by Gary Ballard
“You want to eradicate the brown, the black, the yellow and the red!” Chahine shouted. “You want the 21st century race war so you can have your white castles!”
“I’m brown, you half-wit!” screamed Soto.
“He’s got a point. His skin is brown, though his soul is about as white as it gets.” Stonewall grinned at tÀoft LGhe mayor. “But we all know this got nothing to do with race. It’s about having and not having.”
Bridge interrupted the accusations. “So we’re at a bit of an impasse, then. The mayor and his corporate masters want shiny town, and are prepared to commit legal genocide to get it. The Families want a place of their own, without being corporate chattel. They want to deal their drugs, they want to sling hos and shoot each other up and be general pains-in-the-asses. But if this keeps up, we all know who’s going to win.” He glared at Nacho. “And it ain’t you, brother.”
Stonewall reinforced the point. “Your bench ain’t got the depth, Nacho. None of us do, not even if we combined all our forces.”
“So our choices are this. The Families can keep fighting amongst themselves, then fight the CLED until they get completely wiped out. The CLED can’t back down, because they are technically in the legal right to enforce the laws, no matter how brutally they choose to do so. El Diablos and Los Magos can call a truce, broker a peace and stop the madness but that won’t really matter now, will it, Mr. Mayor?” Soto tried to hold Bridge’s gaze, but his eyes fell to the floor. He coughed and shook his head. “CLED is going to hunt you down in every bore hole you can find, and they will end you.”
“But have any of you read the LGL Act, I mean actually read the bits and pieces of it that no one but fucking lawyers and assholes like me will read?” Aristotle raised his hand, as did Stonewall and Chahine. “Yeah, and you nerds. Of course you’ve read it.”
“The Act gives the LGL corporations a startling amount of leeway in how they run their domains. It’s actually quite ingenious. If I was a suspicious bastard, and I am, I’d think the corporations themselves wrote every single crack and loophole they could find into it. One of those loopholes is tucked away in a spot no one would think to look, an ingenious little phrase – ‘autonomous zone.’ It even sounds awesome, don’t it?”
“What are you driving at, Bridge?” Soto snapped. Martel’s eyebrow arched up, and his body shifted imperceptibly towards Bridge, as if straining to be closer to this new idea.
“LGL power is dependent on the corporation meeting certain targets, one of which is crime rate. The city has to be peaceful, since the whole point of the LGL was to calm the cities down after the riots. This gang war has significantly hurt your crime numbers haven’t they, Mr. Mayor? Yeah, thought so. An ‘autonomous zone’ is meant to fudge those numbers. It’s an accounting black hole. It allows Chronosoft to set up a certain sector of the city as a zone with no laws, and thus, no crime. I suppose they took the idea from the relaxation of drug laws in Amsterdam in the late 20th. You, Mr. Mayor, can rope off an entire area of the city, up to three or four square miles, and suspend all laws in that area. Anyone wants to set up shop there can do so, they can sell anything they want, like drugs, or whores, they can shoot anybody they want, indulge in any perversity. But they get no police protection, and other than basic subsistence services like electricity, water, medical supplies and food shipments, the LGL gives them nothing. Citizens from outside are allowed to enter the zone to do whatever they wantÀs bas, but they’re on their own if they do.”
“You want me to create a free-for-all ghetto in the middle of LA?” Soto asked, with incredulous anger written across his mug.
“That’s exactly what I want. You’re standing in ground zero of Gangland. The entirety of the old Warehouse District would be the autonomous zone. All the Families would be required to restrict their activities to this area alone. They could continue this war as long as they want without any interference from CLED, and continue to do their gangster shit without fear of reprisal. It would be their home, completely autonomous from your government’s interference, a little reservation with its own rules, open to any who want to live there.”
Nacho began laughing. “Bridge, you are one loco motherfucker.”
“For once, I’d have to agree with the gangster,” Soto replied smoothly. “Why would I agree to that sort of thing?”
“Maybe you don’t want to see the bodies of thousands of gangsters on the daily news?” Soto’s face changed into a smirk. “Yeah, I know, you control the media outlets so the only people who would report on it would be the leakers, like this Sanderson Fielding guy. It would certainly help your crime numbers go down. No dice on that one? Yeah, didn’t think so either.”
