from him.

"Don't move!" the ninja ordered sternly. The politician looked at his kids on the floor and then back to his wife and the ninja with a partially hidden face. The picture became clearer as he calmed himself, awaiting an order that could lead to a peaceful ending.

"Please don't hurt us!" the politician asked, calmly. His wife was in sobbing in tears. The ninja said nothing, but remained still and quiet. He savored the moments of fear permeated through the room. He was in total control.

"Please, take what you want!" the man cried out. The ninja's eyes shifted to the man's daughter and he scanned her from head to toe, stopping at the end of her nightgown to focus on the skin of her thighs that called out to him. The ninja grunted longingly as she lay on the floor next to her brother, crying next to their now dead dog. He then looked sharply at the man and smiled with his eyes.

"No," the politician begged, knowing that the ninja wanted his precious daughter.

The ninja stared at him and chuckled under his breath. The politician exuded fear that the ninja could feel flooding the air. The ninja owned him. He could take the girl and kill them all. That's what he wanted to do. He was a professional though, only slightly more than he was a monster. He paused and savored it. He could live in this moment forever.

He backed off his sword from the wife's neck and with his free hand he ran his hand over her breast, forcefully tilting her neck so that he could take in her scent before he kissed it and bit it gently, as if they had been lovers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the politician make a quick move for the night table at his side. The ninja quickly launched a dart directly onto his reaching hand, piercing him badly as he let out a grunt in horror.

The ninja laughed and then he dragged the man's wife over and strongly tossed her down with the kids. He stood over them with his sword pointed at them, letting out a mean grunt meant to warn them.

"Ok!" the man yelled out. "I'm sorry!" he pleaded. The ninja laughed as he watched the blood ooze from the star in the man's hand. He was having too much fun.

The ninja ran his sword gently over the daughter's gentle, silky nightgown as he reached into his pocket with his other hand and dialed a number. On Skype speakerphone, the number rang on the other end until Benicio's voice picked up.

"Hello, Mr. Jameson," Benicio's meagerly accented voice came on. The ninja watched as the politician's face went from terror and confusion to realization of who it was. Somehow sensing it, Benicio paused before going on.

"I can see that you've met my associate." The politician looked at the phone and focused closer, trying to make out the figure sitting on a couch. "Nod your head if you understand." The politician nodded his head.

"Good. Your refusal to take our offer has sadly resulted in this. Now you not only get no money, but your family will pay the ultimate price for your fuck up. You can say your good byes."

"No!" the politician screamed out. "It's done!" the politician called out. "Forget the money. You have my vote. I assure you. Please spare them and I will vote your way and see that the committee report is favorable!"

Benicio let out a chuckle. "Why does it always have to come to this?" he asked rhetorically. He then added an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. If you are double crossing me, we will be back and you will have no chance. Not a single one of you. Nod if you understand." The politician nodded.

"Yes, I understand," the politician added. The ninja disconnected the call. The man's wife and kids were crying. The dark ninja was in his moment of purpose. He was in control, with his enemies helpless and dependent on his mercy. He knew he wouldn't kill them. He'd already made that decision, but he wasn't done savoring the moment. He moved towards the politician's daughter. He knelt down and he could smell her fear. She refused to look at him, ever so fearful and knowing of his desire, she could not look. He grabbed her by her blonde hair.

"No!" cried out the politician. He made a sudden move to his feet, and the ninja responded by putting his sword blade to her soft, trembling neck, causing the man to freeze in fear. The ninja leaned in and took a deep inhale of her scent of purity and innocence. He smiled and then let her go. He laughed mockingly at the politician as he dropped a smoke bomb before the bed and disappeared back out through the laundry room window.

Chapter XI: Coping with New Skills

Gabe had spent the past two days getting to know Vida. She was foreign to him, an alien to his world of sorrow and isolation. Except for the occasional 'hi' and 'bye' with strangers, and the small talk with some of his coworkers, he didn't have anyone to talk to. He didn't know how to talk to Vida. He was curious about her. He wanted to know what she thought, about him, about her situation, about the world, and everything else. It was hard though, and he realized that it was going to take a long time.

The days off from work to spend time with her were paying off. She had begun to open up a lot more, and she became far more talkative, and maybe even too talkative, for him. That was ok though. It was unexpectedly comforting to him to actually listen to someone talk. She was like him, from a similar neighborhood that he came from, but from a very different upbringing and situation. He didn't know what it all meant, but he felt sorry for her and he didn't think it was fair for her to have to pay for the sins and weaknesses of her parents. It wasn't fair for her to have to grow up with such neglect. Nothing was fair.

He wanted to do his part, at least, and do what he could to show her what he thought a normal life for a kid should look like. Commitment and promises were like that for Gabe. He was either all in or all out. There was no in between. The agreement was that they'd spend half the day with book study and the other half with exercising. They went to Barnes N' Noble to buy some textbooks, which took almost the entire day since Gabe insisted on being meticulous about which books to buy.

The next day they found themselves at the secret beach he knew of, just up the 101 Hwy. Gabe wasn't sure how to do anything else for her physical fitness, so he decided that he'd set her up to learn some basic ninja skills, without acknowledging what it really was. He didn't see the harm in it, and he figured that it would be better for her safety in the long run to be able to protect herself.

They reached the edge of the dry sand where it met the sea. The day was warmer than it had been lately. He watched her take the view in, but she seemed unimpressed, even though she had told him that she'd never been to the beach before. It hadn't really surprised him. Getting out to the beach was not something he could imagine her lowlife parents ever doing. He asked her to let go of Roxy so that they could get started.

"Awe," Vida said as she held on to her embrace of the huge dog for a few more seconds. She did, finally, and Roxy bounced up and ran for the shore. Gabe sighed to himself in frustration. Vida simply did not have the discipline to learn yet. "Ok, now what?" she asked.

"Nothing. Just kneel down like I am."

"Can I cross my legs?" she asked innocently.

"Uh, no. Just kneel like I am." She did, finally.

"Ok, close your eyes and try to clear your mind. I want you to learn to meditate."

"What's meditate?"

"Well, it's when you clear your mind of thoughts so that you can connect to your spirit."

"You mean like dead people?" Gabe stared at her in confusion. He wondered if she was being serious. She stared back with a puzzled look.

"No," he answered. "Your spirit is what is inside you. It is part of your heart, and it gives you your personality and it tells you what to do when you don't know what to do."

"Oh."

"Now, close your eyes and just try not to think about anything."

"Ok."

Gabe closed his eyes. "Just breathe nice and easy. In and out through your nose." The seconds were quiet, and before he knew it, he'd dropped into a subconscious state. He saw tall yellow flowers in a field of golden grass. They swayed in with a gentle breeze. He could hear the ocean waves breaking gently in the distance. Roxy was in the field of flowers, chasing a butterfly. He felt calmness flow over him. He felt easy. He felt no pressure. He felt relaxed. He saw a hawk soaring high above, letting a zephyr carry it effortlessly through the sky. He felt so calm that he wanted to cry. He did not feel fear. He did not feel the same sadness as before. Something was wrong. Gabe opened his eyes. Vida was staring at him and then she closed her eyes instantly, trying to fool him.

He stared at her, wiping tears from his eyes. She cracked her eyes open. He raised his eyebrows at her in gentle frustration. She smiled. "I'm sorry. I tried to clear my mind but I keep thinking of stuff."

"Like what?"

"Are you crying, Gabe? Are you sad?"

Gabe sighed. It wasn't going to be easy, he thought to himself. "Ok, look. I guess since we are going to be hanging out a lot you should know some stuff about me. For one, yes I was crying, just a little."

"My stepdad says crying is for..." she trailed off.

"For what?" he pressed, knowing she was going say crying was a sign of weakness.

"For little girls and gays."

"Ok. That's another thing. Your stepdad and your mom weren't the best teachers for you. It's gonna be hard, but you're going to have to just try to forget everything they told you. You're gonna start fresh with me, and it's ok to listen to me because you can trust me."

"Why?"

"Because. Look, I don't know why things in life happen, but they do. I don't know why you were born to people that didn't love you, just like I don't know why good things happen to bad people and bad things happen to good people. Life just isn't fair. It never will be. And that's why I was crying. A long time ago, some bad things happened to uncle Gabe. Someone took his family away from him. Sometimes it hurts me when I think about it; sometimes it hurts me when I don't think about it, because it is a part of my spirit now. And it is always there. The pain is always there. Do you understand?"

"You mean like your heart never forgets, even if you don't think about it?"

"Yes!" Gabe exclaimed. "Exactly like that. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course!"

"How do you feel about what happened to your mom and stepdad? I know they were kind of mean to you and stuff, but they are still gone forever. Does it make you sad?"

"A little. I try not to think about it too much. I miss my mom a little. But not that much." Gabe studied her as she spoke. He could not see the hurt in her. He didn't see the pain he was expecting to see.

"That's it?"

"Yeah," she said with a half smile, squinting slightly from the leveling sun.

"Ok, well, maybe you're not ready to meditate," he conceded. "But part of the physical training, uh, I mean," he attempted to clarify himself, "part of the exercises we will be doing involves us concentrating really hard, and sometimes that is hard to do unless our minds are trained to be connected to our spirits, which is what meditation helps us do, ok?"

"Ok."

"Let's practice. Close your eyes again, but let's listen," he peeked to make sure she was listening. "Ok, now what do you hear?" he asked. He drained his thoughts and concentrated. He began filing the sounds. He could hear the sea. He could hear the wind whooshing over his ears. He could hear the waves crashing in rhythm. He could hear seagulls cawing from a high distance on the cliff.

"I hear the waves," she began. She paused. "I hear some birds yelling at each other. I hear a car?"

"Yes, that's good," Gabe went on. "Concentrate on your breathing. Make it so rhythmic and natural that it does not interfere with your hearing. Keep going, what else do you hear?"

She was quiet. He opened his eyes, and he could see that she was breathing correctly and concentrating. "I...I hear Roxy splashing."

"Yes," Gabe replied, pleased. He suddenly remembered something that Sasaki had told him, about how a child's mind was naturally more open and thus more receptive to learning. It clicked in his mind suddenly, that teaching her might be different than how he had been taught, but it also might be easier. He was pleased by her receptiveness.

"That is very good, Vida. Now, open your eyes. Now we will practice a different exercise that will build up our leg strength."

"But my legs are already strong," she whined. Gabe chuckled under his breath.

"I'm sure they are, Vida, but we need them to be stronger. So, up on your feet!" he said with the enthusiasm of a good coach.

The more time that Gabe spent with Vida, the more he was reminded of the old times when he was being trained by Sasaki. In some ways it was like having a fresh start, only it was not fresh. In the back of his mind swirled the constant reminder of his own sorrow and pain. His mind would not forget, nor would his heart. Gabe was coming to realize that this new, little person in his life was a strange twist of fate. His attempt at training her would not be so easy, he realized, too. She had a strong will, and she had her own ideas of what she wanted to do. She never seemed to stay still, either.

***

The conversation had gone much better than he could have imagined. Sergio was finding out that opening up about himself made it so much easier to have a deep, no-bullshit conversation with a beautiful stranger. Over a great meal of seafood paella and some wine, he'd told her, Erika was her name, that he'd been deeply scarred by the death of his parents. He went on, constantly reading her the way a good detective or psychologist would, looking for her to signal her disinterest or boredom, only to find that there was none. Alas, he told her that he was here to meet his family, detach from his life as a disgruntled detective, and find himself.

She believed him, and they carried their conversation onto the street as they walked from the restaurant to her apartment. It was her turn now and she told him about her childhood dream to be a ballet dancer, and the sad crush of that dream when she broke her foot during her time in Russia, studying to be one. It was then, as she spoke to him, walking down the life-filled streets of Vina del Mar, that something strange began clicking into Sergio's mind. He was overcome with the sensation that everything was right. He felt, for the first time in his life, that he was in the right place and time in the universe. It was an overwhelming feeling that vaulted his spirit high into heaven.

Their talk was effortless. As she led him into her building and into the elevator, he had never felt more at ease. Before he could wonder if she felt it too, she was closer to him than ever, staring into his eyes. He let instincts guide him, and he eased her into his embrace. She was unbelievably gorgeous. The twinkle in her eyes locked onto his through an invisible tightrope, and when he leaned in, he savored the final look from them before they shut.

He went soft and gentle into the kiss, but she kissed back with more pressure. He followed her lead and he opened his mouth slightly, tasting her beauty with every move of his tongue. He should not have been conscious of it, but he was aware of every move from the elevator to her apartment door. They crashed into her apartment with passionate urgency and she led him to her room. He'd been there before, he was sure of it.

He'd been used to the feeling of déjà vu. Even as she stripped in the faint light and lit a candle on her night table, the exact atmosphere he'd seen in his vision on the beach was before him now. She crawled towards him on her bed. She wore a black, lace bra with matching panties, leaving so much of her tanned shimmering skin for Sergio's eyes to feast on. Sergio had gotten a feel for her body before, dancing at the club, but the vision of it was even better. She wasn't perfect, but neither was he. She in no way deflated or disappointed him. He wanted her more than ever.

She came towards him, on the bed walking on her knees as he stood before her. Kneeling in front of him, he kissed her again, this time running his hands across her torso and back. Instantly hard, he unbuttoned his shirt with his left hand while her hands fondled his chest and stomach underneath it. He ran his fingers through her hair and gripped the back of her head. She responded by closing her eyes blissfully, and kissing his forearm, signaling that he was right in his aggressiveness. She then brushed her hand over his package, sending a furious explosion of heat through him. He couldn't believe where he was in world in that moment.

As he pulled his pants and boxers off, she undid her bra. The heat between them spiked as he felt her supple, medium sized breasts. He'd always appreciated voluptuous women, but he preferred a woman with regular sized breasts, just like hers. Before he could fully acknowledge her perfect size, his hands went down her back to her ass. He began pulling her panties off and then she moved backwards on the bed, lying down for him. He gently, but quickly, pulled her panties off and then moved himself over her, between her perfectly shaped legs.

He ran his hands over them, slowing as he reached her inner thigh that shimmered effortlessly in the candlelight. He ran the back of his fingers softly over her navel and then over her breasts again. He adjusted his body over hers and they were face to face. He was close to her, and she smiled at him in the calm before the storm.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he said, in English. She laughed, as she usually did.

"You're ok," she said, in English. He smiled and then he slowly and smoothly entered her.

He was more out of shape than he should have been. Still, he managed to focus on quality to make it last at least a few minutes longer than it could have. She seemed to like it, and even with his detective eye, he couldn't sense any lie in her eyes or voice. When the hot dance ended with the flash of the spilling climax, the exhaustion fell over them. He felt so lucky and high that he just got to sex up such a hot Latina. It seemed too easy, and maybe he had cheated by foreseeing the outcome, but he had nothing to regret. She was amazing.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, lying next to him, trying to read his mind. He shot her a smile, unsure of where to go from here. He liked her. He liked her a lot, but he didn't think he could trust her. Not yet, anyway.

"Nothing," he said, showing her his most genuine smile. Being a detective meant he was possibly always lying. It was second nature to him.

"You're lying," she said, coldly. He smiled awkwardly. Fuck it, he said to himself.

"Ok. Then I don't know. I don't know what to think or feel. I like you, ok? I've already told you more about me and my life than I ever told anyone," he said, annoyed. She sat up in bed and lit a cigarette. The silence hung and she seemed to be studying him. Her bare breasts hung there naturally while she smoked, the sight of which amused him. She was unashamed, and he loved that.

"So what," she said, finally. "What's so wrong with liking me? Are you ashamed or something?"

He sighed loudly, annoyed. He wasn't going to let her bring down his high. Chicks were the same everywhere, he thought –always annoying. Why could they never just be quiet and enjoy silence for once? "Can I have one?" he asked. He lit a cigarette too. Maybe he could just change the subject.

"I don't know what you want from me," he said in frustration. "You know I'm not ashamed of you. I'm not an ugly man or anything, but I know you are probably too pretty for me. You can have any rich man out there, why would you want a broken detective from the States?"

She chuckled. "Who says I want you? Maybe I just want to have fun?"

"Oh," he replied with surprise. "Me too," he lied. She chuckled again. He looked at her as she brushed her hand through her wavy hair. Her eyes were like slits as she stared at him in the darkness, with a smirk. That was her look, he noted. She always did that.

She was right, he thought. It wasn't like him to get carried away like that with someone he just met. So what if she was way hotter than any chick he'd been with. If it hadn't been for his visions, he would know nothing about her and he wouldn't have built all this shit up in his head. He sighed again and his shoulders automatically relaxed. The cigarette was soothing. He rarely smoked, but everyone smoked in Chile and it had been calling him.

He wondered about his visions. It had been in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. He tried to clear his mind. Seconds passed and then he saw himself in the desert, on the side of the road. Something felt so wrong. He looked at his hands and saw blood. He stuttered in surprise and looked around. Erika was there, crying on the road. His eyes shot open.

"What happened just there?" she asked. She gave him a look of concern.

"I..." he hesitated. "I don't know. Nothing, I..."

"Stop lying to me. Why have you started lying to me all of a sudden? Things were going so great and now one lie after another? What happened!" she cried out in anger. She was pissed, he saw. He racked his brain to figure out how she could tell he was lying. What signal had he sent? Then he decided just to go with it. He took a deep breath and then told her the truth.

Chapter XII: Score One for the Cartel

Things were suddenly moving fast in Gabe's life. He had a burst of energy constantly flowing through him, and each day after work he looked forward to going home, so much so that he began driving to and from work instead of walking, just to save time. He had taken Vida to the beach a few more times to practice what he now just called 'listening' and 'leg exercises', both of which were just forms of deep concentration and strength building. Vida's attention span was short, but she was beginning to follow directions well.

In addition, they also went to the nearby park a few times and visited a forested area off a hiking trail in the Chavez Ravine. The trees and the quasi forest made Gabe feel comfortable. He dreamed of someday chasing his new student through the forest, and he imagined her jumping and climbing stealthily and fast. She was still years away from anything like that, he knew, but she was becoming his dream now, and he clung to it as if it were all he had.

They walked through the Ravine this Saturday. The sun touched upon them lightly, but a cool breeze was constantly present. There was a trail they followed that flowed through the dense part of the state park, where the trees were large and spaced out, but beautiful. Gabe had told her before of his love of trees and nature. She didn't seem impressed by it, or anything, from what he could tell, but she listened just the same. He wondered if she would come to love trees. Most likely so, he figured, as the natural world was integral to the foundation of their study.

"Look at that one, Gabe!" Vida blurted out, pointing to a giant, odd tree that seemed to be five trees coming out from one enormous stump. Gabe studied it as they walked towards it. "It's trippy, huh?" she said.

"Yeah, this tree is pretty crazy!" he added, happy that she'd bothered to take interest in the strange tree. The top of the five-in-one tree merged together into a tangled mess of branches and leaves big enough to hide an army. It was an impressive sight. "This is it, I think."

"This is what?"

"This is our tree. This tree will be our anchor. This is where we will spend our time learning. This tree will be our shelter." Gabe saw Vida's face scrunch in annoyance.

"Why do we always have to be learning? I already learned a lot," she stated in annoyance. He chuckled. He was patient enough not to get upset with her. He was learning that about her too, she was always reluctant and untrusting, but she always gave in. They had a deal and she was doing her part to honor it so far.

"Sit down, Vida." She rolled her eyes, sitting down near him.

"I'm hungry," she complained.

"Ok, look. I know you're not hungry. We've had this talk before. As long as you are going to be staying with me then you'll be learning. Always. Even when you are one hundred years old, you will be learning. There is no end to it in your life. That's not just my rule, that's a rule of life. If you are not learning, you're not living right. That's number one." He paused, trying to read her. She did not move nor say a word.

"Number two. I think we are getting to a point where you don't have to act like a baby with me anymore." She peered up at him with cautious curiosity. He'd been learning quickly that although she seemed to grasp a great deal of things about life that most people took their entire lives to learn, there was still so much that the young child still did not understand.

"Enough with the games," he went on. "Enough with the complaining and you trying to trick me so you can get out of training, uh, I mean learning. I want us to be at a place where we can talk like adults and not play any games. No lying. No more eye-rolling and sighing loudly, or kissing your teeth and stuff like that. And I'm not saying we can't ever have fun, either. We can do that, but there is a time for that and a time for being serious. You never know what's going to happen in this life and in this world, and I need to know that we can trust each other. Maybe you don't understand that now, but you will someday." She stared at the giant tree in front of them. He knew she understood, and then she nodded slightly.

"And three," Gabe went on. He watched her struggle to keep from rolling her eyes. "Look do you really just want to sit around all day and eat nachos and Cheetos? What kind of life is that? What would you turn out to be when you grow up? You'd be dumb and fat, just like everyone else out there. That is not going to happen here with me!" Gabe said, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice from rising.

She wasn't scared, but she stared out into space as if she were thinking about his words. "Look, Vida," he went on. "The truth is that you should be lucky to be learning this stuff. You're not stuck in some stuffy classroom full of grubby kids with lice and some teacher who's forced to teach you crap you don't need. And there's nothing wrong with that, but if there is one thing I know in this life that is that we can be something so much more. You can be something amazing someday. You can be a doctor or a scientist or the president. You can invent something that saves people, or saves the world. Maybe something even greater than that, if there is such a thing. But you won't do it without trying your hardest to be the best. You gotta give yourself a chance to get there. Cheetos and nachos ain't gonna do it. That's why we gotta learn."

She smiled and then scrunched her face at him. "Well, what am I learning?"

Gabe scrunched his face too, just like she did, and then looked off towards the tree. "Well, you are learning how to live your life. You are learning how to think. You're learning how to fight, how to be strong, and how to listen."

"Well, can I at least not have to study while you're at work? And can we get a bigger TV?"

"What? No!" Gabe barked back playfully. "You definitely have to study while I'm at work. And the TV," he paused. "I'll think about it, but honestly, there is so much out here in this world to see that is far more interesting than anything on TV. Now up on your feet. Let's do our kata."

"Ok," she replied, bouncing up on to her feet. They began working forms of martial arts in slow deliberate movements that were designed to build muscle strength and condition the body for the defense and attack movements that would be the foundation to her skill. She had become so much more limber already, he had noted. Her movements were smooth, and her flexibility was close to the minimum needed. The strength was the only piece missing, and the piece that would take longest to achieve, particularly for a young girl, but the foundation would be there, and that was far more important, he knew.

It would take many lessons yet. He would have to continually show her and constantly repeat himself until it broke through her head the world of possibilities that were in front of her, but it would happen someday. Physical strength, ironically, was not the key ingredient to be the invisible killer and defender that she would become. Speed, skill, and knowledge were the keys, and they were achievable only through enlightenment and a deep spiritual connection between mind and body.

***

Later that day, after going shopping for fresh fruit and vegetables, they made their way back home through the darkness and into their decrepit building. They passed by the taped up door that was once her apartment. The blood had been mostly cleaned up, but the caution tape still remained, a vivid and endless reminder of her old life. They paused, and Gabe watched her eyes stare coldly at the door. He walked over to the door, and with his free hand, he took down the yellow tape and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. As he walked back, she stared passed him, and he noted that she wasn't really staring at the door, but instead into the distant life that was once hers.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

She didn't answer. She maintained her stare.

"It's ok," he added. He felt her pain. He wished he could zap it away somehow. He wished that there was something he could possibly say or do to make it all go away, but he knew there was nothing. Only pain. He watched her stare, so intense and pure, and he knew that the raw emotion was surfacing, finally. Perhaps the reality that her mother would never come back was still settling in. She was so much tougher than he was, regardless of the complications of her relationship with her mother.

"It's ok," he said again. "You don't have to be so tough with me. It's ok to hurt. It's ok to be sad. It's ok to miss her, even if she was not perfect." She looked up at him and dropped the grocery bag she'd been carrying. She began to cry and she ran up to hug him. He crouched down and put his bag down, hugging her back tightly. His heart broke in two. She sobbed with every breath as she rained her tears on his shoulder. He felt so powerless in that moment. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to take care of her. He wanted to tell her that everything would be ok. He wanted to tell her what he was, and why she would never have to worry about being safe. He wanted to tell her that nobody would come and do to him what they'd done to her mother, but he couldn't. He could only let her sob until the minutes passed and it was done.

"I'm sorry, Gabe. I'm..." she said, finally.

"It's ok, Vida. You don't have to say anything. Please don't apologize for anything."

"No, it's just that you helped me so much. You are so nice to me. You could have turned me in, but you didn't." Gabe listened to her, understanding the tumultuous feelings within her better than she thought. She eased out of her sob, breathing easier now. "I don't miss her. I really don't. But it still makes me sad that she is dead now. It makes me sad, that's all. I'm happy that I am here with you."

"I'm happy too. And sad too. No matter what, we are all that we have now. Well, us and Roxy." Vida smiled. Her big brown eyes were red and teary. Gabe loved her smile. Her chubby cheeks dimpled when she smiled wide. He imagined that if he had a daughter, she might have looked like her. "Speaking of which, maybe we should get in there so we can take her out. She must need to go to the bathroom really badly!"

"Ok," she replied, as their entered their apartment.

***

It was just another day at the California capitol building. The governing body was made up of the assembly and senate, with the governor having veto power over any final measure. They had any number of laws, proposals, and measures coming through on a daily basis, but the one the Cortez Cartel had been working to secure votes for, involved keeping the rehabilitation center open for the next five years until it was up for review again.

The Tolan, who were now the stateside operating arm of the Cortez Cartel's drug empire, had a representative at the Capitol that day observing the day's proceedings. The unassuming well-dressed gangster sat in the front, listened to each excruciating argument presented, each one seemingly more boring than the one before it.

Benicio sat in his plush living room waiting for the call from his representative at the capitol. He'd just vacuumed two lines of coke through his nose, an attempt to calm his nerves. A Skype call came in and a picture of the hearing floor came up on Benicio's giant flat screen TV. To his surprise, the vote to keep the rehabilitation center open passed with a margin of victory far greater than he had imagined. Each of the bought off senators and assembly members voted the way they'd agreed to. Some, who'd not been bought off, voted to keep it open as well, most likely out of ignorance, Benicio surmised. Why else would anyone agree to keep a rehab center open that was training hardened inmates to be harder and then releasing them early?

Regardless, it was over. The assembly moved on to the next measure and the Skype call ended. Benicio did another celebratory line of coke and began informing the rest of the cartel. Soon, word got back to the prisons where the inside arm of the Tolan rejoiced at the verdict. Their operations would not be shut down any time soon.

***

Edmund sat low in his Honda. He'd been learning more than ever about the operations and how they stayed below the police radar. It was a team effort and it involved a lot of coordination. There were also people on the inside somewhere, he knew, because his safehouse director, L'Aranya, told him about the system they had to re-stamp license plates with clean numbers.

There was still so much he didn't know. L'Aranya was secretive and smart. She was careful to only divulge bits and pieces of information at a time. She didn't trust him, and she openly told him so, but it only intrigued him further. He'd grown fond of her too, and she knew it. She was a step ahead of him every time. He wanted to sleep with her, even if she was a bit overweight. She handled it well and she had a pretty face. Someday he would, he promised himself.

It had been a month and a half since he'd pulled his first hit. It had gone much easier than he thought it would. The mark had come out from the party by himself to use his cellphone. He never even saw Edmund creep up and blast him in the chest until it was too late. Edmund still saw the black man's eyes, wide open in fear. He had never seen that look on someone. It was a look beyond fear, or of the deepest fear possible, the kind of fear that struck right as the light came in to take your soul.

It changed Edmund. He'd pulled three more hits since then, but none of them haunted him like the first black man's eyes. They followed him everywhere, and they would follow him to hell, he was sure of. He sat there now, in his car, with a twisted up mind. He was handling a newcomer now, a young punk from the Guerreros of all gangs, one of his rivals in his past life. The newcomer seemed cool though, and now as the punk sat in the passenger seat, he quietly stared out the window.

"Stay still. Police coming," went the voice in his ear. They both heard and subtly looked in the rear view mirrors. They were parked on the street, one of many in a line of parallel-parked cars. They were safe. He thought about the deal they were about to make. It felt strange. He'd been giving out sample 8balls here and there to the blacks and the Asians, but the real weight was in kilo that he had on the passenger seat floor. This deal would earn him six grand.

It would have taken him four months to earn that much before, and now he had already earned twenty-two in a month in a half. He should have been so fucking happy, but he wasn't. He was a changed man. The money was great, and he knew more would be coming, but it wasn't everything. The power was everything, and now that he had a taste of it, he wanted much more of it. Right now he was in control of the streets. He was the triggerman. He was the one taking out the rivals. He was the one to be feared.

"Clear. Move now," the voice in his ear said.

"Let's go," Edmund said. His nerves shot up slightly. He still couldn't shake that feeling, not even after pulling the hits he'd done. It was 2:30pm, and the sun was trying to warm the L.A. day up. He pulled around a corner and made a right, passing a liquor store and a donut shop. A cop drove past them going the other way. It made him nervous, but the all-knowing voice in his ear said nothing. He kept driving until they arrived at the location, an auto shop that said "Montes Mofles". They pulled in and parked in front.

"Wait here," he said to his apprentice. The kilo of coke was in a car air filter box. Edmund grabbed it and walked into the shop. He felt the gun on his waist through his coat with his wrist. He steadied his breathing.

