From his forth story window Hermes could observe the street below. Often distracting himself on purpose from his online work and his crypto account trading and tweeking.
He'd often see fights in the traffic or strangely dressed characters screaming out either to get relief or attention. The only time he averted his gaze was when the local narco gang convoy came in just before dusk. The street below anchored Hermes and welcomed his brain to take a micro-rests between his online piece work jobs.
One of the places he would want to be able to see from his window perhaps was his local coffee house, where a certain waitress worked. It was directly under his building on the street level, never having to give excuses for his many visits as it was basically on his doorstep.
It was a bright sunny monday Hermes took the stairs instead of the elevator, believing it could replace any actual physical exercise. Optimistic blue through the long narrow windows of the stairwell.
The entry bell rang Hermes almost able to ignore the sound refocusing on his path toward the front counter of the coffee house fidling with napkins and glancing over them to see if Anastasia was there. Of course she was. Her shift was in the morning, Hermes wouldn't miss it for the world. Her smile would give him more pep than the high caffeine content of the coffee, lasting him all day.
"Have you got dirty hands or are you trying to hide behind the napkins?" she said provokingly.
The fact he had a place where his favorite toast and coffee were served to him without even having to order it, on top of that served by an angel made Hermes feel like a king.
"How do you get the buttered toast so right here?" Hermes deflected.
"Our chef uses a special method he brought all the way to San Miguel de allende from Colombia."Anastasia passed the toast over the counter to him.
"Wow, did he share it with you, do you think it's something I could do at home?"
"Only if you own a toaster" Hermes looked down doubtfully then looked up and grinned.
Anastasia's captivating smile expanded into fits of laughter.
"You know, if this coffee mug had a mouth, it’d be laughing, I admire your sense of humor," he said, she couldn’t hide her smile.
Before she could answer, the door slammed open, the glass partially shattering out of it. Five men entered, each one exuding the kind of arrogance that came with unchecked power.
The leader, Tiburon Bala. No mask. No hesitation. Just business. A few of his men also brazenly without masks raised submachine guns, looking menacingly at all present.
"Everyone down. Now."
The sound of gunfire erupted, screams following as bodies hit the ground. Hermes had time to react before a thug shoved him down, sending him sprawling beneath a table. He heard Anastasia cry out, her voice cut short with a sharp intake of breath.
He twisted his neck just in time to see her crumple, a stain of red spreading across her apron. Helplessness choked him. Rage boiled in his chest, there was nothing he could do.
The manager, who had hidden the moment the gang entered, forces to reappear when Tiburon grabbed Anastasia by the neck and pressed his gun to her temple.
"Tavares, show your face, or i'll waste your favorite waitress over here."
Hermes frowned.
"Ah, there you are," Tiburon said, smirking as the manager’s face drained of color.
"We've decided we like the look of your place and want to offer you a business proposal, you interested?"
The manager’s voice trembled. "Please… Don't hurt anyone I'll cooperate."
Tiburon raised his brow to him, motioning to one of his men.
"Well in that case."
A heated metal stamp appeared, its edges glowing red. Without hesitation, Tiburon ripped the man's polo and pressed it against his chest. The sizzle of burning flesh filled the room, followed by a strangled scream. The word APEX across the manager's chest.
"Little apex mascot now," Tiburon said. "Here’s the deal. You store my product in the back. You exchange my counterfeit notes for real cash. You keep your mouth shut. And to make sure you stay smart, I’ll be placing one of my boys here."
He glanced back at his men. "Oscar, you’re the new sentry. Congratulations." by Oscar's face all could see it was a demotion.
From his position on the floor, Hermes recognized the man stepping forward. Oscar wasn’t a stranger. He was one of the street dwellers Hermes had seen around regularly on the streets below his apartment, a drug fiend who was always hanging out near the junkies. And now, he had a frown on his face, gun in his hands and a new Job. Oscar, he screamed the name in his mind. He had seen the junkies screaming it.
