Canelo’s New Recruits

Section 1: RamenHood

SkyView Mall was still busy when Canelo walked in with four boys behind him.

The four were recent high-school graduates who had just joined his gang.

One had a cigarette tucked behind his ear. Another wore a pink shirt. The third was tall and unusually pale. The last was short and stocky, with thick arms and a rusty metal pipe tucked at his waist.

Canelo led them into a ramen restaurant called RamenHood.

Customers filled several tables, and bowls of steaming noodles covered the counters. Behind the register stood the owner and his daughter, a young woman in her early twenties who helped him run the restaurant.

Her dark ponytail framed a delicate face and large eyes. Her pink apron did little to hide her curvy figure.

As the recruits took separate tables, the stocky kid gave her a quick once-over and swallowed.

“Oh… nice pretty face. Nice bod.”

Canelo looked around, spotted two schoolgirls eating ramen together, and casually dropped into the empty chair beside them.

“Yo, little ladies. What’s up?”

Both girls froze.

One slowly turned her head.

“L-L-Lord Canelo!”

The other nearly dropped her chopsticks.

Their bowls were still almost full.

“We’re finished!”

“Y-Yeah! Completely full!” the other girl added.

They jumped up and hurried out of RamenHood.

Canelo watched them go.

“Huh?”

At another table, a man stood up and gave Canelo a perfect ninety-degree bow.

“H-Hello, Lord Canelo. Hope you have a wonderful day.”

Then he hurried out too.

That was enough.

Chairs scraped across the floor. Customers abandoned their meals one after another. Within a minute, the entire restaurant had emptied.

Canelo and his four recruits hadn’t threatened anyone.

They hadn’t even ordered anything.

They had simply sat down.

Behind the counter, the owner stared at his suddenly empty restaurant.

Canelo crossed one leg over the other and began bouncing his foot.

“Yo, Mr. Owner. Business kinda slow today?”

The owner immediately came out from behind the counter and dropped to his knees.

“Lord Canelo, please! Rent keeps going up, and business has been terrible… Please give me a little more time with the protection fee!”

Canelo took out a cigarette and lit it.

“Oh, yeah?”

The pink-shirt kid leaned back in his chair.

“Come on, man… everyone pays.”

The cigarette-smoking kid shrugged.

“Just pay, man. No point making this difficult.”

The tall, pale kid glanced at the abandoned bowls of ramen. He felt sorry for the owner but said nothing.

The stocky kid slapped his palm against the table.

“Are we gonna be here all fucking day?”

Canelo glanced at him.

“Yeah. Yo, I got all day, dude. I ain’t got shit to do.”

The stocky kid’s jaw tightened.

“Hey, Boss. Why don’t we show ’em we mean business?”

He yanked the rusty pipe from his waist and swung it twice through the air.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Then he raised it high over his head, aiming straight at the table.

“Yo. Hold it right there.”

The pipe stopped in midair.

Canelo took another drag.

“Chill, dude. We ain’t here to wreck their shit.” He gestured lazily around RamenHood. “These dudes pay us, we protect ’em. That’s how it works. Right, Mr. Owner?”

The owner nodded frantically.

“Yes! Yes, Lord Canelo!”

The stocky kid stood there for another second with the pipe still raised. Then he slowly lowered it and shoved it back against his waist.

He shot Canelo a resentful glance, then suddenly swung one arm hard through the empty air.

Whoosh!

“So we’re just gonna sit here and do nothing all day?”

Canelo kept bouncing his foot.

“Oh, yeah. I can chill here all damn day. Right, Mr. Owner?”

“Please, Lord Canelo…”

Canelo finished his cigarette and crushed the burning end directly against the tabletop.

Tssss.

He left the cigarette butt there, then immediately lit another one.

Outside RamenHood, several shoppers approached the entrance. One looked inside and froze.

“Oh, shit. It’s Lord Canelo.”

The whole group turned around and disappeared back into SkyView Mall.

The owner looked like he was about to cry.

Section 2: Canelo’s Rules

The owner’s daughter finally stepped out from behind the counter.

“Lord Canelo, please. My father isn’t trying to disrespect you. We really haven’t been making much money.”

Canelo leaned back and began whistling to himself.

The girl kept pleading, but the stocky kid’s face grew tighter and tighter.

Finally—

“Oh, enough!”

He shot out of his chair.

“You’ve been yapping in my ear this whole fucking time.”

He strode over to the girl.

“Maybe you need a lesson you’ll never forget.”

He grabbed her around the waist and threw her backward onto a nearby table. Her upper body slammed against the tabletop, her legs kicking helplessly in the air.

The stocky kid leaned over her, pinning her down. With his other hand, he pressed hard against her chest.

“Ah! Get off me!”

She struggled desperately, trying to push him away.

“GET OFF ME!” she screamed.