"We lost visual," the voice in his ear said. He stood at the counter. A man looked at a computer screen and another, who was a mechanic, stood over his shoulder. They never once looked at Edmund. They talked about a customer, carrying on as if Edmund was not there. He would have been annoyed if he was just another customer, but he wasn't.

His eyes scanned and he could see out into the dual garage where work seemed to be going on. The shop was probably just a front, but they were doing legitimate car work at least. There was a back office with a door that was closed. The walls were a mustard yellow color that reminded him of Mexico. It reminded him of East LA. There were posters and cheap-ass, outdated flyers plastered everywhere. One poster that looked totally TJ (Tijuana) was one of the Los Mochis band, a group of Mexican cowboys decked out in black cowboy hats and boots that played 'banda' music. Edmund noticed that the concert date on the poster was for the previous year, but it did not fully register in his conscious. He looked out behind his shoulder then, through the window, and he could see his apprentice watching. The office door flung open suddenly.

A heavyset man in a brown suit came out and stared hard at Edmund. "Can I help you?" he asked, brashly, in Spanish. He startled Edmund, but Edmund did his best to hide his fear.

"I'm here to see Chavo," Edmund muttered. Muttering was his defense mechanism when he was nervous or scared. He told himself to man up.

"Nobody sees Chavo. Who are you?" the man barked out, arrogantly, maintaining a hard stare. Edmund wasn't sure that the man wouldn't jump over the counter and attack him right that second. He mentally prepared himself.

"I'm Edmund, from..."

"I don't give a shit," interrupted the man.

"Who is it?" another man's voice asked from inside the office.

"Some punk ass kid is here asking for you," the heavy man said.

"Let him in," the voice replied. The man glared at Edmund and then let out a chuckle.

"Go around," the heavy man said to Edmund. Edmund went around the mechanic and the sales tech and walked into the office. The heavy man followed and then closed the door.

He saw a Mexican man with short curly hair, wearing a brown sport coat, sitting at an oversized desk.

"Hello, I'm..."

"Shut the fuck up," the man said, cutting Edmund off. "I know who you are." He studied Edmund, cutting his eyes at him with immense disdain. "You are one of the young punks that is trying to take over my business. What is that in your ear? Is someone talking to you? Is someone listening?"

Edmund was surprised by the confrontation. His heartbeat shot up. He didn't know what to do or say. The heavy man sat across from him, smirking boastfully. It felt bad. It felt like a setup. He thought about making a run for it. Edmund heard a loud pop just then, the sound of a single gunshot firing off, a close distance away. He became more confused and scared.

The man laughed. "I hope they are listening," the man began to shout. "I want them to know that I am not bending over to take in the ass from them. I will fight. This is my fucking turf you pieces of shit! And you, and them, are nothing to me. You, my friend, are finished. Santos, end him!"

The heavy man made a move into his jacket, and in a split second, Edmund reacted, pulling his gun out. He fired at the fat man, hitting him with three shots. Another shot rang out and Edmund fell back onto the floor, shot in the shoulder. He reached his good arm up and fired blindly over the desk. He could see underneath it, and he could see the man's legs walking around to one side. Edmund aimed and shot at his legs. The man fell and Edmund came around and shot him again and again.

He grabbed the box of coke and painfully put in under his shot arm. He went for the door and he was fired at immediately from a man in the garage. Edmund shot back, emptying his clip at him. He jumped and slid across the counter and went to his car. He got in as fast as he could and started it up. His apprentice was already dead. He pulled the earpiece off, shutting off the annoying voice with it while he sped off for the safehouse.

Chapter XIII: New Cools, New Fools

Sergio didn't tell Erika everything. It had been difficult though. She had a keen eye, a sixth sense, he was sure of, in her ability to corner him for the truth. He was certain that she would have made a great detective, but it was really just one of the many huge signs in front of him that told him to run away from her. That was easier thought than done.

The truth was that he had been a lonely guy. Mired in his work for so long with numerous cases in the backlog queue, chasing this guy, that guy, Guerreros, ninjas and everyone else in between, was exhausting work. He was never 'off-duty'. Neither was Carter or any other detective worth a damn, and even if they could use their off-duty time for any kind of relationship, it would have not been worth much. He was a head case –they all were.

He carried his work everywhere with him, always in his mind, always looking out and always working. Some of the guys on the force were able to carry on lives with a wife and kids, but they didn't have the fire any longer, if ever. They were content to carry the less volatile cases, and they could leave their 'work' at work, and not bring a shit day home to infect their families with. It didn't make them bad people, or even bad cops, Sergio figured. Maybe it was just a natural thing to do when you had someone to give a shit about, or someone that gave a shit about you. Sergio could do that, maybe. It would be hard to just turn it all off, though. Well, maybe he already did. He wasn't sure, and he knew the only reason he was even thinking of any of this was because of Erika. She was causing problems for him already.

He thought of her constantly, and he couldn't wait to the next time he'd see her, which would be that night. He felt like a stupid kid in some kind of puppy love, wagging his tail, trying to hump her leg every time she was around. Being conscious of his own weaknesses and faults wasn't enough to keep him from acting like the lovesick jerk that he felt like. He was still just letting it all happen. Maybe he was only allowing himself to feel and act this way because he was so far detached from his real life back in LA. Could he just turn it off at any time? He doubted it. He sure didn't want to, but he would have to. Not yet, at least.

He was chilling out at the kitchen table on the ranch that was feeling more like home every day. Even though he'd basically stolen his little cousin's room, that same little cousin was having much more fun bunking up with his other cousin. It seemed to be working out. Sergio wondered where his life was headed. Although things had been mostly working out better than he had anticipated, he was beginning to think he was ready to go home soon. He was thinking of going back to being a cop. He was thinking that he was ready to go back as a changed man, with a new attitude and a strange gift, and be a better and less jaded detective. Maybe a nice long break was all that he needed in the first place.

Titi brought him a cup of tea. He had not really noticed her standing by the stove, preparing it and the bread and palta (avocado) for them.

"Thank you, Titi, I'm sorry," he said with a smile. "I wasn't paying attention," he confessed.

She smiled gently at him. She must have been so pretty in her day, he thought. She was still pretty. He still couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about her eyes, but they were big and so full of life, yet somehow so knowing. She looked at him like she always knew what he was thinking, but it was also a disarming and an approving look somehow. It puzzled him, and it was some kind of gift that he was sure could get anyone to open up to her. It must have been fun to possess such a quality for a lifetime. He was proud to have her as a grandmother.

"It's ok, son," she said. "I could see how heavy your mind was. I thought everything was going so well here in Chile. Is everything ok?"

He smiled. It was easy for him to understand Chilean Spanish now. He even liked it. He followed her lead in spreading some palta on his bread half. He was becoming hooked on the routine afternoon spread of different breads, cold cuts, and avocado. The tea was good too. He felt cultured and better, like the best version of himself he'd known in a long time. "Everything is great, Titi," he answered after his food was set.

She nodded her head and smiled. She sat next to him, close to his personal space. He had always been put off by that, by others, strangers, and even anybody he knew well, but it was just how grandma was. It was how everyone in his family seemed to be. He had to get past it and just embrace that people who loved him wanted to be close. He should have been more grateful for it, and he owed Titi more than just some bullshit answer.

"Everything is great," he went on. She peered up from behind her teacup, maintaining her smile. "I guess that's why I'm a bit troubled. I had a vision. Just like you said I would. I see little things here and there, like the other day, I kept thinking of the color orange, and just moments later, a boy in an orange shirt chased after his ball in the street and almost got hit by a car. And the very next day, I kept humming a tune that I never heard before. It was stuck in my head all morning, you know, how sometimes that happens?"

Titi nodded. "Yes," he went on. "Well when I left and got to Valparaiso, there was a man playing the guitar on the street right where I got off the bus. He was playing that same song."

"Oh, that's so good, son," Titi said. "I'm so glad that you are connecting with your gift. In time, you will learn to understand what you see and feel, better. It takes time, that's all."

"Ok," he said, accepting her advice without a second thought. He sipped his tea and then scarfed the rest of his bread. Titi smiled and sliced him another one.

"You know, I've been having strange feelings," she said. He looked at her cautiously, confused.

"What do you mean? Something bad?"

"No," she smiled. "I think your mother has been around." The words cut as deep as they did fast. Sergio lost his breath for a pause and his mind began spinning in confusion. Titi smiled at him. "I know sometimes when she visits, because I can sense her. She is in the flowers." Titi's eyes darted to a vase of calla lilies, taken from outside. "They were her favorite."

"Really," Sergio said, more than asked. He wondered how powerful she was. "Can you see her? Talk to her?"

"No. She has moved on to be with God. There was a time, after her death, that I saw her a lot, mostly in my dreams. She was sad, mostly for you. She loved you so much. She couldn't move on until she knew you would be ok. Your aunt did a good job, but you've always been troubled. I tried to get your mother to understand that. She needed to move on and stop worrying about you. It took a few years, but she finally did move on."

"Holy shit," he said, in English and by accident. She smiled at him. "But you know she visits?" he asked, returning to Spanish.

"Yes. I can't see her or talk to her, but I know she comes, usually in the spring when the lilies begin to bloom. But I think she is here now because of you. I can sense her because she moves the flowers. They sway even when there is no wind. I can feel her soul the same way you would feel heat from an invisible fire, or like a breeze that only you can feel. I know she is happy. She is happy that you are here. She is happy that you know where she comes from, and that you know where her favorite flowers are planted. She is happy that you know her horses and know where her old room is and where she used to color in a book and play with rabbits."

He smiled and couldn't help but shed a tear. It was an overwhelming feeling to know how close to her he was in that moment. He felt that she must be there in their presence now. He stared at the orange flowers on the table in front of them, and he was sure he saw them lean slightly for a moment, as if a breezy zephyr was flowing over them. He cried more.

"Thank you grandma," he said as he ducked his head down slightly. He was too old, too mature, and too jaded to be crying and getting so emotional, but he couldn't stop. His mother had been the driving force in his life, without even being there.

She smiled at him, with a tear in her eye. She gently put her hand on his and a gradual look of concern, and then deeper worry, came over her. Something was obviously wrong. "What is it?" he asked, desperately. "Grandma! You are worrying me! What's wrong!"

"I saw something terrible. You are in danger. The girl with the curly hair is bad." Sergio watched his grandmother's emotions stirring in anger and concern. He had never seen her that pissed before.

***

Like many other institutions in life, prison was a lot like high school. There were the cools, the nerds, the jocks, the outcasts, and the badasses, only they were morphed into the evil versions of themselves. Still, like high school, gossip and information spread like wildfire throughout the cells and yards. So Anthony wasn't surprised to be called up to see the generals of the Tolan in the prison yard, the day after he told Scrapps what he knew of the LA Ninja.

He had foreseen it all during the restless night that he couldn't sleep from. He tossed and turned with the guilt eating him up, tugging and pulling at his stomach from the core. His mind squirmed with mixed emotions. He regretted telling Scrapps and saying anything at all. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should have never betrayed his best and only friend from back home, Gabe, but it was too late. He could not turn back. He could be killed for lying.

So what if Gabe got killed? Anthony thought. Gabe had left him. They were supposed to be roll dogs forever. Homies until they died. Gabe broke the deal. Gabe left and then...then things got fucked up. He got shot in the arm, got hooked on chiva (heroin), and started hanging with the Guerreros. After the second time he got busted, it was all over. Fuck Gabe. Fuck everybody.

Anthony's mind squirmed back and forth between guilt and hatred as he walked over to lay it all out for the most powerful gang in prison and on the street. He walked up, not recognizing any of the old, hard-looking dudes, and stood before them on the dirt lawn in the main yard.

"Don't look at us," the smaller one said. "Turn towards the blacks over there, like you're watching them play their ball." Anthony obliged. He felt nervous, but he was sure of what he was going to say.

"Tell us what you know," another voice said.

"I know the LA Ninja. I'm pretty sure I do," he said.

"Who is he."

"He's some vato that lives over on 60th street in LA," Anthony answered.

"How do you know that," The voice asked.

"Tell us everything, you fucking idiot!" another voice said loudly.

"What's in for me?" Anthony asked.

"You won't die right here, right now in the yard!" the angry voice barked angrily.

"What do you want?" the other, calmer, voice said.

"I want the hookup for life on shit."

"What's your poison?"

"La Chiva (heroin)." Anthony answered.

"First tell us what you know. Start from the beginning and don't leave out a single detail."

Anthony told them what he knew. He told them that they'd been roll dogs and that Gabe left to be a Marine. He told them his name and where he lived at his parents' house and what happened to them. He went back down the memory lane of his glory days of macking girls and scrapping with Guerreros, but before he could become nostalgic about it and feel any remorse or guilt, his heart hardened.

***

Detective Ryan Carter was frustrated as he drove solo down Slauson Ave. His caseload was monstrous, and since Munoz left, he'd been promoted to the lead detective in his area for the Gang and Narcotics Division. Even though he felt some resentment towards him, he was happy that Munoz got up and left to go straighten his head out. Even so, he left at the right time. Things had gotten worse, especially since LT. Mendez got promoted to Captain.

Carter thought of his old friend everyday. He thought of him right that second as his slender belly sat full of his breakfast burrito from Machaca's, one of their favorite places to go. He hoped that his friend would be back soon, but as each day came and went, his hope diminished too.

That wasn't important now. Carter was tracking a new enemy. He'd been seeing signs. And the numbers didn't lie. Arrests were down, but crime was up. The gang activity in his division was down, but robbery, car theft, and homicide were up. Most importantly, it seemed like Latino gangs were working together somehow to eliminate rivals based on race. Yet the streets seemed quieter, even in the worst sector of all, South Central.

He was trying to puzzle things together when he noticed a car following him. Carter's heartbeat jumped and his mind began calculating. His first thought was that of a drug lord hit against him. He turned down the police radio so he could think clearly. Carter was in an unmarked car, but an Interceptor, noticeable as a police unit to even a slightly keen observer. Then again, if the cartel were after him, he'd never know it and he would not see it coming. The gangsters weren't up this early, and even if they were, they never had come after the police like this.

He maneuvered and took a gentle left at the light. The car followed, and it became clear that he knew that Carter knew that he was following him. It couldn't be a hit, Carter thought. Carter slowed his unmarked car to the right side of the street. The car slowed to pull up next to him. Carter un-holstered his piece, took it off safety and pointed it just below the window to his door, ready to fire. There was a bullet ready in the chamber, he knew.

A man with thick 1980's styled hair and glasses stared back at him and held up his cellphone, shaking it, motioning for Carter to answer. Carter looked on his console and his phone was buzzing with an incoming call. He clicked it and put it on speakerphone.

"Detective Carter!" the man spoke. Carter's eyes were on the man and he could see him speaking. "Sorry about sneaking up on you like this. You can put the gun down. I'm with DEA, see?" The man held up a shiny badge with his other hand.

"Oh," Carter replied. "What..." the man cut him off.

"I know you just had breakfast, but hopefully you won't mind joining me for a coffee? Follow me."

They hung up and carter followed the man to a nearby bowling alley. Minutes later they were sitting in the empty bar, drinking beers.

"We have been tracking some strange activity out here on the west coast," the 80's man said. Carter thought him odd looking. He placed him to be in his late forties. He was slightly overweight, but still looked like he could move ok. His skin was cratered slightly, and he wore a moustache. His clothes were not quite 80's or 90's from what Carter could tell. He was wearing pleated, fading grey slacks with crusty black Adidas and a heavy jacket. The voguely dressed and pressed Carter couldn't get over his look.

"We're seeing a lot of drugs on the street, mostly heroin and meth," the agent went on. Carter drank from his brew, as an unspoken acknowledgment. It tasted good so early in the morning, but it was far too early in the morning. He was still untrusting that the man was really DEA, but he seemed legit so far. He would play along.

"Why is it you felt the need to interrupt my whole day with this?" Carter asked, coolly. A DEA agent was an impressive position, and to some cops that might have drawn some ass kissing and silent applause, but not for Carter. He made it a point not to judge a person based on career or status, but rather than on the person's actions, words, and of course, style.

"Right," the agent replied, ignoring Carter's rudeness. "I'm about to get to that, if you'd just chill it out for a second," the forty-something agent replied. Carter chuckled slightly. It was funny for an older, plain man to use such urban words of slang. "It's all related, we think," he went on. "The increase in dope, the decrease in arrests, and..." he paused.

"And what?" asked Carter.

"And the cap peelings. There have been some high profile murders here in California for some legislative members. And some of the killings have had a remarkable resemblance to ancient era Japanese methods."

"What?" Carter blurted out in surprise. "I heard about the California senator getting whacked, but what's with the ancient Japanese shit?" Carter asked.

"Well, that's where I can use your help. I know that you and Detective Munoz were on the LA Ninja case from awhile back. We also know that the individual captured was traced back to Japan and identified as a lawyer in Yokohama." He had Carter's attention. "We also know that he had a brother who is also a lawyer."

"Go on?" Carter begged with intrigue.

"Well that's it. We've been trying to locate his brother in Japan, but we aren't getting any cooperation."

"What about the murders?"

"Well, we're not sure if there is a legitimate connection. It could be copycat killings. And there is also no proof that the murders of the legislators had any real connection to any ancient Japanese 'shit', as you say..."

"Ninja stuff." Carter corrected him.

"Right," the agent acknowledged. "Well, that is until recently, when two Japanese men were witnessed killing four bouncers outside a club in San Francisco. And they used swords and metal stars and shiznit like that."

"No fucking shit," Carter thought out loud. He took a few large gulps of the cold beer. Shit just got real, he thought to himself.

"So that's why I'm here, homeslice. I need your help. I need to know what you know, and how you guys were able to track down and capture the ninja."

Carter unconsciously downed his beer without thinking about it. He thought of Munoz and his insistence that the ninja they'd caught was not the real ninja. The autopsy report had been covered up. He'd seen with his own eyes that the dead ninja had been killed by a sword or knife, when it was reported that he'd been killed by the LAPD. Munoz had known something, which Carter had dismissed too easily, because, after all, Munoz always seemed to know 'something'. Munoz was always a step ahead of everyone. Maybe this time was different. Did he know the real ninja? Why did the killings against the Guerreros stop so suddenly? Carter had been trying to piece together his own version of the truth, but too many pieces were missing. Munoz was missing.

"Yo, hello? You got something to share?" the agent prodded, regaining Carter's attention.

"Uh, yeah. Look, the guy you really want is my old partner, Detective Munoz. He did all the legwork in tracking down who we thought was the ninja. And he's not around, so good luck finding him. As for me, I got a lot on my plate right now. So I'd love to..." The agent cut him off.

"You got nothing!" he raised his voice. "Look, I already did my homework, Ryan. Your homeskillet Munoz is in Chile taking a bath. Your department is run by an incompetent captain who's itching to take you down. Now you're left here on your own to fight this division with your nuts swaying in the breeze. You got nothing!" The agent's comb-over hair fell over onto his forehead with his passionate speech. Carter tried not to laugh as he watched the fiery agent drink beer and try to calm himself down.

"What I'm offering is this," the agent went on, much calmer. "You come and work for me. You become a DEA agent, and you help us find these new leaking holes that the shit is coming in through, and you help us connect the dots to the ninjas and arrest them. Now are you in or not!" the agent exclaimed, becoming fired up again. He stared at Carter with a desperate but hard look. Carter was impressed by the calm man's sudden passion. Carter became fired up too.

"Yeah! Fuck yeah, I'm in!" Carter exclaimed. "Now just take it easy, homeslice. You really became a different person there for a minute."

The agent smiled. "Yeah, sorry. I get a little frustrated at times, playa."

Carter laughed again. "No problem. What's your name, agent?"

"Reginald Taylor. But you can call me Jank or Agent Jank."

Carter laughed again. "Jank? I'm not calling you that, man. Jank is not a cool word. You know that, right? Jank means like ghetto or trashy or low budget, or something like that. It's the opposite of cool."

The agent chuckled and then became serious and confused. "Are you being serious?"

Chapter XIV: Blast from the Past

There was a buzz on the streets over the vote for the rehab center that reached back to the prison yard and the cartel. Juan Cortez, who remained in Mexico conducting his day to day affairs, was continually briefed by his associates on the business with the Tolan –his pet project.

He was keenly interested in, and pleased with, how he'd singlehandedly devised the plan to buy and coerce a vote to keep a rehabilitation program in place just for his street thugs to exit prison both quickly and with some additional skills –all paid for by the state of California. It was almost too easy, and because of it, other ideas began brewing in his mind. He wanted to keep his focus on avenging his brother, Javier's death too. He still wanted the real LA Ninja. He still wanted to capture, torture, and then kill him for what he did to his brother.

Benicio and the entire Tolan Brotherhood were still after the ninja, which was why when Benicio heard that they had a lead, he began formulating his plan of attack. He was on standby, waiting for Oz and his crew to give him the information that he needed to get started with, when a visitor came to his home.

He showed the thirty-something year old Mexican-American woman into his home, and into his office. He did all his work there. With the help of their nephew from Cal-Tech, they had set up an encrypted connection with a Mexican satellite company that the Cortez family owned. Through this satellite connection, they had a pirate signal to the outside world, where they could conduct computer activities and video and telephone calls without being seen, listened to, or otherwise spied on by any government entity. It was sophisticated and costly, but having lots of money and power, and being friends with enemies of the CIA, NSA, and United States meant that there were always people willing to hide behind America's back.

Benicio exchanged pleasantries with the rugged woman. Her hair was short, but thick, as was her entire build. She looked far older than her forty-four year old body would have you believe, and she was deeply attracted to the power and clean-cut looks of Benicio. She was all business, usually, and tough and brash with everyone else, but she confided in Benicio. She trusted him, and he was sympathetic to her too, not because he actually gave a shit about her, but because he needed her trust.

She rambled on about the ninja, and her version of his life story, glamorized in some aspects, and cut short on others. By now, he'd been painted as an overachieving enemy of all gangs, and a vigilante. It was obvious to Benicio, though, that the Guerreros had fucked with the wrong guy. Anybody would have done the same thing in pursuing vengeance for family. It was a bittersweet revelation, but it mattered not now. He was now enemy number one.

***

This evening, the dark ninja was back in LA, picking the lock to the backdoor of the Torres home, where Gabe had once lived. The ninja, having staked it out for a few days, already knew it to be empty. Besides, there was always a feeling and a sense of energy to a place that could be felt when life was present. However, because he was hunting a ninja, he still entered with caution. He easily made his way in to the home that was once full of life.

With excellent night vision, he made his way into the kitchen. He could smell the thick layer of dust upon the counter tops. He didn't need to leave any unnecessary signs of his presence by running a finger along it to know how thick it was and that the house had been empty for an extended period of time. The refrigerator was off and the cupboards were emptied of food. He conducted a quick walkthrough of the rooms and the bathrooms for any hidden sense of life. When he found none, he began gathering evidence.

It was clear that the home was vacant and that he have to chase the ninja further. He looked for pictures, but found none in the empty frames throughout the house. He searched the beds and the night tables for anything that could help him identify the ninja or give away his location. Loan documents, bills, certificates, pictures, awards, address books, or any legal documents would work to paint a picture and give clues, but he found none. The home had clearly been emptied out. After tirelessly searching, he finally found the one thing he needed in an old DMV receipt. Before he left the house, he set fire to it.

To the average person, the receipt would do no good. There were no names or vehicle information on it except for some codes and numbers at the bottom. To Benicio, those numbers were the key. Benicio used his contacts to run a DMV search on the record and came up with the address of the now burnt house and the names, Miguel A. Torres and Gabriel M. Torres, each with social security numbers.

Benicio then ran Gabriel's social security number in the California tax database, which came up with a hit on an entry for employment at Garnet Construction and Disposal. Through research, he found out that the company did various work across the city and have a few jobs running, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they'd have the ninja.

***

They were under their tree in the Chavez Ravine. Gabe moved through kata forms and he watched as Vida moved through them effortlessly. She had memorized them much quicker than he had his first time. Her strength was improving, slowly, but it was her speed that was most impressive, and far better than his, he noted. She would surely surpass him there. She would be lightning fast.

He wondered about the progression of the rest of her training. It was going slowly. He thought about blindfolding her to begin enhancement of her hearing and positional awareness. He wondered if he could train her more at night, in the park by their apartment. It was hard. There were too many eyes on them. Even there, at the Ravine, they were not secluded enough. It was ok, for now, but soon, the training would become deeper and more intense, far too intense to allow for curious eyes. An old couple had once stopped to watch them doing kata under the tree. Some kids from a school field trip had once stopped to watch them meditating, causing a distraction with their mumbling and questions. Even at the beach, where they were more secluded, they had been spied on by the occasional passer-by. Change would soon be a necessity.

In the meantime, they would continue. She was honing her skill and knife throwing in the tiny apartment with a wood target that he'd brought home from the construction site. He'd stretched is as far as he could from one corner of the room to the other, but it was still not nearly far enough. She'd already put holes in the cabinets and broken the display on the microwave.

The training wasn't everything, or was, depending on his perspective versus hers. For him, they were always training, but for her, there was practicing fighting, schoolwork, and fun. He was always training her though. Even now, as they left the Ravine to head home, he talked to her about karma and all the material things that people thought made them happy. He constantly asked her to look around, at the people walking and even driving next to them, asking her to look at their expressions and wonder what they might be thinking. She didn't know, but he was training her to read people and be aware of her surroundings. He knew it would all make sense someday. It was just easier to train her if she didn't know.

She was excited today, anyways. They would be going to a movie soon and she pranced around the apartment after her shower. By the time Gabe came out from his, the shitty TV was echoing distorted music off the walls. Her energy and general happiness had taken some getting used to. She was like a huge force of energetic light that crashed into his world like a rainbow lighting bolt. As bewildered by her as he was, her happiness was infectious and he'd been smiling more that he had in years.

His mind and his heart were scarred, as were hers, but together they seemed to have hope. She reminded him of what he was like as a child, so full of wonder and hope. He was amazed that after all that had happened, she could have so much hope that a future of happiness was possible. Her wonder of how great life could be in the moment flowed over him too. In her world, her wretched mother was non-existent. There was only him, and her, and the music, and the movies, and their training. She would remember, maybe at nights, or when they walked by her old apartment, but he didn't ask. He let her be happy. He was happy with her too, in the moment, but he could never forget. The pain was always there. The memories were always there. A moment without them could there never really be.

They got to the AMC movie theatre at the Grove. She had already used his phone to pick one out, which regrettably for him would be Twilight. It didn't really matter though. He'd been so out of touch from the mainstream, everything was new to him. While waiting in line to buy tickets, they caught a raucous chorus of screams and laughs from four young teenage girls in a huddle across from them. Gabe could see their eyes stealing glances across the walkway from some young boys playing the same game in a more subdued manner. Gabe watched as Vida took the scene in.

The truth of their situation crept in during that moment. She was missing out. She might not have a normal life in an orphanage or foster home, or wherever she could end up, but at least she wouldn't be alone. At least she'd have friends and peers, and maybe even a regular school to go to. Guilt tore across him. As if reading his mind, she reached for his finger and smiled at him as he looked down to her. "I'm having fun," she said with an honest smile. "We gettin' popcorn and sodes (sodas)?"

Gabe smiled back. "Hells ya. We getting' whatever you want!" He put one fatherly arm around her and hugged her. He was just fine ignoring the truth for now, if she was.

Later that evening, after a night of fun at the movies and hanging out window-shopping before ending up back home, he drifted off to sleep. Something happened that hadn't happened in so long; he dreamt.

He was in boot camp, running through the base compound, jogging in the early morning fog. He could hear his drill sergeant in the distance, too far to be heard clearly, but he was still able to recognize the distant boom of his voice. The rest of the recruits must have been back there, far behind him, lost in the fog. He could hear airplanes in the distance, and he thought he could see their lights in the foggy sky, but that was impossible. He felt uneasy.

He felt something in his left arm and he looked down. It was the jack-o-lantern he had carved for Vida. 'Shit', he thought to himself. He had to get it to a safe place. He tried to run faster, but the sand was too thick and heavy. He could hear the seagulls. The wind blew stronger off the ocean and cleared some of the fog. He could see hawks soaring in the distance, circling over the edge of the pier where a bright ray of sunlight shone. He had to get there. The jack-o-lantern would be safe there.

Gabe ran faster, but something was wrong. Someone was there. He was not alone. He looked back behind him, but he could only see the fog. It was getting closer. There was something or someone in the fog. He ran faster. He wasn't going to make it. He had to, he thought, and then he woke up, drenched in sweat.

He felt fear. His dreams were cryptic and something to be feared. He searched for meaning, but he could only think that he might be in danger. Was Vida in danger? Was someone after him? Was it the police? Was it the Guerreros? Was it Oz? Was someone after Vida? He looked up at the bed and she was sound asleep. He listened hard. The window was open. He could hear down the streets. He was on full alert. He stood up and remained silent.

His hearing became vivid. He could hear the wind bristling the tree branches. He could hear a dog bark in the distance, he pinpointed him at one block down to his left. There was a bum putting a glass bottle down in the alleyway to his right, another block down. A car was coming. Was that it? He moved his eyes to his left where his bow was. He could be armed in one and a half seconds. He held his breath and waited, but the car went by. He relaxed and decided to meditate on the floor where his bed was.

