Spoilers:
Content Rating: 12
Type: Other
Characters: Jin and Akira Fukuyama, Ben Johnson, Andrew Heywood
Summary: Their parents lost in a drive-by shooting, two boys, now men, seek the retribution they feel they deserve.

Content advice: contains strong language and descriptions of violence.
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Chapter One

Walking down the street, one small hand holding his MotherÂ’s hand and the other holding his FatherÂ’s, Jin FukuyamaÂ’s most worrying thought in the world was what he would get for lunch, or which toy he should play with. Stretching his legs in an effort to keep up with his Father, the eight year old tripped, yanking his hands out of his parents grip and banging his chin on the floor. That was the luckiest fall Jin Fukuyama ever had.

As his foot hit the uneven paving slab and he hurtled forward, a car screeched around a corner. Matte black with black tinted windows, only one thing could be seen in the car. A semi-automatic gun muzzle sticking out of the rolled down window. As Jin hit the pavement, bullets flew from the gun in a seemingly target less spray.

Screams in the air now. Fear radiates from the people on the street like a bad smell. Several people are hit by bullets and thrown backwards, crashing through shop windows. Crouching to protect his son, Akira Fukuyama takes a bullet to the hip and is knocked to the floor, instantly unconscious. His wife isnÂ’t as lucky. The first bullet screams from the gun and penetrates her thorax, piercing her right breast and travelling through her lung. Spun by the bullet, the second one enters through her back and liquefies her heart. She is dead when she hits the floor. When she does hit the floor, she lands on top of Jin. Crying out in pain, he crawls out from under her.

"Mom? Mom, wake up!" he cries, choking on tears.

She never did wake up though. Neither did Ben JohnsonÂ’s parents. Five years old, heÂ’d been in his FatherÂ’s arms when the bullet had entered his MotherÂ’s brain through her forehead. An instant later his Father had taken a bullet in the neck, tearing straight through his spinal cord. When he dropped Ben on the floor, BenÂ’s arm snapped. That wound healed quickly. His emotions didnÂ’t.

***

Nineteen Years LaterÂ…

"Pass me the rice, Jin," asked Ben, grinning at his adoptive brother.

"Sure thing, little brother."

He was anything but little though. Six feet, three inches tall, he towered over Jin, who was five feet seven and a bit, as he so often told people. Add to that a musculature built up from equal parts gym work, martial arts training and hard labour and Ben was huge. Jin on the other hand, took after his Father, Akira. Short, but with lean, flexible muscles, he was well built and good looking. Long dark hair pulled back in a traditional Japanese ponytail showed respect for his Father, who tried to preserve his heritage.

"Stop kidding around, knuckleheads,"

This came from Jessica, BenÂ’s girlfriend. To BenÂ’s huge frame, she was tiny in stature, but huge in personality and confidence. Recently graduating with a Masters in philosophy, Ben often joked she had his share of the brains. Slim, with an attractively curvy figure, not many people would deny that she was gorgeous. Wearing a flowing dress of a respectable length, she dangled her legs over the bench she was sitting at, teasing Ben, who couldnÂ’t resist her even if he wanted to.

"Yes, do stop kidding around. This is a serious matter. Revenge will not bring your Mother back Jin, or either of your parents Ben," added Akira, between spoonfuls of rice.

"No it wonÂ’t, but their killer deserves to pay. Heywood is the biggest mobster in the city now and my contacts at the station can get me to him," retorted Jin.

"If the legal system canÂ’t bring him to justice, then we should," chipped in Ben.

"No, thatÂ’s wrong. I canÂ’t believe that," Jessica said, shaking her head.

"If you kill Heywood, youÂ’ll be as bad as he is. And youÂ’ll get yourselves killed in the process. DonÂ’t put us through that," she said quietly, resting her hand on BenÂ’s and rubbing lightly.

Getting up from the table, Jin took his bowl to the sink and leaned against the work surface, looking his Father in the eyes, seeing the pride and respect in them.

"This man killed our parents. He killed your wife, Dad. DonÂ’t you want him to pay?"

"Of course I do, Jin. But vigilantism is not the way. You are a police officer, you should know that," Akira said, sombrely.

"What being a police officer tells me is that Heywood cannot be touched by the law, and someone needs to take him down before he kills more families."

"If that has to be us, then weÂ’ll do it. We can do it, and weÂ’d be irresponsible not to. You canÂ’t change our minds," added Ben, squeezing JessicaÂ’s hand tightly in his own.

Jessica looked to Akira for recognition and he nodded, lowering his head in acceptance.

"Okay then. But donÂ’t kill him, and you have to be careful. We donÂ’t want to lose either of you."

***

Andrew Heywood put on his jacket, marvelling at how smooth the material was.

I guess it should be, for a $1000 suit, he said to himself.

Moving around his desk, made from the finest mahogany, he went to the door and opened it. He could have shouted at his Lieutenant, Vince, to come in, but it was polite to answer the door. Vince was the opposite of Heywood. Where Vince was buff, Heywood was slight. Vince was rough, Heywood was sophisticated, a man of culture. ThatÂ’s what he told the outside world anyway.

"Get the fuck in here, Vince," he said.

"Yes sir. You wanted me sir?"

"Yeah, I wanted you, you dumb fuck. Where are my guns?" asked Heywood, angrily.

"TheyÂ’re at the pier, sir, waiting to be unloaded."

Heywood took a step closer to Vince, who although much bigger, was visibly scared. A bead of sweat trickled down VinceÂ’s forehead into his eye and he blinked rapidly to get it out.

"Well get to the pier and get the guns to the fucking warehouse you dumb piece of shit!" he screamed in VinceÂ’s face.

"If my guns get found by the pier patrol, itÂ’s going to cost me a fortune in bribes to cover it up. And if that happens, IÂ’m going to, IÂ’m going to take it out on you, fuckface."

"Yes sir, IÂ’ll take care of it right now," said Vince, determined to make a hasty retreat.

"You do that. And send Skinner in."

As Vince left the room, Heywood heard him talking to Skinner outside. Sure enough, in a minute, Skinner, a tall man, even bigger than Vince, walked through the door.

"Shut the door behind you," Heywood said to him, taking off his jacket.

As Skinner turned around to shut the door, Heywood pulled a gun from a holster behind his back. When Skinner turned around, Heywood shot him in the kneecap, dropping him to his knees with a sickening crack. Stepping towards him slowly, he whipped Skinner in the face with the gun, knocking him to the floor.

Then, spitting on him, he shot him in the head, spilling the contents of it onto the floor.

"Snitches donÂ’t deserve an explaination."

© Matthew Smith, 2004