Chapter 2

Jocelyn Turner steeled her shoulders as she entered the ratty massage parlor with ten of her thugs in tow. Anyone who saw her would marvel at the change she'd undergone in the last fifteen years.

Gone was the naive innocent girl with chubby cheeks and freckles on her nose. Jo had grown into a five feet, six inched slender young woman, with chin-length raven black hair and with tattoos on her arms.

Jo was dressed in a sports bra, black leather jacket, ripped jeans and combat boots. A black and white bandana drooped out of her jeans pocket.

The interior of the massage parlor was as ratty as the outside. From the neon lighting and the plastic chairs in the waiting room, one could discern that it was a shady enterprise.

The receptionist, a bleach blonde with a highly voluptuous figure which she managed to squeeze into a miscropic nurse's outfit, let out an involuntary squeal of fear when she saw Jo and her men.

“How may I help you?” The receptionist asked, trying not to sound as scared as she looked, “Would you like a massage? Here's a catalog showing our masseuse and the rates we charge, to help you choose an affordable massage session.” She held out a book with quaking hands.

“Umm, no. We'll pass. I want to see your boss. Tell him that the Street Hawks are here to see him.” Jo said.

The woman nodded frantically and made a phone call, nodding at whatever the person on the other end had to say.

When she disconnected the call, she smiled at Jo, “He'll be down here as soon as possible. He asked me to offer y'all massages, on the house. Pick the masseuse of your choice from the catalog. Happy endings are guaranteed.”

Jo in return, scowled at her.

“Or I'm sure we can find you a masseur or two, depending on your tastes.” The woman added fearfully, not wanting to annoy Jo. Jo was the only female leader of an all male gang in Ganghaven, and for that, she was feared by many. Her gang had the least members, but they were very effective in striking fear into the heart of people. All of Jo's men were burly, bald by choice, and they all had a hawk tattoo on their left biceps.

The Street Hawks were known for destroying any business or store that refused to pay them protection money.

The receptionist was saved from having to deal with Jo when the owner of the massage parlor sauntered in with a huge smile on his face.

“Jo, you look good as always.” He said.

“Too bad I can't say the same 'bout you, Lenny.” She replied.

Lenny Starr, or Massage Lenny as he liked to be called was a short wiry man with beady little eyes and a soul patch. He always wore designer suits no matter the weather.

“What do you want, Jo?” He asked, looking up at her.

“I want my money and don't you dare say shit about how you already paid some other gang, or how you don't have any money, because it won't fly with me.” Jo warned, and her men made sounds of approval.

“Of course, I wouldn't.” Lenny said graciously.

“How much do you want?”

“A thousand.” Jo replied.

“A thousand?!” Lenny asked as his eyes bulged at the sum. “The others are charging half of that.”

“Well, we ain't the others now, are we?” Jo asked, cracking her knuckles.

Again, her men made murmurs of assent.

Lenny swallowed and laughed, “No, you are different from the rest. I'll pop up to my office and see if I can get the money.”

“That's good. Rex here will go with you, to make sure you don't develop any funny ideas.” Jo said.

Rex stepped out from behind and made a motion for Lenny to lead the way. Lenny looked at the hulk who looked big enough to stomp on him, and hurriedly went up to get the money.

Some minutes later, both men returned. Rex held a fat wad of notes in his hands which he gave to Jo. Jo transferred it to one of the men behind her, “Count this, make sure it's complete.”

“He already counted it up there.” Lenny protested, eager to get rid of Jo and her scary crew.

Jo gave him a glare which made him shut up.

The man finished counting the notes and nodded, “They're complete, boss.”

“Good. Lenny, very good.” Jo ssid, patting Lenny's shoulder.

“So you'll be on your way?” He asked hopefully.

Jo laughed sardonically, “No.” She turned to Rex, “Where did he get the money from?”

“A safe.” Rex replied.

“Any more cash in there?”

“Yeah. There were like five of that kind of wad.”

“Good. Take him back upstairs and retrieve the rest.” Jo ordered.

“B-b-but why? I gave you what you asked for.” Lenny stuttered, confused and afraid.

“Oh, poor Lenny. Word on the street is that most of the girls you've hired to 'give out massages' aren't here of their own accord.” Jo said smoothly, trying to hide her anger. Just the other day, she'd found out that Lenny was forcing young girls into prostitution without paying them.

“And we heard you've got minors here, too.” Jo continued.

“Those girls, their families owe me money. They're just working off their debts.” Lenny said defensively.

“They'll have to do that another way.” Jo said.

At the same time, Rex pulled out a pistol and pointed it at Lenny, “Move, Tiny.”

Lenny began to shed tears as he went back upstairs.

When they were gone, Jo looked at the receptionist who had observed everything and growled, “Leave!”

The woman ran away as fast as she could, splitting the seam of her outfit in the process.

Then, Jo and her team brought out baseball bats and spray cans with which the vandalized the reception.

When they were through, they entered the massage rooms, disrupting the 'massages'. Men and women in all stages of undress ran out.

When Rex and Lenny returned with a bulky bag envelope, Jo and her crew were on hand to welcome them.

Lenny looked at what had become of his beloved establishment and let out a sob, crumpling to the floor.

Jo walked up to his sitting form, “Lenny, if I ever hear that you're using forced labour to run this place again, you'll wish you were dead.”

