Under the Trolls

Chapter 37 Under the Trolls

After get off work that evening, Bruce continued to hitch a ride with Martin.

Thinking about what Martin had said, he said, "Hart and the guys in the 'Handsome Men's Group' believe you can bring in more revenue, so they're willing to go with you to protest the Methodist Association."

Martin knew this, of course: "Don't worry, I'll make them keep calling me Dad."

Bruce asked, "A reward for news informants? I guess we're all on the blacklist."

"That's easy. You can have Monica make the call, and Hart and the others can have their wives or friends make the call." Martin turned the car around, and the car approached the Bacca neighborhood: "The boss agreed to provide an hourly wage subsidy."

He thought for a moment, then said, "I'll go to the Freedom Club on Monday and see if I can get some sponsorship. Old Bu, this might not work, so don't say anything yet."

Ford stopped at the intersection, and Bruce got out: "Don't worry, I'm not an idiot like you."

The car door closed, and Martin sped off, leaving Bruce standing there smoking.

Bruce snapped, "I hope you get robbed by some black guy when you get back!"

Martin extended his left arm out of the car window and gave him the middle finger.

As the car drove to the intersection leading to the Clayton neighborhood, two white men stood up under one of the few remaining streetlights, holding white plastic bags and gesturing towards Martin.

Martin had encountered similar vendors before, selling seaweed and flour.

He didn't slow down and continued walking forward.

We had only gone a few dozen meters when we heard a screeching sound of brakes behind us.

Martin glanced at the rearview mirror instinctively. A pickup truck sped into the intersection, and the two white men turned and ran. After running a few steps, flames flashed simultaneously from the open passenger and rear doors of the pickup truck.

boom--

Under the influence of trolls, all beings are equal.

Two white men fell to the ground.

The Martin drove very fast, all the way into the backyard. He touched the gun inside his clothes and felt somewhat safer.

"Fuck you!" Seeing the scene unfold before his eyes, Martin unleashed a torrent of profanity he'd kept buried deep inside: "You trolls!"

Although there are vendors around the neighborhood, Clayton is not one of the most chaotic neighborhoods, and it is much better than predominantly Black and Latino neighborhoods.

This was the first time Martin had witnessed a shooting.

He washed his face, calmed himself down, closed the doors and windows, and waited for a while. When the community remained calm, he went to sleep.

In the early hours of the morning, Martin was awakened from his sleep by gunshots, which sounded to be coming from not far away.

Martin picked up his pistol and phone and stood guard behind the brick wall by the door.

The roar of car and motorcycle engines filled the air, intermittently accompanied by gunfire.

He called Elena, and once she answered, he said, "Close the doors and windows, don't come out!"

Elena said, "I know, you idiot, and you shouldn't go out either! Your crappy pistol isn't even good enough to shoot birds!"

Martin hung up the phone and dialed 911.

It's estimated that many people in the community have called the police.

The sirens, however, remained silent for a long time.

Poor communities have no human rights.

When the gunshots stopped and the roar of engines subsided, the sound of sirens finally came from afar.

After daybreak, Martin and Elena went to the scene of the crime to take a look.

The house, less than 150 meters from Carter's house, had its wooden walls riddled with bullet holes like a honeycomb, and the blood on the muddy ground had dried into a dark black.

Police set up a cordon.

Martin saw Mr. Wood and asked, "What happened?"

Wood arrived early and learned some things: "I heard that a black gang from the south robbed us of goods and markets, and got into a shootout with Jackson and his gang. Four people died. Our lousy community is going to be in chaos from now on."

The middle-aged man next to me asked, "I'm going to buy a gun, are you coming?"

Elena chimed in, "What the hell! Whoever dares to break into my house, I'll smash their pig's head in!"

Martin went back to his car and called Bruce, asking him and Monica to go to the gun shop together.

Bruce said, "Last night, a dealer also died in the Bacca neighborhood."

Martin was relieved: "If we had gone down this path, we would have ended up the same way."

The atmosphere inside the car was a bit heavy. All four men came from humble backgrounds and had not received a good education, except for Bruce, who had served in the military and was in a better situation.

Martin parked his car in front of the gun shop: "Guys, to put it bluntly, don't ever fall into a quagmire. Nobody's going to lend a hand to us poor bastards."

Bruce seemed to realize something: "So, you've been doing it part-time all along."

Martin opened the car door: "I'm just a part-time worker who gets paid by the hour, I don't know anything else."

Elena and Monica were baffled: "What are those two idiots talking about?"

The four people got off the bus and went to the gun shop to choose a gun.

Martin has a pistol, but after what happened last night, his fear of insufficient firepower has kicked in.

He wants to buy a long gun.

Elena also wants to buy a long gun.

Georgia law allows the purchase of long guns without restrictions or permits.

The two followed Bruce's advice as a professional and chose shotguns that suited them.

Bruce bought an AR.

When the community environment deteriorates to a certain extent, they have no choice but to take up arms.

After practicing shooting all morning, on the way back, Martin told Elena, "Keep the gun safe. Don't let that idiot Hall get his hands on it. I suspect he'll blow his own head off."

Elena scoffed, "He's not as stupid as you."

That same evening, another shooting occurred north of the Clayton neighborhood.

The fighting between gangs continues.

After get off work, Martin simply took his shotgun and slept in the Carter's living room.

During breakfast, Hall complained, "We should take the initiative and smash those bastards' heads in."

Lily scoffed, "Your head will get smashed first."

Elena, who is usually optimistic and cheerful, looked at her younger siblings and was too heavy-hearted to speak.

Harris felt a strange pressure and suddenly looked up: "I...I'll find a way to make money and move you to a better community."

"This is the only way." Martin couldn't think of any other way either. It was rare to see patrol officers in this dilapidated place, and the police were unwilling to come even when called.

He asked Harris, "How do you plan to make money?"

Elena chimed in, "I'm going to keep buying lottery tickets!"

Martin can only say that Elena is truly worthy of the name.

But she added, "I've memorized all the cocktail recipes you gave me and have been practicing them."

Martin asked Lily for paper and pen, and wrote down some recipes for Elena.

After breakfast, while dropping Elena off at the Methodist church, Martin remembered something and asked, "Is the Methodist church planning a large-scale training program soon?"

Elena said, "Targeting idiotic believers and their moronly children, right here at the Methodist training center you picked me up from last time." She reacted quickly: "Are you trying to cause trouble again?"

Martin thought for a moment and said, "If you have time, you should also attend. Keep an eye out for Milton for me."

“I know him,” Elena said. “He reeks of the inherent sinfulness of people like me.”

She was intrigued: "Should I secretly follow him? That would help you more..."

Martin interrupted her: "Just focus on the training, pay attention to when Milton arrives, and don't do anything else. You can't handle complicated tasks."

Elena was so angry her chest ached: "My IQ completely surpasses yours, you idiot!"

Martin glanced at her rapidly heaving chest: "Okay, I admit it, I can crush you."

The Ford pulled up in front of the lottery shop. Elena got out to buy a lottery ticket and asked, "Are you free at noon?"

Martin shook his head: "Probably not. I need to consult a patent attorney later, and then I'll go to the Freedom Club."

Elena asked in surprise, "A patent lawyer?" Then she remembered, "The handmade stuff you were talking about with Lily?"

Martin said, "Almost, I'll go ask first."

(End of this chapter)