CHAPTER TWO

-3 WEEKS AGO-

"Hey man, you hear the Manic Krew is gonna be at da Lowe on da tenth next month?"

"Yeeah, I hear dat. We gonna go?"

"'Course we gonna go. We gotta be dey biggest fans. All of us needs to pitch in for tickets."

"A-right, Cuz. Here my share. Get me a good seat!" The boy dug around in his pockets and pulled out a wad of cash. He handed over a ten and a five dollar bill to the older one, who was known as Venom. Many of the Vipers gang members had aliases that had a relation to snakes: there was Fangster, Slither, Lil' Hiss, Serpent, Striker, Scales, and Slime, to name just a few.

Actually, Slime was misnamed. Snakes are not slimy at all- that is a common misconception. But growing up in the inner-city and having never even seen a real snake, much less handled one, the boys were none the wiser.

There are only so many words that are related to snakes, though, so eventually they had to come up with other things for the remaining members. Some boys used only the initials of their real names; others came up with creative things of their own.

Jamaal's name was Lil' Hiss. After his father left, the gang became his new family. They gladly took Jamaal in and taught him the tricks of the trade. He'd been running with the Vipers for several years now, but only after he proved himself would he be a real Viper. And that's when the "Lil'" would be dropped from his moniker, and he'd become just Hiss.

Jamaal, a.k.a. Lil' Hiss, was the younger boy who had just handed over his money to the older one, known as T.D., for Top Dog. T.D. was one of the leaders of the Vipers, having been with the gang for most of his life. He was 19, and nearing the cut-off age for members. The oldest Viper, Fangster, was 26, and currently in prison.

It wasn't that there was some unspoken rule about age in the gang. You could be 58 and if you were serious, you could be a Viper. The issue was that few made it much past their 20th birthdays without becoming another statistic in these crime-ridden streets. Gang and non-gang violence in this place commonly called the ghetto wasn't in the best interest for a long, healthy life.

Still, that didn't deter the kids in the neighborhood from idolizing the older gang members. Young boys, and even the occasional girl, were drawn to gang life like flies to garbage. Although in many sad cases, kids were bullied and threatened into gangbanging. These kids would much rather have no part of it, but were made to believe (and in some cases it was true) that if they didn't join this or that gang, they'd be killed.

That hadn't been the case with Jamaal, though. He'd gladly ran with them as soon as a deceptively friendly arm had been placed around his shoulders and invited him into the fold.

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-YESTERDAY, 5:30 AM-

The 49th Precinct Stables was a buzz of activity. Horses were being washed, groomed, checked on, and tacked up for another day on the beat. Each officer was assigned his or her own horse, which they always rode, except in the case of illness or some other condition.

Officer Perry reached into his left shirt pocket and pulled out a handful of raisins. Even though he was several feet away from the stall where his horse Topper was, Topper's ears perked up and he nickered with anticipation of the treat.

Officer perry quickly unlatched the stall door and Topper flung his muzzle into Officer Perry's chest, searching. Officer Perry laughed and held his palm flat. The horse gleefully lapped up the raisins, tossing his head with pleasure as he chewed.

"There you are, boy. You didn't think I'd forget your favorite snack, did you?" Officer Perry patted the gelding's muscular neck. The bay Morgan was one of the handsomest horses in the stables, and was usually the first one the public was drawn to when the mounted unit was on patrol or at special events. When they would visit local schools, the excited children would pet all of the horses, but Topper seemed to get the most hugs and kisses. There was just something about him, an extra touch of gentleness and sweetness in his eyes, that people were so quick to pick up on.

In the stall next to them, Officer Dunham was slipping a bridle over the head of Noble, a tall chestnut Quarter Horse with three white socks and a bold blaze down his nose. As soon as he had finished, he snuck over to Topper's stall and tapped Officer Perry on the arm, startling him.

"Sorry," he laughed, "Didn't mean to scare you. I just wondered what you thought about tonight's gig."

"What, you mean the Lowe? No big deal, I'm sure. What is it that's going on there tonight, anyway? They never told us."

"Some hip-hop concert. Group called Manic Krew. Could get pretty wild, I hear they attract a lot of the wrong kinds of people. It's pretty hard-core gangsta, from what I've been told."

"Meh, I've done crowd control plenty of times. Not really a big deal most of the time. If they thought it would get ugly, we'd have been issued our riot gear, and obviously we weren't. Probably nothing more than a bunch of kids there to have fun. Our duty is just to see that the fun doesn't get out of hand. Can't let anyone get hurt, not on our watch. Don't worry about it."

Officer Dunham was still a bit of a rookie, having never done crowd control. He was still a little nervous, but Officer Perry's words had calmed him down a lot. Yeah, that was probably right. A bunch of kids having fun.

He could handle that.