Bridge rubbed his chin, continuing the pantomime as he built to the finish. “No, what you really need to see is the money. You need to see some profit out of this. And that’s what he’s here to provide.” Bridge pointed at Thames.
“Your honor, Bridge has come to me with quite a proposal. I’ve taken it to my superiors in the Chronosoft Entertainment division. They ran it up the flag pole, tossed some numbers around and it looks promising.”
“What does?”
“An international sensation, the kind of event television we haven’t seen this decade. I don’t know if you saw any of the viewership numbers on the riots, but let me tell you, the news divisions made the entire year’s worth of profits in just those few weeks by showing as much riot footage as they could. Real-life violence and misery, that is box office gold; platinum, even. An absolute hit. What if we could bring that kind of violent, over the top event to the world’s televisions every single week? Do you know what kind of ad revenue we’d get off that? What kind of download cut? Gangland will be the biggest hit this century! It will rewrite the rules of reality television!”
Bridge picked up the thread. “The Families will pledge to provide a certain amount of combat content once a week. Film crews will be stationed with the Families, recording their battles, charting losses, putting real personalities out there living and dying on the firing lines. They’ll be bigger media stars than athletes. You’ll all be television stars.”
“The revenue sharing package will be split four ways. Obviously, Chronosoft Entertainment gets a cut. The Families will get a cut as well. The citÀn" coy gets reimbursed the cost of food, ammo, electricity, water, meds and food. And the other exec producer gets a percentage.” Thames pointed at Bridge.
“You?” Soto spat.
Bridge smiled as large as life. “Me. My idea, after all, and my legwork to get all the players together. I don’t work for free, you know.”
“You son of a bitch,” Stonewall said in a whisper. He had spent the entire time looking down at the floor, listening intently, his anger growing with every word. “Bridge, you son of a bitch. You’re turning us into a fucking ultraviolence circus act.”
“Sorry, Stoney. A brother’s got to eat.”
“I’ll give you something to eat, you cocksucker!” Stonewall started to aim a swing at Bridge, only to be held back by the combined strength of Danton, Aristotle and Masa.
“Save it, Stonewall,” Masa hissed. “Sick as it may be, it makes a certain sense. We get to do what we’d be doing anyway, unfettered by the laws.”
“And how many of our people get to die for the GlobalNet’s sick pleasure?”
“Less.”
Stonewall pointed an angry finger at Bridge over the restraints. “We’re done, puta! Done, you hear me?”
“Yeah, I got you, brother,” Bridge replied with his jaw set. He avoided Aristotle’s accusing glare.
Chahine spoke up. “What about the Panthers? We don’t believe in violence.”
“Then you better get to believing,” Bridge replied. “You don’t have to participate, but you’re going to have to coordinate. Bottle City will be the eyes, controlling all the camera crews, which will be their street soldiers. In exchange, their crèches are off-limits as are the crews.”
“You still get to ha
ve your land scheme, Mr. Mayor. The city gets a cut of what is likely to be a huge GlobalNet hit. The Families get to survive. Chronosoft gets a peaceful city. What else could you want?”
The idea began seeping into Soto’s thoughts, and a look of slowly building disgust informed his mood. “It’s fucking barbaric. What kind of sick mind would think something up?”
“Is it any sicker than a mayor that starts a gang war for a development scheme?”
“What are you talking about? El Diablos started this war!”
“I know that’s what you’d like everyone to think, but let’s put the cards all out on the table here. There’s a reason El Diablos went after Pedro and stirred up all this shÀrepliit. They had no chance on their own, and their last leader knew that. Too bad he got whacked, right, Nacho? I’m sure it was your idea, but it wasn’t only your idea, was it? Your second made it possible, didn’t he? Chimuelo poked and prodded and when it seemed like you’d never take your shot, he came up with the one thing you thought you were lacking. Guns. He’s the one who brought The Greek to you, ain’t he? He’s the guy that was responsible for all that heavy-duty gear you’ve been sporting. Once you started getting heavily armed, you took your shot. Did you ever stop to think where Chimuelo got his connection? It wasn’t me. In fact, nobody I know had anything to do with this guy The Greek. They’d never heard of him. Now, I don’t claim to know everybody working LA, but somebody that can bring that kind of heavy-duty equipment to the party, that’s a guy I want to know. And that’s the kind of guy I’d hear something about from somebody.”
