Helena opened the register and carefully counted the money. She needed to make sure there was enough change to hold them over for the upcoming dinner-rush, but not so much that their cash register was overflowing with money. As she checked the cash and counted the dirty coins the sun slowly began its descent. Sunsets in California were her favorite. She looked to the reddish-orange sunlight in the store. An odd reflection caught her eye and she looked to the thick glass window of "Granny's Cookies." Her heart dropped when she spotted the culprit.

A bullet-hole marked the window, causing the interesting reflection on the ground. She frowned and traced the mark with her fingers. It must have been a stray bullet during the night, as she never heard any impact during the day. She was sure her grandmother, the owner of "Granny's Cookies" wouldn't like this at all. The danger in Long Beach had been increasing significantly the past few years and it seemed there was no slowing down now.

Helena let out a soft sigh and turned back to the cash register. The dinner rush would arrive soon. She smiled thinking about all of the happy people coming into the store to get their sugar fix. They always received a wide range of customers and for the most part everyone was always in a good mood. Who could be mad when getting a cupcake? The difficult part of the rushes was keeping track of stock and making sure everything ran smoothly. In general, Helena felt like managing the store wasn't terribly difficult. In fact, she grew to love the store as if it were her own. She knew that once her grandmother retired the store would be passed down to her. Her plan was to keep ownership of the store, but to make sure she had time for her regular career of becoming a police officer.

Helena's mind was wrapped in the count as she dropped money into the hidden safe below the counter. The tinkling of the door's bell made her head pop up. She gave a bright smile and greeted the customer with a warm, "Hey, welcome!"

The man glanced up. He wore a loose jacket and had his hood placed over his head, partially blocking his face. This was not initially troubling, as many citizens of Long Beach dressed like this, even on sunny days. She smiled and put gloves on. The man went to the front, now lowering his head. Nowadays she didn't work too much with customers directly, unless there was some sort of issue or special request, but when she didn't have much to do she never minded helping out the line.

"How may I help you?" Helena questioned. The fact that he didn't like eye contact began to make her suspicious, but she couldn't do much based off of a feeling.

"I ordered a cake for Simon," he mumbled in a soft voice, catching her off guard. Maybe she was just making bad assumptions about a shy man?

"Simon?" she echoed, thinking back on the recent cake orders. She didn't remember seeing anything for "Simon," but she wouldn't be surprised if an order or two managed to sneak under her nose. "Give me a minute, I'm going to go check."

Helena moved to the kitchen area of the store and looked to her busy coworkers. "Hey, has anyone filled out a cake order for 'Simon?'" They muttered among themselves, but finally each responded with a "No."

"Alright, thanks!" Helena made her way back to the front and was shocked by what she saw.

The hooded man had hopped over the counter and was attempting to open the cash register. He slammed his fist into it over and over, but it was no use, the register refused to open. He was so engulfed in his attempts to open it that he didn't even notice she was standing a few feet away from him.

"Hey!" Helena shouted, "You can't be back here!" She moved towards him, ready to force him out of the store if he didn't cooperate. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, similar to the nervous energy she got before a match.

The man finally looked over to her and flipped her off before continuing his assault on the register.

Helena could not believe this man. "Guys! Get the cops!" she shouted to the back area. She stepped towards him once again, this time her hands up by her face. He noticed this and as soon as she got into his range he swung at her with a massive haymaker.

Helena ducked under it and landed a clean uppercut right under the man's ribs. She heard the air escape his lungs and as she went for a follow up attack he surprised her and tackled her to the ground.

Pinned to the ground by his weight, Helena did her best to escape. She tried to force him off of her by bridging her hips, but she simply was not strong enough. She pressed her elbow into the soft part of his inner thigh as hard as she could, but he didn't seem to feel the pain. Her eyes briefly met his. Immediately, she knew he was on some sort of stimulant drugs. She knew her attacks would have no effect on this man. He was too high to feel pain. The uppercut only worked because he momentarily couldn't breathe. He didn't even feel the pain.

