Chapter 1: FIRST JOB
The night was cold. The streets were wet. Lights from shops glowed on the ground.
Justin waited outside a small liquor store. A car sat in the alley, engine running. Two men stood with him.
One was Darnell. He was tall and strong. He had a scar on his lip. The other was Rico. He was thin. His hands shook when he held the gun.
This was their first job together. It was not a big job. Just a small store. But Justin wanted more than stealing cars. He wanted money, power, and respect.
"Ready?" Darnell asked.
Justin nodded. "Quick. No games."
Rico licked his lips. "What if the cops show up?"
"Then we run," Justin said.
They pulled masks over their faces. Justin gave the signal. Darnell pushed the door open.
"Hands up!" Rico yelled. His voice cracked.
The clerk froze. His eyes were wide. There were no customers inside. Only shelves of bottles and a humming fridge in the back.
Justin jumped over the counter. "Open the register," he said.
The clerk's hands shook as he pressed the buttons. The drawer popped open. Justin grabbed the money and stuffed it in the bag.
"Check the safe," Justin said.
"It's locked," the clerk stammered. "I can't open it."
Justin glared but knew he was telling the truth.
"Fine," he said.
Rico pointed the gun too close to the man's head. "We should take him with us!"
"No," Justin snapped. "We're not killers. We leave now."
Before they could move, sirens wailed outside. Blue lights flashed through the window.
"Shit!" Darnell shouted.
"Back door. Go!" Justin yelled.
They ran into the alley. Justin jumped in the driver's seat. Darnell and Rico threw themselves into the car.
The engine roared. Tires squealed. The car shot forward.
Behind them, a police car followed. Lights flashed. Siren screamed.
Rico panicked. "They're right on us!"
"Shut up," Justin said. His eyes stayed on the road. His hands were firm on the wheel.
He took a sharp left. The car slid across wet pavement. He ran a red light. Horns blared.
The cops stayed close. Another patrol car joined them.
Darnell leaned out the window and fired. Bullets cracked in the night. The cops swerved but kept coming.
"Stop shooting!" Justin barked. "You'll bring more cops."
But more sirens were already coming from every side.
Justin's heart beat fast, but his face stayed calm. He knew these streets. He had spent years stealing cars and running from police. He knew every alley and back road.
He made a sudden turn down a narrow street. The car scraped the wall but kept going. The cops stayed on him.
Up ahead was a tunnel under the train tracks. Justin floored the gas. The car roared into the tunnel. Lights flashed off the walls.
Halfway through, Justin killed the headlights. The car plunged into darkness.
"Are you crazy?" Rico shouted.
"Quiet," Justin said.
He aimed for a faint glow at the far end. Then he turned sharply into a small gap in the wall. It led to an old loading bay. The car skidded to a stop in the shadows.
The cops raced past, still chasing. Their sirens faded into the distance.
For a long moment, the car was silent. Only their breathing filled the air.
Rico clutched the bag. "We made it," he said, laughing nervously.
Justin lit a cigarette. His hand was steady. His voice was calm. "That was just a store. Nothing big."
Darnell wiped sweat from his face. "Then what do you want next?"
Justin blew smoke into the night. His eyes were hard. He looked at the dark city.
"Bigger," he said. "Much bigger."
The first job was done. The war for the streets had just begun.
The money from the liquor store was not much. A few hundred dollars. It was enough for food, smokes, and gas. Nothing more.
Justin sat in a small apartment above a garage. The paint was peeling. The floor smelled like oil. Rico counted the money. Darnell drank from a cheap bottle.
"This is weak," Darnell said. "We risked our necks for this?"
Rico shrugged. "It's better than nothing."
Justin stayed quiet. He sat by the window, looking at the street below. He knew Darnell was right. Small jobs would not change anything. If they wanted respect, they needed bigger jobs.
There was a knock at the door. Three hard bangs.
Justin stood and opened it. A tall man in a black jacket stepped in. Two more men followed. They had tattoos on their necks and guns on their belts.
Justin knew who they were. They worked for Reaper's Crew, one of the toughest gangs in the city.
The tall man smirked. "You Justin?"
"Who's asking?" Justin said.
"The name's Victor. Boss wants to see you."
Justin stayed still. "Why?"
Victor chuckled. "Because word travels fast. You robbed a store last night. Cops chased you, but you lost them. That takes skill. Boss likes skill."
Darnell stood up. "We don't work for nobody."
Victor's eyes narrowed. "You don't want to say no to the boss. He runs these streets. If you're gonna play this game, you play it his way."
Justin thought for a moment. He didn't like being told what to do. But he knew the truth—without protection, they would be crushed. Gangs ruled Ironclad City. You either joined one, or you ended up dead.
"Fine," Justin said. "Take me."
Victor smiled. "Smart choice."
⸻
They drove across the city in a black SUV. The streets were busy with cars, music, and flashing lights. But in the deeper parts of the city, things changed. Buildings were broken. Trash burned in barrels. Gangs stood on corners, watching.
The SUV stopped in front of an old warehouse. The doors opened. Justin stepped out.
Inside, men sat around tables covered in guns, cash, and drugs. Music blasted from speakers. The smell of smoke filled the air.
At the back of the room sat the boss. He was called Reaper. A heavy man with cold eyes and gold rings. His crew stood around him like guards.
Victor led Justin forward. "Boss, this is the kid.
Reaper looked at him for a long time. "You drive fast," he said. "You think you're good?"
"I don't think," Justin said. "I know."