The Fuse

Lin An put down his phone and looked away from the text message.

When gunfire suddenly erupted outside the window, popping and crackling like someone setting off a string of damp firecrackers, Darnell sprang up from the floor as if he'd been shocked.

He made a beeline for the front door, deftly locking the steel security door, then hurried back to the window facing the street. Crouching, he lifted a corner of the curtain, already launching into his running commentary.

"Motherfucker, a bunch of Ni Ge are shooting at each other... Let's see, the Rainstorm Gang guys are wearing blue bandanas, and the other side is the Crips... They're using cars for cover. That gray Ford—yeah, the one that belongs to Old Jensen. He's gonna cry when he gets up tomorrow morning...

"Oh, some idiot shot the side mirror. The shards went flying. Old Jensen's gonna be even more upset... I remember his insurance expired. This is bad. He's gonna go bankrupt."

"Darnell."

"What?"

He turned around and froze.

Lin An had two guns in his hands.

Two Glock 19s. Lin An even held one out to him.

"Take it."

"Whoa!"

Darnell took the gun. His hands were so big that the Glock 19 looked like a toy in them.

"Bro, I'm really touched. You've got a gun and you're willing to share one with me, just like back at the abandoned factory..."

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"But, I've got one question for you... Just one."

Lin An tilted his head.

"Are you planning to go down there?"

Lin An didn't say anything. He just smiled.

Darnell let out a loud sigh.

"I knew it... Bro, why are you so eager to fight?"

"Because it's fun. I enjoy it."

"What's fun?"

"Shooting."

"I really don't get you."

As he spoke, Darnell checked the gun in his hands.

He dropped the magazine, checked the bullets, put it back in, and racked the slide. He handled it so skillfully that he didn't even realize how practiced he was.

"You can stay here and keep watch. I'll handle things downstairs by myself."

"Mm-hmm."

Darnell grunted, not taking a word of what his bro said to heart.

Lin An walked to the window and lifted the curtain.

Bullet Screen comments flowed along the edge of his vision.

[Seven people: three from the Rainstorm Gang, four from the Crips]

[The Rainstorm Gang are trying to circle around from the alley beside the convenience store]

[The big Crips guy has a Tec-9, a submachine gun sold on a technicality under the label of a semi-automatic pistol. That thing's garbage; it can't hit a cow from ten meters away]

[All the streetlights are out. Visibility's terrible. If the streamer goes down there, it'll be a one-sided slaughter]

[Streamer: Darkness is my home turf]

[The boxes are marked: seven red outlines, three blue and four red. Blue is the Rainstorm Gang, red is the Crips]

The gunfire was intense. Lin An went to the window and peered down through a gap in the curtain. The comments had already marked the shooters' positions, but he still wanted to see the situation for himself, so he'd know what to expect when he went downstairs.

Lin An tilted his head, his eye pressed to the gap in the curtain. Muzzle flashes flickered in the darkness below, like several fluorescent tubes breaking at once.

Bullet Screen comments marked the positions of all seven gunmen on the street with clear blue and red boxes.

"Darnell."

"Mm-hmm."

"By the way, why have there been gunfights in Jamaica every day lately?"

Darnell was crouched by the other side of the window. At that, he perked up at once.

"You haven't heard? The Crips have gone crazy."

"I've been running back and forth to the precinct. I don't know what's going on... What do you mean, crazy?"

"They say their leader and one of their guys disappeared in the Jamaica Community."

Darnell spoke at lightning speed, excitedly reporting a juicy bit of gossip.

"You know how it is in Jamaica. It's always been Rainstorm Gang territory. Ten years, and the rules are set in stone... The Rainstorm Gang collects protection money along Jamaica Avenue, while the Crips handle wholesale drugs up north. They're separated by an abandoned auto shop, and neither side crosses the line."

He paused and glanced out the window.

The gunfire briefly stopped. They were evidently changing magazines.

The comments were mocking both sides for being unprofessional.

"And then?"

"The Rainstorm Gang guys denied it. They said they'd never seen any Crips around, and that Jamaica belonged to them anyway. What were Crips doing there?"

[I get it, it's like the Japanese soldiers going missing]

[An excuse to start a war]

"And then?"