The next day, Gabe was back to work. His few coworkers must have been noticing the change in him as they smiled at him and gave him odd looks of curiosity when he passed. He ignored them, per his usual, and went on his way. It was about halfway through the morning when he spotted something strange in a car that was pulling up to the site.

Gabe watched as two men in suits walked over to talk to the foreman. It was clear to Gabe that they weren't in the construction business. Latinos in suits, driving tinted Crown Victorias, didn't just pull up to jobsites with new plans or to see how jobs were progressing. And they certainly weren't from the EPA. They were too far down to really know anything, though. Gabe laid down at the edge and pulled out his scope. His eyes focused and stared at the blacked out Crown Vic. It moved slightly, as if someone heavy inside shifted his weight. The two men talking to his foreman looked suspicious and a bit too mafioso-like.

His instincts told him the scene was wrong. He watched more intently and it looked like the two mafiosos were arguing with his foreman. He wondered if they were looking for him. He wondered if Jim, the foreman, was sticking up for him. He was a good man. One of the gangsters looked up to the building. They wouldn't be able to spot Gabe, who only had his head far enough over the ledge to see. The other seemed to grow more agitated, moving his hands a lot. From the jerking motions of his head, it seemed as though he was yelling. They were drawing attention, and one of the other construction workers came to backup Jim. The mafiosos left seconds later, speeding off with the screeching of their tires.

Gabe's heart beat quickly with anxiety. He had a bad feeling and it was getting worse. All of a sudden he was thrust back into the life of war. He knew they weren't cops. He knew they'd come back. He knew they were there for him. They must have been connected to the cartel and the Guerreros. Old images came flooding back. He remembered Bacca. He remembered burning the drug house. He remembered all the gangsters. He remembered the warehouse and the duel with the Iga Ninja. He remembered Munoz. He remembered the tow yard and how he'd launched grenades into the cars loaded with Guerreros. He remembered tracking the cartel gangsters to the fancy house in Chino and taking their drug money. They wanted him. They wanted revenge. They wanted him dead. He knew it. And now they found him. His heart beat faster. He was sweating, and now he started to pant.

"Gabe!" he heard Jim call him over the radio. He was startled. "Gabe! Come down right now please. I need to talk to you." It was the call that confirmed his fears. Seconds passed with Gabe's mind swirling with worry. "Acknowledge!" Jim called out again.

His mind spun out of control and into a fury of fear. His instinct was to flee for safety. He didn't want a war. He didn't want a fight. He'd gone through that once, and it took everything out of him. He just wanted peace. He could leave now and they'd never find him. He thought of Vida and everything became so much more complicated. He couldn't leave her.

He closed his eyes and calmed himself, but worry sank in deeper. He could not run, but he could not stay. They'd be back for him. Maybe they'd track him down. Maybe they'd find out where he lived. Maybe they already knew. Maybe they were going after Vida. Maybe they already had her. His eyes sprang open. In an instant, rage came over him, drawing a faint purple flash across his eyes. He ran to the stairwell and flew down each half-flight of stairs in single jumps, like a kid playing hopscotch. He got to the second floor and flew out of the opening in the back, landing on the construction dirt below, heading for home.

***

Vida took breaks from studying throughout her long day to walk Roxy through the park or around the block. She'd been doing her part with studying the books, and the reading and writing was fun, but she hated math. The math parts were the longest, boring-est parts of her day, she would always say and think.

As she and Roxy walked along the familiar tree line in the park, something was wrong. Roxy became very uneasy about two cholos hanging out by a tree that they were about to walk by. Roxy growled slightly as she walked, and Vida could see the hair on her neck standing up fiercely. "What it is, girl?" she asked Roxy. Roxy pulled harder on the leash, causing Vida to grasp tighter and leverage herself for a stronger position. They caught the attention of one of the cholos.

"Hey!" one of them said. Vida tried to pull Roxy and keep walking, but Roxy was too strong and wouldn't budge.

"Roxy, is that you girl?" the cholo said, rising to his feet. The cholo puffed on a cigarette as he walked closer to them, but Roxy's fierce growl caused him to slow and keep a distance. "That is you, bitch," he said. Vida was confused and scared. She remembered how Gabe had always told her to remain calm and put herself in listening mode, where she tried to concentrate on every sound around her, if she got into a dangerous situation. She did just that.

"What are you doing with Roxy!" the cholo went on, yelling at Vida. Roxy growled louder and barked once. "That's my dog!" the cholo called out louder. "Give me my dog, you little bitch!" he yelled out, trying to inch closer. Vida tried to listen. She heard the cars passing in the distant street. She saw the shadow of a flying bird on the grass beyond the tree line. She saw an egg sized stone just a few feet away from her. Roxy let out an angry bark. She showed her teeth in a vicious growl.

"Shut the fuck up Roxy!" The cholo came closer, flicking his cigarette at her. Then the other cholo got up and came to help his friend. "Come here, Roxy!" he said loudly and Roxy pulled harder. Vida let go of her leash and Roxy lunged towards the cholo, growling in commotion. The other cholo pulled out a gun.

"Fuck this dog, homie! I'm gonna blast it!" the friend yelled out. Amidst the commotion, Vida went for the stone.

"Blast it!" the first cholo yelled out as Roxy attacked him.

"No!" Vida yelled out as she threw a perfect strike to the gunman's forehead, immediately dropping him unconscious to the ground. At the same time, Roxy had bitten at the cholo and had him on the ground. Vida struggled to grab her leash and pull her off. "Roxy! Roxy!" she called out, imploring her furious dog to calm down. At the first chance, the cholo got to his feet and took off running through the park until he was eventually out of their view.

Chapter XV: The Angry Flower

The months passed in Chile, and the feeling of home rooted itself further into Sergio Munoz's soul. His experiences there were forever changing him with each passing day. He and Erika spent the summery Christmas Eve together, and then they had an amazing time drinking champagne on top of a high-rise building for New Year's Eve, watching the fireworks from six different shows going off at once across the sea shore. They made love on the rooftop, on a blanket, before the show and before spending a night of dancing at a casino nightclub on the beach. He was having the time of his life, and he was in way deep with her.

It was not all so peachy. Erika was complicated and fucked up too, like him, but different. She was wild and untamable, and along with her ability to sniff out even the whitest of his lies, she was depressed and possibly even suicidal, he thought. He hoped that he was enough for her. He hoped that he was enough to keep her from spiraling out of her mind and into deeper depression or something worse. He hoped that the love they shared was strong enough to stay afloat on the good parts. He hoped.

At least he had hope now. He had hope for happiness in life, for once. He had hope for some kind of life with another person, hopefully Erika, but if not, at least he knew that it was now possible with someone. He would still have to sort out how it would all work back in LA as a cop, but he didn't have to worry about that now. The possibility was there.

As far as Erika was concerned, he didn't know what was going to happen. He tried a few times to use his stupid power to summon some kind of vision of a future to see if she was in it, but it never worked. It never seemed to work the way he wanted. He couldn't ask questions like the gypsies with their crystal balls. He could only concentrate and see what popped in. Irony never seemed to escape any aspect of his life. He wasn't sure what he really wanted with her anyways, so he just ignored those minor details and left it all unsaid and unspoken about.

In the spring the weather turned colder, but in a mild, LA sort of way. It was an odd feeling to have hot weather in the winter and cold weather in the summer, and it added to the disarray of Sergio's life in general. He liked it.

As more time passed, he learned that the honing of his skills required only that he ease his mind and let go of the past and the great many fragments that made up the big chip on his shoulder. As he did, slowly but surely, he could feel his mind becoming freer. It was some kind of self-therapy that was helping his outlook on the world. He still couldn't ask questions of the crystal ball that were his visions, and he still wanted to lock up every shitty cholo that he could, but the rage didn't feel the same.

He felt like he finally had a home, in Chile. He thought that he could sense his mother's presence at times, in the gentle breezes through the ranch and in the swaying of the flowers that he felt was just for him. He couldn't be sure, but in his mind it was so, and that was perhaps all that mattered. His mind was fully open to the idea now, and he fully accepted the reality of everything that was happening around him.

He sat with Erika at a restaurant on a boardwalk, eating seafood for breakfast. He thought nothing of it for a moment, and then he zoomed back to reality and realized how great the simple thing that was this breakfast really was. He called it the Malibu breakfast.

"I am still amazed by the seafood here," he said. The sun felt good against the cold breeze off the ocean. The winter months of June and July were almost upon them. "I feel as though I eat like a king," he said, looking at the plate of pasta and seafood that he was ripping into. A meal full of lobster, crab, prawns, scallops, pasta alfredo and fish fillet would have cost him at least thirty bucks in the States, but not here. It would only cost him six.

"That's because you do," she said. She smiled less now than when their love was so new. It was a natural progression, he knew, and it came with mixed feelings. The new love was the most amazing feeling, every moment loaded with excitement and anticipation. The next level was still fun, but less so in that it was more complicated. They were sharing dreams as if they would always be together, even though they both knew it was unclear that they would be. It was half pretend in that sense, which didn't make it much different than anyone else's relationship, he supposed. He still saw himself leaving her behind too, but it was easier to pretend that wasn't true too. Living in only the good parts was much easier.

They spoke intimately on this level, he knowing most times what she was thinking, instead of just wondering. It was far more comfortable on this level. It was easier, and he had let his guard down long before. He was glad that he was still so into her. She was still as beautiful as ever, he thought as he stared across at her. She wore no makeup, and her big dark sunglasses hid her beautiful eyes. She had a beauty mark on her cheek, and with her loose, black shirt, she reminded him of Madonna, a la Latina.

"Do you not eat like a king in LA? Are you not all fat pigs in America?" She snorted, amused with herself as she lit a cigarette.

Sergio laughed. He liked her sarcastic, twisted sense of humor. "It's not like you're making it sound," he came back with. "But I guess you're right. Maybe we have things too easy. But that doesn't mean life is easy. Only people in Malibu eat like this for breakfast where I live." There was no point in lying to her at all, not even jokingly, so he never did.

She looked off into the distance. Her look of blah that he'd gotten used to came over her. The look said that she was just sad and hopeless about something or everything, as if she hated her shitty life that was, in reality, pretty good.

"What about you?" he asked, poking purposely. "You have a life too easy. You have everything. You have seafood paella at your fingertips, and you are beautiful as anyone, but you are always wearing this sad face as though your life was shit. Why must you be so unappreciative? Why must you be so sad and depressed all the time? You are just like the rich Americans that have it all and still can't be happy."

He could see that she was rolling her eyes, even behind the mask of her deep shades. "Are you not happy? Have you fallen out of love with me?" he pressed. If she got angry and broke it off with him, it would be fine. If she didn't, and declared her endearing love, it would be fine too. Either direction at this fork in his road would be fine, manageable at least, but a decision was needed. The middle of the road wouldn't do. The pretending would have to end.

"Stop it," she said. "You know it's not true. You make me happy. I love you. I don't know what is wrong. I do not know what my problem is. Maybe some people just can't be happy," she pouted. She blew smoke out that immediately got carried away in the breeze. "What about you? Why are you so fucking happy? Does it make you happy to see dead bodies and evil everyday?"

He sighed and shook his head. Her depressing mood was annoying and contagious. Or, maybe he just wanted her to break it off with him. It would be easier that way. Why did she have to tell him that she loved him? He sighed again. He loved her too, more than any other, but he was used to being alone. That was easy, and he knew how to do it. This was hard. Fighting over bullshit, and bickering was hard. Lonely was easy.

Besides, maybe a life with her would be terrible for both of them? Maybe she would never be happy and just drag him down with her. He wasn't sure if that would be so bad. Maybe she was right. Maybe some people could just never be happy, himself included. Maybe they could spend the rest of their lives wallowing in a state of bitterness and depression? Maybe they were bad for each other.

"You know, I will have to be leaving soon," he said, deciding to finally press the issue. He was sick of talking about it in his head. If she weren't willing to help him decide, he'd force the situation. Either way, the elephant was out there now and he felt relieved. The quiet was so quiet that he couldn't hear the ocean waves or the seagulls cawing in the distance.

"Why?" she snapped, defiantly. "Who do you have to go home to? I thought your life was here with me now?"

"Nobody! It is!" he answered back defensively. "But I can't just stay here. I will eventually be illegal, and I just can't. How will I survive? I am running out of money. I can't work here!" he barraged her. She knew it all. She quietly looked out to the sea, puffing on her smoke. "You know this already. But I love you, so now I don't know what to do."

"Maybe it's better this way," she said flatly, finally throwing in the towel on him and their relationship.

"Maybe it is!" he replied in anger. Fuck her if she just wanted to give up on him, he argued with himself. Finally the way out he needed. She got up quickly and walked away, out towards the side of the restaurant and out of his view. "Shit!" he muttered in frustration. His feelings swirled in confusion. It felt wrong to just let her go like that. It felt like a mistake. His body temperature shot up.

A queasy feeling came over Sergio's stomach suddenly. He clutched it slightly, but it was not the food that was making him sick. As he closed his eyes, he saw an image of a cactus in the sun. He knew he was having a vision. He calmed his breathing and closed his eyes again in concentration. The cactus was there again, on the side of a road, and he could see a car that was neither his nor Erika's. He saw Erika there, crying in the distance. An old, bald, wrinkled man appeared out of nowhere and mouthed some word to him, but he could see and hear no more before the waiter interrupted him.

Sergio felt scared and confused. He threw more than enough money down on the table and got up, eventually finding Erika smoking against her car. The ride back to her apartment building was quiet. They had not said a single word. It was over. They were done, and it would be time for him to go home. It was better this way, they both knew, which was why he wouldn't say anything. The good-bye would get easier with time.

They parked the car and sat in silence. This would be the last time he'd see her, he knew. It had been so great, despite the way it was ending. She was amazing, -crazy, conflicted, strong, and beautiful and amazing. He would miss her. "I guess this is it," he said.

"Yes," she replied without looking at him.

"I will be going home in a few days. I will miss you so much. I was never expecting this to happen, or for me to meet you. I..."

"I know. It's ok. It was fun," she replied coldly, never making direct eye contact with him. She was still angry, he knew. Maybe he could come back before he left and say good-bye properly, with no anger. Maybe that wouldn't be possible. Maybe this was just really it.

"I have to come up and get my bag," he said.

"Fine," she replied, getting out of the car to lead him up.

They knew something was wrong as they rode up the elevator and into the third story apartment when they found a man in suit sitting at the kitchen table, drinking something out of a teacup. Sergio panicked and put himself on guard immediately.

"Ivan!" Erika blurted out. Sergio watched cautiously. "What are you doing here!" she cried out. Her nervousness and surprise put Sergio on full duty and his mind began calculating.

"I see you have a friend," the man in the suit said. Sergio sized up the slick, fifty-something year old, mob-looking man, and he knew that he was carrying a piece in his inner pocket. He was definitely a bad guy. Sergio was not going to show his cards just yet. He wanted to see how it would play out. "Hello friend," Ivan added, smugly eyeballing Sergio with disdain.

"What are you doing here, Ivan," Erika demanded to know, expressing a calmer demeanor this time. Sergio searched his mind. At home he'd have his piece on him and be ready to brandish it or use it, if needed. He didn't have that power here though. He had a six-inch knife tied to his ankle, which wasn't enough against a man armed with a piece. He tried not to panic. She clearly knew him and was wrapped up somehow. They could be family, Sergio thought.

"I didn't mean to intrude on your date. But Aldo is sorry about the way things happened. He is so very sorry and would very much like you to come back to him." The man put his teacup down and smiled with fake politeness.

"I will never go back to him!" Erika said with seriousness. "Now please leave my house and don't ever come back again."

"Awe," the man said, kissing his teeth with arrogance and disapproval. "I'm afraid that's not good enough. You will come back. It's not a request."

"You heard her!" Sergio said, intervening with a calm but commanding voice.

In a second, the man pulled out a shiny steel pistol and aimed at Sergio's head. "You are not needed for this conversation!" the man shouted as he stood up from the table. "You can leave now!" he added.

"Easy," Sergio said, putting his arms up. Sergio didn't panic, but he knew he was fucked.

"Now let's go, Erika!" Ivan shouted, clearly angered as they moved towards the door. "Back off, asshole!" he shouted to Sergio, pushing Erika out the door. Ivan turned back to Sergio and pointed the gun at him again. "If you make any move against me, or try to help her, I will kill you."

Sergio was livid. There was no way he could go out like that. He watched from the door as the man forced Erika down the stairs, shoving her occasionally. When door closed behind them and they went out of his view, he ran back in the apartment and to the window. The gangster would have been dead if they'd been in LA. His mind paced with anger as he decided that the only thing he could do was go after them. He watched as they walked across the street and got into a dark blue sedan where there was another man inside. Sergio hoped it was that Aldo dude.

Sergio grabbed his keys and flew down the stairs, just able to watch them speed off and turn the corner. They were gone. Sergio's heart pounded out of his chest. He ran as fast as he could to his car, wishing that he could somehow call for backup, but he couldn't. His mind scrambled. He didn't know the streets well enough to know where they could be headed. To the city? To the countryside? He did not know.

He sped off in the same direction as the blue sedan. He turned the first corner where they had gone, but he did not spot them and there was nothing else to go on. He looked for a sign, any sign, of where they might have gone, but there was none. He kept driving straight, but he saw no signs for a freeway or expressway, just the city road ahead with blocks of stoplights and businesses, and no blue sedan. They could have turned anywhere. With each passing second, the hope dwindled faster until there was none.

He slowed the car down and pulled to the side of the road. He had let Erika down. Guilt shot through him. Fuck the bullshit fight, he said to himself. Fuck it all. It was all so stupid. He loved her. He should have fought. He should have taken the bullet and called the gangster's bluff. He should have done something. What could he have done? He wondered.

He wondered of his new power. He wondered if he could use it, somehow. He closed his eyes. He tried to drown out the busy street around him. He thought of fire, and the way it glowed and crackled at grandma's ranch. He could see it the flames dance chaotically, and then he felt calm. Suddenly, the desert road appeared and the old, bald man appeared. He whispered a word, "Olmue". Sergio's eyes flashed open and he knew where he had to go. He asked a man walking by what 'Olmue' was, and the man helped, pointing him in the direction of a highway. He was now on his way.

Sergio had no weapons but the small knife. It would have to do. He sped fast, as fast as his four-cylinder Peugeot would go and he headed towards the 76 Highway, just as the stranger had said. He filled with hope. He was sure of himself. As he finally found himself on the 76, he headed north. The highway went down to a single lane headed in each direction, and opened up to a desert terrain with brown sands and scattered green coverings. There were no cars to be found. He sped, flooring it, toping out at 130 km/h. He went until he saw the blue sedan in the distance ahead of him.

He feared for Erika's life, but he was left with no choice, so he came upon them and rammed them from behind. The sedan jolted and then wobbled from side to side. They pulled over quickly, as did Sergio, violently ramming into the driver's side, blocking the door. In the flash of just seconds, he jumped out of his car and slid across his contorted hood, smashing his boot into the driver's face. Sergio pulled his knife out, but the driver was out cold. Before he could make another move, the gunshot fired and he got hit.

The bullet froze him on the hood and he fell back onto it before slowly rolling off and onto the hot pavement. He'd been shot once before, almost in the same spot near his shoulder. He had been lucky then, but this time he didn't feel it. He felt depleted. It was too difficult and painful to move his arm and body at all. He watched from the ground as he saw the passenger's feet on the other side. He would be upon him soon. Sergio had one chance left. He would play dead and then make a quick move when the passenger came upon him. This was it.

Sergio watched the man's feet, but he hadn't moved yet. Maybe he was injured or shaken up from the crash. Sergio looked ahead and saw a sharp cactus on the side of the road. He was in his vision. He looked at the black pavement ahead and he could see the heat rising from it like an invisible flame. The man came upon him.

Sergio closed his eyes. Seconds passed but it didn't feel right. The man was too far out of reach, standing over him, but not close enough to get a grip on. Sergio opened his eyes and the man wore a smile. He was a good-looking guy, clean cut, full head of tightly combed light brown hair. He wore a blue suit. He looked like a gangster.

"You tried to fuck with the wrong guy, my friend," he said in his heavily Chileno accent. "You tried to take my flower, but you see, I own the garden. All the flowers are mine. Some very stupid people like you always have to learn the hard way. This is your lesson," he added, pointing his gun at Sergio's head. Sergio could see so clear that he could see the barrel opening of the pistol. He wondered if he would see the bullet coming at him at all, or if it would happen in such a fast flash that he would never see or feel anything.

He braced himself for his death and closed his eyes, and then he heard the shot. He opened his eyes to see the gangster fall to the ground, and then he heard two more shots. He looked up in confusion to see Erika from the side of the road. She had taken the gangster out.

Chapter XVI: Rise of the Cartel

The idea of the Tolan was turning into more success than anyone could imagine, and the successes were spilling into the prisons. Oswaldo Antonio Gutierrez, known simply by Oz, had more power than ever. As he sat in solitary confinement this day, he was deep in his thoughts. He was aware that the cartel was hot on the LA Ninja's trail, but he didn't care about that anymore. He had his own game to play. The blacks in prison were flailing. The whites were increasingly nervous. Tension was rising.

There was no stopping the Tolan, though. The first few sets of rehabilitated soldiers were making it back into prisons from the streets. The good ones were smart enough to use their new skills and safehouses to evade police and capture. For many others though, the taste of freedom was too much to handle. Even though the process was meant to weed those who'd not be successful, out, it wasn't foolproof.

Oz had some tough decisions to make. Even the failures that were making it back into prison from the rehab program were very useful. They had skills at fighting, and they had intimate knowledge of the system and the Tolan's objectives. Oz had been keeping them close, and using their tactical knowledge against the other prison gangs.

The prison Tolan had an assortment of tactics in play. Substance abuse, gambling, prostitution, and coercion were all key, but the most important one was espionage. Oz had blacks, whites, and Asians from rival gangs working for him. For the drug addicted and violent criminals destined for a life behind bars, guarantees of safety and secrecy in the fulfillment of their pleasures in exchange for information was as easily done as said.

The prison was not dumb enough to allow Mexican-American gang members in the vicinity of other Mexican-American gang members locked up in solitary confinement, for any duties. For Oz, though, that wasn't a problem. As a white prisoner mopped the walkway, they spoke.

"Watch your feet, prisoner," the white man said as he mopped by the tiny space at the bottom of Oz's cell. "The Woods are good, all eyes on business as usual," the white man added, reporting on the general mood and demeanor of the white prison gang. Oz paid the white man with a lifetime supply of meth and 'anytime' blowjobs from one their best prison bitches, all sworn in secrecy, for the exchange of information. He was one of three.

"There was an incident recently that I read about in the papers," Oz replied. "A drug bust in West Covina that left a man dead." The Tolan had carried out the murder against the white mid-level gangster in a push for territory. They had made it look like a police raid by leaving some of the drugs and calling it in over the police radio after the fact. As far as Oz had heard, the police did not deny the bust.

"Sounds like the police caught one of the good guys to me," the white man replied, acknowledging that the white gang thought it to be the work of the police.

"It's getting tough out there on us too. We lost a good man out in Whittier last week," Oz said. It was only a partial lie. A Chicano drug dealer went down, but it was the Tolan who took down the non-compliant party.

"That's too bad," the white prisoner replied. "I'll spread the bad news."

***

As the months went by and the summer came and went, things had continued to go well for Edmund. The botched deal that ended in the murder of a rival mid-level dealer worked out better for he and the Tolan than they'd hoped. Edmund was rewarded with his own apartment and promoted to safehouse leader, working alongside L'Aranya until he was ready to run his own safehouse. All it cost him was a gunshot wound to the arm and the murder of his apprentice.

He'd run a few more deals since then, pushing multiple kilos of coke and meth to mid level dealers working for the Tolan. He was given more access to the inside, where, during meetings with other safehouse leaders, they went over maps and movements of rivals. They'd gone over territories of LA where they had already pushed blacks and whites out, replacing their mid-level dealers with their own. The city was slowly but surely becoming theirs. The big picture had become clearer, and now, he was the voice in the ear.

This day, Edmund was on a big job, but he carried on a text conversation with L'Aranya too. There was no secret that they'd become so much closer and that they were falling for each other. They'd been carrying out a strange relationship, talking over text, sharing a dream of a slow life on a ranch in Texas somewhere, retired from the gangster life. Yet, in reality, they'd never so much as shared a kiss or even anymore than an accidental touch. It all started out as some bullshit flirting, but now, Edmund wasn't sure what it was.

'What are we?' he texted.

'lol' she answered. 'I ask myself that 2'

'I want us 2b more' he said.

'are you paying attention to your job?!'

'yup, lol. I'm watchin'

'ok. Don't fukk this up. This is a big one' she said.

'do I ever?' he said.

'no. not yet!'

'lol. I gots this! I wanna kiss you'

'me too'

'shit hold on. brb'

'ok'

"The target is on the move. He's unguarded," Edmund called out. "Change channels in 3, 2, 1." He switched to the next designated radio band. "You are in position, Sure Shot." Edmund was coordinating the hit. Since running into a newly rehabbed soldier that was trained to be a rudimentary sniper, he'd come up with the idea to construct a car with a hollowed out backseat and a trunk with a rifle opening, just like the D.C. Sniper had done, years before. The Tolan loved the idea so much, that they had sent some specialized rifles to do hits with, and they had six more cars retrofitted in the same way.

"All clear," Edmund said. "Going dark." He watched patiently. The skinny LA councilman was a big-mouthed crusader. Since they'd gotten the order to hit him, Edmund had found out that the councilman talked tough on crime and was determined to go after gangs with harsher force. He would be running for mayor in the next election too, for which the Tolan decided was not beneficial to them.

The never-would-be mayor exited the Hilton hotel with his two assistants. Edmund counted the steps as he walked, and as he got to fifteen, right before he reached his car, Edmund heard the shot and watched him fall. Calmly and quietly, he started his car and left. The job was done.

***

Benicio Ortega was running the Tolan Brotherhood of the streets. He was the invisible voice feeding intelligence to the safehouses through a group of old gangsters running a master safehouse fronted as a Victory Outreach church program for gang members wishing to leave the gang life. Through them, Benicio got the information to the safehouses on plans to expand territory, who to hit, and any potential trouble.

Benicio was untouchable. The Victory Outreach didn't know who he was. They communicated through computers over an encrypted network that they didn't know was encrypted. So long as the money flowed in, they didn't care either. They had nothing to lose, for the worst that could happen was that they went back to prison, the place that they considered home more than any other.

Benicio increasingly relied on the street soldiers to carry out the hits, which left the dark ninja in his back pocket for special projects. The ninja was on a mission to find Gabe. He was on the scent, and while he'd been watching the construction site for a few days, he gotten the sense that Gabe had fled.

The days had passed into weeks, and then months. The dark ninja looked over maps, and charted out possible locations within walking distance of the job site. Gabe never returned to work, and the ninja only had an old picture of a Mexican-looking kid around the age of twenty to go on, but he knew he'd recognize him the second he saw him. He searched day in and day out, marking off apartment buildings as he went, working from near to far. There'd been no sign of him.

He caught his break when information finally made it back from Benicio about an old dog being found by some gangsters. One of the safehouses had requested permission to stakeout an apartment building and issue a hit on a little girl. They'd been forbidden to do any such thing, but that didn't stop the story from spreading around. The ninja followed his hunch and he ended up at the park outside Gabe's old apartment.

He staked it out for a night and then a day, and he was sure he was in the right place. There was no sign of Gabe or any little girl with a dog, but he had a strong feeling that Gabe was near, or had spent time there. He watched the rust-colored two-story apartment building for days. He profiled all of the tenants he'd seen, twelve apartments in all. Three on the first floor were empty, and two on the top floor were. He knew that Gabe had fled here too. It was clear that Gabe had sensed their presence, like a good ninja would, and fled. Everyone left a trail, though, no matter how faint or seemingly undetectable. The dark ninja just had to find it.

***

In the public's eye, the perception was that the LAPD was doing a great job. Violent crime towards the public had dropped off dramatically over the past year. When Christmas came and went and the new year spilled into summer, the Mayor began touting numbers reflecting the decrease in homicides and violent offenses. He was a shoe-in for re-election.

The perception was different from inside the LAPD, however. There had been some high-profile murders with the investigations turning up very little. There did not seem to be any connection between any of them. No murder weapons, and very little hard evidence. Worse, there were murders across the entire state that the LAPD didn't have any detail on. If they'd been paying closer attention, they might see what was taking shape in the streets, however, anything out of the ordinary had been eluding them.

The gang and narcotics division had been noticing something. Sting operations were turning up very little, and witnesses were offering up very little. Nobody seemed to know anything, and worse, rival gangs didn't seem to be ratting on each other. They did know that drug use was up, and drugs had become cheaper and more readily available. It was as though the criminal underground had gotten smarter somehow. It was as though they were a step ahead of the police. Something wrong was happening, they just didn't know what.

***

Deep in Mexico, Juan Cortez was so pleased with himself that he wanted more. The money pouring in from the States was massive. The demand for his product was more than he'd ever witnessed, and his capacity to keep up was past the limit. He could no longer meet it. Something had to be done.

