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"Chief, I'm heading to Boston."

"So soon? And not even two weeks after you came back from your unscheduled trip to Russia."

"Sorry chief, Bureau business. Its just a visit to confirm some low level intel, nothing more. I'll be back within the week."

"I hope so, Daniel."

I left Martinez's office and sighed. Not even time to settle back into my old routine. The Bureau had called shortly after our return from the Red Country, with a minor case for me, just me. Liddell told me of a small gang racket down in Boston that was troubling the local cops, he wanted me down there to liason with the Boston PD and maybe offer assistance in quelling the matter. Nothing difficult, he told me, not compared to what we did in Russia. Just as added security, he said, it's the main reason why they wanted me down there. So I packed, again, and took a connecting flight later that week from JFK to Boston.

Being here was a totally different affair than Manhattan. People spoke with different accents here, some were more open about their dislikes, and as I entered the precinct office that I was directed to, I drew more than a few hostile looks. The FBI wasn't well liked here, apparently. I met with the police chief, a rather rotund fellow named Charleson, and we talked about the case. According to him, there was a turf war being fought in the central district of the city; the war involved two major gangs, the Third Street Saints and another group that called themselves Those Men. These two groups of gangbangers, thieves, thugs and robbers were engaged in a bloody war over turf smack in the center of town, and it involved more than a few businesses, neighbourhoods and streets. Blood had been shed, most of it from the gangs, but some from innocent civilians, bystanders caught in a drive-by or a crossfire. The hotspot, however, was a highly contested neighbourhood that just so happened to contain a self-defence dojo, manned by a brother-sister team that beat up any bangers that came their way. With their bare hands. Both gangs were trying to show superiority by sending in men unarmed to best them, but they always left with broken bones, dislocated limbs and hospital visits all around. I was to pay the dojo a visit, see what was going on, and maybe have the siblings cooperation to end the bloody war once and for all. I agreed to everything, of course, although gang violence was something of a rarity for me to face in Manhattan. The gangs there mostly kept to themselves, choosing to fight their wars with graffiti and breakdancing instead. A peaceful alternative to bullets and knives. Why didn't the rest of the world operate that way?

It was early into the afternoon when I was dropped off outside the dojo by a squad car. As I exited, I saw a whole bunch of young men, a whole mix of blacks, whites and Hispanics, file out from the dojo. More than a few were cradling arms and chests, some were bent over in pain, and an unlucky few held arms or hands that were bent in unnatural ways, and one even hobbled out, supported by two other guys, his foot twisted the wrong way around. A brow raised, I waited until the last man exited before heading inside, and almost immediately I was met with fist and foot. A few seconds later I was nursing a bruise on my forehead and my gut as a young lady placed a cup with water in it in front of me. My badge sat on her table, and as she sat she gave me a long face.

"Does that mean I'm under arrest now?"

"Oh no, miss, in fact I'm here to ask for your help."

I winced as she leaned forward to paste a medicated patch on my forehead, and I felt the pain slowly ease away as she sat back down. She was well built for her age and size, being roughly five seven, but her arms and legs were toned with muscles that stood out whenever she moved. Her hair was black and tied in a long ponytail that was topped by a jade ring at the end. She was very casually dressed in a fitting shirt and shorts and gloves, but no shoes. I wondered to myself if I was breaking any rules by wearing my loafers in.

"My help?"

"Yeah. Since you've seen my badge, I think you already know I'm not Boston PD."

"Yeah. You're from out of town, I can tell from the way you talk."

"Accent that obvious, eh? Well, you are correct, miss. I was tasked by the FBI to be a...man on the ground here, of sorts, to probe into this little war and see if I can stop it. With your help, of course."

"But why would you need my help?"

I gestured outside.

"I saw the end of what must've been a hell of a show, and according to the police chief here, he tells me that you and your brother have been putting up one good fight against the bangers that come here every other week. I had a plan in mind that involved you two, and it ends with both gangs in the gutter, so to speak."

She pouted.

"Well if you want to talk with the both of us, my brother's out buying groceries, he should be coming back though, want to wait around for him?"

I shrugged. What the hell, I didn't have anything else to do anyway.

"Sure, why not."