“Hey! Leave my daughter alone!” the owner shouted, rushing toward them.

The stocky kid turned his head toward him.

“You don’t wanna pay? Fine. Maybe your daughter can pay for you.”

Canelo stopped whistling.

BAM!

His palm slammed down on the table.

“Hey, hey, hey! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Canelo barked furiously.

The stocky kid looked back.

“I’m trying to do something for the gang. They’re never gonna pay if we just sit around doing nothing.”

“Did I tell you to do that?” Canelo snapped.

The stocky kid said nothing. He gritted his teeth, his face stiff with resentment.

Canelo pointed at the girl.

“Yo. Let her go. Right now.”

The stocky kid hesitated, keeping her pinned against the table.

Canelo’s bouncing foot stopped.

“Don’t make me say that shit twice, dude. You ain’t gonna like what happens next.”

RamenHood went quiet.

The stocky kid stared at him for another moment.

“Fine.”

He finally stepped back.

The girl immediately rushed to her father.

“D-Daddy…” she sobbed. “Daddy…”

He wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s okay now.”

The stocky kid returned to his chair without another word.

Canelo resumed smoking.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His foot started bouncing again.

He looked the stocky kid up and down. There was still contempt in his eyes, but he studied the kid a little longer than before.

The owner held his daughter close. Then, slowly, he looked at Canelo.

“Lord Canelo… thank you.”

Canelo raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Thank you for saving my daughter.”

Canelo seemed mildly surprised.

The owner swallowed.

“Maybe… maybe you’re right. Maybe this restaurant really does need protection. I’ll have the money for you tomorrow.”

Canelo nodded.

“Aight.”

He took a drag.

“See? We got your back, dude. Hope you make some good money too, Mr. Owner.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Suddenly, Canelo stopped.

“Oh, shit. I just remembered. I got some shit to do today.”

He stood up.

“Guess I can’t chill here all day after all.”

He pointed toward the owner.

“Bring the money by tomorrow afternoon, aight?”

“Yes, Lord Canelo.”

Canelo headed for the door.

“Aight, dudes. Let’s bounce.”

The other recruits stood. The stocky kid was the last one out of his chair.

As the five of them reached the entrance, the owner’s daughter bent forward in an exaggerated 120-degree bow.

“Thank you, Lord Canelo. Thank you very much.”

Canelo waved without looking back.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Then the five disappeared into SkyView Mall.

Section 3: The Resentment

Not long after leaving SkyView Mall, the four new recruits received their first real assignment from their boss, Canelo:

Robbery.

None of them had ever robbed anyone before, and they had barely joined the gang.

The four walked down the street, scanning the passing crowd for their first victim.

“Don’t you think Canelo’s a little too soft?” the stocky kid said. “We could’ve handled that restaurant in five minutes. Instead, he sat there smoking and talking all fucking day.”

The cigarette-smoking kid shook his head.

“Nah, man. Boss Canelo knows what he’s doing. The owner promised to pay, didn’t he?”

The stocky kid scoffed and spat onto the sidewalk.

“And the restaurant owner’s daughter? Shit, I really wanted to bang that chick. But that son of a bitch Canelo got in my way!”

“Hey, show some respect, man. That’s Boss Canelo you’re talking about,” the pink-shirt kid said.

“Boss Canelo? My ass!”

The stocky kid gripped his rusty pipe.

“That lazy bastard acts like he’s some big shot. Shit, I ain’t even sure he could beat me in a fight!”

“Hey, man. You don’t know that,” the pink-shirt kid argued.

The stocky kid’s frustration finally boiled over. He yanked out the rusty pipe and slammed it into the pavement.

BOOOOM!

The concrete cracked beneath the impact. A powerful shockwave tore across the street and struck a parked car some distance away.

CRAAAASH!

Its windshield and every window shattered at once. The car alarm began blaring.

The other three recruits froze.

The tall, pale kid stared at the shattered windows.

Maybe I’m not cut out to be a gangster.

The stocky kid rested the pipe against his shoulder.

“Fucking bullshit.”

Nobody dared say another word.

The four continued down the street in silence.

Eventually, they turned into a dark alley.

Section 4: The Assignment

Coming toward them from the other end of the alley was a man in pajamas with a ridiculous watermelon haircut.

It was Benson.

The four recruits exchanged a look. They had found their first victim.

They quickly surrounded him and shoved him against the wall. The pink-shirt kid stepped forward.

“Give us all your money! Hand it over if you don’t wanna die!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Benson’s high-pitched, girlish scream echoed through the alley, startling all four boys.

“Please don’t hurt me! Please!”

He frantically searched his pajama pockets and pulled out a wrinkled five-dollar bill.

“Here! Take it! That’s all I have!”

The stocky kid snatched the bill and stared at it.

Five dollars.