“Of course, when you’ve got a direct line to the mayor’s office, it’s pretty easy to get that kind of equipment without causing a stir. Ain’t that right, Chimmie Chim Chim?”
“What’s he talking about, Chimuelo?” Nacho asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he stared daggers into his second-in-command.
“See, the mayor isn’t just taking advantage of the opportunity presented by the war. He created it.”
“That’s preposterous! The mayor’s office has been trying to shut down these gangs since the second I took office.” Bridge had to admire the politician’s implacable façade, the ability to lie to everyone in earshot without any overt sign of duplicity. Of course, Bridge knew Soto was lying through his teeth.
“I never said you weren’t. Your office has been trying to end the gang ‘problem,’ it’s been trying very hard to do just that thing. Such a tough nut to crack as the gang problem created by the riots takes vision, creativity. Like embedding an undercover cop so deep he ends up bending the ear of one of the gang leaders.” The accusing glares began. Eyes drifted towards Chimuelo, who stood silent beside his leader. “Not an easy task, I’d imagine. But you’re good, Chimmy Chim. Really, really good. You almost had me fooled but I knew something was off about you the minute you started talking. Or should I call you Officer Vasquez?” Chimuelo’s outer demeanor didn’t change, but something clicked in his eyes, the final realization of the cornered. “Good job on faking your own death. Better job than I did, but then I didn’t have the resources of the mayor’s office and the entire Chronosoft LGL behind me.”
“He’s full of shit,” Chimuelo growled and spat at Bridge’s feet. “You know me, Nacho, you know I’m solid.”
Nacho came to his second’s defense admirably. “This is my boy, Bridge. What makes you think I should trust una se extiende la rata like you?”
“Nothing. I don’t expÀng ect you to trust me one bit. Hell, I don’t expect anyone to believe me. Of course, when the dead body of a cybernetic freak job like these two,” he pointed at the Special Squad cops lying on the floor, “shows up on a Sanderson Fielding report, I expect everybody to believe it, if only a little bit. And that’s all I really need is for people to believe a little bit of the story.”
“Picture it. It starts with a mayor interested in confiscating all sorts of neighborhood property, having the city auction it off for redevelopment, then buying up all that land at pennies on the dollar. All to reshape the Los Angeles landscape into the kind of corporate wet dream that makes every LGL happy in the pants. That Mayor doesn’t have one set of scruples, so he embeds a dead undercover cop in one of the big gangs in town, gets that cop to start the biggest gang war this city has seen since the ‘80’s. He supplies that cop with some of the hottest gear this side of the fucking military. Gangsters do what gangsters do. Give them a gun, they shoot something, give them a bigger gun, they make a bigger racket, they blow up really big shit. When that gang violence gets splattered on every GlobalNet feed from here to Timbuktu, he has no choice but to react with as much force as he can muster. The LGL gives their law enforcement a huge amount of leeway in such situations. After all, the Act was all about quelling urban violence by any means necessary. And the type of mayor who impaled dead militia members on spikes at the edges of his neighborhood during the riots to keep rioters out, that kind of hardcore motherfucker didn’t bat an eyelash at wiping out every member of the Families he could find.”
Bridge drove a stare into Soto’s eyes like a spear. “Isn’t that about how it went down?” When Soto didn’t answer, he continued. “Of course, I queered the deal a bit, didn’t I? As soon as I got involved in bringing all the interested parties to the table, you had to act quickly. Peace doesn’t do much for you, does it? You get accused of negotiating with terrorists or criminals, your land grab gets stopped in its tracks with the Families still operating, albeit in a reduced capacity. So you had to stop the whole thing, and the best way to do that is make sure the Families don’t agree to the deal. All it takes is one Family leader missing this meeting and the whole deal goes up in smoke. I bet when you heard one of Chronosoft’s finest was charged with escorting the head of Los Magos to this dance, you jumped for joy. A nice juicy target to aim Special Squad at, am I right?” Soto’s stony expression cracked a little. “What I can’t quite figure out is why you let him.” Bridge pointed at Martel.