As I rested off the impromptu demonstration of her skill, I took a look around the dojo. The whole place looked the part, a stereotypical dojo, with a mirror wall so the students could see themselves and identify their mistakes, a floor covered in padding to soften falls, bean bags and gloves and hand guards and other paraphernelia strewn about one side of the room. Where we sat was a counter with a cash register, several certificates framed and mounted on the walls, and a door. The door no doubt led to an apartment upstairs where the siblings lived. I nodded to myself and turned to her.

"You two have quite the operation here."

She blushed and smiled shyly.

"Thanks, actually this place was owned by our shifu, and ever since he passed away we've been running it in his place. We were his best students, according to him, although we could never beat him at his own game."

I smiled.

"Of course, one doesn't expect to beat a master at his own game, that's why he's the master and you were the students."

We shared a laugh, then I heard the door open. The young lady smiled brightly and waved at the man standing in the door, but I couldn't help as my jaw fell open.

"Hey bro! FBI man here's looking for ya!"

---

"Daniel freaking Anderson, working with the FBI? Shoot man, did Halloween come early this year?"

It wasn't even October yet. In fact, it was only the middle of February.

"No sir, but it sure as hell should. I can't believe you're here, and this is all you!"

The man that sat across from me grinned and laughed. He was taller than his sister by roughly four inches, and was more well built and toned. A baseball cap sat on the desk, his scruffy brown hair fell all over his face, and as he brushed it away with a hand his blue eyes had a spark that I knew from years, decades ago.

This wasn't the Dylan Hayes I knew. This was a Dylan Hayes I'd wished I'd known sooner.

When I was still in grade school, I was bullied a lot. Later, in high school, I was still picked on for being a loner. Dylan was one of the bullies, but he was a reluctant one. Roped into making fun of me by his so-called 'friends', he pretended to enjoy it, but whenever they were caught he'd get most of the blame while the real culprits got away scot free. Outside of the bullying though, he wasn't that bad a person. We'd spend our after-school hours wandering through Central Park, or in the school library, studying. After we graduated, he'd come to me in person and apologised for the bullying, said that he was moving to Boston permanently with his sister and family. That was the last I ever saw of him. He went his way, and I went mine. Now, almost two decades later, here he was, looking as if he could take on the entire siege at the Alamo with his bare hands and live, like Chuck Norris according to the Internet. He chuckled and sighed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"And here I was, thinking I'd forgotten you. Hell man, you show up here and the first thing that happens is my sis shows you the floor? Dude, I thought you would've been better than that, man!"

"She caught me off guard, Dylan, but thankfully she didn't hit me too hard, otherwise I'd have to get a new nose."

Alexandria blushed and giggled. Dylan's twin sister shared his eyes, hair, even his face, but what set them apart was their heights and gender, of course, and their personalities. While Alex, as she liked to be called, was all energetic and up front, Dylan was more laid back, just as he was when I knew him in school. Dylan grinned and ruffled his sister's hair, making her pout.

"Nah she don't hit too hard. But tell me, how did you get into the FBI anyway?"

"Long story Dylan, I'll tell you after I'm finished with this inquiry."

He cocked a brow and looked at me disapprovingly.

"Y'sure? Or is it 'classified' now?"

He raised his fingers in open air quotes and I couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm sure, Dylan. I promise."

He smiled and patted my shoulder.

"I'll hold you to it man. So now, what are you doing here anyway?"

He was all business, including his sister, so I did the same.

"Police chief here roped the FBI into the investigation of a gang war in this district, I was assigned to the inquiry, as it were, so I'm here on official business, to help them out wherever I can."

"No shit. That war of yours been raging ever since January man, and it ain't pretty. People gettin' shot up, beaten up, stabbed, gutted, ain't nothin' nice t'look at or read in the papers. Our lil' shop here happens to sit right in the center a' things, y'know that? Then all the bangers start coming over, demanding we pay them money so they'll leave us alone, me 'n Alex here don't appreciate none a' that, so we've been beating up all the bangers that threaten us ever since."

"The attacks, they come every other week or so, when they're not busy recovering from the previous ones," Alex piped up, concern creasing her features. "but we've been made targets. Every time we go out on the street, if a ganger spots us we have to run and hide until they leave us alone. Its gotten to the point where we have to hide our faces just to buy groceries."

Dylan gestured to the baseball cap he was wearing earlier.