The glint of a knife showed in Helena's peripherals and she began to panic. She began to swing wildly at his ribs, hoping one punch would land well enough to give her some sort of advantage.

The man pressed the knife to her neck and she grabbed his hand with both of hers, pushing it back. He seemed surprised that she was so strong, but it didn't matter. He began to put his weight into the knife hand and she felt the cool steel pressured against her skin. She continued to push back against the knife hand and tried to think her way out of the situation, but her mind was stuck. Much of her life flashed before her eyes. She remembered her mother, her grandmother, and her friends. Please don't look at the camera footage, Grandma, it's not going to be pretty, Helena pleaded in her head, completely convinced that she was going to die.

Her eyes closed as she felt the blade begin to cut into her neck. She felt the sting of the slice and the warmth of her blood run down to the ground. But then the pressure stopped. She wondered if she died.

Helena opened her eyes and saw her coworker, Brittany, pounding her fist into the hooded man's face. Helena figured she must have tackled him off of her. Helena stood, holding her neck in hopes of slowing the bleeding. As she made her way to aide her coworker, she watched the man hold the knife out. He drove it directly into the side of Brittany.

"Brit!" Helena croaked. The man pushed Brittany off of him and tried to get up. Helena saw red. She leaped on top of him, replacing Brittany, and used her wrestling experience to keep the man on the ground with her own weight. While using her free hand, Helena slammed her fist into the man's face. Then she slammed it into him again. And again. And again. She used as much force as possible while in the awkward position until finally the man stopped moving. She hated the feeling of her fist against his skin. Sure, she hit people all day long in a boxing ring, but they always had gloves on. Her fist never truly made contact to anyone's body. There was always some sort of cushioning. Helena felt sick.

Helena got off of him and made her way over to her coworker who was writhing in pain. She doubted the injury to her neck was life-threatening, as he didn't cut terribly deep into her flesh. "Brit, everything's gonna be okay!" she assured her friend as the police and ambulance arrived on scene.

~~~~~

"And that's what happened," Helena said rather frankly. She sat with her friends in the center of The Pike, Long Beach's most popular shopping strip. This was their usual hangout as there was so much to do as well as its location only two miles away from the sandy shores. She looked around to her friends who were all intently listening in on the story. This was about three days ago, and Helena had taken those few days to be alone. She wanted to recover mentally and physically before returning to her friends. Now she was more comfortable talking about the story, but it still bothered her. "The cops got there, arrested the guy, and the EMTs took Brit and me to the hospital. I wasn't as bad as her of course. They gave me some pain meds and a couple days off of work. She had to go through surgery, but she'll be back up and running in about a week."

Helena looked around at her friends' reactions to the story and lightly touched her neck. She looked down at her fingertips which were now covered in a mix of concealer and foundation. No matter how much she tried it seemed no amount of makeup could cover the fresh wound. She hoped her friends couldn't see the ugly scar under the makeup. The last thing she wanted was for them to be worried.

"I just don't get why people steal from people. We work hard to keep the store going! Hell, if he would've asked me for some money I would've given it to him! Instead this guy's getting prison and gonna owe money!" she said, frustrated. She let out a long sigh and rested her cheek on her fist. She didn't mean to get so riled up in front of everyone.

The young woman couldn't help but wonder what someone else would have done in her shoes. What would her friends have done? Would they have gone about it a different way? Would they have done it better? She shooed away these thoughts.

"So, uh, what's up with you guys?" Helena asked in an attempt to move the conversation along. Little did she know, her friends would be just as upset about the recent rise in crime as she was.

Casper was listening to Helena's story and now raised an eyebrow as he took a sip from his cup of coffee. " Jeez I'm sorry Helena how's your scar healing up? " he asked her. " Hmm what's up with me? " he said rhetorically " Well a few days ago I also had some run in with crime though not nearly as severe as yours. " he says. Taking another sip of his coffee he leans back in his chair and sighs a bit. " I'll tell my situation but I don't think it will be as interesting or as crazy as Helena's " Casper told Everyone as he looked around. " So where do I begin? " he mutters to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Casper shook out his hands as he began to put on his gloves. He was about to start a race and the minutes leading up to it always have him some jitters. He yawns as he puts on his helmet and then his goggles , starting up his bike Casper then puts it in first gear and rides up to the starting line. Casper always kind of fell into what he called his " concentration mode" basically he just zoned everything out except the race. Revving the throttle Casper narrows his eyes and leans down on his bike holding the clutch and ready to take off once he hears the horn.

Casper is broken out of his thoughts as the horn sound and he shoots off quickly shifting up in gears. Drifting around the corner Casper looks to his right then to his left and seeing that he was neck and neck with some other racers shifted up and revved the throttle. Hitting a jump Casper does a quick superman before he lands and smiles as he takes a significant lead . Turning a couple more corners and hitting a couple more jumps Casper ended up coming in in fourth place . He takes off his helmet revealing his sweaty hair plastered to his face , after shaking the hand of first place Casper rides his bike to his house. Casper decided to leave his garage door open as he was going to work on his bikes motor after his shower.

Sighing in relief after he had finished his shower and got dressed Casper opened the side door into his garage. Casper's eyes soon widened as he saw what to him was a horrible sight , his bike was gone along with some other things of his! Casper searched everywhere thinking maybe he misplaced them , he even called the cops and filed a police report over the phone. His actions were in vain though as the police told him they most likely wouldn't catch the theif.