The man with the intense reptilian stare shrugged. “Field testing. We knew Ricardo would be traveling with you, and we knew you’d have a technomancer in your crew.” Soto started to protest, but a raised hand from Martel silenced him. “If they succeeded, we got both an accurate gauge of their power and a measure of the technomancer’s ability as well. If they didn’t, that’s invaluable data as well.”
“I hope you weren’t expecting any sort of video footage from that mask there,” Bridge replied. “Video and wizards don’t get along.”
“It’s not necessary.” Martel’s placid tone sent butterflies whizzing through Bridge’s stomach. The fixer could look around this room at any moment and see some of the deadliest sons of bitches in California, maybe in the entire United States. But something toÀheard ld him that none could match the danger this man posed.
“Now, Mr. Mayor, would you rather this type of story get posted to the GlobalNet with pictures and video of your freak shows, or do we have some sort of deal?”
“You bastard,” Soto hissed. “I will have your balls for breakfast. I will…”
“Save the posturing, Arturo. In the grand scheme of things, this really isn’t that big a deal,” Martel interrupted. “There are certainly advantages to an autonomous zone. They will most certainly offset any fallout from seeming weak on crime. And they are certainly preferable to another political scandal attributed to the LGL’s first elected administration.”
Thames could barely contain his excitement. “So we’re in business?”
The expression on Soto’s face was priceless, worth almost every ounce of trouble Bridge had gone through to see it. A cross between swallowing dead roadkill and being prison raped, Soto seemed on the verge of an apoplectic rage. He said through clenched teeth, “The mayor’s office has no objection.”
Bridge turned to the Families. AsiaTown nodded silently as one. The Panthers nodded solemnly. The crystalline voice of Far-el’s hologram echoed throughout the immense interior with an affirmative.
Stonewa
ll stood slightly apart from Bridge, a study in silent rage. His fists clenched at his side, the ex-footballer’s brow furrowed with conflicting emotions. The one dream Stonewall had long held for the Families was a home of their own, a sovereign nation from which to rebuild a society that benefited all who lived in it. That dream floated within reach, but the cost tormented him. Finally, his eyes met Bridge’s. They shared a knowing glance, and all the regret, all the disappointment and all the despair of the solution before them played on their faces. “Los Magos will abide by the agreement.” He paused, then raised an accusing finger towards Bridge. “But you and me, brother. You and me are done.”
Bridge nodded gravely.
“Well, ain’t that all sad and shit,” Nacho sneered. “Too bad it’s all for nothing. El Diablos won’t be nobody’s circus act. We do not agree to this.”
Bridge sighed. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I expected. Too bad.” He raised an arm, playing the final ace up his sleeve, literally. “Daylight.” The room exploded with light.
The room stood stock-still for long seconds, unable to process the effects of Bridge’s action. As the first to react, Danton got to Bridge’s arm before anyone, grabbing him by the wrist and twisting him downward into a pained clump on the gritty floor. Her knee dug into his back, grime from the floÀidgor scratching his stubbled cheek. “GUN!” she shouted. Those who had hesitated reacted and weapons reappeared in hands with the quickness from all points on the circle. From his pinned position, Bridge observed his handiwork.
Nacho lay directly across from Bridge, sprawled on his back with arms thrown lifelessly out from his body. The gang leader’s chest heaved once, rattled and ceased to move. His bodyguards fanned their guns away from them, seeking to pick the proper target from a confusing array of possible hostiles. Chimuelo showed no concern whatsoever for his stricken leader. One of the bodyguards finally reached down and felt at Nacho’s neck. Obviously confused at what exact signs of life he must look for, he fumbled around, feeling both sides of Nacho’s neck while keeping his eyes on the targets around him. Unable to find any discernible sign of life, he took his eyes off the circle, focusing his full attention on the body. “Chimuelo, I think he’s dead, yo.”
