‘Everybody thinks that San Diego is some bustling, beautifully refined gem of America’s West Coast. Well then, you must’ve only cared for La Jolla,’ thought Danny as he batted one eye at the hyper-intense sunrise that decided to greet him this specific morning. Immediately after this event, his mother called “Buenos Días, mi hijo guapo.” She refrains sarcastically, followed by “Now get your saggy ass in the kitchen and eat breakfast.” Danny saw that one coming as far away as from when he woke up.
His previous night was marked quite ominously by gang tagging he had done with his friends, only to get caught and nearly beaten. He thought about this endeavor with great fervor as he sleepily stumbled his way to the kitchen.
“Did you hear that the mayor is resigning today?” his Mother asked cheerfully.
“No, what for?” Danny muttered.
“He finally got what was coming for him, that pig.”
“How many cases did he get pinned on.”
“One for previous tax evasion, three for sexual assault, fifteen for sexual harassment.”
“Good.” Danny proclaimed.
“I’m telling you Danny, one day, when I’m gone, you’re gonna look back at what I told and taught you with pride.”
“I think I already am, Mama.” He said, scarfing down his last spots of eggs and reaching for his backpack.”
Danny completed his scavenger hunt for his keys and wallet, then headed for the door.
“Comeback at 5, no later.” His mother, demanded.
“What?! That’s three hours less than-”
“FIVE! Lee mis labios o paga el precio!”
Danny was startled out of the door by this. “Five, okay, five...Oh shit, five.”
He soon remembered another “five” lingering around his life. The five months that his mother had left to live. He couldn't hide anything when that revelation came back around, all of his feelings, exposed for the world to see. That’s what made walking down the street so difficult sometimes. A catwalk of emotional shame, or a circus sideshow rather, that made Danny feel like a total loser with absolutely no control of himself.
Danny retrieved the mint fresh newspaper from the rack, noticing it was still warm to the touch, most likely the result of its industrial process of creation. He wiped the last dribble of tears at the crease, being cautious not to damage his dark insipid eye. As he began to read, he noticed the top story being the same as his mother informed him, but with a remarkable amount of praise towards the mayor, in spite of his actions. “For years, Mayor Fenway had been to the benefit of thousands of citizens of this city, commissioning public works, affordable housing, and establishing an affordable and effective health care system-” At that point Danny had well more than enough bullshit uttered on a page to read it. He ripped the newspaper in a sequential fashion and tossed it straight into a nearby bin-fire.
Because it was summer, Danny could focus his mind solely on his personal missions, those missions were to insert himself officially into a political protest group that his mother had been a part of for so many years, Caballeros De Los Olvidados, and to learn how to fight, something inspired by the desire to fill a metaphorical that Danny’s mom would soon leave empty. Because of the previous night, however, Danny felt like fighting needed to be more of a staple in his life than he originally believed. So, after getting a hot cup of instant beef-flavored noodles, he sighed and strolled around looking for such a chance.
Danny lived on the very brim of San Diego’s Chinatown, so, as he figured, it wouldn’t be too hard to learn some skills quickly and efficiently. He was very much ahead of himself. After trying all 15 of the local dojo’s, none of them seemed to make his mark. “You’re all fakes!” He proclaimed one time in front of some bewildered kung fu students, “It’s all for show. All of you can’t fight for shit.” Had he stayed any longer, he might of been able to put that theory to a test, but he left before anything could intensify.
“You want to do more than impress your friends, don’t you.”A blind beggar seemed to come out of the sidewalk adjacent to the dojo.
“Well, yeah,” Danny digressed. “I want to save anyone from anything.”
“You’re too pretentious, too impatient. But if you get that out of the way, you may find a way. Come with me.” Danny anxiously followed the man to a pizza shop ‘Be patient,’ Danny pondered, ‘No matter what this old hag says’.
The shop that they had entered was similar to most: A faded menu lined overhead accompanied the engrossed employees, shambles of tattered red leather seats completed the small venue. As the beggar approached the front desk, Danny was expecting some sort of secret exchange, recognizing confirmation, but a subtle glance was all the man needed to follow the clerk to a dark corridor kept discount by tassels and long sections of beads held taught by string. The three strolled through the long, dark corridor, possibly spanning a few buildings. The corridor let to a small staircase, which led to what seemed to be a small gymnasium of sorts. Several rows of fluorescent lights beat down on the three fiercely. Only a few, very menacing figures were training themselves without acknowledgment of tire, with a tenacity that quickly grabbed Danny’s attention. There was no witty and humorous dialogue to be found either; no passion for each other, only for themselves. Besides the distant whir of a powerful generator, the only sounds in the area were that of moans, pants, and groans.
