25 Bait
Warning! This chapter is a bit brutal.
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Late at night, in a dingy, run-down tenement on the fifth floor, Kaplan, a burly but short fellow, gathered with his three most trusted confidants, Randal, Albert, and Norman.
"We gotta be cautious, boys," Kaplan said in a hushed voice, "we're meetin' with Richie, our sugar supplier." He rubbed his hands together, a glint in his eye. "This here transaction's gonna set us up good."
Randal, a lanky fella with a crooked nose, leaned in. "Yeah, but we gotta watch our backs. Word on the street is, the coppers are sniffin' around."
Albert, a stocky man, interjected, "Ain't nothin' to worry 'bout, Randal. We'll meet Richie at the abandoned warehouse, just like always, over by the docks."
Norman, the youngest of the group, gulped nervously. "I don't know, fellas. This whole sugar smugglin' racket ain't sittin' right with me no more."
Kaplan placed a reassuring hand on Norman's shoulder. "Hey, kid, we're in this together. We'll be fine as long as we stick to the plan and don't attract attention. We'll meet Richie at the warehouse, get the goods, and we're home free. Got it?"
The others nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of determination and apprehension. The stakes were high, but the reward was too sweet to pass up.
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In Lorenzo's dimly lit apartment, a knock on the door startled him from his thoughts. He cautiously approached the door and peered through the peephole. A young kid, no older than 16, stood outside, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Lorenzo knew who it was— an underling of the Kaplan gang. He'd made a deal with the kid earlier to buy some "sugar" as part of a larger plan.
Lorenzo opened the door, affecting a casual air. "Yeah, kid? You got what I asked for?"
The kid looked around nervously, making sure the coast was clear. "You're Lorenzo, right? You wanted a pound of the stuff?"
"That's right," Lorenzo said, feigning eagerness. "I've been waitin' all day."
The kid hesitated, glancing at the cramped space around him. "A pound, huh? That'll set you back 25 cents."
"Hey, kid," Lorenzo said, feigning indignation, "a half-pound of this stuff only goes for four cents on the market. You're charging me a pretty penny for the whole thing."
The kid snorted. "Yeah, well, you can't buy more than your ration, can ya? And this here's the black market. Supply and demand, pal. I'm doin' you a favor."
Lorenzo pretended to deliberate. "Alright, alright. Where's the sugar?"
"No, no," the kid said, waving his hands. "You pay up first, then we talk delivery."
Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you'll actually give me the goods?"
The kid smirked. "I'm with the Kaplan gang, see? We got a reputation to uphold. Besides, you don't want no trouble, do ya?"
The kid stopped and turned around, a look of irritation on his young face. "What now?"
Lorenzo reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Give this to Albert. It's… important." He emphasized the word, hoping the kid would catch on to the urgency.
The kid eyed the letter suspiciously, but took it anyway.
The kid took the letter but couldn't help his curiosity. "Hey, what's this letter for?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "It's for Albert, ain't it? He's a big shot in the gang."
"Mind your own business, kid," Lorenzo said, trying to sound irritated. "It's between me and Albert, alright? Just make sure he gets it."
The kid shrugged, stuffing the letter into his jacket pocket. "Whatever you say, mister. I ain't got time for this."
As the kid disappeared down the hallway, Lorenzo allowed himself a small smile. "This better work," he muttered to himself. "If Albert falls for this simple bait, our plan's as good as done."
He paced the cramped apartment, imagining the look on the gangster's face when he read the letter. This was the first step in taking down the Kaplan gang, and it all started with a simple sugar deal.
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On the fourth floor of the rundown tenement, Albert, still reeling from his meeting with Kaplan and the others, was in the middle of an intense kiss with a young prostitute.
His hands roamed her curves, eager to explore every inch of her body. He was just about to lead her to the bed when a knock on the door interrupted them.
"Boss Albert," a voice interrupted.
Albert frowned, but he recognized the kid at the door. "What is it, Jack?"
He cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "Boss, I got this letter for you."
Albert took the letter, his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Who's it from?"
Before Jack could respond, the woman interjected, "Just ignore it, Albert. We got more important things to discuss."
