Chương 58: Chapter 58: Bullseye
In the evening, as darkness descended, a group of individuals gathered in an abandoned wooden house not far from Clayton.
Boyette, perched on a small crate, reached into his crotch, grabbed a handful of white powder, and brought it to his nose for a quick, refreshing sniff.
Across from him, four men sat on battered sofas and wooden chairs, all dressed in black attire, blending into the shadows.
One of the bald men named Tom spoke up, "Boss Boyette, we just took over this spot first. Are you planning to takeover the market? While you may hold a higher rank in the gang, we're not afraid of you."
Boyette responded, "Tom, let's talk business."
Tom raised a warning finger, cautioning, "We're not short on cash."
Jerry, a disheveled companion, dramatically produced a box of tequila. Upon opening it, it revealed rolls of U.S. dollars.
Boyette stood up, kicked the box open, sending large amount of twenty-dollar bills scattering around the floor.
"Join me in taking over Clayton," Boyette proposed. "All this is yours."
Tom inquired, "Who's our target?"
Recalling information gathered by Adam Smith, Boyette had suspicions about who they should target.
Considering the ongoing battle for customers past ten o'clock, combined with past grievances, Boyette was sure that this would be the best opportunity for revenge. He stated, "Our target is a young actor who seems to have some money. Let's go together, capture him, and make him pay. Whatever you extract is yours."
Spike and Butch, the other two men, were eager to get started, but Tom, the wiser of the group, hesitated. "Does he live alone?"
Boyette confirmed, "He lives alone."
Jerry, the one with a little less common sense, leaned in and whispered to Tom, "It's five of us against one. We've got the upper hand."
Tom considered the money strewn on the floor and the box of tequila, a substantial disparity in earnings. He took a deep breath, silencing his thoughts. "We'll take the job."
Boyette chuckled and took out his M1911, checking the magazine.
The others also prepared their pistols.
Tom handed Boyette a black suit, saying, "Put this on. We're the kings of the night!"
Boyette swiftly changed into the black attire, perfectly complementing his dark complexion.
---
In the Clayton Community, a few dim streetlights still cast faint illumination, offering some comfort compared to the darkness outside.
Martin, dressed casually, meticulously inspected each door and window before returning to the sofa. A shotgun lay within easy reach beneath the coffee table.
The bedroom door creaked open, and Elena stealthily emerged, leaping onto Martin.
Just as Martin was about to react, the bedroom door opened once more, and he instinctively turned to see Lily's face.
"False alarm!" Elena noticed and turned back with annoyance.
Martin retrieved something from under the coffee table and tossed it towards Lily.
The pink water bottle struck the door frame with a clatter.
The noise of the falling bottle alerted occupants in the other bedroom. Hall, clutching a baseball bat, and Harris, holding a pistol, rushed out.
Any previous interest that Martin and Elena might have had quickly dissipated.
Elena stood up, her growl cutting through the tension, "Back to bed!"
Both bedroom doors were closed, and Martin turn the light off.
Under the cover of his blanket, Martin lost track of time. He found himself dreaming of single-handedly taking down three models when the clattering of cans suddenly snapped him awake.
Trained by Bruce countless times, Martin jumped to his feet, grabbed the shotgun, and approached the window to investigate.
The cans clattered again, louder than any wind could account for.
As Martin focused on the noise, he heard movement behind him and turned to see Elena, barefoot and armed with her shotgun, emerging from the darkness.
"I heard a noise, and that's when I saw you," she explained.
Martin motioned for her to take cover behind a sturdy brick support wall.
He peered outside, but the streetlights were quite distant, leaving the surroundings in complete darkness.
Elena, feeling a chill, couldn't help but ask, "Did James sneak out?"
Just as Martin strained to identify the voices, a sudden scream pierced the night.
"Ah!" followed by an oddly familiar voice scolding, "Who set this trap? And rigged it with nails!"
Of course, it was Hall who had dug the trap.