He had an idea for that though. He'd been thinking about it ever since he put his plan of action in place for California. He wanted to take Texas too. The only way he could do that was to knock off the Montes and Cholula Cartels, both of whom controlled major distribution in Texas and California.

He talked it over with his advisors, and he began putting a plan of action in place to turn the Montes Cartel against the Cholula by framing them for some major hits. A ninja would be perfect for such a move, he knew, but it would be impossible to find another one. Juan had already tried. His little cousin Benicio, the helpless sap that he was, convinced him that he'd still needed the services of the ninja in California. They were still looking to avenge Javier's death and capture the LA Ninja. Although he still cared about that, he cared even more about expanding his empire and crushing the competition.

Juan didn't need the ninja. He would work a plan to take over the operations of the Montes and Cholula Cartels and triple his own size and power in becoming the most powerful drug cartel in the world. It had already started. His army was forming, and he was collecting his weapons, which included a gem of a weapon in an attack helicopter.

Chapter XVII: Finding Love Again

As Gabe drove home from making his monthly stop off to check his P.O. box, he decided to make a pit stop and buy Vida the pink iPod that she had been wanting. As he wandered through the Grove mall and in and out of the Apple store, he thought of his place in the world at that moment. He was surprised by the turn of fate that had been his life for the past two years. He could have never foreseen this set of events that put him in the care of a strange little girl that the world had forsaken and discarded. Now, impossibly, they were building a bond and a life together. Destiny, indeed, was utterly shrouded by an absolute and infinite veil, for which no accumulation of knowledge could ever reveal for any man. That was life, which he knew too well.

The strangeness of buying girlie things had certainly faded a lot since Gabe had met Vida. Since then, he'd had to buy Vida clothes, makeup, and even underwear. The pink iPod was nothing compared to those things, and certainly nothing compared to someday having to buy her feminine products. He shuddered at the thought.

Still, the adventure that was living and sharing a life with her was as unexpected as it was amazing. Vida was able to create a new world unheard of, mixing in the newness of American pop culture and the oldness of ancient religion and martial art. She ate mac n' cheese and listened to Justin Beiber while studying art and reading about ninjutsu and Buddhism. She wore a pink Gap sweater and Toms while exercising kata forms in the yard. With cracked nail polish, she picked locks and thumbed through Gabe's recipes for grenades, copying them in her own purple-inked writing to better memorize them. She even drew a heart on the recipe for the nitrogen-iron grenade, her favorite. She busied her mind with math and science in the morning and then calmed it for meditation in the afternoon. She was like him, only better, and she was carving out her own, unique existence in the world.

He presented her with the iPod that evening and she happily got to work on filling it up with music and videos. They had moved to the new house almost a year before. It was a beat-up, rickety old cabin at the foothills of the Angeles National Forest. It was not glamorous, but it was cheap and it gave them free-range access into the forested mountain range that it was attached to. It was the perfect setting for the next-level training that he'd been seeking for Vida, and that training was in full swing.

It was a damp spring morning. It had rained the day before, terrorizing much of LA, snarling the nine-to-fivers with rush hour delays from fender benders and pile-ups. They were a distant thought for Gabe though. He and Vida were playing their version of hide n seek. He'd given her five minutes to hide in the forest, and now he was stalking her.

She was always armed with her bow, and this time also armed with a wooden sword, smaller than a katana, that they made for her to practice with. She'd been learning quickly how to use it, much to Gabe's content. Gabe paused in his tracks. He was surrounded by the now familiar tree line, 150 meters into the forest. They'd spent the whole year in the forest and he knew it well. He knew her well, too.

In the early days of training in their forest, the game was easy. He never had to think or concentrate hard on where she was hiding. That was then, though, and now she'd gotten much better. He stepped silently along the leaves. There was a fog that was brightly lit from the sun, which towered high above. The fog and dreariness was a soothing atmosphere in the everlasting sunshine of southern California, and it reminded him of Japan. He still loved to be reminded of Japan. He stopped in his tracks and listened.

The quiet forest sounded off its silence in a chorus of scattered natural rhythms, muted dramatically by the fog. His eyes searched, but his brain was wired to rely far more heavily on his hearing. He searched for something foreign and unnatural to the forest, the giveaway to a human presence. When he sensed nothing, he felt proud. He could not sense Vida's presence, which meant that nobody else could either. She hid well.

He moved forward and then leapt into a tree, just twenty meters away. Seconds passed and then a young deer passed beneath him. He watched the deer as it listened cautiously. Gabe sniffed through his nose loud enough to startle the deer and send it along on its way, and then he sensed something. He sensed a presence. He sensed a feeling of fear. He sensed a feeling of nervousness. He then heard a rustle, the slightest possible, from a something brushing the fiber ridges of clothing, causing a friction that vibrated ever so slightly across the fog. He had a target.

He moved down from the tree and stalked quickly and quietly towards a spot when Vida jumped down from a branch with her wooden sword drawn. His was already on her. "Awe!" she scoffed regretfully. "You knew I was there!" she whined.

Gabe chuckled. "Yeah, I did. But you did much better. When you were calm I could not find you. But then I could feel your anxiety and nervousness, and then I heard you rub your sleeve or fingernail against your pants."

"Awe," she replied with an animated smile, the same way she did when she found out that Gabe ate the last banana, or when she realized it was time for bed. He loved it. She was such a girl, and he loved it.

He smiled back. "It's cool. You're getting better and better everyday." She smiled from the corner of her mouth. "Wanna go do kata and history before dinner?"

"I guess," she replied with reluctance.

"What's wrong? History is your favorite subject?" He leaned against the tree behind him. She looked troubled. He could read her, but it was sometimes impossible to know what she was really thinking. He watched the light fog coming from her breath, and it reminded him of Japan. It reminded him of Amaya. He thought of her in the forest of Japan. He thought of how they'd strolled through it so many times. It made him happy. He could think of her now without completely breaking to pieces. He could think of her now and not feel the rage. He could think of her now and not fill with infinite sadness.

"It's not that," she said, finally. "It's nothing."

"Come on. You never hide the truth from me. You can tell me anything, you know that."

"I'm just getting bored of the same stuff. We are always working and doing school and doing kata and doing meditating."

"But I thought you liked doing those things?" Gabe asked, deflated.

"No, I do!" she said quickly, correcting him with reassurance. "I do. I just wanna break sometimes."

"I thought we did mix it up?" Gabe pondered aloud. "Do you wanna go to the movies?"

She scrunched her face. "Nah."

"How about Disneyland?"

She held her eyes upwards in thought. "Nah."

"No to Disneyland? Is everything ok?" Gabe got into a crouch and began to worry. Maybe it was too much too fast. She did study a lot. She was way smarter than he was. She knew more about world history than he ever did. She read more books than he ever had. Maybe she was burning out. Maybe he was pushing her too hard. He stared at her. She had dirt on her cheek. Her hair hung in a long, tangled ponytail that even he could tell needed some care.

"I don't know," she answered. "It's not just going to Disneyland or the movies or anything."

"Have I been pushing you too hard? Are you not happy here at our house anymore? I know it's not what..."

"No," she cut him off. "It's not that." She looked confused.

Gabe sunk down further and sat down, leaning against the tree. "I don't know what I'm doing, Vida. Everything just happened so fast. My family got taken away from me and I was in a dark place for awhile. Then I found you. And you brought the light into my life again, and then, I just thought I could teach you because you had no family and you didn't want to go into an orphanage or be in a foster home. But now, I just don't..." Gabe looked towards a tree in the distance.

"I'm sorry to make you sad, Gabe. I love what you did for me. I love you more than I ever loved my mom."

"Yeah. I love you too. Maybe that's the problem."

"Why?"

"Maybe because I love you so much, I just want you to be happy and do the right thing. Maybe you shouldn't be here in some desolate forest cabin learning how to be a warrior. Maybe you should be with other kids your age, dancing, and listening to Lil' Kim and Nicki Minaj. Maybe you just need a real mom and a real family?"

"Maybe," she said, simply. It was true. She was way smarter than he ever was. A smile formed across her face. "But I think we are both just following our destinies. I think we are both just following our life paths, and we don't have a choice in what happens."

Gabe chuckled. "You are becoming pretty smart, aren't you?" She smiled devilishly.

"I'm smart enough to know that you are training me to be a ninja," she added, holding her grin. He was caught off-guard.

"What would make you think something so nutty like that?" he asked, trying to play it off as though she was really way off base with such a theory.

"I put it together. The listening exercises, the knife throwing, the explosives, disguises, study of Buddhism and Shinto; but it wasn't until we studied the history of the samurai and the ninja. Then it kind of clicked."

Gabe smiled. He decided that he wouldn't be able to fool her any longer, and that he had not needed to. "And you're ok with it? What do you think?"

"I think it's awesome, what do you mean!" She gave him her classic 'are you stupid' look of sarcasm. "I mean, what other girls do you know that can do this?" She quickly loaded an arrow onto her bow and aimed, firing it into the abyss of the clouds. A split second later, they heard it hit something that sounded exactly like a target.

Gabe's eyes widened with curiosity as they shared a smile of amazement. They simultaneously got up and ran towards the house, sixty yards away through the fog-shrouded forest. They came upon their yard to find the arrow stuck into the wood and straw plank they used for target practice. The shot was nearly a direct hit, only five inches from dead center.

"Shit, that was great!" Gabe exclaimed in disbelief.

"Did you see that!" Vida exclaimed, clearly in disbelief as well. "I was lucky!" she added in awe.

Gabe's mind spun. She was far more advanced than he'd imagined. "You see!" he exclaimed with glee. "You hit the target because you acted on instinct alone, allowing your subconscious to guide your actions!" he said, thinking back to only a minute before when he witnessed her fluid action in firing the arrow at an invisible target. He was floored with excitement. He hadn't realized that he was smashing her in the grasp of his hug, an unconscious action of his own. She said a million words in a smile of happiness.

"Yeah, let's not get crazy with it ok?" Gabe said, standing back, flattening out his smile. He put his never-satisfied teacher persona on. "You may have some power now, but with it comes a lot of responsibility too."

"I know," she said, jovially, before retrieving her arrow.

Gabe calmed himself down. It was hard to balance between feeling like a proud father and maintaining the patience of a teacher that wanted his pupil to always strive for more. "Well since you know about the ninja," he said, getting back on topic. "Then we can move into our next lesson about disguises."

"What's that?" she asked curiously as they walked back into the house together.

"It's a lesson about hiding our true identity. We have already learned how important it is to use disguises for spying and hiding, but it is also really important that we maintain a normal life."

"Ok?" she asked, confused.

"Well right now because you are in training, it's not a huge deal. But it is important for you to be a normal member of society. You would, for instance, normally be a student at a school, and someday be a student at college, and then become something like a doctor or a lawyer or something else. How else can you function in society, right?"

She nodded.

"So we have to do our best to blend in and make certain that our ultimate disguise fools even the most perceptive of people out there, just like in our spy lessons. But this lesson is for all the time."

"I'm confused," she said, leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking water. Gabe swung a chair in front of her.

"Do you remember when I had the construction job?" he asked. She nodded. "Well, everyone thought that I was a construction worker, and that's because I was. I dressed like one, talked like one, and worked as one. I was one."

"Are you saying that I have to go to school and..." he cut her off.

"No, no, baby!" he touched her shoulder and smiled. "I'm not saying that. But I'm saying that we have to find a normal look for you." He touched her hair. "We need to get you to look like a normal girl your age. Fix your hair, buy some nicer clothes, and stuff like that to help you blend in with the kids your age."

"Oh!" she said with a smile, clearly happier than he thought she'd be. "That's awesome! Can I wear makeup too?" she begged with glee.

"Yeah, I guess," Gabe answered skeptically, still put off by her surprise glee. "I mean, we can't have you looking like some orphan from Annie. You won't blend in anywhere."

"Gabe!" she cried out in playful anger.

"I'm sorry. I'm kidding, but you know what I mean." She smiled, embarrassed. She knew what he meant. "Yeah, only..." Gabe scrunched his face the way she did and he looked to the wall, unable to find the right words. She waited for him to finish his thought.

"What?" she asked, running out of patience.

He chuckled. "Well, I don't know exactly how to do that. I have no clue what to do. I'm sorry," he said, remorsefully.

She smiled awkwardly. "Me neither," she added.

"Maybe we can just watch MTV or something?" he asked.

"Maybe we can just go to the mall and look at what the cool kids are wearing?" she added.

"Oh yeah!" he agreed. "I guess that's a better idea."

Chapter XVIII: Never Satisfied

Detective Ryan Carter, on loan from the LAPD, and now working for the DEA, was an adrenaline junkie. He'd been so from a young age growing up as a kid in Buffalo, New York. During the autumns, when Dad had made them rake up all the maple leaves scattered about, he and his older brother would pile up leaves and jump onto them from the roof or from bike ramps on the sidewalk.

Ryan could remember doing a lot of crazy things with his brother when they were still best friends, but things changed after the swing incident. Against their father's orders, Ryan and his older brother moved the tree swing to a higher branch on their tree. It was just a tire hanging by a rope tied to a tree, just like the one Dad had when he grew up. Ryan's brother thought it would be fun to tie it to a high branch in the tree, so he did. It was scary to swing from, but they did it.

When Dad came home from work and found it, he took his belt to Adam, Ryan's brother. It was for good reason, because it fell on its own the very next day, after the tree limb broke. Things were never the same between Ryan and Adam after that. Adam became cold with Ryan, and he never invited him along to anything any longer. No more leaf jumping, no bike rides, no creek swims. Nothing.

It changed something in Ryan, though. It only propelled Ryan to be crazier and wilder. It fueled something in Ryan that came to define him in his desire to take chances and seek out danger. It was what made him a football star in high school. It was what forced him to give up football in college, when he broke his leg jumping off a high rock into a small lake of unknown depth. It was what made him take a summer off to hike the English moors and another summer off to learn how to surf in Australia. It was the reason he sought out a career in law enforcement and move by himself to California.

It took Ryan over twenty years to realize that his brother had only been looking out for him. Adam had gotten so scared that he could have been responsible for something happening to Ryan if that branch had broken one day sooner. It was because he cared so much that the only thing he could do to protect Ryan was to shut him out from that point on. Things were good between them now, but it was too late to ever go back to the friendship they had as kids.

Ryan thought that is was funny the way things worked out. Now Ryan was the crazy one, and it was Adam who was the tame one, married with three kids, still living in Buffalo, working as the manager at the BJ's Wholesale Club. It was Ryan who was out on his own, in the wildest state in the union, chasing bad guys with guns. It was Ryan who this morning found himself in the rigidly cold, shark-infested waters off the San Francisco Bay.

He'd done the minimal research, cruising the Internet, looking for info on the water temps and the best spots to surf. It was then that he ran into the info on the how the Great White sharks had liked to frequent the shores of the bay. It only intrigued him more. At 6:15 a.m., when his toes had first touched the forty-degree water, the adrenaline began to fire him up.

The waves had battered him. They were the opposite of predictable and timely; they were chaotic and whitewashed and disguised as one, when there were sometimes two or three. It took several minutes to get past the frenzied gate of the ocean, but he did, finally. Once in the clear, he realized that he'd not been alone. There were three more surfers scattered about. A wave came instantly, too short notice for him to ready himself for, but it was big, ten maybe twelve feet, he thought. It was as big as he'd seen in his life, which was only once before, in Hawaii. It went by and he saw another surfer snag it. His adrenaline flowed.

Minutes passed with nothing happening. The waves came and lifted his body up and then gently back down as the passed underneath him without peaking. The adrenaline relaxed, as did he the calm, soothing rhythm of the ocean. He thought about the sharks and he scanned across the calm part of the ocean. No fins. He had almost forgotten about them. He thought his chances to be good that he'd not encounter one.

He looked down beside him, into the water. It was dark, brown, and anything but clear. It wasn't as if he'd see anything coming. He put his hand in as deep as he could, and he could barely see the white glow of it, and the wetsuit on his arm disappeared almost completely. He wondered if it was worse to not see it coming, or to be in clear water and just get a glimpse of the beast in the second or two before it struck.

His nerves rattled a bit more before some pelicans flew low, gliding by close to the water. Their presence somehow calmed him. He thought of the brown water and remembered how surprised he was to arrive to California and find out that the water was not only dark, but it was cold. It was nothing like he'd expected it to be, but then again neither was anything else in California.

It was his own fault, he supposed. He'd built up some make believe world of palm trees, movie stars, and beaches, as if it were realistic to think that life would be a vacation. He knew it wouldn't be exactly that, but he thought it would bare some resemblance of it. There were way more people than he expected. Life was so much tougher for people than he had expected. The people were way dumber, and smarter, than he expected. Even after all that, it was still better than Buffalo's small town feel and quiet, neighborly people, he surmised.

A wave was coming and he readied himself, paddling with his hands to get in position, just ten feet to his right. The wave grabbed him, lifting him several feet up while he paddled hard, but then it let him go, passing him by. He had to catch the lip just right. Timing was everything. No matter, another would be along shortly. It was the way of the ocean.

He paddled back to where he was before. He loved his time surfing in the cold mornings before most of the world was in full motion. He had a lot of time to think. It really was the closest to Zen that he ever felt. He thought of the job he was there to do. It had been troubling him. The possibility of the LA Ninja being back had been unexpected. He wished he could have his old partner back on this one. He was long gone though, and that troubled him far worse.

He wondered if the LA Ninja really was involved. He wondered who the ninja was really working for. It didn't make sense that the ninja could appear out of nowhere and tactically and accurately make moves to take out the core of one single gang. Then, after seemingly dying, which may have been a cover up by the police, he resurfaces to kill California assembly members? What connection could the Guerreros have to the California Assembly? Was the ninja working for someone that had a connection? Were there more ninjas? Why would the Japanese have concern with California street gangs or politics?

None of it made sense. He'd racked his brains for weeks on it. He'd studied the evidence in front of him, but it was only more confusing. The Japanese had close ties to many businesses and industries in San Francisco, including the fishing industry, mining, finance, steel, agriculture, and countless service industry businesses. There were daily non-stop flights on numerous carriers direct from San Francisco to Japan and back. He'd go to the establishment of the murdered bouncers and start there. It was all he could do.

***

Seven thousand miles away from Ryan Carter, Sergio Munoz's life had become complicated. In making plans to travel to Chile to connect with his family, he hadn't really planned to become involved in a double homicide. The Chilean Police would be looking for someone, but he suspected that they had very little to go on. He was careful to remove fingerprints and clear them from the pistols and the car.

Luckily, there were no witnesses on the highway that he could think of, as no cars had passed by in that short span of time. He had also found out from Erika that Aldo and his crime partner were smugglers and drug dealers, and otherwise persons that the Chilean people would probably not mind losing. He had killed people before. This time, he killed Ivan, but not as a cop in the legal line of duty. He crossed a crucial line that put him on the wrong side of the law. It was self-defense though, and he could easily live with it. In his mind, had he been on duty, they would have probably ended up with the same fate.

A lot more had changed after that. Like some kind of magical twist of fate, the killing had brought them closer together. Sergio was convinced that they belonged together, and he had found out that she had a gift too, in her ability to tell when people were lying, as if seeing a person change color, as she had described it. She had always been able to tell when the truth was not being told. She had been working for Aldo, helping him to decipher the truth from others in their business dealings. She was young when he had smooth talked her and took her in to work for him, only, he could never really let her go.

She too, found out about Sergio's gift of sight. It was as though he was psychic and he could see things happen, even before they had. She was surprised to learn that he had foreseen himself meeting her at the club the first time they'd met, and he had foreseen them sleeping together. It was, as best as he could describe it, like seeing bits and pieces of scenes that had not yet happened. Like seeing déjà vu in reverse order, seeing things before they happen.

Like two people finding out that they were both fucked up in similar ways, it only bonded them together more tightly. She could see the truth through the lies and he could see the future though his dreams. Apart they were depressed and hopeless, but together they were happy. Amazingly, they were perfect.

He felt strange and guilty at his grandmother's house. Grandma knew that he was in love. Sergio had increasingly brought her home for dinners to become better acquainted with Titi and Rafa, but Titi was ever untrusting. Sergio surmised that grandma could sense the lawless mishap with the gangsters, and that maybe that there was something witchy about Erika, but it went unspoken. Grandma was accepting her for now.

At least Titi cared enough to give a shit, even if it was for disapproval. In a way, Sergio was glad that it was disapproval, for which he concluded was better because it meant that she didn't think Erika was good enough. It was nice to have a maternal figure giving a shit about what woman entered his life. It would be nice for Titi to fully accept her though. Maybe Titi knew something that he didn't, something from Erika's past or future. Then, maybe, it would just take time. He wasn't sure about anything, except that he loved her.

Sergio and Erika sat in the dark that night as the fire burned down to a weak flame, long after everyone else went to bed. They sat alone, but they were in the strong presence of his family, and maybe even his mother. There was a feeling as though everyone could easily hear them, even though they probably could not from their cozy beds in the house. Even so, there could be no secrets from anyone in this family of freaks, he knew.

"Titi is really great," Erika said, lowly. "They are all great. They all tell the truth all the time," she added.

Sergio smiled. "They do, don't they," he agreed, knowing the weight that such a statement from her carried.

"I don't think Titi will ever like me," Erika said. Munoz studied her face.

"Can you throw another log on the fire? I will get us some wine." Munoz left and then returned to the crackling of fresh wood. They moved from their single chairs to a double on a swing. They snuggled in close together as the air began cooling even more. It was after one in the morning.

"Maybe my grandma will never like you," he went on, continuing where they'd left off. "But I'm sure she will accept you, as she knows how much we love each other."

"I hope so," Erika replied. "But I understand how she may feel untrusting towards me. She is protective of you."

"Yes, she is. I am so happy to have her."

"And now, you will be leaving her. And me."

Sergio kissed the top of her head that was dug into his chest. He stared down at his wine and he could see the light of the fire bouncing through it. This was the hard part, and as each day came closer to the day he'd be leaving, the weight of despair became heavier. "It's going to be so hard," he said finally. "But we agreed, right?"

"You agreed," she said, coldly.

"Come on, don't do that. I already feel bad enough. We won't be apart for long. I just need to go back home and get my life situated again. Then, when the time is right, you can come."

"Yeah," she said, plainly. He wondered how much doubt she had in their plan. She could see the truth in the moment of his words, but that didn't mean his feelings wouldn't change. She could not see that. He wondered.

"So what now, seer of things? What do you see of our future?" she asked, reading his mind. He wasn't surprised.

"I don't know," Sergio replied. "I have strangely not seen much. Let me hold your hand and concentrate," he said, breaking apart slightly to take her hand unto his. His smile faded as he tried to concentrate.

He saw darkness in the absence of light, only a dark abyss for which he could not tell the depth of. Seconds of darkness passed, when finally the image of a small mountain rising up from the earth out of nowhere. He could see the effortless pastures of tall grass in the distance, to no end. Then, he saw a forest and a young girl in a tree, wearing a GAP sweater, holding a sword. She stared at him curiously, with fire and fury in her eyes. She was angry.

Sergio remained calm, the hardest thing to do when confronted with the strange and curious visions of events that have not occurred in time yet, and he let the thoughts flow through him. He saw Ryan Carter, running through an alley at night, being chased. He was looking back, and he was scared. Sergio snapped out of his trance.

"What is it!" Erika asked with deep worry. Munoz didn't answer. "What is it?" she asked again.

"It was my friend," Sergio answered, finally. "I saw a mountain. I saw a strange girl in a tree. Then, I saw my old partner, Carter, being chased in an alley. I think his life is in danger," he said with worry. "I have to go back home."

Chapter XIX: The New You

The media was always selective in how they reported the violence in prisons. In the most recent reports, it was really far more one-sided and violent that they really knew. Even so, what got reported out drew little public interest. If violent and hardened prisoners wanted to kill each other within the prison walls, then the public didn't care much. What was going was being largely missed and ignored.

It started in Chino, but then spread to the other prisons across California, mostly, and Texas and Illinois, to a lesser extent. Violence along racial lines erupted suddenly, between the whites, blacks, and browns. The Latinos had an edge, however, in that they were larger in number and now better equipped at hand-to-hand combat, thanks to the rehab program.

The Tolan struck against the black gang in prison, first. They tactically planned an attack in the yard while also setting fire to the kitchen, drawing a major distraction. In the violent assault, six members of the black gang from Chino were killed, and seventeen severely injured. Round two, an attack against the white prison gang, occurred exactly two months later, landing even more effectively for the Tolan.

To the outside world and to the prison, the attacks appeared to be gang related and although substantially more violent, still typical of gang activity. It was more than that, though. It was a message that synchronized with the streets, in that the Tolan were taking over, and they were deadly serious about it.

Things were happening so fast that the authorities could not keep up, and Edmund was riding the wave to fame. He also led the master safe house, to which all others in South Central LA answered. His fearlessness and courage had gotten him the respect, power, and money that he'd been looking for all of his life.

His murderous mind had been key to his success. He had established new territory faster than anyone had before him. Now, sitting at his kitchen table in his plush safe house, he had a new plan. Surrounded by three of his own key gangsters, he stared at the two cholos sitting in front of him.

"Do you know who I am?" Edmund asked. Although he'd only gotten a few new tattoos, his look was completely different from the Harbor City Hoods gangster he was when he first entered the gang. He was stronger, more powerful, and more confident. His look was smug. His eyes were sharp, penetrating, and intense. His feeling of power emanated from him like an invisible force.

They looked back with blank stares. One of the cholos was young, only seventeen. Edmund could see the fear in his wide-open eyes. The other was an older, veterano man, hooked badly on heroin. He sat still, fearless and focused only on the empty needle and bit of black tar calling him from the table. They were perfect.

"I am Edmund," he said authoritatively. The name struck resonance in them, twitching in the recognition of such a powerful and elusive presence. The boy seemed to shiver slightly. "You, Puppet," Edmund said, addressing the youngster.

The youngster stared at him with fear that Edmund could easily sense. "You are here because you have been chosen. You have been chosen to give the ultimate gift to the Tolan, and represent your hood. Your name will be famous. And in return, your sweet mama and your sister will thank you forever because they will be taken care of. They will not only be under our protection, forever, but they will never have to worry about money again."

The boy's eyes twitched in confusion. He was tough, but stupid, and hand chosen because he was not only weak, but his mother had lost her job and been struggling. His sister was already coming close to prostitution, soon to be whoring for the Harbor City Hoods. The youngster was most vulnerable now.

"Don't believe me? See for yourself," added Edmund. Edmund's associate dialed a speakerphone on the center of the table. The youngster's mother picked up.

"Hello?" she said.

"Mama?" said the youngster.

"Mi hijo! Where are you?" she said frantically.

"Is everything ok?" the boy asked, fearfully.

"Yes, everything is fine. Something has happened, I have great news!"

"What do you mean?" the boy asked in confusion. His mama began to sob.

"I got my job back at the gas station, and they gave me a bonus!"

"What?" the boy asked, trying to make sense.

"Yes, my boss called me back and then he said to come in. Then he had an envelope with fifty thousand dollars in it! We're rich! Please come home! I'm sorry I've been so upset with you and your sister. Everything is going to be ok now. I just want you both back!" she said joyously, sobbing with happiness.

Edmund could see the click of understanding in the young boy's head.

"Mama," he said, solemnly.

"Yes, mi hijo?"

"I love you. I'm sorry for the way things came out. I never thought that..."

"Ok, just come home already!" she begged, joyously. "I'm gonna make pork chops, what time will you be here?"

"Soon, mama. I'll see you soon."

They hung up and the boy accepted his fate, leaving with Edmund's associate to find out how he would be taking out some very key rivals as a suicide bomber. It was a tactic that Edmund was now stealing from the terrorists, a tactic that he knew would work so much better than anything they had done before.

Edmund turned to the veterano. He was a broken man, and little more than a junkie, only he had a wife and a daughter that he pathetically held onto. He would be much easier to convince.

***

Vida had been learning the forest outside of her cabin on her own. Gabe waited for her on the cabin porch, never really out of earshot, in case she ran into some trouble, but she was more capable than ever. This afternoon, she stood on a tree limb alongside a trail that cut through the hill. She took out her knife and carved a small "V" on it. She marked all the trees that she came across, claiming them as part of her known terrain.

Something was wrong though. The forest suddenly became quiet and then, seconds later, the leaves began rustling. Vida silently jumped to a higher branch that put her better in the cover of the leaves. She armed herself with her bow and waited. She knew the noise was foreign. Deer and the other animals of the forest walked silently. Only a human would walk so loudly. She heard voices then.

She watched, curiously and unafraid, as two young boys walked towards her along the path. She put her arrow back in the arrow quiver, took out her scope and studied them. She looked at the first and then the second. He had nice dark brown hair that bounced slightly as he walked. His eyes seemed to sparkle, and he almost smiled as he spoke to his friend. Vida imagined that Shakespeare's Romeo must have looked a lot like him. She wanted to find out more about them.

They passed in front of her and continued down the path, oblivious to her presence. She jumped down and then followed them from a distance. She wondered what they were doing there, and how they knew of this place in the forest. She watched the boy with the nice hair and looked at his Wolverine backpack. She wondered if he liked Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift, like she did. She wondered if he had an iPod. They stopped suddenly by a pool of water that collected from a stream. She knew the pond well. She went back into a tree, and she found her "V" there.