~~~~~~~~~~~

" So that's what happened to me told you it wouldn't be as crazy or intresting as Helena's." Casper tells everyone. By now he had set the chair down and finished his coffee" So yeah that's what happened with me. " he tells everyone .

Derek always preferred listening over speaking. When it came to conversations, he only spoke the minimum amount of words to keep the interaction going. Through his years of heavy listening, he’d learned a lot about the people he had come to call friends. He didn’t ever use these tidbits of information in any real way, but he did find them interesting. Particularly, he found himself intrigued by Helena’s story of a robbery nearly gone wrong, as well Casper’s tale of his stolen bike. It made him think back, weeks ago, to an incident that refused to leave his memory.

He took a long, loud sip from the half-finished frozen drink he had gotten from the Auntie Anne’s not too far from where he worked. Throat clear, he spoke, just loud enough for the others to hear.

“I’ve had something happen, too.”

----------

“Money’s logged.”

Those were the last words Derek said to his manager that night. Keith, of course, offered a simple “good night, Derek,” but Derek just replied with a small wave as he clocked out. Outside, the outlet was nearly dark, aside from the occasional late-night store with its lights still on for any night-owls. Derek started down the Eastern block, in the direction of the parking lot where his motorcycle awaited him. As he walked, he pondered on what to do when he got home. He had a few chapters left in the book he was currently reading; if he speed-read, he’d get it done by half-past midnight. Alternatively, he was at a rather interesting part of the video game he’d bought about a month ago. He’d give it some more thought.

His thinking, however, prevented him from seeing the danger that was quickly approaching.

Passing the closed Victoria’s Secret store, he noticed a pair of men, not much older than him, smoking just outside the storefront. The moment he glanced at them, they glanced right back. Derek immediately turned away; he didn’t like the look in their eyes. He hurried along, eager to get to his bike so he could get home, where he’d be safe. But, there was no reason he wouldn’t be safe at the Pike, right?

Finally reaching the parking lot, Derek made his way to his usual spot a little ways from the entrance. A wave of relief washed over him as he got closer to his escape. However, just as he was about to straddle the motorcycle, a figure emerged from the shadows. Squinting in the dim light from the half-burned out light post, Derek could make out details. Like the two he saw earlier, it was a man not much older than him. He had slick blond hair and was dressed similar to the other two guys. A deep, horrible feeling in Derek’s stomach told him that that was no coincidence.

“That’s your ride, huh?” the guy asked, stepping not too close, but close enough to still make Derek uncomfortable. Derek just nodded.

“I’ve seen it a couple times around here,” the stranger continued, “but I didn’t think it was yours. I figured you’d put some pretty pink tassels on the handlebars, maybe have a nice little bell.”