Tiburon turned back to the manager. "You’ll get a small monthly credit. more than enough to keep you comfortable. Don’t mistake kindness for weakness. We'll fucking decapitate you"
"Ok, ok, it works" The manager nodded frantically, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Tiburon put on his widest grin. Now it became obvious his nickname from spanish "shark", tucking his gun away. He had a shark like face, a grin that made him look like he had more teeth than he really did, symmetrical, sharp.
"Good. Now clean this mess up. And make sure she doesn’t die. I hate wasting potential."As the gang walked out, Oscar lingered for a moment, meeting Hermes' gaze before stepping outside. Hermes’ fists clenched. This man would become his new focal point.
Hermes spent some time alone in his doubt and rage.
He spent most of the afternoon and next day at the hospital with Anastasia whose mother didn't approve. So they took turns by her bedside, by the next day able to be semi pleasant to one another.
Hermes got his work done before dawn, back to the hospital then back home.
"It's not like the coffee house here, the coffee is terrible the only good thing about it is I get to see the waitress that makes my day" Anastasia smiled despite his cheesy attempt at flattery. Hermes wondered if he had leveraged himself out of the friendzone, a well timed offer of flowers and date perhaps.
She became part of his routine. Beyond that he could fit in his work and his new job, Stalking Oscar.
Hermes was not a small man, not weak or even cowardly. Though he wouldn't practice direct violence against anyone unless it was absolutely necessary and safe for himself.
The first week Hermes memorized Oscar's routine. His home address, his hangouts outside of the coffeehouse which he had to attend like some bank security guard. Tasty irony.
His sister also a drug dealer lived in the same sub level flat, a short concrete slope downward to a metal roller door entry. After several days on the internet Hermes had perfected a home made grenade trap using a bucket and some pulleys.
He walked over to their entry way which was only 300 meters from his own address and went to work setting it up.
It was tuesday morning 4am in the morning and the sun wouldn't rise for another 2 hours.
After rigging it up he went across the road to observe his great works.
The sun now lighting the sky, the roller door didn't budge until 6.30am, Hermes praying the dozens of people who had walked by hadn't noticed the steel bucket tied up to the top of the door. Hermes almost thought Oscar wouldn't come out at all that morning. It was around this time he'd go out, but it had only been five days watching his habits.
The roller door sprang quickly upward clicked to the top and exploded.
Oscar's sister lost her arm and most the right side of her face in the explosion.
Oscar fell quick, taking the blast on his back pieces of garage door in the criminal siblings. Satisfyingly for Hermes the ambulance got there late. Oscar and his sister would be spending the next few weeks in hospital. Hermes went home that morning feeling closure, victory and pride. It just all came crashing down the next day when he was passing the coffee house and grimly witnessed a very injured but still standing Oscar inside on his guard duty. His sister would spend months in hospital though.
Collateral damage he thought with a shiver.
Hermes went back to work on stalking oscar and recording each and every activity. This time Oscar had one of the other gangsters with him. Vega. Whose piercing eyes gave him the creeps.
He decided to give it a rest to the dust settled. "He will keep." he thought. "He will keep."
He did keep himself away, however he never stopped teaching himself traps, sabotage and hit and run. After another week Anastasia was back in the coffee house and Oscar saw her everyday for his coffee and toast. Under the eyes of an injured disgruntled Oscar.
Pulled from the hospital before he could be processed Tiburon put Oscar up in his small mansion overlooking the city. Bringing in one of their gangster medics and one of the gangboy's mothers who worked as a nurse.
In the living room Tiburon Vega and injured Oscar spoke that day.
"I saw the damage to the door it could be a professional hit." Vega said.
"Were they trying to kill my sister or me?"
"It wasn't a professional hit" Tiburon said emphatically.
He stared at Oscar.
Vega left the room.
"We know how you humiliated the junkies Oscar, that's why you are a just a stupid guard now."
"I told you that you'd never get away with rubbing shit in their faces."
"What did Vega say" Oscar protested with intention of turning the story.
