Time to end It

By Omari Jackson

Tony felt sick after he learned he was the target of the attack. The assault was led by Sam, an assassin, which snuffed out the life of his younger sister, Janet. It was like a stab in his heart. How could they have done that? Didn’t they know she was just an innocent kid?

His eyes misted, and tears rolled down his tear-drenched eyes. His face was like someone suffering from one of those diseases that had been credited to Apollo and the days when the Americans were shuttling to and from the moon. He could feel the dusty itch tearing his eyes, and he wondered how long he could continue like that.

He stood at his Lawrenceville ramshackle house, and he could hear the sounds of cars passing by. He could also smell the arcane scent of leaves and felt the cold weather on his face.

The thought of his niece’s death scorched his heart. They killed an innocent child, and he could not accept the reality of it and he blamed himself, somehow. Now he was meeting Sam, and making up his case against him. Jane was a child of his older sister, who died when she was three. The last time they were together, the young woman had called him, “Uncle Tony.” What would his sister thought of him? A failure? A disappointment? He was full of venom from here on.

“You killed her and destroyed my life,” he told him with a sniff, “You will have to pay for it.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” he replied, “Be ready to follow her to hell.”
“Why did you kill her?”
“I was looking for you,” Sam said, “And when she would not reveal your hideout, I decided to teach her a lesson.”
“You killed an innocent child,” he told him, with anger building up in him, “Isn’t life for life?”
“Then come get it.” The other said, and he positioned himself for the eventual combat.

Tony launched preemptive strike against the man who held his peace at the corner of the room. First it was his right leg, like a Chinese in a Kun Fu movie. Then his left leg followed in rapid succession, and he could hear the man’s groan. It was like he was suffering from a heavy banter to his head.

Tony did not really care any more. He felt enough pain and was now prepared to deliver the ultimate blow to his adversaries. He was not, to be fair, a violent man, but the days had changed and things were now different. Lawlessness had been in an open display, and he could not be counted out.

If for that reason someone would describe him as a violent man, then so be it. At a time when young boys and girls had been armed by politicians to kill off their brothers, uncles and parents, there was no wonder that Tony had become a Jackie-Chan-type of character.

The Chinese might not have deliberately chosen to make physical combat their national pastime. It might have been a strong reason for that.
Now Tony was kicking butt, and who dared to interfere? By now the enemy had crumbled before him, blood oozing out from his head. Despite the poor visibility, Tony could see very well the damage he had caused the murderer.

With a thud, Tony’s victim had earlier lost his balance and had fallen heavily on the ground. In the process, something had slipped out of his fingers. A closer looked and Tony could tell it was what he correctly thought, a gun. For whatever the situation was, Sam could not bring himself to use the weapon, and died not able to use it.

One down, and Tony was up and running to the next rendezvous. It was like an appointment with death itself!



Tony was risking death to escape from John. It had happened before, and he only survived by applying some of his wits. That day, three months ago, he had been caught napping, and John was in control. John was one of them, a man who was the second in command of a murderous gang. They had been terrorizing, and robbing the people off their wealth.

The battle that day was tough.

He had Tony’s head between his legs, and his large thighs held his head, and John’s massive right hand banged on his head from time to time.
“Say you are my master,” he ordered the vanquished Tony to say, “I will always serve you.”

It was too much for him and when he decided to lift his head in a swoop, John, who by then had relaxed his hold on his head, vaulted backwards, sending himself into the deep gutter behind him. Now free, Tony took the turn and as he paid John in his own, he had wept like a child.

And so now they were meeting again.

From the beginning, Tony pretended he was down and out. John thought it was an opportunity and he went for it. His right hand was outstretched and he was moving to hold Tony by the neck when the other reacted. His swift reaction threw John off balance, and he went down.

Tony was standing over him, as the vanquished John crawled away from him. Tony had moved swiftly and had crushed his head into a pulp.

It had happened suddenly!

With John dead things were turning out to be different and Tony did not think the enemy could be ahead of things no matter what happened next. He had disposed of Sam, one of the toughest guys in the Useful Gang and now John was also gone. The gang was responsible for rapes and assaults on women in the Lawrenceville area, and since the law was slow in reacting, the former army sergeant Anthony (Tony) Roscoe, was doing it his own way.



Wesley Dollar tried to force Tony to join his group and when he refused, he decided to act tough on him. They were standing apart from each other and Tony sensed Wesley’s uneasiness. It was barely three hours after Tony’s encounter with John Penny.

Tony apparently was enjoying the spectacle. He had vanquished the two men who had been sent to kill him. Their master was now before him and he was having fun.
What might have confused Wesley was apparently due to Tony’s presence. This man was supposed to be dead, but then what had happened? Wesley was the big boss, who had sent a couple of friends, assassins to complete his mission.

The report said the eighteen year-old girl, raped and killed by the gang members was Roscoe’s sister. Now he could see the event carefully.

In fact Wesley had not expected to meet Tony here, for he had been told the job of killing him was a simple one. But those who thought Tony’s murder could be simple could not be found. He had not believed that Tony could have the strength to eliminate two tough guys.

But why did he forget Tony’s strength? Did Tony not participate in Operation Iraqi Freedom? Did he not survive several attempts on his life, and when he returned to the United States, did he not earn the “Purple Heart” from G. W. Bush? But if Tony Roscoe was too tough a guy, where was he when his native Liberia was in flames?

But everything being equal he would have to deal with Roscoe, and how well that would translate into action was anyone’s guess.

One thing, he was without a weapon, and with Tony’s right hand behind his back, what was he holding on to? Had he called on the police to come get him? Rumors indicated Tony was working for the law, was that true?

“It’s the end, Wes” he heard it, and it was loud and clear. His voice never lost it vitality, and now he was urging him to end it.

“What happens,” Wesley said, “if I don’t?”
“You don’t want to die, right?” The question had come with a strong powerful voice. That was what scared him now.

Then he heard the siren blaring towards them.
“So you did it?” Wes said, “You called the cops?” He was moving backwards, and Tony wished he could order him to stop.

“You don’t need to kill yourself,” he urged him, “Be a man to face the law.” But it was too late as Wesley Dollar allowed his body to fall behind and with a whooping sound disappeared. When Tony looked keenly to see if he was still there, there as an empty space.

“He has put the end to it all,” he said, and took the device from his pocket, and shut it off. “He thought the cops were coming.”