"I've been wearing that plus a hoodie all week. Keeps me safe, for now."

He frowned and sighed.

"Life's been real hard as of late. Thank god our apartment's right upstairs, cause I don't know what would've happened otherwise. They even come at night, believe that? Harrass us an' shit, its gotten to the point where one of us has to sleep downstairs at all times just so they leave us alone. Its stressing, man, I hate it so much."

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again while his sister sat closer and draped an arm over his shoulders.

"Its been stressing for both of us, Daniel. Thank god you're here to help, otherwise we would've just gone kaput."

I simply nodded. I could feel the frustration, the anger and the sadness rolling from these two in waves. I had to help them, especially since I knew that an old friend was in need of assistance. I stood, excused myself, and took out my phone to make a call. A few rings and the man on the other end picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Hey Max, listen, I need your help."

---

Later, down at the precinct, I reread the papers that Max had emailed to me. Earlier at the dojo I'd asked him to look up the Saints and Those Men, find out their entire roster if he could, and their leaders. He had no problems in doing so for the Men, but he had problems with the Saints, since they'd gone and named themselves after the same Third Street Saints that were featured in that video game series Saints Row. It'd taken him the better part of an hour to separate fact from fiction, and by then I was already back in the local precinct office. He'd emailed me the information right after, and that's where I was now, looking over what useful stuff I had and formulating a plan in my head.

The chief, Charleson, waddled over to me and seated his considerable bulk in a chair opposite.

"Have something, Agent?"

I nodded and handed him the folder. As he slowly read through it, I explained what was contained within. He nodded, skimmed the rest of the contents and handed the folder back to me.

"If you let me have that after you're done, I'll photocopy it and have several copies with the rest of the office by the end of lunch. This is a good start, Agent, thank you."

"No problem, chief. But we need to come up with a game plan."

"Way ahead of you there, Agent."

Charleson stood and hollered across the office. Moments later a woman, Hispanic with a nametag that read 'Rodriguez', came over. Charleson sat down again and gestured to her.

"Detective Rodriguez here is the team leader for the recent gang violence. She's the head of the Organised Crimes department, and she's already got a game plan in mind. Your info just helped her pick targets."

I handed her the folder and she flipped it open. As she read, I couldn't help but see the similarities between her and my wife. Memories tried to flood my conscious, but I pushed them, and the tears, away. When I refocused my attention, she was finished, a slightly concerned look on her face.

"Agent Anderson? You okay? You kinda blanked out for a moment there, pal."

"Y-yeah, its nothing, I'm fine. Just thinking about something, is all."

She smirked.

"Good, well would you follow me to to conference room? I'm about to call my team in to put my little plan into motion."

I nodded and stood to follow her. Moments later I was seated, watching her go through a series of Powerpoint slides and handing her team copies of the information I'd been given. Her plan was simple: target all the bangers that had criminal records, long and hefty records at that, and bring as many of them in as possible, charge and imprison as many as possible, then rat out their leaders and put them behind bars as well. By targeting the men first, she reasoned that the decreased manpower would put strain on the two gangs. They'd most likely up the ante by pulling even bigger stunts, but this would lead them to make more mistakes, stuff that we'd capitalise on. Once their leaders started showing up to rally support and gather more people, we'd swoop in and arrest them, thus ending the war, or so we hoped. Just like in Russia and Brazil, I knew that things never went according to plan. Later, after the briefing, I pulled Rodriguez away from her team.

"Detective, I need a second."

"Sure, what's it about?"

"I'm sure you know about the dojo that's in the center of the contested neighbourhood, right?"

She took a second to process my question, but she nodded an affirmation.

"Well, it just so happens that the owners are friends of mine, and they'd like to help any way they can."

She raised a brow.

"Go on."

I sat her down and recounted my visit to the dojo earlier that day, excluding the accidental beating. I told her about how they'd been harrassed, attacked, ostracised, and how they wanted to fight back proper. After the story, she sat back and thought a while. Then she spoke.

"We can't have civilians actively, like, on the team here, but we can liase with them on the ground, since they're the victims here. I'll get a squad car down at their place 24-7, and I'll have one of my guys bring them in for interviews."

I nodded in agreement.

"You could have them identify the men that regularly harass them. Let them go through the list, see if they know anyone there."

