Duke pushed out of the foliage and rushed to his brother side.
“Anthony…” Duke couldn’t speak. His brother’s face was light; the pistols still in his hands.
“Duke,” came Anthony’s voice Duke saw his bother open his eyes, “I want you to listen and listen good.”
Duke was surprised at his brother’s strenth in his words.
“I may seem like a hero same as I thought of father… but killing in vain and theft bring people to staggering pain and if that’s a hero then I don’t know what is.”
Duke fell back on his legs, were these truly his brother’s last words?
“I won’t make it,” Anthony went on, “If Brooklyn is taken by that man. The future of this town and anyone who we love will be lost.” Anthony’s face started to go pale he reached up to
Duke and pushed the pistols onto his chest.
“Duke, I want you to protect Brooklyn. Please, never use these pistols for evil again.”
Duke took the pistol as Anthony’s hand let go he had gone into a peaceful death.
Duke just stared at Anthony and was silent.
“We have to get ready to block those men,” Michael spoke coming behind Duke. Duke’s eyes shut. His knuckles turned red as he held the pistols tightly.
“Who cares,” Duke’s voice was emotionless, “Whoever cared!” Duke shoved himself off the ground hitting Michael off him he raced off.
Anger covering sorrow coursed through his veins as he ran through the streets in strong strides.
His life was no longer the same there was a war inside him. What was good? What was evil?
His head listen to his brother’s words but his heart spoke differently.
“Please don’t!” a woman’s voice cried.
Duke pulled to a stop to see two men taking a man from his home. A woman, possibly his wife, ran down the steps to resist. Duke knew the men; they were Mario’s (Anthony’s past Boss).
A side arm was revealed in one gangster’s hand, “You forget to pay Mario you now pay with a life.”
The gun was raised at the wife. Duke didn’t hesitate the .45 cried before the other gun’s barrel got its mark.
The enemy’s pistol flew to the cement. The woman was alive. Duke turned to the man holding the gun.
“Why are you doing this?” Duke asked rage in his heart.
“Your Junior Double Shooter, Aren’t you,” The one with the gun greeted.
Duke stepped back numbed. Surprised at the nonchalant of his voice. It’s true? These two men were as high ranking as Anthony and this is what they do.
“Get out of here,” Duke ordered.
The men looked confused at him, “Hey listen, we…”
“I said, leave,” Duke repeated strongly cutting him off but this time not in anger.
“Hey boy!” the man snarled bending down for his pistol, “You don’t know who you’re talking to.” The man trained the barrel on Duke.
Duke raised the colt .45 in a Mexican Standoff, “I will protect Brooklyn with my life.”
The sound of a gun was heard throughout the streets.
Duke remained standing on Fourth Street while watching the two gangsters run from him. The handgun of the gangster lay on the cement. This time it had a bullet through its barrel.
Duke looked at the man and woman who’s life he had just saved. He felt a warmness he had never felt when he thought of his father’s and brother’s fighting. It was the warmness of protecting. It was this that made Anthony stop.
“I will protect Brooklyn and make it prosper,” Duke pledged on the pistols he held in his hand.
At sunrise the market place was empty. Not a stall was open, not a cart was there. Morning fog from the bay covered the streets
“Any one home!” echoed the sinister shout from Ace Card. The remaining henchmen from the park backed him up.
Ace Card waved to the one with the tommy gun. Arming the automatic, the man laid a clip of bullets into the closest shop.
As the man loaded the second clip, the sound of others made him stop. He looked up then rolled his eyes to Ace Card.
Ace Card and his henchmen saw Michael and the Panthers standing in front of them. He waved the man with the Automatic off.
Michael stepped out holding a bat he began to speak, “I’m here to…”
“Stop you,” A deep voice behind them finished Michael’s sentence.
All turned around. Out of the fog, as the sun rose, came a tall man. A brown jacket lay over his shoulder. His arms where muscular; shoulders broad. His blond hair ruffled by the crisp morning air but this wasn’t the boy Duke. He was a leader and maturity showed in his eyes like it had never been before.