Now we were looking for the second guy on the list, Jorge Pérez. We were only traveling in one SUV 'cause the rest of my men were out distributing our stuff or checking out which banks to rob or looking for the other gangs. It's not that I was worried about those assholes; I couldn't care less, but if those fucking falcons started showing up in the middle of the day, it was because the new gangs didn't respect us, and I was gonna teach those sons of bitches to respect me. Also, I spread my men throughout the city to cover more territory and to use them as bait in case the other gangs got the stupid idea that they were big enough to attack me. If they decided to kill my men, well, then I would go personally to find them, and that town, my town, was very small, and I knew it very well, so I wouldn't have to torture that many people to find them.
But anyway, we were looking for Jorge.
"We're here, Boss," said the driver and he stopped in front of an abandoned building, like many others throughout the town.
I got out of the truck with my men.
"No one leaves," I told them, and some guarded the entrance. Me and the others went in.
We walked through the hallways and found some rooms there. There were many things on the floor, like clothes, shoes, couches, empty bottles and bags, and even an old TV with a broken screen. There were also some plastic chairs, worn out couches, and even stained and holey mattresses.
Probably some of those things belonged to people who were no longer there.
We kept walking, and we noticed the walls everywhere were covered in black mold and had a lot of gangs' symbols. I didn't know all of them. Maybe those gangs existed before I was born, or maybe they were new gangs. But I didn't give a fuck about those 'cause as soon as they came out, I was gonna to fuck them up, like I'd already done with many others.
But hey, we also met some bums and junkies who looked at us with fear or were so high they didn't even know what was happening. But none of them was Jorge; Jorge was tall and blond, and that's why we always asked him how someone as white as him could be so poor. He just laughed.
We went upstairs and found some junkies, and they started running as soon as they saw us. My men only grabbed one, and the rest ran down the hallway and around a corner.
"Fucking dumbasses," I told them. None of the ones who escaped seemed to be Jorge, tho, and that's why I let them go.
We kept going, turned the same corner as them, and on one side was a very large room, filled with trash and a few junkies who stood up and looked at us, scared and unsure of what to do. The room wasn't very lit, but we could still see some guy in the corner, sitting on the floor. He barely moved. He was tall, blond, had long hair, and wasn't wearing a shirt.
"Get him up," I told my men, and they grabbed him and pulled him up. They didn't let go 'cause that guy could barely stand.
I approached him and stared at his face. He looked nervous and had very small pupils. He smelled of piss and vomit. His hands were shaking.
"Jorge?" I asked him, and he just stared back at me. "I'm Miguel."
He was just staring at me.
"Look," I showed him my hand: "I learned how to do magic," I did a very simple spell, and my glove began to glow.
Jorge stared at my hand with his eyes wide open, just like any other junkie would.
But that's when I remembered my men were there. They saw Jorge and knew I was looking for him. They probably thought Jorge was my weakness and that if they wanted to screw me over, they'd use him. They'd kidnap, torture, and kill him to send me a message: "You're next." That's how gangs work: if you show any weakness, they'll use it against you.
"You were right, you know. Wanna see?" I took Jorge by the shoulder and teleported us to another abandoned building, where my men couldn't find us. He looked around, scared. Suddenly, he bent his back and knees and started vomiting. The windows were broken there, and a lot of light was coming in, so I got a better look at Jorge. He was so skinny you could see his bones, he had wounds and bruises all over his body, his arms were so bruised and infected from all those needles he'd used; the eye bags, the dry mouth, the tremors—I'd seen plenty of people like that when I lived in that town, and they always ended up overdosing.
"They're already gone," that's what everyone said.
So, I got a little bit closer and slapped him.
"Jorge, you remember me?" I asked him, but he only walked away.
I got a little bit closer and slapped him again.
"I'm Miguel, you remember me?" He looked at me at that moment—I don't know if he did it 'cause he remembered me or 'cause I was slapping him—and walked away. "You my friend?" I got a little bit closer and slapped him again, and he just walked away from me again.
I sighed because I wouldn't be able to do that power of friendship crap with someone who barely knows where he is or who I am.
So I was about to teleport me back to the other building.
But if I left Jorge there, either drugs or gangs would end up killing him. It was just a matter of time.
And I still had to look for Juan. He probably didn't end up in a gang, like Paco, or as a junkie, like Jorge.
Yes, Juan seemed like the best option, so I approached Jorge and placed my hand on his chest. He didn't even notice.
"You won't suffer anymore," I told him, and I casted a spell that destroyed him in less than a second. It didn't hurt. The gangs or the drugs were gonna torture him for days or even weeks. He was already dead, and I just took away his pain.
I did it for him, not for me. I did it for his own sake.
And he knew what he was getting into; we all knew 'cause we saw it every day. He knew he'd end up dead if he became a fucking junkie. Everyone in my town knew it. And yet he did it anyway. It's not my fault he ended up like this. I just ended his suffering and protected him from everyone else. If they tortured and killed him, I couldn't care less.
I did it for him, not for me.
Well, whatever. The only thing left of Jorge was his blood, which was spilled everywhere, even on my face and clothes.
"What a shame," I whispered. "I did like you."
I then teleported back to the abandoned building. My men were still there, in the same room I'd left them in, but now they were watching two junkies fight.
"Beat his shit up!" yelled one of my men.
"Fuck him up, fuck him up!" yelled another one.
One of the junkies threw the other to the ground and raised his hands as a sign that he didn't want to fight anymore. My men immediately pointed their guns at him.
"What did we tell you, asshole? Either you beat the shit out of him or we'll beat the shit out of you."
"Let's go," I told my men and left the room. They just followed me.
"Where have you been, Boss?" One of them asked me.
"None of your fucking business, dumbass" I said. "And don't even bother looking for Jorge." I wiped his blood off my gloves.
I don't know if they did look for him or not, but it doesn't matter.
We walked back to the SUV. We reached the entrance, but before leaving, I noticed a mural on one of the walls. It was very faded, but I could still see several doctors, patients, that strange symbol of a stick and two snakes that doctors always have, and, in big letters, "Miseryville General Hospital."