‘Oh, God,’ Derek thought, ‘it’s one of these assholes.’ As accepting as Long Beach was of most lifestyles, there were still a few outliers in the area who didn’t take kindly to such people. The funny part was that Derek wasn’t even gay. At least, he didn’t think so.

“I gotta go,” he said simply, preparing to straddle his bike.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the rush? Me and my friends just wanna talk.”

Derek turned to see that the other two guys were approaching them. The situation was quickly becoming more and more dangerous, and Derek just wanted to get the hell out of there. Out of fear, however, he couldn’t move. All he could do was stand and watch as the three closed in. He swallowed hard.

“Who did your ear, princess?” the ringleader asked, hand reaching out to likely grab Derek’s earlobe, and not gently, either.

All at once, Derek’s instincts took over. With his left arm, he knocked the guy’s hand away, and used the other arm to throw a decent hook right at his nose; the only thing he remembered from his boxing classes at this point. The blow connected, and sent the guy stumbling backward. Derek didn’t look behind him, but he could feel the other two backing away, not expecting him to fight back. Their leader regained his footing, and Derek could see he managed to draw some blood. Unfortunately, the leader also noticed this, and shot Derek a glare that could’ve easily killed.

“Don’t just stand there,” he ordered, “hold this faggot!”

Before Derek could react, both of his arms were being held tight. As much as he wriggled and kicked and fought, their teamwork proved to be too much for him. Once he was restrained, the blows came. One after the other, Derek’s torso was assaulted by the pissed-off bully’s punches. He started coughing due to his breath being knocked out of him every second. This continued for a good 2 minutes before the guy’s cronies finally let him go.

Derek fell to his hands and knees, struggling to get his breath back. He weakly looked up at his main attacker, who was more than happy to reply with a hard kick to his face. Derek fell again and rolled onto his back, groaning in pain. He laid on the pavement, watching the three run off, laughing merrily as they went. It was another 3 minutes or so before he finally got to his knees, brushed himself off, got on his motorcycle, and rode home.

----------

“I never told anyone,” Derek finished, “not even my cousin.” Why? Derek himself wasn’t sure. The more he thought about it, though, the more he was sure there was some rich parents out there who saw his attackers as nothing more than ‘upstanding young men with promising futures.’ It would be a losing battle.

With another loud slurp, Derek finished off the rest of his slushy. He spoke no more; he was right back to listening.

"You c..."

Scott paused before deciding that maybe, just maybe this was one of those times where he should break his golden rule of reacting to every situation with a joke. It wasn't even really that he found the stories funny, they sure as hell weren't, but it was like an almost instinctive reaction with him. Any situation he didn't really know how to react to tended to be one he made a joke of, although he had to be careful about overstepping some boundaries.

It took him a few moments more before he could think of anything mildy appropriate to say, which was more than enough time for his train of thought to be interupted by another story. Which all things considered, was probably for the best, Scott after all wasn't someone who was known for being good at comforting people. He always worried over the words, thought about it too much, then fumbled whatever finally came out, so all in all it probably wasn't the worst thing that he never got his chance to speak.

So it was that he got to listen to another tale of criminal activety, then another. Stories of even more attacks or robberies, all of which filled him with some sort of nagging worry for the state that the city was in. Not that it was a worry that he could vocalise immediately, his parents after all had installed within him enough confidence in the system that it wasn't immediately where his brain jumped to. Yet there still remained some little doubt, worming it's way through the back of his head.

While he sat there he thought upon his own incident, a few thousand stolen from a bank account of his. It had been rather frustrating at the time, but when it came down to it, it really wasn't something which had effected him in the long term. Something which upon further consideration made him a bit warier to speak of it, for despite the fact that they all knew he was rich ... There was still that worry which he'd pocketed away for many years. That despite the fact they were all friends that he'd say something and it would drive a rift between them.

"Damn ... any more of you got stories like this?"

Surely the state of the city hadn't become that bad that everyone would have been effected by it ... right?