"Good idea Agent. That would give us more leads to work, more angles on people that we can take down. If these two friends of yours can be trusted, that is."

"Oh I trust them with my life, Detective. I know what they're capable of."

"Suit yourself man, but I've got an investigation to run, so it has to be this way. But I'll see what I can do."

---

The next morning I awoke to the sounds of traffic and the hustle and bustle of city life. I reached beside me to turn off my alarm clock and realised a few things; firstly, I wasn't at home; secondly, it was roughly ten in the morning; thirdly, I wasn't even in the same damn state. I cursed myself for not preparing more stuff and rose, preparing a light breakfast before showering and changing for the day ahead. My plan today was simple: first, visit the precinct for an update; second, head down to the dojo and tell Dylan and Alex the good news. With a sandwich in hand I left the rented apartment and headed out. The precinct visit didn't take long, Rodriguez updated me on the current proceedings, plus the fact that the search for our targets wasn't going so well. That was a given, seeing as these gangs were quite the presence, and seeking any one of them out for judicial matters was going to be a hassle. So I turned my attention instead to the Hayes twins, and it was lunch time when I decided to go pay them a visit. Chances were they were in, but I gave them the benefit of the doubt and went to have lunch at a nearby sushi bar first. The day was still young and I had plenty of time to reach them.

After I'd finished a meal of salmon, rice and not much else, I took a stroll out to their place, nice and slow. While I walked I thought about a plan, how we were going to tackle the issue of the gang war. I thought that striking the hierarchy from the bottom was a pretty good move, like the plan Rodriguez had, but it didn't have enough impact in the long run to make a big difference. Sure we'd put people behind bars, but more would replace them, like the story of the Hydra; cut one head off, more take their place. It was the thing about gang wars that irked me, and I always wondered how people like these could rustle up an army on such short notice. I was so lost in thought I failed to notice a pedestrian in front of me, and I collided with the poor man at walking pace. He was kind enough to help me up off my assand apologies were exchanged; me for being lost in thought, him for being lost playing Candy Crush on his phone. I smiled and waved him off and was about to continue walking when I saw that the dojo was right ahead of me. I approached the door and gave it an experimental push; locked.

Damn. Too late. They must've gone out while I was sitting around finishing my lunch of raw fish in soy sauce and horseradish. I stood around for a while and took in the area, looking for a place I could rest while I waited for them to get back.

It was then that a baseball bat gave warm greetings to the small of my back.

My legs crumpled, numb and motionless from the hit, and I fell. I tried to spin around, defend myself with my hands, but the hits fell like rain, striking my chest, my arms, legs, waist, shoulders.

Head.

I saw stars as a shoe slammed into my temple.

Then a cold dark black crept into my vision. I tried fighting it off, but it overcame me as a fist drove itself into my forehead.

---

Excerpt from news report dated 15th February, 2013

"...in other news the police are appealing for witnesses to a brazen attack against a Federal Agent in broad daylight this afternoon. Agent Daniel Anderson was on a routine journey to check up on a case when he was set upon by members of the street gang the Third Street Saints. Armed with baseball bats and metal pipes, they beat the agent to within an inch of his life, and they would've killed him had it not been for the prompt intervention of the people he'd come to visit. Dylan and Alexandria Hayes, owners and instructors at the Yin Yang School of Self Defence, came to his aid, driving off the attackers in a flurry of fists and feet. Agent Anderson is now being cared for in Boston National Hospital's intensive care unit, doctors say his condition is grim but the outlook is overall positive, and is expected to make a full recovery in a few weeks.

'He suffered several broken bones, a few fractured ribs and his skull was also fractured in the attack. The attack also caused moderate internal bleeding that could've been worse if not for his saviors acting early to stop the attack before anything got worse.'

This news comes at the forefront of an effort led by the Boston PD to combat the spates of gang-related violence in the central district. The two street gangs, the Third Street Saints and Those Men, are fighting a war over territory in what is Boston's worst case of gang violence in the new year. The federal agent was believed to have been called down by the Bureau to assist Boston police in investigating and maintaining security within the city. The police are appealing for other witnesses to the attack, and they are encouraged to phone the number at the bottom of the screen if they have any information about the attack. This is Emily Bristol, Channel Six News."