Chapter Four: The Battle of Kearny
The streets of Kearny had never felt so alive, so bloodthirsty. The neon haze that usually bathed the Velvet Dominion in seductive light now mingled with smoke, sparks, and the acrid stench of gunpowder.
From the club's shattered windows, silhouettes moved like phantoms, ducking behind overturned cars, steel dumpsters, and lamp posts. The Nunca-Caer Family, fewer than a hundred strong, held positions like seasoned predators, every man a razor-sharp instrument of survival. Across the street, the Riviera Vipers numbered six hundred-plus, waves of black-clad silhouettes surging forward like a living tide, the echo of their footsteps ominous, deafening, unstoppable.
---
"Hold the line! Protect the exits!" Brian barked, voice cutting through the chaos.
"Reinforcements are ten minutes out!" shouted Rico, a seasoned capo, loading a Colt M1911. Sweat streamed down his forehead as he kept low behind a concrete barrier. "Twenty minutes… we survive twenty minutes, and the rest of the city owes us!"
"You hear that, boys?" Matt's voice boomed across the battlefield as he stepped onto the crumbling stoop outside the club, Desert Eagle glinting. "They think they can touch the Nunca-Caer name? Let's remind them why they kneel when we speak!"
A volley of gunfire erupted, the night turning into a symphony of metal and screams. Bullets rattled against steel and concrete; a Viper went down with a sickening grunt as Matt's precise shot found its mark.
"Flank left! Push forward!" shouted Darius, another caporegime, motioning with one hand while firing with the other.
"Don't let them take the stairs!" Brian added, moving with lethal grace, his rifle cutting arcs of fire that pinned advancing Vipers.
---
The first wave of Vipers surged. They were fast, brutal, and well-prepared, carrying rifles, shotguns, and automatic pistols. But the Nunca-Caer Family had history, had blood on these streets, had the instinct of kings defending their territory.
Matt moved like a shadow, every shot calculated, every punch explosive. He ducked behind a car as a shotgun blast shredded the metal hood, then rolled forward, kicking a Viper into a steel dumpster.
Bang!
Desert Eagle barked again. Two more attackers went down.
"Matt! Left flank's being overrun!" Brian shouted, diving behind a crate. Two Vipers had breached the barricade. In one fluid motion, Matt spun, firing two shots, then swept his leg in a high arc, knocking a third into his fallen comrades. His precision was terrifying.
"Never let them surround us!" Matt barked over the chaos. "Keep moving! Keep fighting!"
"OGs don't retreat!" shouted Rico, pumping rounds from his pistol. "Stand your ground!"
—
The Vipers' reinforcements arrived faster than anyone expected. Six hundred men pressed against the few hundred of Nunca-Caer loyalists. Their firepower was overwhelming, bursts of automatic fire tore through barricades, smoke bombs rolled into alleys, and explosions rocked the street.
"They brought the whole army… how many bullets do they carry?!" a young member of the family shouted, panic creeping in.
"We don't need bullets," Brian yelled over the din, "we've got skill, strategy, and the name that commands respect. Survive and hit hard!"
Shots tore past them; two of Matt's men fell. One hit the asphalt, blood pooling across the pavement. Another coughed as a bullet grazed his shoulder. Every loss was painful, but retreat was never an option.
"Cover me!" Matt yelled, sprinting across the street. He dove behind a dumpster, firing with the accuracy of a man who had fought through wars most could only imagine. Three more Vipers fell.
"For the Nunca-Caer name!" Brian roared, tossing a smoke grenade, obscuring movement and buying precious seconds.
—
"Push forward! Don't let them breathe!" A Viper, a lean man on the Riviera Vipers' side shouted, voice dripping with arrogance. "We end this fuckers tonight!"
His men advanced like a tidal wave, firing into barricades, tossing flashbangs. One group tried to flank the club, another to storm from the alleys. It was sheer numbers against skill, and for now, the balance held… barely.
"Brothers! Don't falter!" Matt yelled, diving through fire, disarming a Viper and finishing him with a brutal elbow to the jaw. "Remember who you fight for! Remember who you are!"
"We'll die before we lose this street!" shouted a caporegime as he fell, a bullet piercing his chest. Blood spattered against the brick. "Take him down… push forward!"
---
The battle raged. Smoke, fire, and gunfire painted the night. The family's loyalists fought like men possessed, every shot deadly, every movement disciplined. But the Vipers were relentless. Every fallen member of the Nunca-Caer gang was replaced by a new wave of attackers pressing forward.
"Brian! North side!" Kiel shouted, surprising even himself as he leapt into the fray, adrenaline sharpening his reflexes. A Viper lunged; Kiel ducked, using his karate training to sweep the man's legs and follow with a brutal elbow to the chest. Blood sprayed, screams echoed, the taste of combat burned in his mouth. He picked up a fallen comrade's weapon and pulled the trigger on his assaulter finishing the man off.
"Hold the line, damn it!" Matt's voice carried over the chaos, a beacon of authority. He engaged in hand-to-hand combat, kicking, ducking, shooting, disarming with lethal efficiency.
"They think six hundred can take us? They don't know what it means to be OGs!" Brian yelled, firing a volley that dropped two Vipers at once. "Stay alive, we're not done!"
---
For minutes that felt like hours, the Nunca-Caer Family stood, a small but unbreakable wall of skill, courage, and fearlessness.
Four members of the family fell, their bodies crumpling behind barricades.
Over fifty Vipers were down, writhing in the asphalt, a testament to the lethal precision of the OGs.
Smoke, fire, shattered glass, and the echo of gunfire filled the night.
The street glowed in red, orange, and blue from neon lights, blood, and fires set to dumpsters.
"Reinforcements are two minutes out!" shouted a breathless scout.
Matt's eyes narrowed. "Good… now we finish this."
But before the family could press the advantage, another wave surged; this time bigger, meaner, and more coordinated. The Riviera Vipers' reputation as the second strongest gang in New Jersey was not a myth; it was carved in blood, strategy, and sheer brutality.
"We learned from the streets. They'll pay tonight!" a member of the Nunca-Caer Family gang yelled, barreling forward with a hail of bullets.
Matt glanced at Brian, then at the young Kiel with a proud smile on his face "Tonight… we show them what it means to cross the Nunca-Caer name."
And the night raged on. The battle lines blurred, the air thick with smoke, sweat, and gunpowder. Every second, every movement mattered. Every gunshot was a note in a symphony of destruction, every death a reminder that power in Kearny came at the highest price.