Saint And Sinners (105 page)

“You want me to die?!” Saint screamed over the noise pollution of the city in chaos
and the pounding rain, beating his enemy with aquatic fists of fury. “I’m going to
introduce you to the Angel of Death, Koki! I’m going to hand deliver you to my Angelic
father!” He pressed a bit harder, his anger, hatred and disgust for the man boiling
deep within him, now steaming out of his fucking pores. But then…he looked further
into the Demon Child’s eyes, and saw flashes of something, much like the sight of
a new penny shining through the waters of a murky pond. Keeping his hold on him, he
looked a bit deeper, and then, he saw it… There Saint was as a little boy, crying
on his slumped, broken down mattress in the tiny area he called his bedroom in the
South Bronx. Such a depressing scene—a little half Egyptian, half Korean boy, all
in the alone in the big, wide world…

Koki grinned widely, even as Saint continued to squeeze the life out of him, infuriated
by the continuous torment the man attempted to land at his feet.

“I know this is what you want! I’d rather you live imprisoned within your own sick,
sordid world, but never be ever capable of harming another person again. But you won’t
stop!”

“…I…can’t…stop. I will not stop…for you…or…anyone else. I have…integrity,” the man
choked out, seemingly beginning to lose consciousness. Heat poured from underneath
the bridge, vibrancy, life and death. He could hear a million heartbeats, confirming
his suspicions…he had company. He’d planned for that as well, but for now he stayed
on the task at hand.

“I know you can’t, Koki…so I’m going to help you.” Saint swallowed down a shred of
pity, snatched his blade from his back pocket and jammed it in the hellion’s throat.
He made it swift, not daring to drag the shit out. He wanted this over and to go fucking
home!

“Suh…Saint.” Koki maintained his smile as he gurgled a bit of blood, and began to
relax his resistance.

“…Yes.” Saint paused, the knife deep in the man’s flesh, but the rain brushed the
blood away before he could delight in the redness pouring forth from the bastard’s
skin.

“You love her… I can smell it…on you…What…does it feel…like…to be…in love?” Koki’s
eyes took on a warmer tone as his skin grew paler. He looked eagerly into Saint’s
eyes, almost pleading. Not for his life…no, but for an answer to his dying question.
The man waved his hand, as if to shoo someone away, someone attempting to approach,
but not clear to the naked eye. He snarled, prepared to take any mothafucka out on
a drop of a dime, but once again, gained his composure. He glanced down at him curiously
as the rain continued to pour upon him, washing the blood away, blending it into the
streaming rain, carting his sins away.

“…It feels like a place you’ll never know, unfortunately, Koki.” He swallowed. “It
feels like
heaven
. Imagine the best sex you’ve ever had, that feeling, the pinnacle, flowing through
your heart a hundred times over, all day…
every
day…” And with that, he finished the deed. Koki’s eyes rolled back and his body grew
limp, while at the same time, Saint removed his skull in one clean slice. He caught
his breath for a few seconds, then cast the severed head into the violent, rising
river…

*

All floors in
Lennox Hill Hospital were jam packed with frantic staff and victims of the storm.
This included Cruz who now slept soundly while Lawrence, bloodied and bruised, stood
outside his door with a tightly wrapped newspaper under his arm. All he could think
was, ‘poor kid’ when he saw him. He’d risked his life for the cause, and in that,
one found true honor. This was something Lawrence could appreciate, especially since
he knew his dear friend Saint had had the fight of his life. He wouldn’t be pleased
to report back they’d lost quite a few Angel Children in the pandemonium, including
Armondo Martinez, who’d fought a damn good fight, but succumbed to a stab in the heart.
Nevertheless, he died with a smile on his face and Lawrence prayed over his dead body
as he closed his eyes for the final time.

He looked around the place, at all the commotion, then spotted a man storming towards
him, his hair dripping with rain, his dark clothes drenched…doused to the bone. Lawrence
curled his lips in a sardonic smile. He had no doubt about the asshole’s identity—Koki’s
brother, Ataru.

“Move,” the man demanded, cracking his knuckles as if he were someone for Lawrence
to fear.

Grinning, Lawrence tossed his damp, long tresses over his shoulder. “Move?” he asked
with a raised eyebrow.

“You heard me the first time, Chief.”

“So you can kill Cruz, I take it? I’m so sorry, Ataru, but I can’t let you do that.”

“I’m not going to play games with you. I will murder you right here in this fucking
hospital if you do not get the hell out of my way!” The pale Japanese man trembled
with anger, his eyes bloodshot and a vein protruding in the middle of his forehead
and neck.

Lawrence sighed and put his hands on his hips, causing the newspaper to fall and smack
the ground. The moment Ataru looked down at it, he grabbed the fucker and snapped
his neck clean, then watched the carcass slump to the floor. As casual and can be,
he reached down to retrieve his newspaper, tucked it under his arm and resumed his
post.

A few moments later, he casually waved over a nurse.

