Corps Justice Boxed Set: Books 1-3: Back to War, Council of Patriots, Prime Asset

“Back to War”

“Council of
Patriots”

“Prime Asset”

Books 1-3 of The Corps Justice Series

Author: C. G. Cooper

Editor (“Prime Asset”): Karen Rought

Copyright © 2012-2014 Corps Justice. All
Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

(
http://www.CorpsJustice.com
)

These are works of fiction. Characters,
names, locations and events are all products of the author’s
imagination. Any similarities to actual events or real persons are
completely coincidental.

Warning:
This story is intended for mature audiences and contains
profanity and violence.

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Dedications

To my wife Katie for listening to all my
crazy ideas. I love you.

In Memory of Lieutenant General Charles G.
Cooper, USMC (Ret)

To our troops serving in harm’s way: God
Bless and thank you for your service.

Back to War

Council of
Patriots

Prime Asset

Formatting Note: Book 1 (“Back To War”)
contains formatting that blends screenplay dialogue in with the
normal paragraph form. Books 2 & 3 have normal formatting.

Book 1 – Back to War

T
he
gang members remained hidden as they watched the young couple from
the third story window of the parking garage a block away. The
couple was blissfully unaware of the five observers. Why should
they worry? They were in the middle of the busy downtown nightlife.
Police were present as usual and the crowd flowed smoothly along
the packed sidewalks.

The tallest of the gang, a thirty-something
black man with a short Mohawk cut and a pencil-thin goatee looked
down at his latest recruit.

DANTE
: You
ready to do this thing?

The young recruit looked no more than
fifteen. His hazel green eyes starkly contrasted with his
three-inch afro. He wore an oversized t-shirt with the New Orleans
Saints logo plastered from front to back. His huge jeans were
sagging and obviously way too big for his skinny frame. He looked
like the prototype wannabe gangster.

SHORTY
:
Yeah. I’m ready.

He was visibly nervous but vibrating with
excitement. His drug-induced adrenaline kick was in full effect and
he was ready to go. This would be his final step prior to being
inducted into the small yet growing gang whose roots began in the
hoods of New Orleans but were transplanted during Hurricane Katrina
to the confines of Nashville.

The young couple they continued to track was
chosen for one simple reason: they were white.

Most other gangs chose a
less public criminal act for their young recruits. N.O.N. (New
Orleans Nashville) had a special reason for choosing the outwardly
normal pair. Although typically a subtle crew, their leader, Dante
West, believed that the root of all the suffering he and his
extended family had endured during the aftermath of Katrina was the
fault of the white majority. Sure there had been decent white folks
who had helped with food and transportation, but his resentment was
bred through the constant bombardment of the race-filled preaching
of fellow gang leaders.
Shit hadn’t that
baddass rapper even said that the President hated black
people?

He believed his own gang now thrived because
of two things: profitability and hate. Yes, Dante thought, that
anger and emotion would help him grow N.O.N. to the size of some of
the local Hispanic gangs. Also, Dante’s cunning and expertise would
further his expansion of N.O.N. The initiation ritual was the one
deviation from his otherwise underground organization.

Dante looked down at his group of four
brothers.

DANTE
: Now
remember what I told you, Shorty takes the first hits. We only jump
in if he starts getting his ass kicked.

The other members laughed out loud as Shorty
spit out a nervous chuckle.

SHORTY
: I
ain’t gonna get my ass whooped, Dante. That white boy is gonna get
his ass whooped.”

DANTE
: I
know, I know. You just do this thing right and tonight we’ll get
you some pussy and champagne.

Shorty nodded and pulled out the slim tools
he’d brought for the night’s work: an eight inch buck knife and a
metal mallet he’d picked up at a local hardware store. He took an
awkward swing with the mallet and a quick stab with the knife. He
was ready.

DANTE
:
Shorty, remember what we told you. You’re not gonna kill ‘em. Just
hurt ‘em both real good so they remember never to fuck with
us.

Shorty made a disgusted face like he hated
being talked down to.

SHORTY
:
Shit Dante, I ain’t stupid. Just let me do this thing so I can go
get me some.

With that Dante nodded and waved his newest
recruit toward the stairwell. They let Shorty get a decent lead and
then hit street level themselves. Always within sight, he was easy
to spot in his black and gold clothing.

They continued to follow as Shorty closed
the distance between himself and the young couple. He could now
make out their features. The young man wore a pair of faded but
stylish jeans and one of those cowboy plaid looking shirts that
were popular. The man looked to be in his twenties, just shy of six
feet, and walked with a casual air. He had a medium build. Nothing
special. His light brown hair was short and slightly spiked in the
front. He looked like a ton of other white boys Shorty saw everyday
at school. The young man smiled as he talked to the girl whose hand
he was holding.

The girl also had light brown hair that she
wore straight and that hung just past her shoulders. She was
attractive and looked athletic. She wore jeans and form-fitting
pink t-shirt. Again, nothing over the top amazing, just normal.

