“Want one, Chief Rocka?” Smiley offers me a food pellet. I decline. Smiley deals with the loss by eating. The gold grill covering her bottom row of teeth looks tarnished, not brilliant like when she first made the trade after accumulating so many hundreds of sueño tabs.
Smiley pulls out her cap and tags over a sign made by the Deadly Venoms. Of course they would use an audacious and tacky tag that’s barely legible. Huge round bubble letters in their colors of black and pink appear as if written by a toddler. Smiley covers their ink and blazes the LMC in a solid graf style, clean and straight, with our colors of red and gold.
The violence has been steady growing ever since we’ve been inching closer to Déesse. It’s one thing to fight in the public space during monthly scheduled throwdowns; it’s quite another to cancel another gang member off hours. The Deadly Venoms are rotten to the core. There’s no loyalty. No sense of rules, just anarchy. They’ve cheated and bashed their way to be placed in front of Déesse. They won’t last. They’ll pay for what they did to Manos Dura. When that’s done, we will be the top dogs of this city. I won’t have to bloody my hands on trash anymore. I’ll be next to my leader, in her army, keeping Mega City safe from the degenerates who live past the border in Cemi Territory.
“Few more hours and I’m heading to the Luna Club,” Truck says. “Screw this patrol.” Truck stands tall, with large arms and broad shoulders. It took everyone on my team to keep her from walking into Deadly Venoms’ neighborhood and ending them. There are times when Truck reacts so impulsively. She’s been handling the death of Mano with more violence. Toilers are getting the brunt of it. Otherwise Truck spends her time partying at the Luna Club. We each have our ways.
Smiley presses her face up against a window of a building. It’s a training camp for young girls to learn how to fight. The building is small. There are only a few official training camps in Mega City. The one Truck and I went through is farther east and it is by far the biggest. Families from every corner traveled to the camp in the hopes their daughter would be taken. If you can put up with the brutal training, you are guaranteed a place to sleep and eat. Most young girls come from nothing. The training camps at least teach you how to fight. It’s not pretty, yet I made it through.
“Let’s wake them up,” Smiley says with her mischievous grin. Smiley is short and round. A trickster, she loves to charm people into liking her and then stealing from them with her gold grin. She’s also known to bite the crap out of opponents.
“Naw, let’s send Nena,” Truck says. “Trade her for a better model.”
Truck says this loud enough for Nena to hear. Nena doesn’t react. Good girl. She’s got to learn these insults are only a small part of being one of us. Truck won’t relent until Nena gets mad or gives up.
“Remember the time when Manos threw a malasuerte into their dorms. It was raining, and them young girls ran out screaming when the malasuerte blew up,” Smiley says. “Manos was ruthless.”
Smiley and Shi walk side by side. Their shoulders bump into each other. Manos would have been in the middle. The three of them, always up to no good.
“The girl was notorious. Manos convinced me to give up my Codigo5G because she swore on everything mine was broken,” Shi says. She tucks her long dark bangs behind her ears. Her frame is slender, which makes her quick and hard to restrain in a throwdown. “Made me think she was doing me a favor.”
“Or the time she tricked me into thinking ‘Made in China’ meant a girl named China made the item,” Smiley says. “Got so busted when I tried to trade a pair of jeans I found in an abandoned building and got nothing for them.”
I suppress a laugh. “Pay attention,” I say instead of joining in. Shi and Smiley straighten up and concentrate on patrolling. I hold back from them and take a breather. The pressure feels worse when they tell stories about Manos. Why didn’t I stop her from going? I was too busy having a good time. We have to be on alert 24-7. Always.
“Can’t stop thinking about her?” Truck stands by me. Her eyes are red from lack of sleep during the day.
“And you?”
“I won’t stop until the Deadly Venoms pay for the pain. For our pain.”
“We can’t afford to get sloppy,” I say. “The Deadly Venoms are in it to win it. Except they don’t care how they do it.”
“That’s why you’re Chief Rocka. You strategize while I flex.” She pulls off her helmet and goggles. Her dark brown twisted locks now reach the center of her back. I sense a hint of anger in her tone. She thinks I’m being a coward for holding back on the Deadly Venoms. I’m only thinking of our future. Déesse surely heard what went down with Manos. If we retaliate outside of the throwdown, then we appear weak. We lack discipline. There’s no doubt the upcoming fight will land in our favor and Déesse will have no question as to who the better crew is.
I continue to walk.
In the distance I can hear music pumping. There’s a party going on in the Towers. It’s the same deal every night. Not only do Mega City’s chosen guards live there, but so do many other elite. Engineers who develop ways to use wind and solar for electricity, urban farmers who create our food pellets, scientists who maintain the sueños to ease people’s daily pain. If you’re smart and can actually better the city, then Déesse wants you close to her. It makes sense. Most toilers down here can barely read or write.
“Shi and Smiley, go patrol the north side,” I say. “Let’s finish this up.”
My two soldiers walk off. It’s just me and Truck. When I decided to create the LMCs, the first person I turned to was Truck. We’d survived the training camp together. She knew me, and I knew her. When I stepped to her about the idea, she didn’t even hesitate. I told her about my dream of living in the Towers. This way of life was meant to be only temporary. Although she didn’t quite see the future as I did, Truck trusted me enough to follow.
“Nalah, let’s hit up Luna Club,” Truck says. “We deserve it. Manos would have wanted us to.”
Truck is the only person allowed to call me by my real name, Nalah. On the occasions when she does, she speaks as a friend and not as my second-in-command. Hearing my name keeps me grounded, reminds me of our connection. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale. A cold drink and a hot dish. Maybe even a warm bath. The Luna Club sounds like the right type of action I need.
“Where’s Nena?” I say, suddenly realizing we hadn’t seen or heard her in a bit. The streetlamps she lit still glow. A few blocks away there’s only darkness. We listen. Do I hear a muffled cry? Truck gives me a look, and we bolt forward. We slow down when we hear Nena’s voice. I give Truck the nod, and she pulls back, finds a concrete slab to crouch down behind and waits. Ready.
“Help me, Chief Rocka,” Nena says. Her tiny voice is a scratchy note on this hateful night.
A few yards ahead of me is a guy. He has one arm wrapped around Nena’s neck. With his other arm he yanks her hand back so hard tears stream down her face. Dumb girl. How did she get caught up in this stupidity?
I knew in my gut Nena needed more training. She wasn’t ready. Nena wanted to prove she was down. Now look at her. I’ll need to knock this guy out because Nena can’t soldier. Damn her for being such a rookie.