Martin decided to intimidate the intruders and yelled, "Who's out there? Leave now! I've got a gun..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a gunshot rang out, causing Martin to instinctively flinch.
Someone outside had heard his voice and fired a shot. In the pitch-black night, the bullets whizzed past into the unknown.
"It's that scoundrel!" the familiar voice yelled again. "I've seen him around late at night, and that was his voice just now."
Martin squinted but couldn't see anything in the pitch darkness. He raised his shotgun and fired a shot through the open window, aiming toward the source of the sound.
Bang!
The gunshot shattered the stillness of the night.
"Fake! Take down that bastard!"
A burst of gunfire erupted, fortunately limited to handguns.
Elena, from another window, fired a shot into the sky, silencing her attackers momentarily.
Martin instructed her, "Keep out of sight! Don't let the three idiots inside the house come out. Call Wood and the others, ask the Neighborhood Alliance for backup."
Rather than relying on the police, who might be delayed, Martin preferred to call on the recently formed Neighborhood Alliance.
Elena took Martin's phone and dialed Wood and others. They were roused from their sleep but readily agreed to provide support.
The gunfire outside ceased, and Martin extended the barrel of his gun. Regardless of whether he could see anyone or not, he fired four shots consecutively before hurriedly crouching down to reload.
Though there were no screams outside, the sound of gunshots persisted.
Boom! Bang!
Gunfire echoed in the distance. The Neighborhood Alliance had arrived, and dozens of guns fired from both the front and rear.
"Let's get out of here!" an outsider yelled, showing some sense. "Boyet, there are too many of them!"
Another voice chimed in angrily, "Tom, don't use my name! Are you all morons? Jerry, my ankle's twisted. Help me!"
The sound of clattering cans filled the air, and Martin fired five shots in rapid succession.
"Ah! My butt!"
A fortunate shot from Martin's shotgun hit one of them.
More gunfire erupted, and someone outside shouted, "Come on, forget Boyet! Who told him to have such a big ass; now he can't run!"
Martin reloaded his shotgun and waved to the three idiots peeking through the door. "Get back inside! Don't come out; you'll get yourselves killed!"
Harris directed his younger siblings back to their rooms and guarded the door of the two bedrooms with his pistol.
The sound of car engines outside signaled the arrival of reinforcements, and the headlights from several vehicles illuminated the area in front of the house.
Nani's voice boomed, "Martin, Elena, you two still breathing?"
Martin, cautious as ever, didn't expose himself and shouted back, "We're okay. I think I got one of those bastards. Valencia, see that big-ass guy over there? I used a bullet to blast open his back side!"
Valencia exclaimed with excitement, "Look, there's a guy with a huge ass!"
Martin boasted, "My shooting skills, handling one versus two, even one versus three, it's no big deal."
Wood then reminded, "Come out, it's safe."
Martin looked up, opened the door, pointed his gun into the air, and stepped outside.
Wood clarified, "Don't go too far. Secure the scene." He addressed everyone in unison, "Old man Boyet's gang attacked our homes, and we had to defend ourselves."
The others nodded in agreement.
The night's unfortunate events had united them in the face of a common threat, and they would remain closely bonded in the days to come.
Wood made another call to the police and then approached the wounded old man dressed in black, Martin reached the fence of the yard and spotted the groaning old man.
Black skin, bald head, black clothes...
No wonder he was hard to see; it was a good camouflage.
Martin took another look and recognized Boyette, the owner of the bar.
"You scum, don't celebrate too soon!" Boyette's bottom lip was swollen, but he was still defiant. "The South City gang won't let you off!"
Martin swung his gun, the butt of it connecting forcefully with Boyette's mouth. "I'm going to teach you a lesson!"
More than half of Boyette's teeth flew out of his mouth, and he made a muffled, incoherent sound when he tried to speak.
Martin declared, "Everyone saw it; he did it to himself."
The others laughed and concurred, "Yes, he did it to himself!"
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