“Now this,” Danny said quietly, “This is where it starts.”
“Or where it ends,” An ominous tone accompanies the beggar.
“What makes you say that?”
“The people here...they don’t take too kindly to visitors.”
“But, I'm not visiting. I'm here to stay.”
“As you wish. But remember, the fact that you're here isn't a coincidence. I saw something in you. Something that I better not goddamn regret I saw in the future. Comprendes?
“Yes, I do.”
“Alright, let's begin.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Two months had passed since the beginning of Danny’s endeavors, almost everything had changed for him. He had become a prominent leading figure and role model in the Caballeros, and he had crammed enough time at the “pizza shop” that even the most critical of his colleagues said that he would be able to take down anybody, at least under 300 pounds. This would ultimately come into practice one night, when Danny and his friends were tagging gang territory in the neighborhood just a mile from his house. All was going smoothly, when suddenly a bitter screech from nearby erupted. Some of Danny’s gang ran, assuming their rival was coming back around. But a few, including Danny, went to the side of the street corner to investigate. A few rival members were beating up a woman senseless, tearing off jewelry from her frail neck and convulsing wrists. Danny couldn’t exactly tolerate a view such as this, and went towards them, curled fists ready to strike.
“Danny! Que haces?”
“I have to save her, Ese.”
“You’re gonna get killed!”
“Nuh-uh, Ese. Watch.”
Danny continued his anger fueled strut to the corral of torment in front of him.
“DANNY!” His friend cried. “Mierda!”
The swear was picked up by one rival member who was counting up the money in the wallet he derived from the bloodied victim.
“What?”, he yelled “Who’s that”
Walking towards the bunch who had now departed from the corner, the member received a quick kick in the groin from behind. As he turned around, his grunts of pain were interrupted by a swift drop kick that plowed him straight into the brick wall behind him. Danny then galloped on his feet to lock on to the next target, the member who was groping the woman vigorously. An uppercut left his nose bloodied, but he quickly recovered to counter-punch. A brutal exchange followed, Danny catching and dodging swing after swing, until eventually he punctured the pressure point on his rival’s left rib, sending his arm careening to face the ground and dangle like a string of pasta. Danny then spun to the back, spontaneous back-tripping him onto the ground. The final member was quick to pull out his piece, wielding it just in time to fire a shot, but not in time to stop Danny from rising up from his previous casualty to hastily grab the barrel and sent it skyward. The sensation of pain from the heat of the discharged shot was excruciating, causing Danny to clutch the palm of his hand in anguish. The rival arranged a successful pistol whip, almost knocking Danny out cold. As his screams of pain echoed just inches from the cold pavement lined with pools of blood, he quickly went for his enemy’s legs and prevailed in pinning him to the ground. While falling into his submissive position, the rival fired several shots in vain at what he assumed as Danny’s position, but it was futile. Danny had jumped onto his chest, jabbing the exposed vein right below the palm that held the pistol, thus relieving it of its abilities to grip and dropping the piece into Danny’s beckoning hands. Danny expediently used the weapon vice-versa, the gaping, dripping hole embedded in his enemies neck all but subtle. Knowing the other gang members were only incapacitated, however as he readied the piece to silence them off, a high-pitched, pulsating tone careened towards him from behind. He dropped the pistol immediately and looked at the demented heroine, just barely gaining back her consciousness. In the midst of both Danny and cop car lingering behind him, her look was one of recognition but also of undeniable horror. Seconds passed, both staring at each other with a vicarious but soft tone. Then, the woman got up, laboring the same shocked expression, and ran as fast as her legs could carry. Taking one last look at cop car, Danny realized the most probable situation to arise from their arrival, and also got up on his feet and began to run. The outer-comm of the police cruiser barked at him, most likely “Stop” or “Put your hands behind your head,” but Danny couldn’t tell nor didn’t care, the sound was overwhelmed by the dry, battering force of wind enveloping him as he ran faster and faster.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
3 or 4 blocks down, Danny stopped to catch his breath, contemplating the events that just took hold. Danny reached for the back of his head to sample the small dribble of blood emitted as the result of the pistol whip, which was surrounded by the scalding circle of red-brown skin transforming the burned palm of his hand. With this in mind, he walked home, succeeding at avoiding the attention of his mother, who was asleep quite early. She was much more ill than the months before it, to the point where she was sleeping almost all of the time. A tear began to ricochet down Danny’s sculpted cheek. He then washed away the blood in the bathroom sink, taking a strong look into the mirror, noticing the vase that was directly beside the door. He shuffled to the vase and peeked down the long, empty shaft to find a picture, nearly unreadable yet distinct. He tried to analyse the picture, seeing if he could trace the man in the picture to anyone he knew, but he couldn’t quite make a connection. With that, he lingered around and out of the small room, wrapping his hand around the lightswitch to turn it off as he swung out an into the hallway.