She watched for several minutes as they played with sticks and talked about different kinds of snakes. Vida spotted it first, a large mountain lion inching closer from the hillside. The lion was large, possibly 100 lbs., of pure muscle. Vida's heartbeat jumped up. The boys would not have a chance, unless they were armed with a good weapon.

Vida's mind calculated. The lion was stalking, and it zeroed in on the boys. She didn't want to kill it, but she couldn't let them die. The lions mostly stayed away from humans, but maybe there was something wrong, she thought. She armed her bow and took aim. The lion perched down behind a rock, and was now out of sight. The boys must have sensed something and they stopped talking.

In a flash of time, the lion sprung from behind a rock and jumped towards them, catching an arrow from Vida, midflight. She revealed herself, and the boys screamed in horror and surprise. The boy with the hat on ran away immediately, never looking back, but the one with the nice hair and cute smile stopped and stared. Vida came closer to him, staring at him curiously.

"Thanks," he said intriguingly. He seemed unafraid, even though he might have just been mauled to death, which she found curious.

"You're welcome," she said, simply. She looked at the lion that now lay next to the pond. She was alive, but not moving, stuck with an arrow in her neck.

"That's a mountain lion," he said, matter-of-fact. She said nothing. She knew what it was. "My dad says that they don't attack humans."

"That's true. I think she is sick," Vida answered. "I like Wolverine," she said, lying. She didn't care for the X-Men.

"How did you learn to do that? Are you in the Girl Scouts?" he asked.

"What? No," she said, with a laugh.

"Well, I gotta go," he said. "Bye," he said before running off in the same direction that his friend had gone. She watched him until he was out of sight and she could no longer hear his leaf-trampling steps.

She went to the lion. She was still dangerous, and large, large enough to easily kill her and tower over her on two legs. It was vulnerable though, in obvious pain from the arrow. As she wondered what to do with the helpless animal, Gabe appeared. He would make it all better.

They talked and made plans for the rest of the day as the walked to the cabin and back, bringing with them a sleeping potion for the lion and a mixture to heal the wound. They worked to fix the lion as she fell into a daze, determining that she had not been sick, but aggressive most likely because her cubs were nearby. She was a free animal and that was her home, and as such, they'd let her go.

***

Later that day, they walked into Macy's at the Grove, set to get a makeover before watching a movie and going to a restaurant for dinner. They'd been there before, and they marveled at the shiny, white marble floors, sparkling glass counters, and beautiful cosmetics girls. It was overwhelming for both of them, but this time was different. This time they wanted to walk right into the spotlight, instead of just passing it by as some magical place to gawk at where the beautiful people with normal lives went.

Gabe didn't know what to expect. He was terrified. His hair was long and sloppy. He wore an 8 o'clock shadow. He looked like a construction worker, wearing worn out jeans and black construction boots. His red-toned plaid shirt was worn out too, barely able to conceal the hidden pockets where he kept a few emergency weapons. The bright lights seemed to magnify his wretched exterior, shining a spotlight on him. He went forward, nonetheless, feeling nerve-fueled temperature rise.

They didn't say a word or even know where to start. They walked by a counter that had a pale greenish sign on it that read "CLINIQUE". There was a beautiful blonde woman in a lab coat talking to another while putting makeup on a third woman sitting in a chair. Gabe and Vida went unnoticed. They walked by a MAC counter that young busy girls with brightly colored hair and loud makeup, talked and did makeup while techno music played. They had a lot of customers there, and they seemed to dance while they did everything. Gabe was amused, but they moved on.

They arrived by the "Shiseido" counter and beautiful black woman smiled at them. Her friendly, genuine smile drew them in. "Hi," she said energetically. "Welcome to Shiseido, can I help you find something?"

"Hi, yeah," Gabe replied, intimidated, both by her beauty and by his awkward presence there. "Uh," he stuttered. His self-confidence was zeroed, as he was never more conscience of how bad he looked. He felt so embarrassed. "We..." Vida came to his rescue.

"I was wanting to get like a makeover?" Vida asked, more than stated.

"Right," Gabe added. "Like a makeover," he repeated. The Shiseido woman laughed.

"Ok, no problem!" she said happily. "What is your name?" she said, looking at Vida.

"Vida."

"What a nice name!" she rejoiced. "Actually, I know someone who is great at makeovers, even better than me! She will be more than happy to help you out, ok?"

"Ok," Vida said. The woman smiled and then disappeared behind the counter. Seconds later another woman appeared, a Latina one with her hair pulled tightly into a ponytail. Her eyes sparkled, and she captivated Gabe with them. He was awestruck.

"Hi, are you Vida?" she said with an even balance of sparkle, business, fun, and respectfulness.

"Yes," Vida replied.

"Great! Why don't you hop up on this chair here," she said, coming around the counter to help her. "Hi dad," she said to Gabe, shooting him a wry grin.

"Yes, he's my dad," Vida added, solidifying the Shiseido girl's assumption.

"And what a good dad he is, bringing his little girl in here to get a makeover!" she added, maintaining her cheer. There was something, suddenly familiar about her, Gabe noted.

"I'm Larissa," she said. "Is this your first time here?" she asked. She looked at Gabe who put on a look of embarrassment as he nodded yes. She smiled back and mouthed the words 'it's ok', followed by a smile. It was obvious, from Vida's shoddy clothes and barely hanging-on ponytail that she was a mess.

"Can I offer some suggestions?" Larissa asked. Just then, it clicked in Gabe's mind who she was. She was the very girl that he had wanted so bad when he had been a teenager. It was the girl that got away. It was the girl that he dreamt about, and could never stop thinking about before the Marines, before Japan, before Amaya, before the dark time –before everything.

A million thoughts went zinging through his mind as he wondered what to do. His instinct was to launch out, grab Vida, and run for the exit. He could not see her now, not like this. He could not go into any details of his life. He could not open the door to his life and let her in. This was a terrible chance encounter, he thought. His temperature shot up as he panicked.

Larissa went into her recommendations to do her makeup and what she should do with her terrific hair. She seemed to ignore Gabe, mostly, as she mentioned that she had a daughter her age. The more she talked, the more Gabe calmed down. He would not blow his cover. Larissa went on, talking about clothes and music, and what her daughter did for fun, asking Vida about her likes and dislikes. The panic left Gabe completely as the cool set back in over him. It was surreal to see her. She looked different, he thought. Or was it that he only remembered her differently? He wasn't sure, but she was still breathtaking. His eyes darted down to see a wedding ring on her hand, and further relief set in.

Vida talked to her, opening up instantly, to his surprise. It was clear that she liked Larissa. He trusted Vida not to reveal too much information about them. She understood well, the importance of hiding their true identities. "Well, dad, Vida is in good hands with me. If it's ok with you, I'd like to take my time and show her how to apply mascara, eye shadow, eyeliner, and all the rest of this girl stuff. You can walk around the store and shop, or you can totally just hang out with us girls?"

"Vida?" Gabe asked.

"Yeah, I'm in good hands with Larissa!"

"Ok," he said. "I guess I'm gonna go check some stuff out. I'll be back in like half an hour?"

"Better make it an hour," Larissa said with a smile.

Chapter XX: Don't Trust the Hunch

Gabe wandered through the Macy's like a lost and confused soul. A flood of memories of his youthful life filled his head with mixed feelings. He thought of Anthony and the endless times they rolled the streets bumping Snoop Dog and Dre, cruising it everyday. He remembered the parties, the drinking, the smoking and most of all, the girls. He remembered that life, with Mom and Dad still around, having chores for him to do and hot food for him to eat. It truly was a great time, and even after how impossibly unbelievable his life had turned out, he could not regret any minute of it. He savored every seemingly insignificant detail of any and every memory he carried with him. It really had been the best time of his life.

He stood there, looking in a mirror in Macy's, looking at what he'd become. He was a shoddy, rundown version of his old self. He carried weapons. He wore boots with a hidden compartment. His jeans were raunchy, and worn out so bad that they were held together only with strings in some places. He felt regret. He should have taken better care of himself. He felt like a hypocrite. He should have been teaching Vida better than this. He looked in his eyes and he could still see the Tupac listenin', Halle Berry lovin', playa' that he once so proudly was. He was still Gabe from the streets. Feelings of nostalgia from when he once cared deeply about the way he looked and dressed, were back.

He walked over to the men's department and began picking out new jeans, khakis, shirts, button-ups, and even socks and underwear. In a frenzied state, he was grabbing everything and anything off the shelf with a renewed sense of purpose. He was excited for Vida too. He loved her. He wanted her to look good too. He hadn't meant for things to be how they were. He'd been too focused on her training and too focused on purging of all of her old life out of her, to see beyond it. None of it mattered now though. He wanted to hook her up, and if he didn't know what to buy her, they could figure it out together. It wasn't too late. He could still totally make it up to her.

An hour zoomed by without Gabe really noticing, and as he saw the time, he rushed his checkout and got on his way towards the cosmetics section, worried that Vida would be waiting in annoyance. As he approached the Shiseido counter, he couldn't believe his eyes in seeing Vida laughing raucously with Larissa.

They spotted him coming, and Vida stood up and stared at him. Her eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks shimmered. Her hair was done up in a bun and a ribbon, with just a strand of it curling down the side of her face. The makeup was subtle, but present, accentuating everything that it was supposed to, but the most dramatic effect was in the liveliness of her eyes and the depth of her smile, for which he had never seen before. He couldn't believe how beautiful she really was. She looked like a young woman, a beautiful young woman that had her whole ahead of her.

Somehow knowing how beautiful she looked, Vida blushed and looked to the side in modesty. She was beaming. He'd never seen her smile so much. He'd never seen her so happy.

"Wow!" was all Gabe could manage, which he repeated a few more times. He went to hug her. He held her tight. He loved her so much. "I can't believe how pretty you really are. Are you happy?" he whispered in her ear.

"Yes," she replied in a pitch higher than normal. "Yes, thank you," she added. Larissa looked on, smiling. Gabe had almost forgotten about her, but the situation with her suddenly felt so much less important. He smiled at her though and mouthed the words 'thank you', before pulling apart from Vida. "What's with all the bags?" Vida asked, just noticing the three that he was carrying.

"Oh, yeah!" he rejoiced. "I'm glad you asked, because now that we got you a makeover, we have to finish the job and buy you some new clothes!"

"Yes!" Vida replied with glee. Gabe quickly paid Larissa and thanked her again, before moving on to buy clothes with Vida, never once acknowledging that he knew her. It was just better that way, he decided, although he would not soon forget about her, he knew.

***

The dark ninja had a hunch that he was in front of the right apartment building. It was right across from a big park. It was a long, but feasible walk to the construction site, and it was inconspicuous and shoddy. It just seemed like the right place, and he could almost sense a dangerous presence. The Mexican kid would have blended in perfectly.

He watched the building for a couple of days, and he knew which apartments were empty. The rest of the tenants were in and out, but none of them seemed to notice anything else going on around them. Early evening on the second day, and dressed in a casual suit, he went to pick the lock to the apartment, where Vida's parents had died. He went in, but it was empty and unoccupied. He found nothing there that he could use.

He did the same for the apartment across the hall, but that one had been vacated as well. After a quick search, he found nothing there too. He had not been noticed yet, but when he saw an older woman, she told him the landlord was upstairs in apartment 2C. He made his way up, picking the lock and entering at 7:30 pm.

He found a frightened, robust Mexican-American woman in her forties there, eating Cheetos on the couch while watching TV. She let out the start of a scream before the dark ninja knocked her unconscious with a blunt blow from a steel ball to the forehead. When she came to, she was bound and gagged, and he sat beside her, going through her files.

He had already found the one he'd been looking for. It was for man named Rueben Rodriguez, living in apartment 1F. He placed the rental application form in front of her. "This one," he said. Her eyes stared back at the strange Asian man, never once looking at the application.

He chuckled and smiled. He pulled out a blade and ran it softly against the fabric on her thigh. He then made a move so quick with his hands that she missed it, seeing only the rip running along her pants, exposing her chubby leg. It startled her, and she squealed slightly behind her gag. He then ran the knife, softly again, over her exposed thigh. Her body tensed up and her eyes widened. She hummed twice, loudly, signaling him that she would comply.

He pulled the knife away and she leaned in to look at the form. She then leaned back, looked at him and nodded her head. "Do not scream," he said. "Or I will kill you. I do not care about you. You are not the one I am after. Do you understand?" She nodded her head, calmly and seriously.

He ungagged her, and answered what she could about the tenant that she knew as Rueben Rodriguez in apartment 1F that moved out the year before. She only had one piece of useful information for him, and that was of a P.O. box that Reuben had given to her, but that was enough for him.

He was on the move shortly after that. He didn't have to kill her, but knowing that she had seen his face and that the police were probably looking for him after the incident in San Francisco, he wanted to take no chances. He left her Cheetos-filled fat body bleeding to death on her apartment floor from a slice to her throat.

He had to get back up to San Francisco, but he left information of the P.O. Box with Benicio. The dark ninja would be notified when the stakeout team found the LA Ninja.

***

Carter found himself in his hotel room viewing the footage of the murders outside of the Rough Suspect from a year earlier. The San Francisco Police had no problem running off a copy for him, but they were insistent that he come in person to get it. He had watched it several times already.

Carter was trying to build a profile. He found out that the Rough Suspect was a topless strip club, catering to middle end clientele. He noted that the heavier set man in the video was a heavy drinker. He had six drinks alone in the time sequence that he had, while the other, smaller man only had two. He noted how the heavy set man grew temperamental and continued to drink and exchange disparaging glances with someone else from a distance, while the smaller man went for the lap dance with the blonde that he seemed to be keen on by the way he constantly stared at her.

One was a drinker, the other a womanizer. Outside, after the altercation that the heavyset man started, no doubt due to his drunken belligerence, they both finished the job, quite easily and with great skill. It was impressive for someone so drunk to be so adept, Carter noted. The other had not wanted any part of it, but he easily killed when he needed to.

They were both seasoned killers, he thought. Only, they weren't just killers. What had happened was not intentional. He wondered who they were, really. Was the smaller one the LA Ninja? Could he be? He certainly fit the description, but there were no street gangs getting targeted in San Fran, so what was he doing there?

He watched again. The smaller man hid fairly well from the cameras, but there were a few grainy, dark shots of his face from the bar mirror cameras. Maybe he had a thing for blondes. He hardly paid attention to any other women, except for her. He seemed to get upset with the heavy man just before the altercation.

Carter froze the shot on the scene where the smaller man had thrown the two metal stars. He knew, from going over the case file, that just as before, the ninja had left no prints on the weapons. He was dead on accurate, striking fatal blows with one single strike. They were dangerous men. They had later killed the young stripper. "Genevieve Margaret Branson," Carter said aloud, recalling it from the case file.

Carter leaned back in the hotel chair, thinking. There had been no incidents in the area since then. The small man, though, seemed to look far too longingly at the blonde, as if he had a thing for her, or maybe the type. Maybe he was just obsessed with her, but maybe it was more than that. By the way he killed and seemed to get dragged into the situation, it was clear that he was a professional. He was a ninja. Ninjas made no mistakes. He probably never intended to kill Genevieve, either, but was probably compelled to after everything that happened, just to be thorough.

Something clicked in Carter's head then. "He must still be here," Carter said out loud. "I bet he's got another blonde that he's carrying on with." A twinge of excitement zapped within him, and he came up with a plan.

***

Carter set off to scout all of the mid to high-end strip clubs in San Francisco. It took him some time to run the research, using the Internet, phone book, hotel concierge, and finally, information from the SFPD. He began plotting all the key establishments on a city map spread out on his hotel kitchenette table.

The Rough Suspect was in the area south of Market Street are, known locally simply as the "SoMa" district. It was the livelier end of town in the midst of a high concentration of nightclubs, bars, and restaurants. It was also close to the Highway 101 and the ballpark where the Giants played.

He set out for a few nights, going into some bars and strip clubs in the area. Ryan Carter was a handsome guy. He dressed in casual suits, and his tanned skin, light colored locks and sparkling blue eyes got him a lot of attention. He dressed to look professional, but as a law enforcement agent under cover, he wore no markings, nametags, or badges that would let anyone know who he was. He passed easily for a successful yuppie type that worked in San Fran's strong financial services sector. It was hard to beat off the harassment of drunk, hot girls at the bars and clubs. It was almost too hard.

There had been no signs of anyone fitting the description, so far. There were plenty of Asian looking men, mixed in everywhere, but nobody that carried a presence close to what he was looking for. He would certainly know when he came across them.

Carter asked questions along the way, picking up bits and pieces here and there. After the third night of bar hopping, he had run out of strip clubs. There were a few bars, though, he found out, that catered more specifically to Asians, and even more specifically, the Japanese. He knew his ninja to be fond of the blondes, but running out of options, he decided to try his luck.

San Francisco was a vibrant city, colored diversely with people of different cultures and heritage, but he found out quickly that he clearly stood out in the crowd at the Kinsei. He'd found out that the Kinsei was possibly the raunchiest of bars, frequented by the Japanese lowbrow and criminal element.

He felt as though he was in danger, but being the brave cop that he was, he played it cool and behaved as though he belonged there. He sat at the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. He felt as though it was obvious to everyone that he was a cop. He felt like he was fully dressed in LAPD blues. He felt that everyone was staring at him, but he ignored it and acted like he belonged there, sipping on his drink.

He pulled out his cellphone. He had to kill time. They would soon forget about him if he ignored everyone. He was there to look for some hot Asian ass, if anyone asked. That was his game plan, at least. He played solitaire on his phone. He hadn't looked around much, hoping to ease the invisible tension that he believed to be present. It seemed to be working. The noise level eventually began to rise with chatter. He could hear a loud voice echoing laughter across the bar. He was dying to turn around and scope everything out, but he kept to his plan.

He finished his drink and then ordered another one. He saw a table open up and then he took his drink to it. He would be able to blend in better if he was shaded off from the center stage that was the bar. He played it cool still, playing solitaire for a few minutes before he began taking longer and longer glances over his phone to profile the patrons.

The Kensei looked less seedy than he was expecting. There were men in suits, mostly in their thirties and forties, drinking and speaking what Carter believed to be Japanese. He tried to filter his hearing for English, but he found none to be heard. Many of the men looked to be business types, and many had beautiful Asian women with them. He took the place to be more for the high-powered criminal type than the run of the mill, car-stealing street gangster type. He might be in the wrong place, he thought.

Diagonally across the bar from him, in the darkest corner, he could make out a large figure sitting with a few others, two or three, maybe. It was too hard to get a good look without forcing a deliberate and obvious stare. The silhouette was intriguing, though. It reminded him of the large killer from the footage of the Rough Suspect, the image of which he'd seen a hundred times.

Carter's mind calculated. If he could leave now, he could go get his car and wait outside for him and also get a good look on the way out. He took one more fake sip, put his drink down and headed for the exit. The bar seemed to be ignoring him now, and he felt safer. He took a route around the table to bring himself closer to the large figure. He came closer and in the shade of the lights, he made eye contact. The figure stared back with a devastating stare. 'It's him', Carter thought to himself. He was sure.

Carter made his way outside. He sensed that the suspect would be coming after him right away. The look from him was too suspicious and untrusting. Carter walked down the sidewalk to his right. His heart began to beat faster. He heard the door of the Kensei open. He was at least thirty paces in front of them. He looked over his shoulder and he spotted the three guys that had been sitting with the suspect.

Carter's mind calculated. He would draw them in and then identify himself. Maybe he could get them to talk. Maybe the suspect was making his getaway. Maybe it was too late. Without hesitation, he turned around. The three Asian looking thugs approached him still. "What do you want!" one of them asked in broken English.

"Freeze, right there!" Carter yelled out, drawing his pistol out. With his other hand he drew a badge. Without hesitation, they broke, running across the street. Carter went after them, chasing them into an alley. He ran them down until they reached the dead end. He had them.

"What are you running for!" Carter chastised them. The light was dim, and they wore grins that confused Carter. He looked at them well, wondering if either of them was the ninja. They looked too young. He couldn't be sure, but he became more confused by their fearlessness.

He heard a loud call, suddenly, that he could only make out as "oy". He turned around to find the large suspect walking to him. Carter was cornered. He held up his gun, pointing at the suspect's head.

Angrily, he yelled at Carter, shouting in a foreign language in a furious snarl. Carter was confused. He tried to look behind him, but at a quick glance it only seemed as though the three goons were laughing. The suspect yelled again. Carter was sure he was the guy from the video. He had no choice now. The suspect was not backing down.

"Stop there or I will shoot!" Carter ordered. The suspect glared hard and then came almost within arm's length. Carter went to squeeze the trigger and the gun got knocked out of his hand at the same time. The suspect pointed a small half-sized sword at Carter and then put it to his neck, faster than Carter could calculate. He knew that he had shot the suspect, but his eyes found nothing.

The suspect laughed with a deliberately sarcastic chuckle. He used his free hand to tap his own chest, echoing out a flat hard sound. He had been wearing some sort of protection. The suspect said something else and then, in a split second, he sliced across Carter's stomach, drawing a gash that stung Carter like boiling bourbon floating under his skin, ravaging his body. He gasped, getting one last look at the suspect before the barrage of poundings came in from the goons. The last thing he remembered was falling to the pavement and closing his eyes as the kicks and hits came in.

Chapter XXI: Going Back to Cali

Munoz found himself at another crossroad. He was more sure, this time at least, that in whichever road he chose, it would be with Erika. In that, he knew that things would be ok, no matter what. It had been so long since he'd felt love, and it felt better than ever. Erika gave him hope. Erika gave him a reason to live, and to give a shit about things, any things, and all things.

She fell in between him and his new family, though. He knew for certain, with Titi, because she'd told him so. She finally had told him that she did not trust her, and that she sensed trouble with her, but she would accept her since he loved her. It was more than good enough for him, and all he'd ever hoped for from Titi.

He sensed the mistrust from Rafa, disguised deeply in his smiles and manner of speaking. Rafa's attitude had changed too. He had become more distant and withdrawn. He had become quieter and it was clear that something was wrong, but since they hardly hung out anymore, it just went unresolved. Sergio hated that. He hated to leave a rift hanging over them, and he hoped that they could get past it, but he wasn't sure they would.

Even with Rafa's silent disapproval, they spoke and interacted cordially, faking it like normal people. They rode out, one last time across the hills, among the Avocado orchards. The newness of their exciting friendship and connection had worn off months before. They had gotten close fast, and then Rafa had gone back to work. Since then, they had made several promises to do things, go places, meet people, some of which happened, most of which did not. Neither of them had expected Erika to come into the picture and for things to get fucked up between them after that.

Among the orchard, they found a flat spot on the hill with an amazing vista of the valley below. Sergio could make out their ranch through the haze down below. It was an hour's ride away. It was always such a liberating experience to ride up and feel the rush of wind coming up the slopes from the sea. He never took the time to notice the small things like this in LA. Maybe he would try. Maybe not.

"I will miss this a lot," Sergio said, breaking a long spell of silence.

"Me too, cousin," Rafa said, issuing a small smile. Sergio stared at him as Rafa stared out over the valley. His mind looked weighed down by heavy thoughts. Sergio looked at the neckline and flowing hair of Rafa's horse. He was a strong animal, and beautiful too. He would miss that. He would miss brushing them and spending time with them in the stables. They were so peaceful and calm, and they were good listeners too. They seemed to understand, somehow, Sergio thought.

"I will miss our great times together," Rafa went on. "It has been great to have someone to ride with, but I understand that you must go back home to your life. Congratulations on finding Erika too. She is very beautiful." Rafa didn't bother to smile. It troubled Sergio. He made up his mind that he could not leave on such shitty, sour note.

"Thanks, cousin," Sergio replied. "It means a lot to have your approval. I mean that." Sergio meant what he said. He had always believed that among men, and especially those who were family, words spoken always trumped body language, face gesturing, and any other non-spoken bullshit like that. It was the complete opposite from talking to a woman.

"For certain," Rafa replied. "I wasn't sure what to make of it at first. It all happened so quickly, but that is love sometimes. I have had some good ones," he added with a chuckle, before his smile faded and his face fell solemn. Sergio was becoming annoyed.

"I guess you just have to make certain that your love is real," Rafa went on. "I know your job is difficult as a detectivo. Sometime crossing the line is unavoidable, especially when the lines are so blurred." He stared out into the descending sun, and Sergio was sure now that Rafa knew of the murdered gangsters, Aldo and Ivan. He should have known. It was impossible to hide anything from any of his relatives. He took a deep breath.

"You are right," Sergio replied. It was time to air it out. "It is always hard. Sometimes what is right, really is wrong. Other times, what is wrong turns out to be the best thing to do, maybe not by man's laws, but by God's laws. Life as a detective is hard. A lot of decisions must be made, and there is not always a guidebook to fall back on." Sergio sighed and looked into the sun. It was hard to find the right words.

"I do know this," Sergio went on. "Sometimes in life, things just happen to us that we never saw coming. I have lived my life believing that there is a reason for all of it. I'm not sure if it is God's plan, or even if God plans such details for any one person. It took me a long time to think about why my father and mother –your tia- were taken from me. What was the fate for me in that? What have I become? Was it for this? Was it to be a detective? Was it for something more? Was it to lock up gangsters? Did I save someone important by taking someone dangerous off the streets? Did I save a lot of people? I don't know. I don't know anything. I just hope. I just hope that I'm doing the right thing."

Sergio stared intensely at Rafa, and it was clear that he was thinking about everything. "Maybe there was never anyone to be saved. Maybe I have put too much importance on my destiny and purpose. But I know that I would give anything to have my mom and dad back. I know that if would have been able to, I would have done anything to keep them with me, alive. You can't just leave it to fate alone, for those you love. You have to do everything you can to protect them. Just like with Erika."

"I don't know what it's all about," Sergio went on. "Maybe I cross the lines sometimes. Maybe I did with someone in LA. Maybe I already did with Erika. But I believe in my heart that I did what I had to do because it's what fate let me to do. It is what I think God would have wanted me to do, and in the end, I am ok answering to Him for everything."

Rafa's body twitched slightly, as if Sergio's words resonated with a connection. He smiled back at Sergio. "So you're saying that you will do what you have to do to keep your family safe? Even if it means you have to break the law?"

"Yeah," Sergio answered with a serious look. "That is exactly what I am saying. The laws are in place to protect the honest and good people, but I wouldn't let that come in the way of something that could cause harm to my family. Not for one second. I'd go to jail for it. But I believe that God would let me know if have been wrong about that. Maybe when I get to heaven's gate, the door will not open and I will have to live out eternity in the basement."

Rafa chuckled slightly. "I never thought of it that way. But it makes sense to me." He turned his horse around to better face Sergio. "I do not know the things you've had to do in your life, and I am not asking to know. I know losing your mother and father must have been...I cannot imagine. But we are family, and I love you. I believe in my heart that you are a good person and that your judgment is sound. You have had much pain in your life, but now you have the love of a beautiful woman. I know that you are finding happiness now. I can see it in you, and it makes me happy for you. I wish you all the best, cousin." He smiled, and Sergio could sense the sincerity in it. There was no bullshit this time, and it relieved him tremendously. They would part ways in peace.

***

Later that night, the moment Sergio had been dreading was upon him. He sat at the table one last time for "once" with his grandmother, Titi. She remained mysterious to him, gifted clearly as the family matriarch with some sort of psychic powers, the extent of which he was not sure. Sergio thought that she had called him somehow to come home from LA, although she denied it. She had told him that she always thought of him, and that the need for him to come home had always been in him.

Aside from that, she seemed to see so much. She said she saw things in her dreams, but he sensed that she had the ability to see far more than glimpses of the past and future. She had denied most of it, politely always, but it was in the way she maintained her sweetness and innocence that left him wondering what really lay deep in her mind's abilities. He never knew what to believe, only that it was impossible to think she'd ever lie. Not like he'd ever call her on it. She had seen right through him from the start. She would be an incredible asset to the force, he'd say, to which she'd laugh. He loved her.

He sat before her at the table as the family crunched and munched through the assortment of breads, butter, cold-cut meats, and palta (avocado). There was no denying that he had gone from zero to sixty in the family department, cautiously accepting all of them present in his presence from the start. Now, his cousins, aunts and uncles were a welcome part of his discussions, always sitting eagerly and without judgment to hear and take part in the conversations between he and his grandmother.

"Will you be having once when you go home, Sergio?" one of his teenage cousins asked.

"Are you kidding me? I don't think I can live without once anymore!" he replied jubilantly. I cannot believe that I have not gotten fat while here. There is always so much food!" There were a few chuckles from his cousins.

"We will miss your jokes, Tio," his nephew said. Sergio told them how much he'd miss them and how much he had learned from them, and how glad he was to have met them all. As they ate and carried on, the conversation slowly turned into a one on one between Sergio and Titi. She became emotional and teary when she expressed how glad she was that he'd come.

"What is this that we have, Titi?" Sergio asked. "This gift from an ancient tribe, or whatever it is. What is it really? Are we psychics? Can we see the future?"