Albert waved her off and gestured for her to be quiet. He opened the letter, his eyes widening as he read the contents:
"You fucking bastard. If you're so tough, meet me in the alley between the second building after this tenement. Let's see how tough you really are, you shitty motherfucker. You know what this is about. I'm the guy you kicked in the back a few hours ago."
Albert's eyes widened as he read the letter, his anger growing with each word. "That son of a bitch! You're asking for it!" he growled.
He crumpled the letter in his fist, his face flushed with rage. The young woman, unable to read, looked at him with concern.
"What's wrong, Albert?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"It's nothing you need to worry about," he said, standing up abruptly. "Just wait here, alright?"
"But where are you going?" she called after him, but Albert was already out the door and down the stairs, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"I'll teach that punk a lesson he won't forget," he muttered under his breath as he stormed through the darkened streets, the letter's words fueling his rage with every step.
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In the dimly lit alley, Lorenzo, Max, and Patrick waited in the shadows, their hearts pounding in anticipation.
"You sure this is gonna work?" Max asked, his voice laced with doubt.
Lorenzo smiled grimly. "Just wait and see."
Patrick shifted uncomfortably. "How do we know he'll even fall for it?"
Before anyone could respond, footsteps echoed down the alleyway, Albert, appeared around the corner, his face twisted with rage.
"You little brat," he growled, spotting Lorenzo. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson you won't forget!"
Albert's eyes widened as he noticed the others in the shadows. "Who are these guys? Your backup?" He sneered, reaching for his knife. "It doesn't matter. You're all dead."
Max and Patrick exchanged nervous glances as they eyed Albert's knife, their hands shaking on their own weapons. But not Lorenzo. He stood his ground, a smirk on his face.
"A guy with a knife, huh? You think that scares us?"
Albert's face contorted with rage, and before anyone could blink, he lunged at them, the knife glinting in the moonlight.
"Looks like I underestimated this gu's cunning," Lorenzo thought, as he quickly side-stepped Albert's knife swing. He took advantage of the moment and delivered a swift kick to Albert's head, sending him reeling.
"Ugh!" Albert staggered, his ears ringing. "Damn it, you little punk!" he growled, surprised by Lorenzo's agility.
Albert swung his knife wildly, but Lorenzo evaded each thrust with ease, countering with a flurry of punches and kicks.
Max, Patrick, and Philip watched in awe as Lorenzo fought like a seasoned brawler.
Albert didn't expect this much resistance from the young man. He underestimated him, and now it was costing him dearly. A well-placed kick to the stomach sent him reeling, and his grip on the knife loosened.
"Now, Albert, thank you for joining us," Lorenzo said, squatting down in front of the fallen man. He grabbed a fistful of Albert's hair and sneered. "Let's talk about your gang's next sugar deal, shall we?"
Albert's eyes widened with fear, realizing he'd been lured into a trap. "I'll never tell you, you little shit!" he spat, spraying saliva on Lorenzo's shirt.
Lorenzo's fist connected with Albert's jaw, sending a tooth flying. Albert groaned in agony, blood trickling from his split lip.
"Another chance," Lorenzo growled.
Albert remained silent, glaring defiantly.
Lorenzo turned to his cohorts. "Max, Patrick, Philip, do your job. Beat it out of him."
The trio exchanged nervous glances, but the coldness in Lorenzo's eyes spurred them into action.
They never realized how cruel Lorenzo was until now, even though they had a fight with him before. But now, as they watched him mercilessly beating someone else, it dawned on them that he was truly cut out for a life of crime.
They advanced on the helpless Albert, their faces twisted with newfound ruthlessness.
They set upon Albert with a newfound fervor, each punch and kick fueled by their own fear and ambition. They would prove themselves, no matter the cost.
Albert's screams echoed through the alley as the beating continued. "Stop! Stop!" he finally screamed, blood trickling from his nose and mouth. "The sugar deal's at the abandon warehouse, near the docks! Tonight, 10 PM!"
Lorenzo nodded, satisfied. "Good boy." He stood up, dusting off his hands. "Now, we wait."
After they left the bloodied and broken Albert in the alley, unable to move, Lorenzo, Max, and the others headed to an abandoned warehouse near the docks. Max knew the way since he had been there before, and it was where they usually went for deals with their suppliers.