Lin An kept an eye on the commotion downstairs as he asked casually.

Darnell licked his lips.

"Then, a couple of days ago, Rainstorm Gang gunmen crossed the auto shop and attacked a Crips hideout. They killed the guys inside and claimed it was revenge because the Crips had robbed their armored car."

He held up two fingers.

"Since then, there've been fights every night. Yesterday, two Rainstorm Gang guys went up against three Crips outside a laundromat on 107th Street. This afternoon in South Jamaica, the Rainstorm Gang cornered a Crips lieutenant at a gas station and broke both his legs with a baseball bat. And now they're fighting again tonight."

He thought for a moment.

"Soap said this is what happens when gangs start carving up territory again.

"First they test each other, then they retaliate, and then they fight every day until one side can't take it anymore and pulls out, or the cops get involved. But the 103rd Precinct probably won't step in right away. Based on what happened before, they'll wait until both sides are exhausted before making a move."

Lin An pulled his gaze away from the gap in the curtain and looked at Darnell.

"I don't know about that."

Darnell shrugged.

"Isn't all gang business just thinking about taking territory and selling Enhancement Serum all day?"

Two more gunshots rang out outside the window, then stopped. Someone shouted something, but the walls and distance muffled it.

Darnell looked down at the Glock in his hands.

Then he looked up at Lin An.

"Hold on, bro."

"That money the Rainstorm Gang got robbed of—could it be the bag you picked up in the Abandoned Industrial Zone?"

"Probably. Could be something else."

Lin An smiled.

"Do you think we should return the money to the Rainstorm Gang?"

"How could we..."

Darnell spun the Glock around in his hand, looking cool. The gun nearly slipped out.

"We didn't rob the Rainstorm Gang. We picked this up from a trash heap. Someone else threw it away..."

"All right, it's about time."

Lin An stepped back from the window and pulled the slide to chamber a round.

"You're staying here by yourself?"

"I'm coming with you."

He took a deep breath.

"Fine, I'll go down with you, but not because I want to. If you die, Mom will think I didn't protect my friend, and she'll be heartbroken. Chen Meiling will blame me too... You get what I mean?"

Lin An didn't say anything. He just kept smiling.

"Hey, listen to me. Stop smiling..."

Darnell didn't get to finish. Something new was happening outside.

Sirens—sudden and urgent.

Lin An and Darnell froze for a moment, then quickly returned to the window and looked out from either side.

"WTF, how did the cops get here so fast?"

As they watched, two police cars raced in from the end of the street. Their tires screeched against the pavement, and their headlights carved two beams through the dark, exposing both sides of the gunfight.

The cars hadn't even come to a full stop before their doors were kicked open.

As the first leg stepped out, a shotgun blasted. A barrel poked through the open car window and fired straight into the street without a word of warning.

One Rainstorm Gang gunman immediately collapsed in front of a convenience store. The officer's first shot had been dead-on.

The second cop got out on the other side with his pistol raised. Two quick shots, and the big Crips guy with the Tec-9 took a bullet to the forehead, then slumped face-first onto the Ford's hood.

[Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit]

[What kind of cops are these? They just started killing people?]

[Was the NYPD really this hardcore in 2009?]

[Wait, aren't they supposed to shout a warning first?]

[I know these two cops. They're O'Brien and Patrick]

[What?]

[The boxes marked them. The one on the left with the shotgun is Patrick, and the one on the right with the pistol is O'Brien. The other two are new faces]

[How'd they get here so fast?]

[Wait, they're coming this way]

On the street, the remaining gang gunmen were completely stunned. Seriously, what was with these guys? Why were they so ruthless?

They'd been shooting at each other for ages without anyone dying. The cops had been there for less than ten seconds, and now there were two bodies on the ground.

"Run! It's Mad Dog and Cleaner... Damn it, how'd they get here so fast?"

Once they realized what was happening, the gunmen started running. Rainstorm Gang and Crips alike fled down the street, ducked into alleys, and headed anywhere the police lights couldn't reach.

The four officers who'd gotten out of the cars didn't pursue them.

Patrick and one of the unfamiliar officers stayed alert and checked the bodies on the ground. O'Brien and the other officer headed straight for the apartment building where Lin An was.

