Before the crew can surround me, Terra steps forward. "I'm next."
Sophia nods. "Very well."
Terra, being covered in a tapestry of tattoos, places hers in a blank spot on the back of her left shoulder. Unsurprisingly, from what little I know of her, she accepts the brand without any more fuss than Maria—a teeth-clenched, high-pitched snarl.
"I got next," Myka says.
Sophia blinks at her, then scans every face one by one. "Do you all intend to do this?"
Everyone nods. "Then I think you should induct each other. Terra, if you are agreeable, you will induct Myka, and Myka, you will induct the person after you."
And so it goes—the iron passing from Terra to Myka, Myka to Tatiana, Tatiana to Annika, Annika to Anjalee, and Anjalee to Naomi—who is the only one, male or female, to not make so much as a hiss when the brand hit her skin.
Taj, Toro, and Fonz stand apart, together, watching.
Sol glances at Sophia, at the three men, and then steps up to the fire and takes the iron from Anjalee—after putting on the glove. "Soph, this ain’t right. These guys risked their lives for us. Foryou. They shed blood takin’ our backs. Jakob can talk to me if he's got issues with this, but I'm inducting them, and I ain't asking."
Sophia's chin lifts, and her eyes sparkle. "I happen to agree, Solomon. Seeing the ceremony, seeing all of you—" she swallows hard, here, emotional, "choose this family, it seems clear that Toro, Taj, and Fonz belong to us as well."
Naomi touches Solomon's shoulder. "Please, may I? It would mean a lot to me."
Solomon shoves the iron into the fire, gives her the glove, and steps back. Glances at the trio of inductees. "Who's first?"
Fonz's hand shoots up so fast it’s a wonder he doesn't tweak a nerve. "Me. I had to leave the LAPD for reasons I ain't ever shared. I suppose you know, Sophia. For the rest of you…" he ducks his head. "I've always been the class clown. I always will be. But I…I do know that life ain't always jokes and fuckin' games and shit. This ain't the time for a big origin story speech or what-the-fuck-ever, so the short version is that my best buddy on the squad was a guy named Gauge, spelled like the shotgun caliber. Big, beefy Black guy. Just a great, great dude. Solid. Steady as a rock. Loyal as a fuckin’ Pit Bull. We went through the Academy together, made the force together, we werepartners as rookies on patrol." He sighs, continues. "Our beat was a pretty dicey section of Compton. If you know, you know—an’ if you don't, I can't explain. But I was a white cop in that neighborhood, and Gauge…that man kept my ass alive and outta trouble. Showed me…well, I ain't gonna preach about privilege. Anyways. Gauge caught wind of corruption in our precinct. Bad cops doing nasty shit. He reported it. And he got murdered for it. Made it look like a drive-by. But I knew it wasn't. I've got evidence it wasn't. And those dudes who did it, they know I’ve got evidence to put them all away for a long fuckin' time, and they want me dead for it. There's a lot more to it, but that's the basic version."
He's quiet a moment or two, thinking, gaze distant, remembering.
"Gauge was more than my friend, more than my partner. He was family. I was…I got fuckin' lost when he got killed. And you guys, workin' here…seein' the way you guys are with each other, hearin' bits of your stories, I…I finally feel like I belong somewhere. In a way I never have, except with Gauge." He looks at us all in turn. "This is the honor of a lifetime, to be a part of somethin' like this." He jerks his chin up at Naomi. "Hit me with that shit, Nay-Nay."
Naomi grins at her nickname, adjusts her grip on the iron's handle, eying Fonz as he repeats the vow, and then presses it to his arm. Fonz is stoic through it.
Maria steps up, then. "I'll take that." She looks at Taj and Toro. "Step right up, one of you."
Toro steps forward. "I am not ready to share my history. But this…" he shakes his head. "It means everything to me. I was forced to leave behind a life I loved. No, that is not right. The life I loved was taken from me…by those who should have been my brothers. I was betrayed. I should be dead. They think I am dead. Yet, I am not. And I remember. I should like to forget, butI cannot. I belonged to a fraternal order before—a team. Men I shed blood with. And they betrayed me for thirty pieces of silver. Now, I am finding this place. You people. My heart says to trust you. It is hard, that trust, when it has been betrayed in the past. But I am here. I choose to trust. I take this marking to prove that I trust you, and that you may trust me."
"We've got your back, Toro," Kane calls. "To hell and back."
The others, me included, call our support for him, and he drops his head, shoulders shaking.
When he has composed himself, he looks at Maria and speaks the vow, takes the brand.
Taj singles out Anjalee. "I would be honored if you would do this for me, Anjalee. We are countrymen. You are from different castes, I know, but I do not think such things matter, here. I mean this country, as well as among these people."
Anjalee smiles at him. "It certainly does not matter to me, Taj. It would be my honor."
Without further comment, Taj speaks the vow and takes his brand, and just like that, the Broken Arrows, once a circle of seven men, has expanded by more than double.
It isn't just a club.
It's more.
It is found family. We have chosen each other. We have chosen to do life together. We are bonded by our trauma, by lives lived in violence. We all fought to escape that violence, and in so doing found love, acceptance, forgiveness, and belonging.
For some reason, as we stand together by the fire, I think of my mother. I do not think of her often—she died when I was quite young. She was alone in the world, except for me. I never knew my father, and if she had any other family, she never spoke of them, and we never visited them.
We had each other.
We had our community in the favela.