Grandma Titi smiled. "When I was a little girl," she said. "My grandmother would come into my room and play with me before bed. We liked to play with my doll, pretending to make her do stuff like put a dress on and comb her hair. Then, she would help brush my hair and she would tell me things about other places, people she knew, and things she had done. She told me everything like she was telling a very amusing story. I loved our talks. She was very good at telling stories."

Sergio smiled. "But then," Titi went on. "She died. I was very sad, and I was very young. Only five years old, I think. And soon after the funeral, she came into my room to play like we always did. She came every night, for many years, and instead of playing with my doll, we just brushed my hair and talked. She taught me so many things about life, many things that I cherish to know today, and all after she had died."

Sergio stared at her blankly, but not as surprised as he would have been a year, or even six months, before. She smiled as her eyes looked down to the table, and past it into another time. He could feel her sadness in his own heart. A tear began to form in Sergio's eyes.

"Well," Titi went on. "You can imagine what any normal parents would think or say to that, but when I told my mother that grandma was still visiting, she simply smiled and didn't say much at all. I thought that she didn't believe me, but I came to find out later that she not only believed me, she knew it was going on all along."

"Anyway," she went on. "My grandmother told me about the Aragonia that we descended from, and how there was a great warrior who was in love with a beautiful girl who could see things in distant times and places. They had two children, a boy and girl, and their love was so very deep. But when the warrior died in a great battle, she died too, in the same instant that he did, because their souls were so connected that they had become one."

Sergio smiled at the beautiful story. Titi chuckled. "I don't know if it's true, but my grandmother said that we are descended from one of the two children. My grandmother also said that within our bloodline lie great powers. The power to see the dead among us and see other times and places, past and future, are just a small part of what is inside us. In reality, I do not know what that means. But to be safe, you should know that and know that maybe someday you may awaken with your mind able to do things that others do not understand."

That was as good as he was going to get, Sergio realized. "There's one more thing," she added. "I have to tell you this because I love you. But you must be cautious with Erika. I know that she has a gift. I know that you will take her with you in your heart, and maybe someday, marry her. She brings danger though. She may have other secrets that you do not know. Although she can see the hands behind your back, you cannot see hers. Please, just be careful."

"Ok, Titi," he replied. She soon went to bed, and the next day he said goodbye to his native home and goodbye to his distant, but close, family. It was time to go back to LA.

***

Deep in the heart of Mexico, Juan had spent the last six months preparing for his fight with the Montes and Cholula cartels, and now it was happening. The theft of a large shipment of cocaine, meth, and heroin on a Cholula Cartel freight truck was the first move. It mysteriously showed up behind a tortilla factory in the town of Flamingo, the factory that was a front for the key operation of the Montes Cartel. It was too heavily guarded to enter, but dropping the truck off, out back in the dead of night, was easy. The paper would run the story as a victory in the fight against the drug cartels, but the shipment would be recovered by the crooked cops owned by the Montes Cartel. Worse, the cops would deliver it to them personally. The story would not go unnoticed, nor would the shipment.

Move two was kidnapping the son of the chief of police in the same town of Flamingo. He was set for ransom by "unidentified" kidnappers, and later killed, but not before the boy could make a few frantic and secret phone calls to his father stating how he'd overheard the kidnappers talking about how his kidnapping was revenge for stealing a shipment from the Cholula Cartel.

The rest went on by its own volition and the momentum had built up to a war on the streets between the two cartels. The cartels were all enemies, but when Juan Cortez, of the Cortez Cartel called Ortega Sanchez Cholula, head of the Cholula Cartel and offered help, he willingly accepted. Now it was time for move number three.

Chapter XXII: A Sign of Danger

Edmund was on top of the world. He abandoned the stupid, cocky, carefree gangbanger that he once was and never looked back. He only looked forward. He looked forward to his life with L'Aranya at his side. He looked forward to his riches, and he looked forward to his power. He never before had a better feeling about his future, and he never imagined that things would happen they way they had.

Now he was on his way to the top, riding shotgun in a tinted, blacked-out Mercedes GL55, like the gangster he always imagined himself to be. He was being taken to meet the "boss". Outside he was tough as nails. His face was somber and mean. He wore oversized Levis jeans and a blue flannel shirt that covered most of his larger tattoos. He still resembled the street thug that he was.

Inside the tough exterior, he felt like a bitch. He was nervous to meet the boss, even though he told himself not to be. He knew that his hard work was being recognized. His idea for terrorist-style suicide bombing was genius. It had been working out far better than he'd expected. He'd taken out three key strongholds because of it, even recruiting gangsters from the black and white gangs to turn against their own gangs. He felt like a fucking genius. He felt like the fucking Bill Gates of gangster-ing.

The anticipation of meeting the boss leveled up as they climbed further into the Hollywood Hills. As they made their ascent, the houses became bigger, until they reached a gate that they drove through. Behind it was a large, white Tudor house with dark brown wood paneling and shutters, and ivy growing up the front. It was huge, much bigger than any house Edmund had ever been to. This was the big time, he thought.

As he and the driver, some Mexican dude in a suit who never identified himself, walked into the house, it seemed even grander on the inside. There was wood everywhere, and it seemed so shiny and clean. He walked back through the entryway, around the huge staircase, and through the giant kitchen into the backyard. There was a badass pool that seemed to fall off the edge and down a cliff, overlooking the hills and the rest of LA.

He sat down and greeted a small statured, older man sitting at a shaded table on the patio. "There are some beers in the fridge, if you want one. Please help yourself," he said to Edmund. Edmund did. "You must be wondering why you are here, and who, exactly, I am?"

Edmund nodded his head. "I am Benicio," the boss said. "Have you heard of me?"

"No," Edmund answered, humbly.

"Good. There is a reason for that. Do you think that I could live like this," Benicio said, gesturing with his hand over his property. "Live like this with everybody knowing who I really was?"

"No, sir," Edmund replied.

"You're a smart guy," Benicio went on. "I've been told of your courage, and your recent, brilliant tactics in using suicide bombers to take out some of our key rivals. It is most impressive."

"Thank you," Edmund replied.

"I have also heard that one of these cowardly bombers put his wife and his child in his place for one such mission."

"Yes," Edmund answered. "That is true."

"And what did you do?"

"I took that fucking piece of shit and poisoned him slowly. Then I left his body hanging on the Sixth Street Bridge for everyone to see."

Benicio smiled and chuckled. "Yes. You did. Most effective," Benicio added. "That fucking piece of shit, as you say, will surely be dealing with the devil now." Benicio leaned back in his chair. Edmund studied him closer. He dressed well. He had fancy sunglasses on. He looked like a businessman. He would have never guessed him for a gangster or a crime boss.

"I was curious," Benicio went on. "How did you actually poison him?"

"Uh," Edmund was caught off guard. He wasn't expecting such an exact question. "Well, I know some broad whose brother works at the zoo and shit. So I hooked him up with a 50 spot if he could bring me a scorpion. He did better. He brought a small vile of scorpion venom. So I put in a special batch of chiva (heroin) for that punk bitch to take."

Benicio chuckled again. "That was quite a lot of work to do for that, when you could have just shot him!" he said with another laugh.

"Well, I was pissed," Edmund answered honestly, thinking back to the coward who put his wife and four year old to death in his place.

"Yes, you were!" Benicio lauded. His laugh died down and he sipped from his Perrier. Then he became serious. "This line of work," Benicio went on. "Will never award us with any Nobel peace prize. But it is business. We bring pleasure to those who need an escape from a life that is stressful and depressing and empty. We offer them a drug that helps to rest their heads, expand their minds, and help them get the things they need to do, faster. It just happens to be illegal. Sometimes, unfortunately, some others want to take our business away, or stand in the way of progress. The dark side to it is that we must, sometimes, resort to taking measures that are unpleasant, as in the case with your 'piece of shit'. You understand all this, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir," Edmund replied.

"Good. Then, on to the next part. I want you to work for me. I want you to answer directly to me. I need somebody with a crafty and creative mind, such as yours, to be my advisor and connection to the streets. Do you think you would like to do that?"

"Yes, sir," Edmund replied, hiding his enthusiasm.

"Good. In return, you must make some changes. You will no longer be Edmund. That name will die, along with your old life. We will spread the word, and your name will be erased as will your old existence. You will now be, El Scorpio. You will move to a new home, nearby here in Hollywood. You will change your look. You will dress nicer and wear suits. You will go to dinners, and accompany me as my guest and associate. You will become a businessman. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"There is one last thing. Something that falls on the unpleasant side of our business, but it is something that is business. It involves your woman, L'Aranya."

"What?" Edmund's body convulsed slightly. How did Benicio know so much, he wondered. "What is it?"

"Well, it seems that she has double crossed us. She is selling secrets to the enemy. She is betraying us. She is betraying you."

"I don't understand?" Edmund replied in confusion. It could only be a lie.

"I'm afraid that this is rather unpleasant. We have lost two safehouses because she is informing for others. We are not sure who, yet, but we have some suspicions. It falls upon you, I'm afraid, to stop her time here on earth. You must complete this most unfortunate assignment for us. You must kill her."

***

After meditation, a sword fight ensued. Gabe went against his much smaller opponent, slashing his wooden sword at her, at nearly full speed, but not full strength. With lighting fast reflexes, Vida protected herself, blocking his strikes. In a flash, she tucked her sword back, extending her body backwards into a flip, launching a smoke bomb in the process. She became invisible to Gabe, and then she appeared atop the four-foot wooden fence that lined part of the property.

She gazed at him with a mean look. He held his sword up. Vida drew something, he could not tell, and then, suddenly, flying towards his face came a steel ball, just bigger than a marble. Another came, and then another. They were dead on target, sure to take out his eyes, just where he'd taught her to aim, but they were blunt enough not to kill. They were still effective non-lethal weapons.

Gabe blocked them with his sword and he back flipped out, distancing himself. He quickly crouched down and went for his bow. Within two seconds he had it armed and he fired towards her, just less than an inch from the side of her cheek. It would not have mattered, as she caught it midflight. She grunted angrily, playing the part of a foe, perfectly. She dropped another smoke bomb and then she disappeared. He would go after her in the forest.

They played the game, almost everyday. They had a routine and an understanding. Like a moment of clarity flashing total understanding in her mind, Vida just woke up one day, knowing exactly what she needed to do. They trained and studied with full dedication and focus, and she was brilliant. Once she became focused, she immersed herself in study, excelling in math, science and history. She was an avid reader, and she was an amazing and intrigued student of people and human psychology, just like a skilled ninja should be. It wasn't all work, though.

On the off days, they hung out at the mall and had fun. They saw movies, bought music, played mini golf, and even went to carnivals. They found joy in shopping and they dropped their fear of the spotlight showcase that was the Macy's department store floor. They even popped by to see Larissa once. They were having fun, and she was the most complete person that he knew. Vida was brilliant, happy, cunning, and a very dangerous killer. She was perfect, and together with him, they found an amazing balance to life. He never thought life could be this happy ever again, and he was thrilled to be wrong about that.

After a day of hard work and fun, Gabe went to sleep, and he dreamt. He was walking along a trail in a deeply wooded forest. There was some fog flooding through, but he continued along the crunchy, densely leafy path. It was familiar. He was in Japan.

He wandered forward in confusion, until he realized that he was in a dream. Confused by his state, he walked forward. He was expecting to find the cottage that he spent his honeymoon with Amaya at. He became nervous when he hadn't reached it, and then, just past a break in the trees, the path forked to the left. There, was the cottage in the distance, upon the lake.

In relief, he wandered to it. The cottage was dark and desolate. He went to the edge of the lake and knelt down in the moist grass. He could smell the crispness of the water, of which he knew to be drawing from deep within his memory bank. The half world, as he knew this place in the dream state to be, was strange like that. It was driven by memory, summoned and called upon from it, but it also meshed with the spirit world.

He never knew what to expect. Sometimes they were just dreams. Other times, signs appeared. The mind could reach far depths, if fully open. Spirits could visit and communicate in that realm. He always looked for Amaya, but she hadn't appeared since the time of her death, when she said goodbye. He never gave up hope that she would visit, though. He learned to just go with the dream and follow whatever appeared in front of him, spirit or dream, he would not know.

He looked out over the lake and took a deep breath. He expected to see the birds flying, as he always saw in the past. He felt eyes on him suddenly, and snapped his head to his right to find a hawk perched on the edge of the porch rail to the cottage. He approached it cautiously. The bird became larger as he drew closer, and the bird turned its head sideways to gleam at him from its eye.

Gabe stared at it intently. It was a large, beautiful and powerful creature. It was mostly brown, but it had red tones across it. He remembered seeing a hawk, years before at the construction site, when he had wanted to take his own life. The hawk saved him. This hawk saved him. He wondered if she was Amaya.

"Do I know you?" Gabe spoke. The hawk did not respond. It looked forward and then back, to him. "Is it you, Amaya?" The hawk did not respond. He felt nervous and then frustrated. It had to be Amaya. He looked at the porch. There were two teacups there on the veranda, just where he would drink tea with her. He felt confused. Then, he began to feel sad as the memories of her started to flow over him. Just like that, the sadness came back. The feelings he had came rushing in over him, like a river filled with the pain, guilt, sadness, and emptiness that he had over her passing.

As the tears began to flow, the hawk unleashed a loud caw, startling him. Even more confused, the hawk cawed again, and then stared at him from the side of her face, looking at him intently. She flexed, opening her wings widely before cawing and then taking flight. "Don't go!" he cried out, walking back towards the water as he watched her soar over it. Then he heard a distant rumble.

Confused ever more, he looked towards the path from the forest. The rumble grew louder and then he knew it was Jomei, the horse that once carried them to and from the secret waterfall. He looked back and the hawk flew a high circle, cawing loudly again. The rumble grew louder yet. The lake grew angry, and waves began to form from the calmness that had now disappeared. The hawk cawed loudly, circling high still. The waves splashed water upon him.

The rumble grew louder and he could hear the crackling of trees. He felt fear suddenly. The fog thickened as he strained to see to the path from the forest. He heard more cawing in the background, but he could no longer see into the sky, nor across to the lake. He watched intently. He drew his sword and then the rumble stopped. He could hear nothing.

Seconds passed. Gabe knew something was there, with him, hiding in the fog. His heart beat faster. He could feel the presence of something. He could feel it all around him. He was surrounded. Then, suddenly, a ninja appeared from the fog. He was Japanese. Gabe had not seen him before. He arrogantly cut his eyes at Gabe before his eyes smiled evilly. "We meet at last," the ninja said in Japanese.

"Who are you!" Gabe demanded to know. The ninja laughed a loud raucous and cocky laugh.

"You are mine!" the ninja said, then. Gabe clutched his sword and then he woke up, soaked in sweat. He was safe in his bed. It was the middle of the night.

Hours of agony passed. His mind evaluated and then re-evaluated his dream, breaking it down, over and over, scene by scene. He tried to make sense of all the symbolism. He wondered if the fog represented a cloudy future, as in a destiny not yet set in stone. He wondered if the hawk was indeed Amaya, or some other angel there to warn him. The hawk had appeared in real life, before, to save him. Was she trying to save him?

The rumbling rattled his mind. He'd seen the ninja before, not that very same one, but one like him. Was he the dead Iga ninja coming back to haunt him? Was he another ninja, soon to be coming after him? Was Vida in danger now? Surely, he thought. He had walked down the hall to check on her three times already, and his ears were wide open. He glanced at the clock. 5:32.

The crashing waves from the eternally peaceful lake bothered him. The water had come to him before, once in a dream, crashing down on his entire world. The tsunami tidal wave had been a symbolic premonition before, of something that would happen to his most beloved. He feared for Vida's life. He was sure that danger was coming, and he didn't know how much time he had.

The next day he dropped Vida off at the mall. After he did, he parked in the parking lot at the outer edge of the mall and cried. He sat in his car, without notice or care of the hot sun, and he fell to pieces. He cried and cried. Pain dug deep into him. It was happening again. He was sure of it, and it was beyond his control. He could not guarantee her safety. Even if he could be with her every hour of everyday, he would not know what or whom was coming. Maybe a ninja. Maybe more than that. Could he protect her while fighting off a dangerous foe? Would he survive it? Would she?

There was no way out in any path of his brain, but one. He had to leave her. The best thing for Vida was for her to join the rest of normal society. Her training was not complete, but she was well armed, both with knowledge and skill. She would be ok now. She would make it. She could go to an orphanage and they'd look after her, see to her schooling, and help her be normal. She could go to college. They'd help her.

He cried more as he pictured her smile. Gabe pictured Vida in her pink, hooded GAP sweater, smiling with her ponytail flickering, listening to her iPod. She loved him. He loved her. He had promised her that he would always take care of her. Now he was going to break that.

In tears, he drove his car to the PO Box to pick up his mail. His mind continued to search for other ways. Maybe he could leave her at an orphanage just until the danger disappeared, he wondered. Maybe this could just be temporary until things blew over and there was no more sign of darkness? A ray of hope shined clarity unto him. As he picked up his mail he made haste, propelled by new hope. Then, though, a thought occurred to him. Maybe she was in danger now? Maybe he shouldn't be leaving her alone at all?

He ran into his car and headed back to the mall to find her. He was unaware, though, that a few cholos had been taking shifts staking out the PO Box at the USPS location, waiting for him to show up. Now they were following him. They followed him to the mall, and then to his house. They had their mark.

Chapter XXIII: Brotherhood and Betrayal

Sergio found himself on the plane headed home, finally, from Chile. He was heavily buzzed, both from the pisco sours at the airport bar and from the gin and tonics he was having on the plane. He was wracked with guilt.

He had always considered himself an emotionally tough guy. He never cried and he didn't care about sensitive shit, usually, but he was a mess now. He had shed a few tears. He was emotionally distraught over leaving Erika, and he felt like a pussy for it. Yet, he could not help it. He was leaving the only real love of his life at a mile a second and it was depressing as shit.

He played out scenarios in his head, but he trusted that things would get better. He trusted that he would forget about her, in time, after he was back on the force and back in the quagmire that was his unwinnable war against the shitbags. If only it were that easy. It was going to take a lot of time and heartache to get to that point. Eventually, the buzz won him over and he drifted off to sleep.

Hours later he awoke. He remembered his dream and he knew right away that it had been a vision. It was about Ryan Carter, his friend. He went over the details in his mind. He had gotten better at it. He had trained himself to pay attention to every detail, no matter how seemingly insignificant, for in his visions, things were real. A tree, for instance, was not just any tree conjured up from deep within his memory bank, but it was an actual tree in some far off time and place.

A tree was not just a tree. It was a clue, as was everything else in his vision about Ryan. He saw him in a bed with white sheets and a cream colored blanket that covered the lower half of his body. He knew that the bed had railings of the hospital variety, on which there was a tag that had the letters SFCG. The biggest clue, though, was through the window, where amidst the heavy fog there was the Golden Gate Bridge. He knew what it was all about.

Just like that, he was thrown back into his old life, and when he finally landed in LA, he got on the first standby flight to San Francisco.

***

Sergio walked in, and with the flash of his badge, he was granted information on where Ryan was. He rode up to the sixth floor and found him in a room. He was dressed and sitting on the bed.

"Carter!" Sergio yelled, as he entered the room.

"Moons!" Carter exclaimed back with a smile. He rose up, but then stopped short of hugging him. "Sorry, man, I can't hug it out with ya. My stomach is stitched up."

"Awe man, it's cool. What happened?" Munoz asked, reaching out to grip Carter's shoulder. Ryan sat back down.

"Awe shit man, I got into it with some karate fucks, downtown. You gotta car? Let's get the fuck out of here and I'll tell you all about it."

"No, I came here straight from the airport, in a cab," Munoz answered.

"Awe fuck. Ok, no biggie. We can cab it," Carter replied as he began to get dressed.

"So why didn't you use the crane technique against the karate fucks?" Sergio teased.

"I was going to go Serpico on his ass, but he pulled the dim-mac on me," Ryan replied, trying not to laugh in effort to avoid the painful pull of his stitches.

"Well it looks like he did more than the dim-mac on you," Sergio chided. They constantly referenced movies and used movie lines when they spoke. It was like another language sometimes. "It looks like he went samurai on you. Let me guess, did he use a sword?" Sergio asked after seeing the gash across Ryan's torso.

Ryan stopped after he put on his pants and stared at Sergio. It was beginning to click in his head that his old friend and partner had suddenly shown up out of the blue, in his hospital room, no less. "As a matter of fact, he did. How did you know that I was here? How did you find me?" Ryan asked, suddenly exuding a serious demeanor.

Sergio offered a wry smile. "Well, Detective Carter. Those are good questions. And I have answers."

"I hope so. And that's Agent Carter now, by the way." Carter went back to putting on his shirt, clearly struggling with it, but still managing.

"Agent, huh?" Munoz asked, rhetorically. They walked out and took a cab back to Ryan's hotel. Ryan went back to the beginning and told him about the changes in the LAPD, the odd shift in crime and then meeting agent Taylor, also known as Agent Jank.

They rented a car, and by the time dinner came Sergio had caught Ryan up with his time in Chile and his meeting Erika. He had avoided this discussion of his being a witch with magical gypsy talents, but he could tell that Ryan was itching to find out how Sergio had tracked him down.

As they filled their bellies, the jetlag began to take its toll tremendously on Sergio. Ryan, feeling similarly fucked up from the pain pills, ordered a bottle of sake to follow the two bottles of wine that they'd shared. The tank was setting in.

It was great to catch up with Ryan like this, but there were a lot of missing pieces for each of them to solve. "Tell me what happened, man." Sergio asked.

"Yeah," Ryan replied, ready to get to the real shit. "I've been searching for someone that looks like and smells like our special friend from LA that we thought died on top of a warehouse." Munoz blinked his heavy eyelids in acknowledgment. "So I came up here to find him. Speaking of which, how did you track me down, exactly?"

Munoz managed a chuckle. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"Try me."

"Well, as it turns out, I'm a bit of a freak."

"I know that," Carter laughed, amused with himself.

"Not like that, asshat!" Sergio chided. "As in freak of nature."

"Oh, that kind. My bad."

"Yeah, look. I'm only going to tell you this because you're my best friend and I trust you. So don't fuck this up by telling anyone else."

"Yeah, man. You know you can trust me. What the fuck?"

"Yeah," Munoz echoed. He had already made up his mind that he would tell Ryan about this and trust him with it. He'd leave it up to fate for whatever happened afterwards. "Well, when I got to Chile, my grandma let me in on the family secret, which was that we kind of all have the gift of sight. We can see things that haven't happened yet."

"Holy fucking shit. Are you fucking serious? Are you like a psychic?" Ryan paused to make sure Sergio wasn't joking. When Sergio's look didn't budge, it became clear. "Wow man. Do you have like a crystal ball? Can you, like, communicate to Miss Cleo and shit? Shit! Can we start a psychic phone business?"

"You're a fuck head," Sergio answered, pretending that he was not amused. Carter laughed and tried to drink sake.

"No wonder you always had such great instincts!" Ryan went off. "No wonder you solve crimes so easy! No wonder you..." Sergio cut him off.

"Take it easy, Carter! No need to act like a little girl about it. Act cool!"

Carter took a huge sip of sake. "Cool," Carter echoed. "Right." Ryan smiled. "Things are just clicking into place now that I'm thinking of it. It sure explains a lot. I just always felt second best to you. I just never really measured up. But now I know you were just cheating, and you..."

"I wasn't cheating. Fuck you, alright?"

"No. Fuck you. Don't be a pussy and just own it, man," Carter interjected, with seriousness. "It's alright. So you got a gift. It is cheating, but it's ok. Who fucking cares! I'm on your side!"

Munoz's sleepy eyes were wide open again. He wasn't upset, just confused and surprised by Carter's reaction. He drank his sake and it bit him. He had never drunk it before.

"Look man," Carter went on. "You're like a brother to me, and I have a brother, so trust me, I know what it's like to have one. My brother and I were once very close. We had a good childhood, and he was my best friend. Now, that guy is you." He paused. "I don't know what I'm saying. I just know it sits better in my head knowing that you aren't better than me. You just got lucky and were born a freak."

Sergio laughed. Suddenly, he got it. He understood where Carter was coming from. They both sipped again. "I didn't know you thought that, man. I am not better than you, not even with this gift. I never thought that. I saw us as equals. We just bring different shit to the table. I focus and visualize to solve crimes, and sometimes things just come to me. But you are athletic and you have the ability to talk to people and get information out of them that I can't. So we are both better at different things. That's how I always saw us."

Ryan seemed to be good with that answer, Munoz sensed. "So, now, it's my turn. Your stomach. What happened?"

"Wait. How did you find me," Carter asked. His eyes looked red, and glazed over slightly, as if he were about to fall asleep.

"Oh yeah," Munoz answered with a wry grin. He gave Ryan a half smile, as if he were stupid question. "You were chased in an alley, right?"

"You know that?"

"That's all I know. That's all I saw with my, you know, crystal ball? It was a few weeks ago. That's why I came here. On the flight over, I saw you in a hospital bed with the Golden Gate Bride in the window. That's how I found you. Maybe this is a good gift for a d.t. to have."

Ryan looked skeptical, but he was going with it. It easily explained a lot of things. "I'm hunting a ninja," Ryan blurted out. "Maybe the LA Ninja."

"The LA Ninja got killed on the roof of a warehouse three years ago. You know that. You were there. What the fuck?"

"I know. I thought that too. Well, I was confused. I don't know who's who or what's what, or who died or why some Japanese ninja was smoking Guerrero gangsters."

The words caught up to Sergio's brain and then clicked softly. He was confused too, suddenly. He was too drunk and tired to think quickly. "Shit," he said. "Yeah, uh, maybe I should tell you something else," he said, on accident.

"I already know," Carter replied.

"What."

"Yeah. You knew he wasn't the real ninja. You always knew that. I wanna know how you knew that and why you kept it a secret?" Carter stared with sharp eyes. Munoz stared back quietly. "Tell me everything, dickhead," Carter added.

Sergio let down his guard, took a deep breath and another swig of sake. It was tasting better, but the hotness of it was still weird. "Damn, this shit sucks. Ok," he said and then he told him what he knew about Gabriel Torres, aka Gabe, aka the LA Ninja. It was only a hunch. It always was. But Sergio had always thought that the LA Ninja was Gabe. He had the motive. He was smart, and unaccounted for, for several years in Japan. At the time, all signs pointed to him. He was ninety-nine percent sure, but there was still that one-percent that left for doubt.

"Holy shit," Carter said after hearing the story. "Why didn't you tell me that before?" he said, with renewed brightness in his eyes. He sobered up some and ordered a coffee.

"I don't know," Sergio replied. "I wasn't sure. I guess I wasn't really hiding it from you, I was just trying to catch him in the act, but he was too good. A step ahead of us every time. Shit, more like five steps ahead."

"And even with your Miss Cleo spidey-sense powers, you never could catch him?"

Munoz managed a chuckle. "I guess not, dickhead."

Carter laughed, but then his face changed for somber. He shook his head. "I don't see how this fits in with these guys."

Sergio felt himself sobering up some too. "If Gabe were really the LA Ninja, which he might be, then these guys are different. They are definitely Japanese. One of them sliced me up. I saw his face good. Then his goons pounded me in. There was someone missing from there, but I think Reggie is right. This new ninja must be the brother of the slain one from the warehouse."

"Reggie?"

Carter laughed. "Yeah. Reginald Taylor, the DEA agent that recruited me to work this case. He hates it when I call him Reggie, shit speak of the devil..." Carter reached into his sport coat pocket and pulled out a vibrating cellphone.

"What's up Jank?" Carter answered, leaving Sergio to listen to a one-sided conversation.

"Yeah. We are catching up on old times," Ryan said. "No, I didn't tell him yet." "Yeah. Ok." Carter hung up.

"By the way, you are working for us now," Carter said to Sergio. "Reggie is coming in the morning to debrief you."

"Uh yeah, that's great because I kind of don't have a job right now."

***

El Scorpio had a serious problem. He had to kill the woman he loved. He sat in his office, a large room that had been converted from three smaller rooms and a bathroom into a huge suite with televisions, radios, computers and a huge desk. He had four safes along the wall that held an array of cash, dope, weapons, passports and identity cards. It also had the encryption keys and CDs needed to run the setup programs that could see into the territory maps and plans for the Tolan to expand.

He stared at them. He had never had a safe. He had never even seen one, but for on TV. They were built and wired to self-destruct, when activated. And he held one of the keys that could do it. He barely understood the technology of it, and it had taken him a long time to understand the organization as a whole, and his place in it. But they were his safes. This was his world. And he was the Tolan.

He wouldn't shed a tear, he promised. He remembered what his mentor, Gangsta, from the Harbor City Hoods had told him. "Run your shit and don't let any fool or any bitch get in your way. Run your game, run it tight, and roll anyone. Never let a ho get in the way." Maybe the Harbor City Hoods were small time, but Gangsta had been right about that.

He saw L'Aranya's face in his head. She was a badass bitch. She was the downest broad he had ever come across. She would have made a great roll dog, someone that he could trust and take along with him to the top. At least, he thought he could trust her. Maybe he couldn't. Maybe Benicio was right.

He didn't want to go through with it. He had to kill her. He had to. He tried not to think about her smile or the look of her eyes when they were lying together under the moonlight. That was all bullshit anyway. Love was bullshit. Love was for the weak. Love was for pussies. He almost fell into sadness and shed a tear, but now, like a switch getting flipped, he felt anger over her betrayal. He felt his position come zooming back into focus.