Before long, Lin An heard heavy footsteps in the stairwell outside. Leather shoes struck the concrete steps, each step full of urgency.

Bang, bang, bang...

Someone pounded on Darnell's steel security door with little regard for manners.

"Dr. Lin An! Dr. Lin An, are you in there?"

It was O'Brien's voice.

Darnell froze. He looked down at the gun in his hand, then at Lin An, then at the security door. He immediately handed the pistol over without thinking, and Lin An took the Glock 19.

"Go open the door."

"No problem. Anything for my best bro."

Darnell cracked a joke as he hurried to the door. Before opening it, he glanced back at Lin An.

Lin An stood in the middle of the living room, empty-handed. Both Glock 19s had disappeared completely, as though they'd never existed.

Darnell opened his mouth, wanting to ask, "Where'd you hide them?" But in the end, he just shook his head.

"Wizard,"

he muttered, then turned and opened the door.

"Well... Officer O'Brien!"

"Is Dr. Lin An here?"

O'Brien didn't look at Darnell at all. With the shotgun in his hand and the muzzle pointed at the ground, he looked over Darnell's shoulder and fixed his gaze on Lin An in the living room.

"He is."

Darnell stepped aside.

"Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home..."

Darnell didn't get to finish. O'Brien had already stepped inside.

Another officer followed him in, a younger, unfamiliar face. He held a pistol and warily scanned the room.

Darnell recognized him. He was Donovan, a new cop from the precinct who'd graduated from the police academy three months ago. Darnell had been going to the 103rd Precinct every day lately, so he knew him well.

"Close the door,"

O'Brien ordered.

Darnell obediently shut it.

As he closed the door, he saw Patrick coming up the stairs, unhurried, his right hand resting on the holster at his waist.

Patrick nodded to Darnell.

Darnell nodded back.

Then the door closed.

In the living room, O'Brien stood in front of Lin An. He leaned the shotgun against the arm of the sofa. He looked a little more energetic than he had the last time they met.

"Dr. Lin An, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

Lin An gave the patrol officer a smile.

"Officer O'Brien, you got here fast."

"We were nearby,"

O'Brien said.

"When we got the report of gunfire, our patrol car was only three blocks away."

He paused.

"You... didn't go downstairs, did you?"

Lin An raised an eyebrow.

"No, I watched from the window."

O'Brien nodded and let out a breath of relief.

"Good."

He said.

"We'll take care of things downstairs. You're an academic; don't go down there. The bodies are disgusting."

Darnell leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded, watched the scene, and pursed his lips.

"Donovan, check the windows."

Donovan walked over to the street-facing window, pulled back the curtain, and took a look outside.

"Clear."

O'Brien grunted.

He turned to Lin An and warned him.

"Dr. Lin An, try not to go out at night for the next few days. If you do go out during the day, avoid places with few people... Or, when you need to go out, call me and I'll come pick you up..."

A knock at the door interrupted him.

"O'Brien."

Patrick's voice came from outside.

"We've taken care of things downstairs."

Donovan went to open the door. Patrick walked in, a little blood staining his gloves.

He nodded to Lin An and exchanged a look with O'Brien.

"I called an ambulance as usual."

He said.

"But neither of them made it."

"The gun?"

"Secured."

Patrick patted the evidence bag at his waist.

"Tec-9. The serial number's been filed off, and there are eleven rounds left in the magazine."

O'Brien picked up the shotgun leaning against the sofa.

"Dr. Lin An, we have to go. There's still a report to write about what happened downstairs."

"Thanks for all your effort."

Lin An said.

O'Brien walked to the door and stopped.

"Dr. Lin An."

"Yeah?"

"If you see or hear anything, remember to call me. Don't call 911; call my cell. I keep it on twenty-four hours a day."

Patrick followed behind him. When he reached the door, he paused too and glanced back at Lin An.

"Doctor, if you need a gun to defend yourself, you can ask me... Buying one at a gun store isn't exactly convenient."

Lin An tilted his head.

"Oh, thanks. I'll ask if I need one."

He said.

Patrick nodded, turned, and left as well.

The door closed.