Shorty gauged the distance between himself,
the couple, and the alley Dante had appointed as the jump spot. He
was twenty feet from the couple. The man and woman were fifty feet
from alley. The time was almost right.

As the couple nearly reached the small alley
Shorty quickly closed the distance to the couple. The plan was to
quickly grab the girl and pull her into the alley. The boyfriend
would, of course, follow and try to get her back. Meanwhile, the
rest of Dante’s crew would close in and seal off the end of the
alley and shield the scene from potential onlookers. It would sound
and look like a normal post-bar brawl that were common on any night
in downtown Nashville.

He could see his soon to be gang brothers
swiftly approaching. It was time to act.

Shorty closed the remaining distance from
the couple, wrapped his right arm around the waist of the young
woman and pulled her into the small alley. She screamed to her
fiancé.

JESSICA
:
Cal!

Shorty kept a wary eye on the boyfriend and
was surprised to see the young man already following.

Not a problem. His boys would take care of
him.

Shorty pulled the now struggling girl
farther into the alley and threw her down roughly while
simultaneously turning, extracting his weapons, and prepared for
the approaching boyfriend.

The young man was five feet
away and had a look on his face that Shorty wasn’t expecting.
Shorty thought the young man would be scared shitless. Instead, his
pursuer looked stone cold determined without the smallest trace of
fear.
What the fuck?
Shorty thought.

As the final foot between them closed Shorty
swung at the man with an overhand chop. The young man ignored the
mallet and rushed full steam into Shorty. Both men fell to the
ground with the new recruit exposed on the bottom.

Shorty quickly felt the
man’s hands gripping his head and the man’s thumbs found his
eyes.
This motherfucker is gonna take out
my eyes!
thought a now frantic
Shorty.

What Shorty couldn’t know what that the
young man had realized the trap, although too late, when he
glimpsed the remaining gang members block the opening to the alley.
His one chance was a full-on frontal assault. Take out the first
man, and then see if he could deal with the rest. In the meantime,
hopefully his new fiancée could get away and find help.

The man continued to apply pressure as
Shorty dropped both weapons and scrambled to free himself. Too
late. The would-be victim ripped out both eyeballs as Shorty wailed
and clawed at his now empty eye sockets.

The young man grabbed both weapons and
hopped back up to his feet.

One down.
Thought Cal. He had seen and done worse on the
battlefields of Afghanistan. Then it was for his country and the
survival of his Marines, now it was for the well being of his new
fiancé.
Fuck
, he
thought.

As he turned to the alley entrance the
remaining gang members closed within striking distance. Two moved
towards Jessica and Dante and another slowly approached the young
man.

DANTE
: You
shouldn’t have done that to Shorty, boy. Now you’re gonna get
something from me.

Dante withdrew a shiny silver handgun from
his coat pocket and pointed it at Jessica.

CAL
: You
point that thing at me mother fucker. You wanna fuck with someone,
fuck with me.

DANTE
: Ok,
boy…

He swiveled the weapon back to the young
man.

DANTE
: I’ll
fuck with you now.

Dante leveled the gun back to his fiancé and
fired four shots into her body.

CAL
:
No!

Cal screamed in defiance and with knife
leading ran the five feet and jumped on the gang banger closest to
his now immobile fiancé. The knife plunged into the chest of his
target just as Cal simultaneously brought the heavy mallet down on
top of the man’s head.

As the man fell to the ground Cal planted
his feet, pivoted right and backhanded the third gang member with
the mallet in the side of the face. He followed the third crew
member’s descent and followed the initial mallet blow with a deep
knife slash across the man’s neck. Blood shot up like a geyser and
immediately coated Cal’s face and chest as he bent over the now
dying man.

He turned back towards Dante with a look of
total bloodlust and charged. In his mind he knew that unless he
took out these last two men, his fiancé would die. That could not
happen. How had he survived multiple tours and numerous wounds in
the war-torn lands of Afghanistan only to fall prey to these
men?

Although his mind raged with bloodlust, his
mission remained clear: Kill the enemy.

Closing the short distance to his assailant
Dante fired his remaining rounds at the battle raged young man. Six
of the eight shots missed wide because Dante was suddenly unnerved
by the skill of this supposedly ‘normal’ white boy. The last two
shots hit their target only because the final distance was a mere
two feet. One round hit the young man in the chest and one in the
shoulder.

Still the young man managed to grab hold of
Dante and take him to the ground. A blood soaked Cal head-butted
Dante two times in the nose before the only other remaining gang
member pulled him off.

As he was being pulled back
Cal tried to turn and face his newest attacker. Instead he fumbled
with the blood drenched weapons and staggered back. With his
strength fading and the pain from his two bullet wounds increasing,
the young man’s mind started to fog.
Focus
dammit!
he yelled in his head.

He shook his head and
turned to see the fourth gang member. What he wouldn’t give to have
his pistol right now.
Gotta make
do
, he thought.