His previous night was marked quite ominously by gang tagging he had done with his friends, only to get caught and nearly beaten. He thought about this endeavor with great fervor as he sleepily stumbled his way to the kitchen.
“Did you hear that the mayor is resigning today?” his Mother asked cheerfully.
“No, what for?” Danny muttered.
“He finally got what was coming for him, that pig.”
“How many cases did he get pinned on.”
“One for previous tax evasion, three for sexual assault, fifteen for sexual harassment.”
“Good.” Danny proclaimed.
“I’m telling you Danny, one day, when I’m gone, you’re gonna look back at what I told and taught you with pride.”
“I think I already am, Mama.” He said, scarfing down his last spots of eggs and reaching for his backpack.”
Danny completed his scavenger hunt for his keys and wallet, then headed for the door.
“Comeback at 5, no later.” His mother, demanded.
“What?! That’s three hours less than-”
“FIVE! Lee mis labios o paga el precio!”
Danny was startled out of the door by this. “Five, okay, five...Oh shit, five.”
He soon remembered another “five” lingering around his life. The five months that his mother had left to live. He couldn't hide anything when that revelation came back around, all of his feelings, exposed for the world to see. That’s what made walking down the street so difficult sometimes. A catwalk of emotional shame, or a circus sideshow rather, that made Danny feel like a total loser with absolutely no control of himself.
Danny retrieved the mint fresh newspaper from the rack, noticing it was still warm to the touch, most likely the result of its industrial process of creation. He wiped the last dribble of tears at the crease, being cautious not to damage his dark insipid eye. As he began to read, he noticed the top story being the same as his mother informed him, but with a remarkable amount of praise towards the mayor, in spite of his actions. “For years, Mayor Fenway had been to the benefit of thousands of citizens of this city, commissioning public works, affordable housing, and establishing an affordable and effective health care system-” At that point Danny had well more than enough bullshit uttered on a page to read it. He ripped the newspaper in a sequential fashion and tossed it straight into a nearby bin-fire.
Because it was summer, Danny could focus his mind solely on his personal missions, those missions were to insert himself officially into a political protest group that his mother had been a part of for so many years, Caballeros De Los Olvidados, and to learn how to fight, something inspired by the desire to fill a metaphorical that Danny’s mom would soon leave empty. Because of the previous night, however, Danny felt like fighting needed to be more of a staple in his life than he originally believed. So, after getting a hot cup of instant beef-flavored noodles, he sighed and strolled around looking for such a chance.
Danny lived on the very brim of San Diego’s Chinatown, so, as he figured, it wouldn’t be too hard to learn some skills quickly and efficiently. He was very much ahead of himself. After trying all 15 of the local dojo’s, none of them seemed to make his mark. “You’re all fakes!” He proclaimed one time in front of some bewildered kung fu students, “It’s all for show. All of you can’t fight for shit.” Had he stayed any longer, he might of been able to put that theory to a test, but he left before anything could intensify.
“You want to do more than impress your friends, don’t you.”A blind beggar seemed to come out of the sidewalk adjacent to the dojo.
“Well, yeah,” Danny digressed. “I want to save anyone from anything.”
“You’re too pretentious, too impatient. But if you get that out of the way, you may find a way. Come with me.” Danny anxiously followed the man to a pizza shop ‘Be patient,’ Danny pondered, ‘No matter what this old hag says’.
The shop that they had entered was similar to most: A faded menu lined overhead accompanied the engrossed employees, shambles of tattered red leather seats completed the small venue. As the beggar approached the front desk, Danny was expecting some sort of secret exchange, recognizing confirmation, but a subtle glance was all the man needed to follow the clerk to a dark corridor kept discount by tassels and long sections of beads held taught by string. The three strolled through the long, dark corridor, possibly spanning a few buildings. The corridor let to a small staircase, which led to what seemed to be a small gymnasium of sorts. Several rows of fluorescent lights beat down on the three fiercely. Only a few, very menacing figures were training themselves without acknowledgment of tire, with a tenacity that quickly grabbed Danny’s attention. There was no witty and humorous dialogue to be found either; no passion for each other, only for themselves. Besides the distant whir of a powerful generator, the only sounds in the area were that of moans, pants, and groans.
“Now this,” Danny said quietly, “This is where it starts.”
“Or where it ends,” An ominous tone accompanies the beggar.
“What makes you say that?”
“The people here...they don’t take too kindly to visitors.”
“But, I'm not visiting. I'm here to stay.”