“Hey, this guy collapsed right in front of me! Don’t know who he is,” he said. “But
I think he needs medical attention…”

*

There would be
no special burial for Koki; it was far too risky. No, he had to be dropped into the
water below to become carp food and a fisherman’s worse nightmare. Saint watched as
one faint splash echoed, and then another, much louder, when the rest of Koki’s body
hit the ocean surface, too. After a moment of deliberation, he turned away and walked
the bridge, feeling as if he weighed a ton from his saturated threads. The night moved
as shadows came alive, and his glowing red eyes dared a mothafucka to move one damn
muscle in his direction. As he approached the end of the bridge, he could clearly
hear the sirens and fire trucks, and even the pounding rain began to slow down as
he assumed his new post. He looked down at his hands, fully expecting to see them
caked with blood. He was wrong—the rain had completely washed all of it away, leaving
his form almost without a trace. He soon approached his car, illegally parked on the
side on FDR Drive. After hopping inside, he took a little while to decompress.

I’m alive…

He grinned as he turned on his music, immediately falling under the spell of Eric
B. and Rakim, “Follow the Leader”, on full blast.

Taking a ragged breath, he immediately called Roman.

“I’m finished,” he choked out, while the musical beat and clean lyrics soothed his
broken soul. “You can open it up now.” Saint swiped at the rain water that still streamed
from his nose and face.

“…I’m already on it.”

“I knew you were near,” Saint said with a smirk.

“Yeah, I figured you did, but I made sure not to get too close, in case he picked
up my scent. I heeded what you said, but I refused to have you sitting out there alone,
man. Not going to happen. You told me back in L.A. you had some dealings going on
with Demon Children. I know how they operate. At first I thought he was getting the
best of you, and I’d have to come down there.”

“Good that you didn’t, man. He would have sounded an alarm.”

“What are you talking about?”

“…There were over three hundred of ’em, Roman, on the under side of the bridge, hanging
there like damn bats. I kept my word, so he kept his to some degree. If I had brought
my clique, or had you jump in, it would’ve been mayhem; we would have lost more lives.
All he had to do was say the word and they would have tried to destroy me, but he
never did and I read him as I was taking his fucking life.”

“Damn. What did you find out?”

“Koki was the best at what he did for a number of reasons, man, but he
did
have an interesting set of beliefs. He told them to stay back…to not raise one finger.”

Roman was quiet for a long while as Saint started his car and began to drive through
the oddly desolate streets.

“Why do you think that was? I mean, if he had their help, they could have tried to
overpower you and he could have lived.”

“…Because it is more
honorable
to die for your cause than to die because you couldn’t handle defeat. That’s who
Koki was, and remained determined to be.”

Saint disconnected, removed the grenade from his pocket and placed it delicately in
the car cup holder. He’d brought the damn thing in case he had to pull the pin and
blow up the entire fucking bridge, kill all the demon children vying to get a taste
of him, just in case they got any ideas. He sighed, then made another call. The phone
rang a couple of times, until a raspy, haze-filled voice answered.

“Little brother…Lil’ Pharaoh,” Bomb uttered on the other end, sounding as if he’d
been in a deep sleep.

“It’s done. It’s over man. You’ve been vindicated.”

“Good. All of this bad weather, that was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“Come over for dinner next week. I mean it. Don’t make me chase you down.” Bomb declared.

Saint laughed lightly. “I won’t, man. I promise.”

“I hear your good music! That’s that shit!” Bomb laughed raucously, complimenting
him. “Takes me back!”

“Ain’t it though! Yeah…” Saint grinned reflectively. After a few moments of silence,
the man brought the somber tone into full focus.

“I love you.” Bomb’s voice broke up a bit on the phone. “You’re like my flesh ’nd
blood. Don’t you ever forget that!”

“I love you too, big brother.”

Bomb disconnected the call fast, most likely not wanting to get emotional on the damn
phone. Saint’s last call was his most important of all…

Xenia picked up on the second ring, and from her short breaths, he could tell the
woman was a ball of twitching nerves.

“I’m finished, baby. I’m comin’ home. It’s over.”

“Hurry to me… hurry to me so I can wrap my arms around you!” Her voice trembled.

“I’m almost there. Put the children in their rooms, grab two glasses of wine, fluff
your pillow, and lie on the bed completely naked and spread-eagled for me. When I
walk through that damn door, I want to hunt you, stalk you, find you, devour you and
claim you as mine, all over again. I need to make love to you again, baby…and I need
to do it until we
both
can’t take it anymore. Whose pussy is that?” He smirked as he swiped his tongue along
his bottom lip, then gently sunk his teeth into it, getting off on her hurried breathing.

“It’s yours…”

“I
know
it is…and I’m comin’ home to get what’s mine.” He disconnected the phone and put
his foot on the accelerator.

People started to re-emerge from the confines of their homes now that the rain had
completely stopped. Trees were knocked down, debris seemed to be everywhere, and many
cars looked as if they’d been wrecked…but this was a small price to pay.

For these people of New York had no clue—that evening could have been the last on
which they could have had a choice, the free will the Creator promised to them. A
fair choice, one that had the pros and cons to create growing pains and lessons learned.
A chance for survival after choosing the wrong game to play, an opportunity for redemption
and understanding after taking a risk in the hopes of love conquering all. Yeah…it
had been a big torrential downpour. Prodigious torrents are infamous for leaving destructive
paths in their wake, but they also wipe the slate clean for a brand new, fresh start…

*