With that threat, she and her crew left. When they were outside, Jo gave the bag envelope to Rex, “Find out all the girls who were forced to work there and give the money to them.” She ordered.

*   *   *

Meanwhile, on the other side of the block, another gang leader was about to wreak havoc on another enterprise. His name was Asher Mason, but everyone called him Ash. He was tall and lean but still with enough muscle to indimidate people if and when he wanted.

He had brown hair, a sculpted jaw, full sensual lips and green eyes.

Many women came onto him, wanting to be his baby mama or mistress, but he sent them all away.

His gang, called the Sopranos, was also another gang to be feared in Ganghaven. At first, people hadn't taken them seriously, but after Ash had singlehandedly put eight men in the ICU without any weapon, people had learned to respect them.

Asher and his crew of five men knocked on the door of a storage facility and waited.

“Who's you?” Someone asked from inside.

“It's the Sopranos. Open up, we've got business to discuss.” Ash said.

“Shit!” The voice exclaimed.

“Now, now. There's no need for that. We come in peace.” Ash said, trying to allay the fears of whoever was inside.

“Fine, fine. I'm coming.”

Seconds later, the door was opened, and a man who had the lower part of his covered with a mask showed up, holding a gun. He took in the scary sight that was six dangerous men in leather jackets and jeans who had purple bandanas tied around their heads.

“Whaddaya want?” He asked.

“I just want to talk.” Ash replied.

“Well, make it snappy. I'm mighty busy.” The man ordered.

Ash smiled, and in the twinkle of an eye, he squeezed the hand holding the gun, causing the man to cry out and release the gun. Ash hit him with the butt of the gun and the man collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Ash and his men entered hastily, taking the unconscious man with them. There was a staircase that led underground. They took it, and when they saw a biometric lock on a door, they propped the man up and put his thumb to the scanner.

The door opened, and loud music filled Ash's ears. The song was of the rap genre. Ash scowled with distaste and wondered why anyone would listen to such.

The room he entered was a laboratory filled test tubes, burners and other lab equipment. There was a heady scent in the air.

At first, Ash and his men were not noticed, so he took in the two people in goggles, face masks, lab coats and gloves as they poured and stirred different chemicals.

After a while, they were noticed by the scientists, who turned off the music and hurried over to where they were, taking off their goggles.

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing in here? You wanna contaminate the product?” One asked.

“Yeah. How did you get in here? Where's Drew?” The other asked.

“Hi, Amy and Stephen. Good to see you too. Oh, Drew's outside, unconscious.” Ash said, making no effort to leave the room.

Amy and Stephen were a couple who ran one of the numerous meth labs in Ganghaven. They had been high school chemistry teachers at first, but when the school closed down, they decided to start their own meth lab instead of looking for a teaching job elsewhere.

“Ash, what is it you want? We can go outside and talk.” Amy pleaded.

“If you want our product, we're more than willing to take an order, but for now, we have our hands full.” Stephen said, anxious to get back to work.

“Yes. You see, therein lies the problem; your work.” Ash said, shaking his head.

“C'mon Ash, don't go all righteous on us all of a sudden. We've been paying you tax so we can operate on your turf.” Stephen said.

“Yeah, I know. We shook hands on it, didn't we?” Ash said.

“Yeah, we did.” Stephen replied quickly.

“We agreed on some conditions, didn't we?” Ash asked.

“Ash, where's this leading to?” Amy asked, seemingly confused.

“Answer the question!” Ash roared. Amy hid behind Stephen.

“Yes, we did.” Stephen replied, sweating.

“Then why are you going against our deal?” Ash asked. His men came closer, intimidating the couple with their scowls and facial tattoos.

“What are you talking about?” Amy asked with a quivering voice.

“Don't try to act dumb! You swore never to sell drugs to minors!” Ash raged.

“But we didn't.” She replied.

Ash took a deep breath and asked one of his men to hand him a phone. He took it and pulled up a video clip. “Watch carefully.” He instructed.

Amy and Stephen shook with fright as the video played. It showed some obvious minors entering the storage facility and exiting some minutes later with some clear sachets that contained powdery substances.

Amy and Stephen gulped simultaneously.

“W-we didn't know they were minors.” Stephen stuttered.

“Don't insult my intelligence!” Ash thundered, getting angrier by the second.

“Fine! Yeah, we sold some powder to a couple of minors. So what? It's not the end of the world.” Amy said, hoping to defuse some of Ash's anger, but instead, he was enraged further.

“So what?! Do you know one of those children is in the ICU, fighting for his life as we speak?! He overdosed on meth! His parents are beside themselves!” Ash shouted.

From nowhere, Stephen whipped out a pistol, “How were we to know that stupid kid would actually take an overdose?” He asked as he pointed the gun at Ash.

“Do you think that's wise?” Ash asked, unbothered.

Immediately, Ash's men all pulled out their own firearms and pointed it at the couple.

Stephen put his firearm down and raised both arms in the air alongside Amy.

“I want you out of here. Never return to my turf, and never ever sell drugs to kids again, or I'll give you a taste of your own medicine.” Ash threatened.

He turned to his men and spoke, “Don't let them take anything with them. Send them on their way, and then burn this place to the ground.”