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The Jeep Cherokees traveled along Rowe Street as the canopy trees concealed them from the eastern stars. They taunted the goddess of the earth as their tires crushed the autumn leaves that fell from her bosom. The katydids and crickets harmonized into the dead of the night as they made their dwelling homes within the overgrown weeds.

The 7-eleven gas station came into view. It was the only sign of civilization within a half-mile radius. An engine roared to life from the parking lot. The black van's blinding headlights dance across the swaying trees as it reverses on to the main road. Proudly, it joined the possession of vehicles as they sped towards their destination.

The three SUVs held men of high ranks, a politician, an adviser, and most importantly the elders of the WS-7. These fine men, the elders, left their footprints in the sand for leaders like Santos to rise up and follow. While the politician and advisers were the financial backbones to the gang's operation.

Behind the SUV's, the unmarked van followed. Inside, seven individual sat, four of them were held captive. Fright had become their best friend and death a possible frenemy. The armed men sat among them like predators, unlike the wild, an invite-only party was their hunting grounds and those victims had become their unsuspected prey.

One of the men sat in the back on an empty paint bucket. A fully loaded Uzi sat comfortably in his lap as his bug eyes watch them intensively.

White bandannas draped their eyes as nylon rope tied their hands behind their backs. The temperature in the van slowly raises as the sweat from their bodies entwine with their clothing as they become one. Vashti  sat on her knees in the back of the moving van. Her head pounded from the blow she took from the butt of the gun. The taste of iron awakens her taste buds from the stale blood that .settled in her mouth. Her hands grip the leather seat for support as she leaned forward and spitted on the cardboard floor.

"Aye, Sit up!" the man shouted. He pulled the slide of the uzi back, sending a shiver down Vashti spine. Scared for her life, she obeyed his orders.

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The SUV's headlights swarm over the gates of the abandon Warehouse. The Wyndham Distribution Centre was once owned by one of Westbrook's wealthiest family and the WS-7 most beneficial trustee, the Hemsworth's.

The lead vehicle flickered it headlights three times before turning them off, alerting the lookouts of their anticipated arrival. A lanky man ran out of hiding, his heavy footsteps were muffled by the sound of the car's engine as his all-white attire terrorized the darkness. He pulled the gate back, allowing the SUV's passage inside the compound.

One by one they unloaded. The men of diplomatic status were ushered through the main doors while the captives were roughly escorted through the side door of the condemned building.

A chunky man stood at the back with his machine gun hoisted at his side while the other men led the pack by pulling on the chain they had tied around each of the captives waists. The smell of mold and mildew was pungent as they move through the dark airy hallway. The distinct sound of humming was suppressed by the unpleasant whimpers of the male that stood behind her.

The humming grew louder as they walked through the doors of the spacious office. Floodlights illuminated the room with the assistance of the moonlight that shines through the countless holes in the ceiling. The exposed steel beams were corroded, creating a metallic scent in the room. Dust had settled on top of the glass top reception desk as the artificial ficus silk tree stood on guard in the corner. Multiple cardboard boxes decorated the matted grey carpet. The four walls were covered in graffiti painting a coherent picture of Westbrook's current social climate.

They came to a stop. 

The enforcers' feet shuffled across the carpet as they aggressively turned the hostages to face the man in charge of the operation.

"Strip them Naked!" the man commanded as he emerges out of the shadows.

The chains jingle as they unlocked them from around their waists. Their hands found relief as the pocket knives sawed away at the ropes that bond their wrist together.

He walked with a limp as he leans on his cane for support, " Don't be alarmed," his words came out in a slurred, "They call me Demon. I am a member of the WS-7 and your guardian angel. From this day forth I will guide you and help you in your new life as a Serpent," He walked to the center of the room. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he admired the fe.

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Like clockwork, they were on the move again. This time the black van led the recruits. The industrial building faded into the twilight as the forest began to disintegrate into smaller molecules. Fright, power, and corruption had accelerated the vehicles over the speed limit. At 80 miles per hour and a thirty-minute drive, they had reached their destination. The paved road kissed the dirt as they turned simultaneously onto the pathway that led to the Moore's Mansion.

Built-in two thousand and eight, the Colonial style mansion sat on one and a half acres of land. The wrought Iron gate enclaves the mansion. Too many it was the first form of protection from the evil that lurked, but to the Moore's, the gate protected the world from their own evils and made their dirty secrets wholesome.

They drove around the grand fountain. The heads of four cavalry horses saluted them as water poured from their mouths while the fountain was beautify with seasonal flowers at the request of Mrs. Moore. If only the flowers had matched her beauty and her husband's greed.

The car doors opened on the midnight hour. This was the beginning of a new era.