A L E I S S A "M E R C U R Y" G A V R O N

---

Despite the lack of change on Aleissa's face, the grip on the drink she had ordered earlier had tightened to the point of the paper cup showing folds. Her eyes flickered to where Helena touched her neck - the abundance of make up was obvious to someone like her. She couldn't help but schooch closer to her friend, every movement seemingly stiff but that's what usually happens when she's showing some form of worry over her friends. They would be familiar with it by now.

She reached out to touch Helena's shoulder, being extra careful about it. "I'm glad you're alright and reovering." She said with a tight smile. With that, she removed her hand from Helena but still kept herself close to her more physically strong friend. She turned to Casper who relayed his own burglary story. This one didn't end in violence but it was no less horrible. Casper loved his motorcyle like it was his own child. In fact, she was pretty sure that it was by now. He was a racer after all. For someone to take it away was just horrible. People's greed were oftentimes too much. To ever think of harming someone else or simply taking someone else's things...

Then Derek spoke and the burning need to punch something or rather preferably someone's face had overcome the gymnast. Derek was a tough person and he seemed fine, but that didn't stop her from worrying about it. And the situation was different from robbery - no, this was a personal attack to someone's person. An attack against someone's sexuality. All the same, she felt uncomfortable. She knew that the group was very accepting of it, in fact, many were in this city. Aleissa had gotten away with both boyfriends and girlfriends alike in the past and her sexuality had always been out in the open. To see people are still harrassed for it, it certainly was frustrating.

As Scott asked if others had stories like those, memories of that horrible day years ago flashed through her mind. The bank's alarm. The shouts of the masked men. Waving the gun. Being forced into a corner next to a man. Sitting down and waiting for help. The men cursing because the police had the bank surrounded. The police's demands. The robbers' demands. Talk about taking her hostage. Being grabbed by the arm. The man tackling the robber. A gunshot. Blood. Blood everywhere. The funeral. His daughter screaming and crying and blaming her. The mother apologizing.

"You already know mine." It was a story she had to tell. She hadn't contacted any of them for days after that. Loud sounds made her jump but it eventually got better. Thunderstorms were still a terror to live through but she was doing her best. When she had come out of hiding, they had been worried. She had to tell them what happened for the sake of appeasing them. It was a distant memory and yet it felt like it had just happened yesterday. "Like it or not Scott, we don't live in a peaceful city."

Helena found herself incredibly bothered that all of her friends had their own experiences with the rising crime rate in the city. From deaths, to theft, to assault, the city had taken something from them.

Her heart broke for Casper's stolen bike. She knew how much time and effort he put into it. He expressed so much through his racing. If she had any money left over after the hospital bills, Helena was ready to offer him what she could- which even then might not be more than a couple hundred- to replace the bike.

Derek's story was particularly shocking. Even with its rising crime, the amount of targeted hate crimes in Long Beach were fairly low compared to other cities. Although Helena wished Derek had gone to the police over the incident, she also knew that the general public wasn't in support of the police with all of their suspicious activities of late.

When it came to Aleissa, she had no need to speak. The group all knew very well about the hostage situation. It was all over the news anywhere you went. No one expected Aleissa to speak about it, they all knew about her savior's death and about the funeral. Helena let out a sigh thinking about the robbery and what her friend must have went through.

Cole's story seemed to have a different ending. He wasn't fearful of the men trying to steal. In fact he was very proactive rather than reactive about the situation. She respected and even admired this. Her heart dropped when he referred to the shooting death of his brother.

Scott didn't seem to have a story involving crime. If he did, he didn't share it. He seemed to somehow be in denial of the condition of their city. Helena was shocked by this.

"Long Beach isn't the city it used to be," Helena said, "Gangs are taking over and the cops can't catch up because half of them are paid off anyway."

Helena thought back on Cole's story. He managed to successfully fight off the men who tried to steal. Even if the police didn't catch them, Helena would be surprised if those two would be quick to rob again.

"It almost sounded like you were a superhero," Helena chuckled, trying to bring some light to the group's somber mood. She then joked further, "If the cops don't do anything and the crime doesn't stop, maybe we should all dress up or something and stop those guys ourselves."