How dare she, he thought. The two safehouses that had been invaded were because of her. He wanted to know why, but he also didn't care anymore. It didn't matter. Out of the window of his office he could see a car pulling up to the house. He looked on his video monitor and he could see the clear lights of the Camaro, L'Aranya's car. She got out quickly and began marching to the house. She always moved quickly, he thought to himself. Not for long.

El Scorpio sat up in his plush business chair. On the computer screen, a map of LA displayed with red dots where the safehouses were, a fitting reminder of why he had to do what he was about to. Seconds later, she was upstairs and punching the code into the keypad at the door.

"Hey baby," she said without looking at him. She put her Subway drink cup down on his desk and then walked over to give him a kiss. "What's wrong?" she asked with a smile. She stood over him with a curious grin.

"Nothing, baby," he said, issuing her a perfectly fake smile.

"Ok, well you just seem quiet," she said returning to the other side of the desk and removing her coat to sit down.

"Well," El Scorpio said. "There is one thing."

"What's that?" she asked, only half paying attention. Her mind was still scattered, buzzing the way it was when just coming off the busy streets of the outside world. Her energy was high. His calm silence was bringing her down quickly though.

"I have to ask you something very important," he went on. He felt nervous suddenly. It was going to be harder than he thought. She calmed down immediately and stared at him. She became serious. He had her full attention. "The two safehouses we lost." He paused and watched as her eyes widened. It was a clear sign of guilt. "Why did you do it?" he asked, skipping the bullshit.

"What do you mean?" she asked, in an attempt to see if he really knew anything.

"So this is how you're gonna play me?" El Scorpio asked. He leaned back coolly and lit a cigarette. "After all we been through, you're gonna sit there and act like you don't know what the fuck I'm talking about?" He laughed coldly. "Please, bitch."

"Bitch?" she repeated, surprised by his coldness. "How did you find out?" she asked, also becoming cold.

"Who fucking cares how I found out?" he said coolly. "And if you are not gonna at least tell me why," he said, reaching for his desk drawer and pulling out his pistol. "Then maybe it doesn't matter anyway."

He watched as the tough look on her face melted away to worry and fear. "I'm sorry, baby," she said in a higher octave. "You don't understand. I had to do it. They were gonna kill my dad! I had no choice!"

"Who!" he demanded to know.

"I don't know," she said, bowing her head down. She began to sob. El Scorpio tightened his grip on his pistol and tapped the butt of it softly on the arm of his chair. The last thing he wanted was to see her break down like this and cry. "They called me out of the blue one day," she went on, her voice shaky through her soft sobbing. "They said they worked for a cartel, but I never heard of it. It wasn't a real name, but they had my dad. I talked to him. He asked for my help. They knew of the Tolan. They knew things. They knew we had safehouses. They wanted one or they were gonna kill him. He owed them money."

"He owed them money," El Scorpio repeated coldly. "He owed them money," he said, again. She looked at him, puzzled by his lack of remorse.

"I didn't know what to do!" she yelled out. "What would you do?" She looked away, then, wiping her tears. "What about us?" she said.

"Us?" he repeated with a laugh and a smirk. "Us!" he said, laughing again.

"Fuck this shit!" she said. "Are you gonna give up on us for this shit? The Tolan? Fuck them! Fuck this shit. Let's get away from this bullshit, once and for all, the way we always talked about!" She stared at him in disbelief. "Now's our chance. We got enough cash to do it!"

He chuckled. "You must be on the fucking pipe if you think that I'm gonna do that. That was all bullshit I said just so you could keep sucking my dick." His smile faded and he put his cigarette down, sharpening his eyes in his look at her.

"You fucking piece of shit!" she yelled out at him. "I can't believe you would choose this shit over me! You don't fucking love me, you fucking brainwashed piece of shit!" Her anger made him nervous.

"I ain't fucking brainwashed!" he yelled out. He lifted his arm and pointed his pistol at her. With his thumb he unlocked the safety.

L'Aranya stood up fiercely and defiantly. "Fuck you!" she screamed. In a flash, she pulled out a small pistol from her huge bra and shots rang out. El Scorpio stood up and came around the desk. Her eyes were on him as she fell to the ground, dying.

"Goodbye, L'Aranya," he said. His heart twisted up into a knot and he put his pistol back on her, firing a round into her chest.

Chapter XXIV: Surprise Goodbye

Gabe had been troubled for days, and he knew that Vida could sense it too. She kept asking him what was wrong, but he'd tell her nothing and smile a fake smile. He had tears in his eyes, at times, scaring Vida, but he'd tenderly tell her that he was ok. It was now time to tell her, though.

She was looking at a map of Japan on her iPad. He never knew anyone so young to enjoy such a thing as a map, but she did. Her mind was so curious and thirsty for more. She constantly looked at the maps, pulling things from satellite zoom images that he never thought of before. The rain forests in South America, the flood plains of India and the Taj Mahal, St. Peter's Square in Moscow, the Statue of Liberty, the Australian outback, Mt. Saint Helens, and even the lines of Nazca in Peru were all game for her. She showed him constantly, amazing him with her wonder as well as with her intelligence. Anything that she read about, she immediately went to her map for. She made him laugh when learning that penguins only lived in Antarctica, and she went there on her iPad to see them, swearing that she could see some small specks that must have been penguins. She was only joking, of course. She had such a funny sense of humor.

It made him cry to think about. He watched her eyebrows furrow sharply as she studied the screen. "Is this where you used to live, Daddy?" she asked. Her face then changed into a laugh. "Whoops!" she said with a laugh. "I didn't mean to call you that, Gabe!"

His eyes were teary. "No, it's ok, baby girl! I mean, I know I'm not your daddy, but I think of you as my daughter." His voice sounded normal, but his eyes gave away his heavy sadness. "At least, I've pretty much just thought of you as my daughter for awhile now."

"Me too," she replied. Her face saddened. "You are the daddy that I never knew could ever exist. Why are you crying again? Did I do something?"

"No! No, sweetie. You did nothing wrong," he said convincingly. "It's just that sometimes in life things outside of your control happen, and they aren't always good things." Confused, Vida sat across from him in silence. He took a deep breath.

"Vida," he went on. "I love you so much. Just like a daughter. And I know since your real mom and dad aren't around, I'm going to always think of you as my real daughter." He sat back in his chair. He didn't know what to tell her. He felt like he was about to make a mistake, but he could not risk the outcome of turning back.

"I never saw you coming. You just came into my life out of nowhere. When you found me I was dead inside. I was a very broken person. So were you. You were just a kid. You are still just a kid, but just like you didn't ask to be born or ask to be raised by shitty parents, things just happen. For whatever reason, it's like we were put together. And you fixed me. Even though Amaya and my mom and dad left me, you came along and made me feel like a normal person again. You saved me."

He pinched his eyes shut to clear the tears. She watched him in a confused state, full of sadness and fear. "Anyways, you know that already. And you know that all of the time we have spent together is something I will cherish, no matter what happens. You will always be my baby girl."

"What's happening, Gabe?" she asked with tears forming in her eyes.

"Something bad is going to happen. People are coming for me. A long time ago I did some things to people, out of revenge, that were not good. I think they are coming after me. I think they found me."

"I don't understand? So let them come! We can take them!" she pleaded.

"No!" he snapped back. "We can't! You don't understand. You won't understand. You have to leave here."

"No!" she screamed back. "I'm not going anywhere!"

"Vida, please just listen!" She dropped her iPad on the table and stormed off to her room. "Shit," Gabe murmured to himself. He stood up went to her bedroom door. He sat down on the ground in front of it, leaning against the wall.

"Where are you sending me?" she asked, in a cry.

"There's an orphanage," he said through the door. "I spoke to the director, a woman named, Martha. She was very nice. I told her that you were someone very special and that I was your family, but I couldn't take care of you. I told her to watch you for awhile until I come back. I will come back, Vida. I will come back and we can be together again."

"Yeah right!" she yelled out in a cry. He could hear her sobbing loudly. He sobbed too. He could not bear it any longer. Maybe they could run away, somewhere else. His mind went back, looking for a solution. They could run, but for how long? They would be living in fear, wondering constantly when someone would show up. That was no way to live. He was doing this for her, he told himself. This was her shot at a normal life, he told himself.

"You know I don't want to do this," he said. "I love you with everything I am. Do you think I want to break this up? Your training is not complete. We have so much work yet to be done. I just need to take care of this and finish this business once and for all. Then, once all the bad people are gone, I will come and get you and we'll go back to the way things are. I promise you with all my heart."

"You don't love me. If you did, you wouldn't be doing this." The words cut him deeper than anything he could have expected. He felt hopeless.

***

Vida was quiet for the rest of the afternoon. She never came out of her room, not even to eat. It was a disaster for Gabe, and he sat alone in the living room, grieving. He told himself it was necessary, and not only that, but that it was also for the best. She would come to thank him. He would be back for her as soon as the dreams stopped. He would be back for her when the signs of danger were no more.

He left a bowl of rice and chicken on the stove for her, but she never came to retrieve it. He nodded off on the couch in the evening. He was emotionally drained of energy. He got up though, and went outside to scan the property. The cabin was in an isolated, forested area. There were neighbors in the distance, spread out across the foothills. There was a dirt and gravel road leading into and out of the property, which connected to a paved road that joined all the foothill cabins.

He was nervous that someone would be coming. He never got the ninja out of his mind. The ninja was there. He was coming. It was déjà vu. He went silently through the forest, flanking the property, in and out of trees. He sensed nothing. He felt nothing wrong, but it was the lack of sensing anything that worried him. He might not detect a good ninja right away. He would have to reach deep to hear him, like hearing a heartbeat from across a room. He spent half the night listening and searching, armed and ready, but there was nothing.

The next day, Vida finally emerged from the room. He watched her, in sadness, as she came out with a duffle bag and a backpack. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"Are you hungry, Vida?" Gabe asked.

"No. Let's just get to the place and get this over with. I understand what is happening. I just wish it wasn't."

"Me too..." Gabe uttered out before she cut him off.

"I'm not done," she added, coldly. "Sometimes I don't know what to believe. But I know that you believe what you say, and I trust you. I know you love me. So if you say that this needs to be done because it is part of destiny or so we can stay safe and be together again, then I believe you. I know that you will do what you can to end it. So let's just go and get this over with so I can come back already."

"Ok," he said. "For the record, I hate that this is happening. I never meant for it to be like this, but the last time I didn't listen to my instincts and ignored my visions, I lost the people that I loved most in the world. I won't let that happen again."

"Yeah," she said, indifferently.

The car ride into the city was long and painful. They were mostly quiet. She was mad, undoubtedly. He fought every urge, though, to turn the car around and forget the whole thing. He had to trust destiny this time and follow his instincts.

They arrived at the orphanage and quietly parked at a one-story building that spread out around a playground in a grassy courtyard. They walked past a fence and the reality of Vida's new situation hit her like a brick to the head when she saw the words 'Abigail Marshall Home for Girls' on the white building. Gabe was overcome with guilt.

As they walked past the playground, the raucous sounds of girls playing and screaming could be heard in the distance. They silently entered the glass double doors of the home for girls and they were mostly alone in the lobby of a brightly lit and well-decorated building until a woman walked into the room. The twenty-something Latina with a pretty face and tightly pulled back hair immediately stopped what she was doing and smiled.

"Hello," she said, nicely. "You must be Vida," she said as she stood before them. Vida said nothing. "Mr. Rodriguez, I presume?"

"Yes, hello," Gabe said.

"Great to meet you both. I am April. April Luna. We've been expecting you. I can see if Martha is available, ok?" she said before bouncing off down the hallway.

"She seems nice," Gabe said, breaking their own bout of personal silence.

"Probably a crack addict," Vida replied. Gabe tried not to laugh. Moments later Martha came out and escorted them to her office. Gabe had met her once before, presenting himself as Rueben Rodriguez, with all the documentation to prove it. He honestly trusted her to be a good person.

They all sat in an office as Martha Solis went over some of the demographics of the other girls, ranging in age from infants to sixteen and seventeen year-olds. Vida tried to tune her out. All that mattered was that her life fucking sucked now, and it was all she could dwell on. She hated Gabe for doing this, but she told herself that she understood why this was happening. She could feel herself becoming bitter, but she was helpless to go against the feeling.

"Do you like to read, Vida?" Martha asked, looking at her. She'd hardly been paying attention, but she heard everything.

"Huh? Yeah, I guess," she muttered sourly.

"Oh, that's good. We have lots of books, and we continually refresh them in our book sharing program with the LA County libraries." Martha turned her attention back to Gabe. "Mr. Rodriguez, you must understand that although we do not ask questions of any individual's particular situation, we are partially funded by the state, and as such, must comply with state laws and procedures. This will include physical and psychological evaluations. You will be liable for anything found, should the state decide that it wishes to press charges against you."

"Yes, I understand," Gabe replied.

"I know that you are her uncle, and not her legal guardian. The state can come after for wrongful custodianship, but that is up to them to pursue if they feel like they want to. We, here at Abigail only care for the well being of our girls. Honestly, it seems like you really have the best intentions for Vida." Gabe forced a slight smile. "And I would be insincere in saying that your donation has not been noted and appreciated. As we discussed previously, we have taken custodianship of the trust fund in Vida Marcela Ochoa's name. We will retain stewardship even in the event that Vida is placed in a foster home, as you requested, until she reaches the age of twenty-one. Is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." Gabe answered. Vida quietly listened in confusion. She knew nothing of any of it, and it scared her.

"Very good," Martha went on. "Now that some of that unpleasantness is out of the way, our goal here is to get our girls back into loving homes, if possible. Most of our girls attend local K through eight and high schools. We will enroll Vida in high school for this fall at Montevideo High. We have a program with them, and we have already provided the transcripts that you sent us. They will be expecting her."

Vida sat in silence, trying to absorb everything she could about what was being said. She knew very little about the legal stuff going on, but the thought of going to school became her glaring focus. As Gabe and Martha spoke for over an hour, Vida's mind became more and more confused. Foster homes, trust funds, being and orphan, and going to high school, all scared her to death. She thought about running away. She could make it, she knew. She could wander the streets. She could easily find food, and with her skills, who knows what else. She could easily become a thief. She could do a great many things, but she knew not what.

She played it all out in her head, but she kept going back to the same thing. High school. High school was the scariest thought in her mind, much scarier than running away and being homeless. Or was it?

Vida thought more about it. She pictured blonde girls with pigtails and backpacks, laughing and hanging in groups. She pictured popular white boys with brown hair passing notes to those same girls, asking for pizza dates and prom plans. There would be this party, this group, that group, the nerds, the emos, the jocks, cheerleaders, uglies, pretties, greasers, pinups, rebels and goths, and everything in between.

Then there was the school part, the part that was actually important. She had been studying history for years, math and science too. She was doing trigonometry, and she'd be ready for calculus after that. She had read every Shakespeare book, over and over again. She had read and read and read. She had studied science too, biology, physics, and most importantly, chemistry. She could make gas bombs and grenades. She studied the periodic table and she knew nomenclature. School would be easy. Gabe always said that she would go to college and have a regular life. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Maybe she could be normal?

Before she could let any hope set in, the meeting ended. She would be staying. The sadness came back over her in a waterfall that nearly suffocated her. She walked back outside with Gabe and they sat on a bench. This might be the last time she'd ever see him. It was all happening so fast, and it was so unbelievable.

"Vida," he said. He had tears in his eyes as he sat close, next to her. He couldn't stop his eyes from tearing. "I know that there was a lot going on in there, but I want you to know that you don't have to worry." He sniffled and swallowed hard.

"I set up a trust fund for you last year. There is enough in there for college, depending on where you go, but if you can somehow manage a scholarship then you can do whatever you want with the money, once you turn twenty-one. It's everything I have left."

With tears in her eyes, Vida nodded. "The plan has not changed," he went on. "But I don't know what will happen. The future is clouded. If, for some reason, anything happens to me, you will be set up to have a good life, just like we always talked about. You can stay here in this place, and Martha will take care of you. Just try to forget about the fact that you're in an orphanage. You are only here because, well, because you and I were both dealt a shitty hand in life." He reached for her hand and held it. "And shitty or not, at least we found each other."

"Yeah," she said with a teary smile.

"But most importantly," Gabe went on. "We are survivors and we are following our destinies. And I'm sure that it is my destiny to end this war, once and for all. And it is your destiny to meet some kids your age, make friends, and I don't know, maybe get a boyfriend or something." He shot a sharp-eyed gesture with a crooked smile. She smiled back. "I guess I'd be ok with that if it absolutely had to happen, but no kissing, ever!" She hit him playfully on the arm.

Gabe sighed with worry, as the seriousness suddenly fell back over him. "Whatever reason that this is happening, I know it is our destiny to be back together. I feel it in every bone in my body, ok?" She forced a slight smile.

"I hope so," she said. He smiled reassuringly and held her hand again.

"Baby, all you have to do right now is be good and go to school. The hardest part will be just trying to keep your power in check. Others will be jealous, and they will challenge you and play games with your head. It will be hard for awhile. Kids can be cruel. They will say mean things and try to break you down because you're an orphan, but don't let them. Don't let them get to you. And Vida," he said, holding her hand with more pressure. "Don't you ever feel sorry for yourself. Not ever. You are amazing."

He smiled as a gleam of confidence and hope shot through him. "The truth is, you will be smarter, faster, and stronger than everyone. You just can't really let anybody know it. You already know how important it is to walk in the light and keep your cover and true identity a secret. The minute you lose focus, you will find yourself in a situation you may not be able to get out of. This isn't training anymore. This is for real now."

"Hey," he added. "Just blend in and be one of them. Make friends, eat pizza, watch American Idol and listen to music and whatever else these crazy kids do these days."

She smiled again, but the tears kept running for both of them. He inched closer beside her and put his arm around her. "But what about the foster home? And legal guardian stuff? I thought..."

"That is just precaution," he said, interrupting her. "Don't worry about the legal guardian stuff. I gave them a fake name and I told them I am your uncle. I played dumb with them, but once they see how smart and well put together you are, they won't care about me. And if you get placed in a foster home, it will be fine too. I'm coming to get you, no matter what. This is just until the danger goes away."

"When will that be?"

"I don't know. Maybe just a few months. Maybe a year, but probably not longer than that. But we have to be prepared for whatever the future brings with it."

"Ok," she said, hugging him back. She dug her head into his chest and sobbed loudly.

"Baby girl, you will always be my baby girl. And you are ready for this. You are light years ahead of the world. You know that. You have so many gifts and skills. Do your best to be normal and blend in. Use your power for good. Use it to make a good life and go to med school and cure cancer, or become the Attorney General or something. I know you'll do something great."

"Why are you talking like you're not coming back?" she asked, mid-sob.

"I...I don't know. I don't mean to. I'm just scared too. Just like you. I just never imagined being apart from you, and not being there to take care of you. I'm scared," he said.

"I love you, daddy. You are my daddy. My only real daddy," she said.

He looked her in the eyes and kissed her gently on the forehead before hugging her tightly, again. "I love you too. You are my daughter and my baby girl. I promise, with everything in my heart, and everything that I am, that I will come back for you. I love you more than anything."

Gabe and Vida were both unaware that from her window in the distance, Martha was watching, unable to hear their words, but clearly able to see the love between them.

Chapter XXV: Trusting Intuition

The dark ninja sat in his car outside of a bar near the rehab center, waiting for the samurai to drive up. The samurai was fucking everything up. Instead of keeping quiet and going about the business of training for the Mexicans, he'd been building his own little crew and causing problems in and around San Francisco. The latest of which landed him on the evening news with the police and public now looking for him. It was only a matter of time before the entire prison rehab center realized that the samurai was the killer they were looking for. It would ruin the entire program.

The dark ninja didn't care much for the program. He didn't care much for the Mexicans either, or anybody else. He didn't need the money. Getting paid to kill for the Mexicans was just a perk. He wanted to stalk and kill -it was the game he loved. He wanted the revenge too. He wanted the LA Ninja that killed his brother. Now, instead of following the lead from Benicio and tracking him down, he was up here trying to clean up the samurai's mess. He was livid.

The samurai finally pulled up in his car, pulling in next to him. They got out and stood before each other. "You are on the news," the dark ninja said, plainly.

"I will not apologize."

"You killed a sales clerk in a liquor store."

"He insulted me!" the samurai said in anger.

"You had a job to do. Now it is in jeopardy. You have failed me for the last time," the dark ninja said, calmly. Some patrons walked out of the bar in the distance across the parking lot. They lit up to smoke.

The samurai laughed. "I'm not afraid of you. I told you once before, I give a fuck about these Mexicans. I'm tired of training these brainless pigs. They know nothing!"

"I have tired of your drunken incompetence. Your time is done," said the ninja.

The samurai drew his sword. "No," he said calmly. "Your time is done." He slashed quickly but the ninja jumped backwards, sliding across the hood of the car behind him.

The samurai walked around the car, towards him. The ninja opened his car door and reached for his sword, unsheathing it quickly. He stood before the samurai as they paused, each staring at their enemy.

A "whoa!" could be heard in the background, from someone in the group of smokers. "Those guys are like totally gonna sword fighting, man! Bruce fucking Lee shit, bro!"

They faced off and circled each other slowly. The samurai slashed first with blazing fast speed. The ninja blocked as their swords clashed, sending echoes of loud clanking metal across the parking lot. The samurai was gaining the edge, with each move of his sword coming closer to striking the ninja. They didn't notice another car pull up, across the lot.

The ninja kicked the samurai's leg and then he flipped backwards to regroup. The fast samurai laughed arrogantly, knowing that he had the upper hand. The ninja was ruthless and determined, though. He produced a smoke grenade and exploded it in the space between them. Another "whoa!" could be heard from the smokers.

Through the smoke, the ninja jumped to the hood of the car, and then jumped acrobatically, high in the air over the samurai, striking him with his sword as he passed. He caught the samurai in the neck. The samurai walked through the smoke, painfully slashing for the ninja, as he now gushed blood from the neck. They didn't notice a few more patrons watching, some of which were just now realizing the seriousness of the situation.

The ninja was on the defense again, blocking the attacks, again sending a chorus of clashing metal sounds. Again, the ninja kicked him in the leg, this time directly on the side of the knee. It was enough to send him buckling to the ground.

In the split second of weakness, the ninja put his sword through the samurai's stomach. In the background there was confusion. The smokers were gasping, now more conscious to the seriousness and danger of the situation. The crowd outside of the bar was growing. The ninja looked, finally, seeing the people form into a larger group. Time was running out before the police would be called to come.

The samurai was finished. He began choking up blood as his body fought for survival from the deep stomach puncture. He fought to speak. "Finish me. Give me an honorable death," he pleaded.

The ninja looked down upon him with his sword in his hand. "Cheap ronin have no honor."

"Fuck you," the samurai uttered through a deep choke of blood.

The ninja took his sword and sliced down across his face and torso with enough force to pierce his skull and chest plate, killing him almost instantly. The crowd made itself known with loud, nervous chatter. The ninja quickly moved to pop the trunk of his car and then move the body in. Two bouncers came out, hollering at him before he could get the body all the way in. The ninja looked over his shoulder and then tossed two metal stars their way, striking both of them with fatal blows to the neck. The crowd gasped and then began to disperse. Seconds later, the ninja was gone.

***

The cartel wars in Mexico were in full swing, and everything was going to Juan's plan. In move number three, he arranged a meeting between himself and the leader of the Cholula Cartel. They agreed to join sides to abolish the Montes cartel. In a carefully prepared and coordinated attack, they moved against their mutual enemy in the middle of the night.

Juan's army was comprised of young men that turned to crime because they couldn't find a better job, ex-military, and crooked police looking to make a buck. Alongside their counterparts from the Cholula Cartel, they moved in on the processing and packaging factories, the 'business center' compound, and also at the home of Raul Montes, head of the Montes Cartel. The battle went on for several days, with the factories falling before the Mexican military could make it there.

At the Montes compound, the attack went quickly, with the use of Juan's attack helicopter raining machine gun fire and rocket explosions to break down the defenses. The helicopter would fall to a TOW missile from the Montes fighters, but not before the effective damage had been inflicted.

Move four was the surprise double cross by Juan. In the midst of the victory over the Montes, the Cortez clan turned on the Cholulas and executed optional killings of their core fighting force. The option was to die or join the Cortez. Most had no problem joining the Cortez clan, resulting in a dramatic surge of power for Juan's cartel.

***

Gabe hated war. He only wanted peace. He only ever wanted peace, but he was back in it. He could not be sure with one-hundred percent certainty, but his instincts told him so. He could almost feel it in the air. He hoped that he was wrong.

He circled his property constantly. His house was mostly surrounded by forests, except for the gravel road leading into and out, and the dirt-grass hybrid field that sat in front and back. The danger would come from the trees, he knew, and they were also his domain from which he could most easily spot danger first.

He stood on a branch this evening, listening. He could hear nothing. His thoughts were heavy with guilt. He'd fought a war before, but it had been very different. He had no hope then. He had nothing. Everything had been taken away then, leaving him with only a death wish and the fearlessness that he took into each battle. There was no love or hope. Only rage. That was then.

He had something to lose now. If he lost, he'd leave Vida on her own. If he lost, she'd lose him forever, and he'd lose her forever. He saw her smile constantly. He saw her furrowing her brows while she studied on her iPad. He saw her scrunching her face when she was confused or being secretive. It was her signature look, his favorite of hers, and also one that he subconsciously adopted for himself a few years before. She was everything to him, and he had everything to lose.

The guilt tore through him again just then. He hung his head down. Cold air was falling over the night. He remained still, crouched on the limb. He wondered what Vida was doing in that moment. He pictured the orphanage and wondered if she lay awake. Was she looking out the window at the stars? Was she crying? Did she hate him? It was possibly too much to be abandoned twice in one life by those closest to her. He wondered, then, if she would make it. The guilt continued to shred his stomach and his soul.

He then wondered if she would be ruined for life. He couldn't let that happen. He had to win. He had to come back and be with her and help her make it. They could make it. They could be together again and live a normal life. This would be the last war that destiny had in store for him. He knew it. It had to be. He had to win this war. He had the power of love and hope and goodness on his side. Good always persevered over evil in a war. He had to win, and he had to live.

Nothing happened that night. Nothing happened the next night, or the one after. He stayed sharp though, still sure something was coming, and then it did. It was early in the morning when the sound of shattering glass in the living room woke them up. Roxy went into a furious bark and ran down the hall. Gabe bounced out of bed, fully dressed and ready. As he grabbed his weapons next to the bed, something crashed through his window. He spotted a canister emitting toxic gas into his room. He recognized it as tear gas, which he'd encountered numerous times during his days of training as a Marine.

He ignored it and put on his head mask and scarf. He went to the living room and found Roxy whining, scratching her face with her front paws. The gas was engulfing the living room. He quickly pulled her into the bathroom by her collar. She'd be safe there.

He went and carefully peered through his front window and saw large group of gangsters waiting. He ran to the back door and peered out the window there. Another group was waiting there with bats and knives. They were there to take him alive, he knew. His best chance would be to fight through and make it to the trees. From there he could take them.

He readied himself and flew out the back door armed with his sword. The crowd rushed towards him. He tossed metal stars out and hit two of them, and then the rest were upon him. He slashed at one, and then another, with lighting fast speed, tagging them with lethal strikes. He went for another and then felt a thump land on his calf. He slashed backwards, striking another thug and then another thump from a bat landed hard on his back. It rocked him.

He saw his chance and slashed through three more thugs and made a fast break for the tree line. He got there and dropped a smoke bomb before hopping up a tree in the distance. He'd have thirty seconds of safety to regroup. He was heaving heavy breaths. His eyes were bleeding tears from the gas. They stung profusely. He knew the stinging would get worse before it got better. The thump from his back throbbed in pain. He felt a gash from a knife wound on the side of his arm, and another on his leg. These thugs had surprised him. They were far more capable than the weak Guerreros that he'd faced years before.

He could hear them getting closer. It was time to make his move. If he could make it to the creek, he could take them out in smaller groups. He painfully hopped down from the tree and they spotted him. He went to make a break for it, but something was wrong. Before he knew it, a metal star flew in and hit him in the leg. Another came flying in, but he deflected it with his sword. He looked and spotted a ninja in the distance, glaring at him. Gabe took the star out of his leg, but something else was wrong. He felt dizzy. It was too late. He'd been poisoned. He fell to the ground.

Chapter XXVI: Starting a New Life...Again

Vida woke up in her cold, stiff bunk after her first night in her home. She had cried herself to sleep, but as she sat there with the cold, pale blue walls staring back at her, the hope crept in. She believed in Gabe. She believed that he would be back for her.

It was hard to form any kind of strategy with so much uncertainty, though. If Gabe really was going to come back for her, she had better be some place where he could find her easily. It might be best just to wait it out. As she pondered, a little girl of nine or ten came in to summon her for breakfast. Vida declined, though. She didn't want to deal with it just yet.

Around noon, April Luna, the pretty Mexican-American woman came in to get her so that she could talk to the counselor. Vida was ready for this. She knew she had to be smart. She had to be the perfect ninja and play the role of a well-put together, intelligent, articulate, and cultured young lady so that they would know that Gabe had raised her well. She could not give them any reason to go after him.

