Snippet #2502344

"I haven't been at peace in a long time. Adrianna was my doorway to real peace. And she was torn from me, my only blood. You ask if I believe killing this man, this assassin, will make me a better man or bring me peace? I answer; no." Jackson said, "It's you who believe I have delusions about who I am, or what I am. It's you who believes I think my hands are clean."

"Since the favela I have been a bad boy who grew into a bad man, but I did it for good girl who grew into a great woman. This is all about Adrianna. Fuck morality."

Jackson was a changed man. Two bullets in your body and watching your sister die had a way of changing anyone. The side of Jackson that wanted to be a good Catholic was constantly fighting and losing the side of Jackson tattooed in Yakuza ink and who had hacked off fingers to rank up.

On the street the Bratva turned their attention away from the dead or fleeing Yakuza, they'd won that battle. When the VLPD made their approach they found assault rifles fired upon them, grenades, frag and plasma, hurled at them.

"Bring out the bigger guns." The lead gangster ordered, some of his men climbing into the delivery van. They each grabbed holf of a single large metal container, carrying out to rest it behind the cover of now abandoned cars and trucks the people of Van Leugen left in the streets when the gunmen exposed themselves earlier.

They opened the container, exposing a large rocket launcher-esque weapon. "Get the rounds too." The lead gangster told his men, the Bratva member with the grenade launcher advancing on on the VLPD and firing off several of the 40mm grenades to kill and keep the VLPD at a distance.

Being blown up didn't often help a problem.