"He said nothing, some of my old guys are part of that junky group you were selling to."
Tiburon burst into laughter "Now those guys have seen some real horror."
"Any way Vegas gonna keep a check on you. Until you prove you can take care of yourself" Oscar's grimace was priceless.
For the next week Vega watched every move Oscar made. He questioned the junkies, installed a new door and video camera on oscar's door. Every day he spent around Oscar he felt someone watching, something in the shadows.
Before Vega said goodbye, he cautioned him. "Oscar I don't believe that it was your punishing the junkies that caused this. Looks like you got a stalker mano, someone's out there bro. Please becareful."
"I did hurt them Vega, you know what I did, They were coming after hours they found out where I live. I broke one's arm and beat a couple of them half to death."
"I saw them a week later and they looked real angry and then they went to ground."
Vegas phone started to ring as he told Oscar "It's impossible that they attacked you, cabron"
Oscar looked at him speechless breathing out a long and curious "why?"
Vega responded "They didn't go to ground lento, those exact guys overdosed a month ago."
"What's cooking tiburon?"Putting phone to ear. walking out onto the street.
"I'm taking you off Oscar, he's a big boy, I got something big."
Excitement lit Vega's voice "What's up"
"We got some opposition at the local precinct, looking into our new arrangements."
"I'm on it."
"Ahhhhhhhhh" Vega screamed as a shadow past like a swooping vulture. Oscar threw his crutch, unholstered his 45 and limped out to the street shooting in the direction vega pointed.
Nothing there. Vega on one leg holding his other leg turned slightly offbalance collapsed to the ground.
"Kneecapped me bro" Next 10 minutes screaming and crying.
Hermes had never sprinted so fast in his life and suddenly he was feeling incredibly alive. It was the second hit, sure that his strike had hit home with enough force and purpose to put Oscar's new friend out of action for a while. Twisting the small crowbar in his hand he almost found himself wanting to lick the blood tipped edge of it. Would Anastasia approve of this behaviour?
Of course not.
But something about lurking in the warm night air. Taking in the clove scented tobacco smoke emittted from the local smoke houses. Echos of his own sprinting footfalls that spoke to him.
He had become an awkward but very effective predator.
Next morning feeling his self worth peak optimistic deep blue sky on sunrise. He pushed open the new door of his local coffee shop. Oscar still looking a little worse for wear.
"Oh yeah and who is going to replace you? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha."
What the hell was Tiburon Bala doing here, a winded feeling in his gut. What was anastasia doing laughing at his jokes? Oh no did he discover it was me? These thoughts made him dizzy.
"So Ana you gonna take a ride with me so we can get better acquainted?" He attempted.
"Maybe after my shift." She said shyly.
This was the guy that almost killed her and now he was courting her with ease.
"Anastasia aren't we going to visit your mother today"
"You hate my mother, remember the hospital?"
"Yeah that's right, who caused you to be there" Hermes positioned sarcastically.
Anastasia turned bright red.
Hermes got struck across the face with a cane handle before he could turn to see who had done it he fell on his ass, in a way that made everyone in the coffee house chuckle including manager Tavares.
It was Vega, bony observant and extremely quick, using his new cane to punish Herme's implication.
"Vega stand down, the guy's just jealous, let it simmer a while old pal. It's half the thrill."
Vega didn't heed and drew the cane handle under Hermes chin picking him up to his feet.
"If you've got a complaint, I'd like to hear it straight to my face." Vega threatened.
"No complaint, this is your place now. Ill be going." And he'd never enter the place again.
"Oh don't be like Hell man." Tiburon quipped.
He took one last look back at Anastasia who seemed quite neutral. Had she fallen for the charms of this menace? And Tiburon's last comment, "hell man" Was he putting himself in hell by becoming this vindictive and violent person.
He spent the next week at his cousins house in Tres cruces. It was a full house, with some party going on.
In the lounge a few close friends were knocking their glasses and congratulating each other.
"What are we celebrating Carlos?" Hermes awkwardly raised his voice.