“Are you fucking kidding me? A third grader’s richer than you! This shit can’t even buy a pack of smokes!”

He waved the bill in Benson’s face.

“You’re wasting our time, man. Wasting the mugging business’s time!”

“That’s really all I have!” Benson cried. “I swear!”

“Bullshit.”

The cigarette-smoking kid grabbed Benson by the collar and searched his pockets. Finding nothing, he shoved a hand inside Benson’s underwear, still looking for money.

Benson couldn’t help but let out a brief moan.

“What the fuck are you moaning for?” the cigarette-smoking kid snapped.

“Oh! I’m straight! Please don’t violate me!” Benson pleaded.

The cigarette-smoking kid ignored him and finished searching.

Nothing.

“Holy shit. He really only has five bucks,” the cigarette-smoking kid muttered.

He glared at Benson, then suddenly raised his hand.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Five slaps struck Benson’s face in rapid succession. His watermelon haircut whipped from side to side, leaving a ridiculous blur in the air.

For a moment, Benson stood perfectly still.

Then the pain caught up with him.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

A high-pitched, girlish scream tore through the alley.

The cigarette-smoking kid shook his head.

“No wonder the mugging business is going bankrupt these days.”

He took the cigarette from his mouth and pressed the burning tip against Benson’s forehead.

Tssssss—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Benson’s scream reached the street outside.

A young man passing by stopped.

“Oh, shit. Is somebody getting raped?”

He hesitated, then peeked into the alley.

“Hold on… this could be a live-action romantic action movie!”

But when he saw four boys surrounding a man with a watermelon haircut, his excitement disappeared.

“Oh, fuck. It’s just a dude.”

He walked away.

Back in the alley, the pink-shirt kid spat at Benson.

Ptooey!

The spit landed directly in Benson’s eye.

“Holy fuck, right in my eye,” Benson groaned.

“And that watermelon haircut makes me sick,” the pink-shirt kid added.

The tall, pale kid finally spoke.

“Hey, guys… maybe that’s enough. He’s literally broke. We’re not getting anything else out of him.”

Before anyone could answer, the stocky kid strode forward and shoved all three recruits aside.

“Man, this whole thing’s been a fucking waste of time.”

He glared at Benson.

“Move aside. I’m gonna teach this loser a legendary fucking lesson.”

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

Five punches hammered Benson from side to side in barely a second.

Before he could collapse, the stocky kid grabbed him by the shoulders and drove a knee straight into his stomach.

WHOOSH!

The force sent a gust through the alley, blowing back the other recruits’ hair.

Benson folded around the impact. Blood burst from his mouth and splattered across the stocky kid’s shirt.

He sagged against the wall, barely conscious.

“Aah…”

This time, Benson’s voice was weak and broken. He no longer had the strength to scream.

“Somehow… it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore…” he murmured. “But I feel like I’m dying… Please don’t kill me…”

The cigarette-smoking kid and the pink-shirt kid exchanged uneasy looks.

“Hey, man… I think that’s enough,” the cigarette-smoking kid said.

The tall, pale kid rushed forward and grabbed the stocky kid’s arms.

“Stop! He’s gonna die if you keep this up! And Boss Canelo told us we don’t need to kill people when we rob them. It’s unnecessary trouble. Besides, mercy toward all living—”

The stocky kid’s expression darkened.

“That soft-ass Canelo?”

He shoved the tall, pale kid away, sending him sliding across the pavement.

“Hey! Don’t do anything stupid!” the cigarette-smoking kid and the pink-shirt kid shouted.

The stocky kid swung his arm through the air.

WHOOSH!

The gust alone knocked both boys off their feet.

He pulled the rusty metal pipe from his waist.

The other three stared in horror.

The stocky kid began whipping the pipe through the air, building up momentum.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Faster and faster.

Benson stared at the blur of metal above him. His eyes widened.

“No! No! NOOOOOOO—!”

The stocky kid leaped into the air and brought the rusty pipe straight down on Benson’s watermelon head.

CRAAAACK!

Benson’s head burst open on impact.

A red mist sprayed through the alley as his headless body crumpled to the ground.

Section 5: Job Done

The entire alley fell silent.

The other three recruits stared at Benson’s headless body, too stunned to move.

The stocky kid landed on the ground, still gripping his rusty pipe. He casually wiped the blood from it, then turned away as though nothing had happened.

“Our job is done. What the hell are you waiting for? You wanna get caught by the cops? Move.”

He started walking, resting the rusty pipe across his shoulder.

“If a job takes one minute, you finish it in one minute. You drag that shit out for five or ten minutes, then you’re too soft to be a gangster.”

The other three exchanged uneasy looks.

None of them seemed quite sure what to do anymore. After a moment, they simply followed the stocky kid, almost as though they had somehow found themselves a new boss.

The four casually walked away, leaving Benson’s headless body behind.