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Vashti sat around the round-table. She was the third person to have taken the hot seat for the night. Before her turn, it was a man no more than twenty-five years old. He had fallen on hard times and found himself turning to the gang for mercy. The first was a twelve-year-old kid soldier; a minor. He went from being the WS-7 look out at the age of eight years old to a official member and brother to the men he admired.

She wished her father could have seen her from his 6 by 8 feet prison cell window. Her father always wanted her to be daddy's girl and now she was following in his footsteps and carrying out the family legacy within the arms of their enemy. 

Santos led the men into the candlelit room. Their eyes hung low from partaking in the holy herb ritual. They believed it was a ceremony that brought them closer together and kept the unity of brotherhood within the gang. They took their respectful position around the round-table. 

Red suits adorn Santos and the Elders, symbolizing the blood they shed throughout the streets of Westbrook while the Politician, the Hemsworth's, and the Moore's looked sharp in their white suits, symbolizing their innocence. 

Demon unclasped his hand from behind his back as he moved out of the shadows. His choice of cologne overpowered the faint scent of pumpkin spice as be took his position next to her. Santos nodded his head giving Demon the authority to remove the sack from Vashti's head.

It took some time for her eyes to readjust to the lightning. She stared at the men that stood before her. Their demeanor demanded respect, the one thing Vashti knew they didn't deserve. She felt extra pairs of eyes watching her, but she couldn't see them.

In the shadows lurked the Hemsworth's and the Moore's. Money had earned them the gift of power. With time they became the big fishes in a pool of little fishes. They were never to be seen, but like every business, they wanted to see what they were investing their money into.

The Hemsworth's, the Moore's and the Politician stood in the shadows. Each one plotting their own scheme moving forward as they watched quietly.

Santos was the first to speak," Tonight we are gathered here to renew the soul of Vashti Wright and to officially welcome her into the WS-7. The men beside me Kevin, Phillip, and Jimmy, are honored to have you here tonight among us,"

One item at a time, Demon placed the Gun, the Holy Bible and a bowl of Holy Oil directly in front of her.

" The gun before you represent death. You enter in through the death of another and you exit only by the hands of another," Jimmy said.

Next was Phillip, "The Bible is not only for the righteous but also for the unjust at heart. Christ is always watching you, but the WS-7 knows your every move."

Last was Kevin, " You have proven yourself worthy to bear our name, stand in our army, and carry our burdens," he paused," Vashti Wright, the daughter of Lawerence Wright, please raise your left hand."

Vashti did as she was told as Demon places the WS-7 manifest before her.

" With honor and pride, please recite the oath we bestow upon you."

"I, Vashti Wright, solemnly pledge to dedicate my life to the service of my leader and the men and women that serve under him.

I will give my elders the respect and appreciation that is due.

I will respect the secrets of the WS-7 even in the face of death.

I will be loyal to its members, my brothers. I shalt not interfere with their interest.

I will not break the trust of my brothers by becoming an informant. If I do, they have the rights to cut my tongue out of my mouth and my ears from my head.

I will live by the gun and I will die by the gun at the hands of the mercy.

I will enter the gates of the WS-7 alive and exit only through death.

I make these promises solemnly, freely and upon my honor."

Demon steps out of the shadows once more. His hand was cover in black leather glove as he gripped the handle of the electric branding iron in his right hand.

"Tonight we brand you with the symbol of the number 7 representing the seven deadly sins. The snake wrapped around the seven represents the tempting serpent in the book of Genesis," Santos said

Santos took the electric iron from Demon as he held Vashti left hand. The head of the iron was small as the symbol illuminates a blue light.

" We brand the ring finger of our left hand because the Romans believe that the vein in our ring finger runs directly to our hearts,' he paused, " Vena Amoris, the vein of love."

A harsh half- stifled yell came from her mouth as Santos branded her finger. The smell of burning flesh made them smile and the sight of tears told them what they already ready knew; Women were weak.

"This is a symbol of your love, loyalty, and respect for your family. We will always come first," He said as he handed the iron back to Demon.

Santos walked around the table with the bowl of holy oil, "Face me," he demands

He made the sign of the cross in front of her," I anoint you in the name of the father," The room fell silent as they watch Santos remove her robe leaving her naked before them. Taking the oil he anoints her body, " This oil is to bless you on your journey into the family and to protect you from our enemies."

Santos took a step back as Vashti place her robe back on. In those short moments, she felt violated under their eyes, but this was the price she paid had to pay for revenge.

"Arise," Demon commanded. Vashti stood to her feet, her hand shaking from the trauma it had experience.

"From here on out, We are one flesh, one body, and one mind," They said in unison.

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