She followed April into a room that looked like an office. There was an older white woman sitting behind a desk, writing something down on papers in a manila folder. "Hello," she said without looking up.

"Hey," Vida answered, taking a seat at across from her, in front of the desk, while April took hers along the wall.

Vida studied the counselor. She was probably a social worker, she figured. She had dirty blonde hair that was puffy and dry. It curled in slightly near her shoulders. She was probably in her thirties, Vida guessed, and she was married, as evident by her ring. She wondered what her husband might look like if he were content to be with a frumpy woman that would wear the faded, brown suit like hers.

Vida tried to get a better look at the manila folder. It looked like there was name penciled in on the tab, but she could not make it out. She assumed that it had her own name on it. It must have been her personal file that probably contained everything they knew about her. She looked behind the counselor and saw that there was file cabinet. That must have been where the files were on each of the girls at the orphanage. Good to know, she thought to herself.

"Just one more second," the woman said, again without looking up. Vida knew that she was reading over whatever file they had on her, but she wondered what she could possibly have to write. Vida glanced at her shoes from beneath the desk. They were faded and worn out flats. She wanted to laugh, but it would have been rude, so she smiled, but then dropped it as soon as the woman twitched. Vida readied herself. She could do this.

"And I'm done," the woman said, finally looking up from over her glasses. She offered Vida a fake smile that seemed both routine and worn out. Vida returned the most polite version of hers that she could. "Sorry about that," the woman added.

"It's no problem at all," Vida replied, kindly. 'Game on', she thought to herself.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Vida Marcela Ochoa. I'm Sharon Price and I'm a social worker with the state. I work with places like the Abby to help make evaluations and place girls in homes or facilities that are best suited to them." Sharon reshuffled a paper into place and then sat back, taking her glasses off but holding them in one of her hands. "I'm going to ask you some questions, ok Vida?"

"Sure," Vida replied. Vida leaned back slightly too.

"What do you understand about the place that you're in, that is, this home for girls?"

Vida nodded her head. 'Well, some really bad people are going to come and try to kill my dad, so he put me here for my own safety until he can come back and get me,' was what she wanted to say, but didn't.

"I guess I'm here because my uncle, Rueben, could not watch over me due to his job obligations. I suppose that it is meant to be for the best, just like he meant for the best in taking care of me from the start, instead of going to the authorities to turn me in."

"Why do you think his taking care of you was for the best?" Sharon asked.

"I think it was for the best because he gave me the opportunity to excel in my studies. Not to say, of course, that I wouldn't have exceled had I been placed in some foster home, but statistically speaking, I most likely would not have achieved to this level."

"What makes you think that you have exceled any further because of your uncle?"

"It's hard to say without sounding arrogant or superior, but I've read the majority of the important recommended literature works from the California Department of Education, including all Shakespeare works. I have studied biology, chemistry, physics, religion, arts and humanities, and world history, which also happens to be my favorite subject. The next book I was set to study was trigonometry."

"Well that's certainly impressive, Vida."

Vida detected a note of skepticism in her demeanor and tone. She wasn't buying it yet, but Vida stuck to her plan. "You've read Shakespeare, right?" Sharon asked. "Tell me what you thought about how the ending of Romeo and Juliet turned out?"

'Oh, a test!' Vida thought to herself. Clearly Sharon didn't know much about Shakespeare or else she would not have picked such a common and well-known play. A better test would have been with a lesser-known story, like King Lear or the Tempest.

"Well," Vida answered. "If you're referring to how Romeo faked his death to avoid his betrothal to Juliet, only to have Juliet commit suicide upon finding him, then it was a completely tragic disaster." Now Vida was testing Sharon. It was actually the opposite. Juliet was the one who faked her death. "Then poor Romeo wakes up to find Juliet dead, so then he kills himself. A real tragedy."

Sharon smiled. "Yes it was."

It was time to turn it up a notch, Vida thought. "I guess I like Shakespeare so much because some of his best works were tragedies. I think in a lot of ways, my life has been a tragedy." Vida threw it out there. It was chum for a psychologist, and she knew it. She was about to seize the upper hand.

"Why do you think that?" Sharon asked. She put her glasses down on the desk.

"When my uncle found me, I was homeless. And my mom and stepdad were dead. Truthfully, I was not that heartbroken over my mom's death. I wasn't abused like a lot of other girls, and I wasn't really beaten either, just neglected. When my mom would disappear for a day or sometimes two, I'd just be by myself. We were just never really close or loving. That was the first tragedy. The thing is, I never really knew that I was in such a bad situation. I didn't know it at the time, but my uncle saved me. I was going to be homeless, and he took me in and made me learn and study, and he showed me love and he showed me what a normal life looked like. He gave me hope. He saved my soul."

Sharon smiled. Vida could see that it was working. "Of course, I suppose I don't have to tell you about hope," Vida went on. "You're a psychologist, so you understand all too well what the power of hope and what a positive environment can do for a child that never had either of those things."

"Of course," Sharon said with a smile. Flattery was always sure to win people over, Vida knew.

"And tragedy number two?" Sharon asked. Vida smiled wryly and looked around towards the ceiling, hoping that it was obvious that her being in this place was the tragedy. "Oh, right," Sharon replied, clearly understanding what Vida meant.

Sharon sat up straight then, and began shuffling the papers in her manila folder. "Uh, April, can I have a few minutes alone with Vida?" April agreed and left the room.

"You know, you're a smart girl, Vida. Smarter than all the others I've seen, even the older ones. You speak eloquently, and you clearly have a profound grasp on your situation. Maybe you've read a lot of books and exceled in your studies. I'm curious, though. How is it that your uncle and your mother could have been so different? What was their relationship, exactly?"

'Oh shit', Vida thought. She panicked on the inside, but did her best to keep it from showing. What had Gabe told them? The wrong answer could blow her cover, but maybe they truly did not know? "He is my mom's first cousin. I'm not really sure why he is so different than she was, but I guess it goes to show what you can learn by being in a different environment. He learned things, clearly, that have shaped him into a deeper, more intellectual and spiritual person than my mom ever was. She only cared about serving her immediate needs of fun and escape from reality. He is the complete opposite."

Sharon was hanging on Vida's words. "I guess," Vida went on. "That there is no better proof of that than myself. Had I stayed under my mother's care, I certainly would have been a different girl than I am today. I never knew what I was missing. I never knew that the world was so full of life, amazing history, and goodness. It saddens me to think of what I might have been, were it not for him."

"That's a very profound viewpoint, Vida." There was a silent pause. Vida felt like she'd said enough. Sharon went back to her file folder and thumbed through the thin stack of papers, finally pulling one out to the front. "Uh, I have to ask you a few more questions that are standard for everyone that comes in here. They, uh, may seem silly to you, but I have to ask them, by law. So, please just do your best to answer them so we can move on." Sharon gave her a polite smile.

"Sure," Vida replied.

"Has your uncle at anytime, ever, touched you inappropriately on your body?"

"Wow," Vida said, trying not to sound too disdainful. "No."

"Has your uncle ever hit you or slapped you with his hands or any other objects, either on accident or out of anger?"

"Uh, no," Vida said, doing her best to keep from rolling her eyes. They were ridiculous questions, Vida thought. She wondered how she could have made it clearer that she'd been raised only by love and rich intellectual, emotional, and spiritual nourishment. As the ridiculous questions kept coming, though, she realized that Sharon was only doing her job. After nearly thirty of them, it finally came to an end.

"Great. Thanks for that. I know that these sorts of questions can be uncomfortable," Sharon said.

"It's ok. I understand why you need to ask them, and although I am fortunate enough to be able to say no to them, I know not everyone that comes in here can."

Sharon went back to her papers, which Vida now realized to be a defense mechanism of hers for when she was lost or confused. "Can I ask you where you see yourself in one year, and in five years?" she asked, suddenly.

"Hmm," Vida said. "In a year I plan to be concentrating on high school. I hope that I'll have a few close friends and a steady routine. That's how I work best. In five years I will be in college. I want to be a doctor."

"I see," Sharon said, plainly. Something changed in Sharon in that second. Her smile went away. She kept her glasses on and she sat up straight, leaning her elbows on the desk. Seconds went by, and Vida could not tell what Sharon was thinking. She felt uncomfortable, but she hid every ounce of that feeling from showing.

"Ok, Vida," she went on. "I don't know if what you've told me here has just been a brilliant act by a gifted actress or if you really are this smart. I've never seen a fourteen year old with such insight into her own situation and place in the world. Most adults aren't as smart as you either, for that matter."

Sharon moved to begin scribbling furiously and she spoke without looking at Vida. "We're going to place you in our best home. You'll be placed with the Jensen family. You will be provided with the chance to succeed, while there." Sharon paused her writing and gave Vida a cold stare. "And," she went on. "If you have been lying to me and I find out that this was all an act, or if you misbehave or squander this opportunity, I will come down on you hard."

Vida gave her a blank stare, and then Sharon went back to her furious scribbling. "You will be transferred within a week or two, so just hang tight until then. Oh, and you might want to be careful with the girls here. They can play a bit rough. They haven't had the princess life that you have."

***

Later that evening, after everyone had gone to sleep, Vida stood at the bathroom window and pushed it open. The air coming through it was cold. There were only a few stars in the sky. In the darkness, she looked up at them. She didn't know what she was doing there. She was afraid. She put her hand over her pocket and felt the keys to the janitor truck. She had picked the lock to the key box where she'd seen him put the keys earlier. That was when she decided that she had to see Gabe just one more time.

It would be ok, she thought. She just wanted to see him and tell him that she was ok. She wanted to hug him once more and tell him that she had been perfect. She wanted to tell him about her meeting with Sharon, and how well it went, and how she was sure that they'd never come after him. She wanted to tell him that so he'd know he could come back when it was all over. She wanted to tell him all that, and she wanted to tell him, one last time, that she loved him.

She thought all those things and she felt reassured, but she still felt nervous. She did not want to get caught and get in trouble. She could blow it and then it would be over and she'd be sent to some other home that was not so good, or maybe worse than that even. She took a deep breath and looked down over her clothing. It was too dark to see clearly, but she was dressed in dark clothes. She worse her black, loose stretch pants and her black hoodie from Old Navy.

This was her first real mission. The Abby was lax on security. She knew she wouldn't get caught because she knew what she was doing. She had it all planned out. She was more than ready for this simple mission. She was a ninja. In that moment, the confidence rushed in over her and she easily climbed up and out through the window.

Thirty-five minutes later, she found herself on the gravel road pulling up to her house. It was dark, as usual, but Gabe would have heard her already. Why was he not out to greet her already? She parked and walked up to the wood patio to the door. It was cracked open. She pushed it open and then turned the lights on. Her eyes were stinging and there was a pungent foul smell of some strange chemical. Had there been an accident?

"Gabe?" she called out. She heard Roxy's whimper as she moved down the hallway and into Gabe's room. She flipped on the light but he was not there. She noticed the strange canister on the ground and she was more confused. She opened the bathroom door and turned the light on to find Roxy hiding in the darkness. She wondered why Gabe had left here there alone. She grabbed the towel on the sink and wet it slightly to remove the huge gobs of pus from Roxy's eyes. "Where's daddy?" she asked Roxy.

She went to the backdoor and it was wide open. She turned on the back porch light and looked out into the yard the led to the forest. There was nothing there but the quiet, still night. "What happened?" she asked Roxy, fearfully. Something bad had clearly happened. Maybe they had come for Gabe. Maybe they got him and took him. Maybe he ran away and was hiding? Maybe they hurt him, or killed him? She waited in fear for almost an hour, and when he did not return, she took Roxy in the truck and went back to the Abby.

Chapter XXVII: Shut and Open Case

It was just like old times. It went unspoken, but Sergio and Ryan were so glad to be back together that they were overcome with excitement. Thrust back into each other's lives, they went back to their old routines too, now hopped up on coffee. They'd been drinking it all morning, and now since Sergio had been able to get the adjoining room, they could take it up a notch.

With the adjoining room door open, the mess was beginning to form. They had a map of San Francisco spread out on the bed, with bullets over the areas where suspected ninja killings had taken place. They had another map of California stretched out on the floor. They were rambling on in almost a nonsensical manner, especially Sergio who had not been used to drinking coffee any longer. In his haste and excitement, he'd gone across the street earlier to the Macy's store and bought a coffee make because they'd decided that the one in their rooms was just not good enough.

It was pretty clear to them that the LA Ninja case from years before was not directly connected. Whether it was Gabe or not, those killings had been concentrated in the Guerrero district, with only an exception of the Southgate incident at the tow yard, which was a case that they both remembered well.

The new killings were mostly around San Francisco, and were far more random. There were some bouncers killed at a strip club and some politicians whacked in various places, clearly targeted for some reason. While they wondered what the connection there could be, they knew that they were close. Ryan had already made contact. Sergio had tried to use his new powers to envision something, but it had not worked. He was too hopped up on caffeine to calm himself down enough to concentrate. Carter was unimpressed.

They thought that the ninjas would not be dumb enough to go back to the Kensei, but they decided it was the best idea that they had, so they'd go that night. It was later that afternoon when their luck changed for the better. Ryan called to check in with SFPD and found out about the murder witnessed outside a bar in Yuba City involving two men in a sword fight. They headed up to Yuba City immediately.

The weather was significantly warmer and stickier there. The area seemed mostly like farmland too. When they arrived to the Harvest Sunset Cantina, it was clear that the bar only existed to serve the farm workers of the area, and the small town of Yuba City. The fact that the ninjas had been here was a curveball.

While Ryan went over details and questioning with the management, Sergio surveyed the gravel part of the parking lot. It was hotter than shit. He looked out over the meadow of tall grass and there was single mountain stretching up from the earth. It seemed out of place, but it drew his attention and he somehow felt connected to it. He wondered why he felt that.

He thought for a second about Erika and his heart seemed to murmur. "Shit," he said to himself. It had only been yesterday that he last saw her, but it hurt. She was long gone. He'd give anything to see her. He closed his eyes and tried to see her. He hoped for a vision that would show her in her time, whatever she could be doing. He wondered and then pictured her dusting her room full of candles and books. He chuckled to himself. "As if," he said under his breath. She hated cleaning.

He opened his eyes and his mind went back to his case. There was something there in the lot that he could feel. He looked to the taped off area where a woman wearing glasses was scribbling in a notebook. She was CSI, he noted. He wondered what she could be writing when she looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back, politely and then walked to the edge of the lot. He'd be interested in the exact location of the incident soon enough. He was searching for something else for now.

He crouched down and took some of the gravel in his hands, letting it sift down between his fingers. He could hear a loud buzz from the nearby meadow and wondered what lurking insects could make such a loud and annoying sound. He looked out towards it and the tall grasses went on forever. It was what he imagined the cornrows of the Midwest to be like, or wherever it was that they grew.

He went back to the gravel. He felt the calm come over him in the next handful. He closed his eyes and he could feel the vision come on. He saw a highway road with a white sign that read "1 South". There was water nearby and a cliff with an overlook of the ocean. There was a ship out in the distance, firing off a cannon. He tried to focus and he saw the ship clearer. It was an old wooden frigate and there was a black flag on it bearing a skull and cross bones in white. He tried to remain calm, as it was not enough information. He waited for more to flow in, but then there was nothing but darkness. He opened his eyes.

It was not enough. Soon afterwards, Ryan came over and they found themselves back in the car headed back to San Francisco. "Did you see the video?" Sergio asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "I got a copy too. We can watch it back at the hotel using my imaging software, courtesy of the DEA."

"What did you see," Sergio asked.

"Yep, it was our guys. The video was grainy, and shitty, but the silhouettes were unmistakable. The little one killed the big guy."

"Hmm," Sergio replied. "Ok."

"What about you? You interested in doing any actual police work, or are you just gonna sit back and sip fraps while I knock this one out on the solo?"

"Fuck you," Sergio said with a chuckle.

"I'm just sayin'," Ryan fired back. "I saw you out there building sand castles with the gravel. Vacation is over, amigo. I'm just sayin'."

"Do you know of any pirate ships in the area?" Sergio asked.

"Uh, what the fuck are you talking about. Like Somalia ones? Are we talking pirates of the Caribbean or what?"

"Caribbean ones, I guess," Sergio replied. "Like somewhere off the 1 south. Maybe like a show that the show people put on for the public?"

"Ok," Ryan replied. "I guess we can ask the concierge. This is San Fran, after all."

"What does that mean?"

Ryan chuckled. "I don't know. This is San Fran. I mean you have Alcatraz, ninjas, gays and fancy bridges. And you, with your witchy woman, Miss Cleo, psychic crap. Why not pirates too?"

"I guess," Sergio replied, only half paying attention as he began fidgeting through the navigation display from the rental car. He put in the keyword 'pirate' and came up with a listing for Pirates Cove, off the 1 south. "Holy shit. I found it."

"What?"

"Not sure, but you need to get over and take the next right. We gotta catch the 1 south and head towards Sausalito."

"You got something? Did you have a Miss Cleo moment?"

"Fuck ya, biatch!" Sergio replied, gleefully.

***

Within an hour and a half, Sergio and Ryan made it down towards edge of Highway 1 south on the north side of the Golden Gate Bridge. There was a turn-off that led down an access road on the seaside. A downtrodden road led to gravel one where there was a triangular steel gate blocking the road. They got out.

They stood near the cliff side where they could see the angry, dark waves at least two hundred feet below. The wind was strong and it surged through them, pushing them back slightly as it howled through their ears. It was cold too, a stark difference from the humid heat they'd just left behind in Yuba City.

Sergio looked down at the massive ocean of the cold Pacific and he knew he was in the right place. He looked out for a pirate ship, not expecting to see one, but just to be sure. "Check it out," he heard Ryan call out.

"What," he said, looking over to see Ryan holding up a broken chain for the gate. "Fuckin' eh," Sergio uttered.

"Your spidey sense was on point," Ryan added while moving to push the gate open. "Let's see what was see."

They drove down the windy road, cautiously. The 'Unstable Cliff' signs were unnerving, but they both seemed to relax when they saw one with a skull painted on it from some kids. They passed one cove and knew from the map that the next one was the one they were looking for. They got to it and parked.

They walked towards the edge of the cliff and the wind took hold of them again. A push in the opposite direction would easily send them both over. They got to their hands and knees on the hard packed, clay-like earth, and peered over the edge. The rocky shore was taking a battering from the violent waves. Closer to the bottom of the cliff, there was a body on the rocks, too close to the cliff for the ocean to take during the high tide.

Within an hour, the cavalry had come, both by boat and by the only access road that went down to the seashore. From the end of the road, there was a half-mile hike to the spot where the body laid. Sergio and Ryan got there first with the first police units from Sausalito. They came upon the bloodied, fly-swarmed body and found a grotesque site.

The dead man's intestines had exited his backside, clearly from the impact of the fall from the cliff. He had landed on some large, flat, grey boulders. His head had cracked and dried, and coagulated blood had turned parts of the rock brown. There was a gash across his face where he'd been sliced. The blood had coagulated there too, in the body's natural effort to try to heal itself, not knowing that there would be no hope for that. He'd been killed before the fall.

It was the worst condition of a human that either of them had ever seen. Ryan positively identified him as the ninja that had come after him in the alley, and also the killer of the bouncers from the strip club. He could be the man who also killed the senator behind the Rough Suspect, but they knew that the smaller man was missing. There was still a lot of work to do, but they knew that finding him would be difficult. He was elusive and smart.

***

Gabe slowly opened his eyes. They were unnaturally heavy, and then pain shot through his body. His feet and ankles throbbed with pain, they way they had when first began meditating with Sasaki. He was lying on the cold, wet floor of concrete stone. As his vision became clearer, he noticed that he was in a caged cell, and a darkly lit room.

He looked towards the light ahead and he could see a man sitting at a desk. Gabe moved to sit up, and he felt his ribs throb in pain. At least one was broken on his right side, and then his memory began flashing back. He'd been transported there. He remembered traveling a long distance, for weeks, maybe. They'd put him in a large trailer of sorts and locked him in a cage with only a black light. They kept tasing him and drugging him, over and over. It blurrily came back to him.

He looked across from him and he could see that there were two other cages. His own had metal bars surrounding it, just like a jail cell. He looked above him and through the bars on the top he could see the only other light hanging from the ceiling high up above.

"He's awake," he heard the man say in Spanish. Gabe tried to get to his feet, but he could not. He was too weak and in too much pain. He felt a gash on his neck and his arm had long scratches on it. His toenail must have been caught on something as it was partially ripped off. He sighed at the realization of his situation, but his instincts were to look for a way out. He studied the guard again. He was on a computer and he wore an open holster with a pistol on it. On his desk there was another gun, one that looked like an M4 Carbine, a weapon that Gabe was intimately familiar with from his time with the Marines. He had that exact same weapon.

The door swung open then, and a tall thin man walked in with a young woman behind him. He had thought he might have been in a dungeon, but the sunlight coming from the hallway confirmed that he was not. The man, also armed with an M4, stood before him. The woman cautiously put a cup down on the floor, within Gabe's reach.

Through the man's glare, he spoke. "You have caused lots of trouble for us," he said in Spanish. Gabe understood Spanish fairly well. "It will be time for you to pay, soon enough," he added with a chuckle under his breath.

"Where am I," Gabe managed to say softly.

The man chuckled. "Home," he replied before walking off.

Gabe thought about Vida, suddenly and the feeling of worry came over him. Had they gotten to her? Was she there, nearby? Had they killed her? Did they know about her? He felt frantic, and then, he felt a sting in his thigh and he could see that someone else was there outside the cage, administering a shot from a needle connected to a rod of some sort. He'd been there all along, Gabe realized as he then slowly succumbed to the drug and fell back to the ground.

***

Sergio finally left San Fran to head home. He hadn't been there in years, literally. He hated leaving Ryan behind, again, but he assured him he'd be back in a few days after he checked in to make sure there were no squatters and that his condo hadn't burned down.

On the short plane ride from SFO to LAX, there was no time to sleep, but he had some strange feelings. At one point while staring at the ice cubes in his scotch, he was having a lot of thoughts about both Erika and Gabe. It was obvious why he was thinking about Erika, as he hadn't had a lot of time to think about her, but she had always been there in his mind, tugging at it for attention. He wanted to think about her, but he'd been distracted by his work. He tried calling her once from the hotel and he wanted to from the airport, but he had been running late. She never answered. He couldn't wait to talk to her and at least tell her that he landed ok. He hadn't talked to her once.

His sudden and persistent thoughts about Gabe troubled him, though. He had purposely tried thinking about the many other heavily weighted items on his mind, but he kept going back to Gabe. It was as though he was calling him somehow, the way grandma Titi had called him, but why? And from where? And how? Before he could make any of it, the plane landed and he found himself in a cab headed home.

It was good to be back in LA. The busy, vibrant streets buzzed as the cab drove through. At the stoplight, a car of young kids pulled up next to them, bumping loud hip-hop music that vibrated the cab. It was annoying, but somehow, he had missed it. He looked at them, and he could see that they were not thugs. They were not the gangsters that he would normally go after. They were smoking weed, which he could both see and smell. He smiled and shook his head. He was fighting a war that they'd never win.

He owned a condo in the neighborhood of Monrovia. It was not expensive, but he used the last of his father's insurance money to pay for it. He thought about his bed and he felt a shudder of excitement at the thought of being able to sleep in it that night. As he paid the cab and made his way through the dark complex, something was amiss. There was faint light coming from his window.

'What the fuck', he thought. He armed himself. There was no way that light could be happening. The power should have been off for years. With his large duffle bag in one hand, he made his way up the stairs. He peeked through the window and he could see candles lit all around. "Fucking squatters," he uttered under his breath. He didn't see anyone. He went for his key and slowly opened the door, with his gun drawn.

He walked in and listened. He felt something familiar and he smelled something sweet. Erika was there. He was sure of it, somehow. She came around the corner then with a towel around her head. "Sergio!" she said upon seeing him.

He smiled and went to her. He hugged her tightly as the feelings of euphoria came over him. He was never so happy as he was in that moment. He looked at her and kissed her and stared at her and then kissed her again, over and over until the disbelief was gone. He didn't care how, or why she was there. All that mattered was that she was there now, and he wouldn't let her go this time.

Chapter XXVIII: Vida

Vida's mind was deeply preoccupied. As she walked along the grass near the six foot high chain link fence, she could only worry about Gabe. It had been three days since she'd been to the house, and she went back once more the night before just to make sure that he hadn't come back. She was sure that he was gone.

The sun strongly belted the top of her head, but the cool breeze flattened it out. She hardly noticed it. She thought about something he had told her, about reaching a level where other times and places could be seen. It was a place where the spirits roamed and events, people, and things could be seen from a distance. It was a place where she could see Gabe in another place and time, and even see him when he was dead and gone. He had told her that it would take many years yet to reach such a level, but she wished he'd been wrong about that. Somehow, she had the strong feeling that he was still alive. She hoped that it was a real feeling coming to her from a distant place, and that it was not just in her head.

"You just try and jump that and you'll what happens to you!" a woman's voice shouted out. Vida turned to find Francis, the less bitchy of the two bitch supervisors. Vida glared at the robust heifer. "Yeah, that's right!" Francis said, following up with a snotty laugh. Vida wanted to run across that field of grass and jump kick her in her fat face, but she bit her tongue and walked the other way. Her thoughts shifted to her current situation of problems.

Eventually, she made her way back inside to escape the sun. She thought about the two supervisors, Francis and Gladys. She hadn't seen April or Martha at all. They stayed out of the internal affairs of the day to day operations, it seemed. She could already make out the power structure, and she'd seen that Gladys, whom was supposed to do things like keep order and peace and schedule among the girls did a lot more than that.

The day before, she'd seen Gladys laughing with Lizzie, the beastly matriarch of the rest of the girls. They'd gone out of their way to make certain that Vida knew they were talking about her, in a clear effort to make her feel unwelcome and uncomfortable. Gladys then proceeded to give Vida a half portion of food for lunch and dinner, while snickering like a toddler about it. Vida told herself that she'd be moving on soon, and she tried to keep her cool. She was embarrassed for Gladys that she would play such games.

She did her best to ignore that situation while she tried to focus on the things she really cared about, like Roxy. Vida was concerned that Roxy would be discovered. She had taken her to the wooded area just across the field from the Abby. It was isolated there and Vida had taken some cardboard and a few blankets for a makeshift home for her.

Luckily, too, the security at the Abby was lax. Even with fat-ass Gladys and Francis trying to make her life hell, it had been easy to disappear for an hour in the morning and late afternoon to visit with Roxy and bring her food and water. Vida was, after all, a ninja, and as such trained specifically to conduct operations like that. Time would run out, though, if she didn't get placed in her new home soon.

In the lounge area, Vida sat in the corner area where there was a bench and a coffee table with books under it. The rest of the girls ignored her and were plastered at the TV watching Girl Code, an MTV show that Vida knew, but thought was mostly stupid.

She knew that there was a large book collection in a room down the hall, but it was closed off for renovation. So she knelt down and thumbed through the pile that was under the coffee table. There were some Dr. Seuss books, some ABC books and a few Sesame Street books. She sighed upon realizing that they were all kid books and she picked up a pink keyboard piano instead. Angie came upon her then.

"Hey, Angie!" Vida greeted, with a smile. "Come have a seat," she said, making room for her on the bench. She discreetly handed Vida a dinner roll. "Awe, thanks!" Vida whispered, give her a one handed hug. Angie smiled. "Can I play you a song?" Vida asked.

"Do you play piano?" Angie asked.

Vida laughed. "No, not really. I just know a few things. Let me see," she said, trying to think of something to play. "Well, I know you're probably a bit too old for this, but do you like Sleeping Beauty?" Angie smiled and nodded.

"Ok, cool," Vida said. She began playing the melody from the old Disney movie, and then she sang along.

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream..." She saw Angie smile and sway from side to side. Vida smiled too.

"I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam..."

"I know..."

In the flash of a moment, Lizzie had come upon them. "You can just stop that right now!" Lizzie yelled out. Gladys stood up from her desk and walked out of the room. Vida stopped playing. Her instinct was to grab the keyboard and slam large Lizzie across the cheek, but she didn't. This was her domain and she would get to keep it. She could not cause problems. She could not give them a reason to look into Gabe and go after him. She would be moving on soon and leaving these animals to wallow in their own disgrace.

"What if I don't?" Vida asked, intentionally provoking Lizzie.

"I was hoping you'd say that," Lizzie answered. In slow motion to Vida, Lizzie brought her heavy hand and slapped Vida in the face, knocking her to the side. Vida went with her momentum and fell off the bench and onto the floor. "I'm in charge around here, goodie two shoes!" Lizzie said. She picked up the keyboard and walked away with it.

Angie came to Vida and sat against her, hugging her with one arm to console her. 'Shit,' Vida thought to herself.

Later that night, she stared out of the window. She didn't want to feel sorry for herself, but she felt hopeless. She was scared. She wondered why this was happening to her.

She felt so alone. She looked out at the stars. "Where are you daddy?" she asked, and she shed a tear. "Where are you?"

The End of LA Ninja II: Revenge of the Cartel