"Meet Marcos and his crew, one of my best friend's from Poly bro."
"Oh wow do you guys work in Forensics like carlos?"
"Nah bro we getting it done for swat, aye." Marcos responded cheerfully.
"Why you guys so happy and where did you eses get so much whiskey?"
"Yo Carlos your cus on the straight with us or he go some connect to the la banda"
"Hahahahaha, he's squarer than me mano."
Marcos face took a sudden look of seriousness. "Order went out, local prisons been full for three months. Mayor wants us to confiscate everything, what doesn't fit in lock up goes to us. Including cash."
"Is that legal" Hermes jaw dropped.
"It is around here homes, we got no other way of punishing these fiends."
"what do you do with guys you lock up."
"The resisters get lead and after a photoshoot the survivors get driven out of the city."
A strange and brilliant grin made the hair on Carlos' neck stand up, even marcos got a funny feeling.
The patrol car entered the main street slowly following Vega's footsteps. A year from the coffee house being taken over by Tiburon. Hermes had made several attempts to contact Anastasia, not getting a single response.
he hurried into the old coffee house where Oscar and Tavares were speaking.
"I'm being tailed by some police unit. lets just act naturally. I don't think they have anything on me"
The police vehicle stopped outside and a plainclothes officer go out and entered the shop casually.
Vega and the others kept quiet.
Anastasia asked "What will it be?"
Just a coffee and a piece of toast.
The plain clothes cop stared at them all and seemed to be taking a mental note of the inside.
Vega felt like pulling his nine out and ending him there and then. But it looked like some elaborate trap. It'd been so long vega had felt so hopeless.
The hours passed and Anastasia folded her apron and made for the door.
"None of you can leave" The words made Vega and Oscar cringe.
"Get back to the kitchen. I'm gong to get hungry."
The plainclothes cop slowly turned pointing his .38 at vegas hip, as if by magnet pull Vega went for his gun, plainclothes smirking, the round burned through Vegas hand and cracked his gun barrel.
Oscar leapt to the ground, neither men used to this amount of confrontation as everyone had just given up for so long.
"What do you want cop" Vega pleaded holding his injured hand.
"We've come down to take ten percent of your earnings. We know your tough so you're gonna be a real sure thing." He called Tavares from the back. "write an inventory of all your gear, and what comes in and goes out. Our task force needs new equipment, your outfit is going to pay for it."
"ok no problem" Vega stalled reaching for a throwing knife.
His phone rang before he could get a grip. "Vega stand down they hit us, the rest of the gang is dead. They want to tax us our five places and all our shipments." Tiburon sounded like he was being strangled.
Plainclothes patted them all down and took some of the cash from the coffee house.
Took their guns exited and took off in the patrol car with it's driver.
Vega thought about heading out of the city, getting away from it all.
His outrage got the better of him, he armed oscar and himself with submachine guns and drove to Tiburon's mansion in the hills.
They entered dove from the doors of the car and circled around the Mansion to a secret side door.
Adrenaline pulsed in vega's vein and hot fear in Oscar's. They broke into the house and came out on the kitchen lounge where four men were sitting around a coffee table counting money, one of the men was using Tiburon as a foot stool.
"Hands behind you're heads get your fucking feet off."
The men obeyed rapidly but just didn't seem surprised enough for Vega's satisfaction.
"I said take your feet off him"
Hands came out from nowhere, guns rose to Oscar and Vega's head from behind them.
Vega screamed "I know you, I've seen you before."
Hermes stood up and approached Vega.
"You are under arrest pendejo"
Tiburon, Vega and Oscar were put in the huge basement space of the mansion, once a storage space for stolen goods, drugs extra cash and even small machines. Now made a perfect makeshift prison.
Marcos nodded "you need anything else from us Hermano?"
"Just the car keys homes"
Marcos frowned. "You sure know how to take."
"Yeah that's because noone gives freely"
The two of them laughed and Marco and his guys left.
A knock came from the front door, Hermes went to answer it. It was Anastasia
