Bulletproof

BULLETPROOF

“Are you kidding?!”
The indignant comment was growled at the other man. Devin Valor, Dev for short, could only take so much. Months of physical beatings had left him close to what he thought of as death. The blaring horns of cars temporarily distracted Dev from his musings. The damp wind of DC’s climate rustled his already disheveled deep-brown hair. He stared at the man he knew as Carlos Sanchez, also known as ‘C’, in disbelief. “You want me to shoot a bullet through my ears?”
“So you heard me right,” snickered Carlos. A few men behind him let out a short burst of quiet laughter. His black eyes gleamed with sarcastic mirth as he sauntered towards Dev. “Changed your mind, Bro?”
“You humor me Carlos, you really do. How can you seriously think I’d do something so completely insane?” Dev shoved his hands into the pocket of his black leather jacket as he glanced at Carlos and the men that stood quietly behind him. He tried to understand what exactly had possessed Carlos to think he would do something that would prove fatal just to get into his gang. Being the leader of the Washington, DC gang that went by the name of ‘DC-Sangre’, Carlos was a built man of a little over average height and of Spanish decent.
“You either do it, or you leave. Now.” The glare that came from Carlos could have frozen lava fresh from a volcano. When Carlos was a child, his father, leader of the gang formally known as 'I-5', had killed his mother. He was shipped off to a foster house and had escaped that prison to live on the street and later acquire his gun shop which he named "Bulletproof". That was all the information anyone could gather about him, Carlos mostly told his past to men who could keep their mouths shut, even when bribed.
"Screw you!" with that said, Dev turned and stormed away from a future that could have been the antidote to his fear of being alone. Besides his job at Dubliner, Dev didn't really have a place in this city. He was never home, he didn't live with anyone so his fear was out of control, the paranoia.
By the time Dev had turned onto Elm Street where his night shift at Dubliner’s was to be served, the sky had already turned a deep shade of navy blue. To a bystander, Dev looked to be in a rush, his eyes flickering from here to there. His footsteps quickened as he neared Dubliner’s; the faster he could get in there, the faster he would be reunited with people, his fear would calm and recede to the back of his mind.
He burst into the bar and hastily released the breath he had held tight involuntarily. Quickly and quietly he changed into his work clothes; a deep navy button down polo shirt and a worn pair of blue jeans. Once he got behind the counter, he noticed it wasn't particularly crowded tonight and began serving up some of his popular drinks to the costumers.
An hour or so went by before Carlos and one other DC-Sangre member walked in. It was Ricardo. Dev couldn't fathom why they were here, he automatically went into panic mode. They approached, Carlos wearing a mask of happiness on his face and a look of grim purpose in his eyes. Dev scurried to the farthest side of the counter, as far away from the two as he could possibly get without leaving his duty. Carlos reached Dev first, put both of his hands onto the counter and leaned his body against them, making the muscles bulge.
Ricardo, obviously on bodyguard duty, took his place behind and a little to the left of Carlos. Carlos' facial expression gave nothing away of his purpose for being at Dubliner's as he intently watched Dev slide his eyes around the room but neatly avoid looking Carlos in the face.
"So... Your just gonna leave like that? Even after going through my boot camp?" Carlos didn't seem too happy that he has just lost another member, but then again, he didn't really want him in the gang anyway. Dev was just something on the side, like a hobby, something to fill your spare time with. He was nothing of importance, just there for Carlos to enjoy messing with. Carlos had thought Dev would give up on getting in way before he actually did. He had asked Dev to shoot the bullet because he couldn't think of anything else that would prevent him from getting into DC-Sangre, and, of course, it worked.
After a long pause, Dev finally answered. " Yes..." Dev still hadn't looked him in the eye; he sensed Carlos was getting hyped for something, and he didn't want to find out what it was. "You can leave now."
"You cant talk to a costumer like that!" Raising his voice enough for everyone to hear, he continued. "Better get me a drink, Bartender." With a look around the room, Carlos randomly pointed to a bar patron. " I want what he's havin'."
"Yes sir." Pouring the drink as if it wasn’t for Carlos, just another costumer, Dev actually got it right. Once he laid down the glass down in front of him with a soft clink as the glass touched the wood of the counter, Dev left for the other end of the bar to serve other arrivals. With his back turned to Carlos, he didn’t see him pour out the drink himself. Carlos' eyes burned a hole through Dev's back as he slowly let the contents of his drink trickle to the polished wooden floor.
"HEY BARTENDER! Get back here!" Carlos called out for Dev with a smirk aimed behind him to Ricardo. Slowly and with growing anger, Dev turned around and made his way towards Carlos. Once again, he poured the same drink, the same way, and once again, he left to the other side of the room.
This time, Carlos didn’t bother to watch the amber liquid of his drink pour down to the floor; he just tossed the contents blindly behind his back, just missing Ricardo. Again he yelled for Dev, but this time, Dev didn’t come. Carlos yelled again, still no answer. Dev busied himself with orders from other customers and ignored Carlos, probably a bad idea. The next thing anyone heard was the smash of glass.
Carlos had thrown his glass into the frosted glass cabinet full of drinks. Shards of glass the size of hands and bigger flew haphazardly throughout the bar. Screams from both male and female filled the room as Dev panicked in the chaos.
He just ran for it. Out the door. Down the street. Carlos and Ricardo were in hot pursuit, guns out, running as fast as their legs could carry them. Carlos was feeling the excitement of the chase, a smile plastered on his face as he continuously lost and regained sight of Dev.
Dev skirted buildings, trees, and pedestrians as he ran for his life. Carlos and Ricardo had begun shooting the moving target but missed constantly bullets ricocheted off light poles as Dev raced down the concrete sidewalk, barely missing him. He glanced back to see just how far ahead of his predators he was. Hearing their yells before he actually caught sight of them, he knew they couldn't be lagging behind that far and he ran faster, the extra speed coming from only the adrenaline pumping in his veins and the terror in his heart. He didnt want to die on the streets.
"GET HIM!! GET HIIIIIIM!" Carlos' fury rang loud and clear in his voice as he commanded his comrade to aim faster and more accurately. Dev was almost out of his sight. The smile that once inhabited Carlos' face had drained away some time ago. This chase was going on far too long. Now it was a risk, not only for Dev, but for Carlos too. Police were bound to hear the shots ringing out in the still and silent night air. He couldn't get caught, he wouldn't.
His house. Dev's house. He hadn't been there in who knows how long, but here it was. A haven of sorts, a safe place. His pace slowed for a second before he caught himself and began running at full speed once again. Looking back one more time, he found Carlos and Ricardo no where to be found but, even this fact wasnt reassuring. For all he knew, they were hiding in his house, right behind his door, waiting for the prey to fall easily into the hands of the predator.
In his rush, Dev skidded to a halt in front of the heavy wood door of his usually vacant house. Slamming the door closed, he bolted all the locks and turned to survey his 'humble abode'. Breathing heavier then he ever remembered, his shaky legs jerkily carried him to the couch in the middle of the room. Dev's hands automatically clutched the edge of the couch, hands flexing as he unsuccessfully tried to regain his breath. His heart hammered so loudly it deafened him as it furiously pumped blood to his tired muscles. He gulped in the dusty air that accumulated in his abandoned house.
The cold steel of a gun pressed against his sweaty temple. Dev trembled.
"Gotcha."