“As you wish. But remember, the fact that you're here isn't a coincidence. I saw something in you. Something that I better not goddamn regret I saw in the future. Comprendes?
“Yes, I do.”
“Alright, let's begin.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
Two months had passed since the beginning of Danny’s endeavors, almost everything had changed for him. He had become a prominent leading figure and role model in the Caballeros, and he had crammed enough time at the “pizza shop” that even the most critical of his colleagues said that he would be able to take down anybody, at least under 300 pounds. This would ultimately come into practice one night, when Danny and his friends were tagging gang territory in the neighborhood just a mile from his house. All was going smoothly, when suddenly a bitter screech from nearby erupted. Some of Danny’s gang ran, assuming their rival was coming back around. But a few, including Danny, went to the side of the street corner to investigate. A few rival members were beating up a woman senseless, tearing off jewelry from her frail neck and convulsing wrists. Danny couldn’t exactly tolerate a view such as this, and went towards them, curled fists ready to strike.
“Danny! Que haces?”
“I have to save her, Ese.”
“You’re gonna get killed!”
“Nuh-uh, Ese. Watch.”
Danny continued his anger fueled strut to the corral of torment in front of him.
“DANNY!” His friend cried. “Mierda!”
The swear was picked up by one rival member who was counting up the money in the wallet he derived from the bloodied victim.
“What?”, he yelled “Who’s that”
Walking towards the bunch who had now departed from the corner, the member received a quick kick in the groin from behind. As he turned around, his grunts of pain were interrupted by a swift drop kick that plowed him straight into the brick wall behind him. Danny then galloped on his feet to lock on to the next target, the member who was groping the woman vigorously. An uppercut left his nose bloodied, but he quickly recovered to counter-punch. A brutal exchange followed, Danny catching and dodging swing after swing, until eventually he punctured the pressure point on his rival’s left rib, sending his arm careening to face the ground and dangle like a string of pasta. Danny then spun to the back, spontaneous back-tripping him onto the ground. The final member was quick to pull out his piece, wielding it just in time to fire a shot, but not in time to stop Danny from rising up from his previous casualty to hastily grab the barrel and sent it skyward. The sensation of pain from the heat of the discharged shot was excruciating, causing Danny to clutch the palm of his hand in anguish. The rival arranged a successful pistol whip, almost knocking Danny out cold. As his screams of pain echoed just inches from the cold pavement lined with pools of blood, he quickly went for his enemy’s legs and prevailed in pinning him to the ground. While falling into his submissive position, the rival fired several shots in vain at what he assumed as Danny’s position, but it was futile. Danny had jumped onto his chest, jabbing the exposed vein right below the palm that held the pistol, thus relieving it of its abilities to grip and dropping the piece into Danny’s beckoning hands. Danny expediently used the weapon vice-versa, the gaping, dripping hole embedded in his enemies neck all but subtle. Knowing the other gang members were only incapacitated, however as he readied the piece to silence them off, a high-pitched, pulsating tone careened towards him from behind. He dropped the pistol immediately and looked at the demented heroine, just barely gaining back her consciousness. In the midst of both Danny and cop car lingering behind him, her look was one of recognition but also of undeniable horror. Seconds passed, both staring at each other with a vicarious but soft tone. Then, the woman got up, laboring the same shocked expression, and ran as fast as her legs could carry. Taking one last look at cop car, Danny realized the most probable situation to arise from their arrival, and also got up on his feet and began to run. The outer-comm of the police cruiser barked at him, most likely “Stop” or “Put your hands behind your head,” but Danny couldn’t tell nor didn’t care, the sound was overwhelmed by the dry, battering force of wind enveloping him as he ran faster and faster.
. . . . . . . . . . . . .
3 or 4 blocks down, Danny stopped to catch his breath, contemplating the events that just took hold. Danny reached for the back of his head to sample the small dribble of blood emitted as the result of the pistol whip, which was surrounded by the scalding circle of red-brown skin transforming the burned palm of his hand. With this in mind, he walked home, succeeding at avoiding the attention of his mother, who was asleep quite early. She was much more ill than the months before it, to the point where she was sleeping almost all of the time. A tear began to ricochet down Danny’s sculpted cheek. He then washed away the blood in the bathroom sink, taking a strong look into the mirror, noticing the vase that was directly beside the door. He shuffled to the vase and peeked down the long, empty shaft to find a picture, nearly unreadable yet distinct. He tried to analyse the picture, seeing if he could trace the man in the picture to anyone he knew, but he couldn’t quite make a connection. With that, he lingered around and out of the small room, wrapping his hand around the lightswitch to turn it off as he swung out an into the hallway.
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