"Alright everyone, listen up!" Tyler called out over the noise.
"We're getting this done tonight—no excuses. I want everyone loaded up and ready to go by the end of the hour. So let's move it!"
I need some air…
Jake slips away from the group and steps outside.
He pushes open the warehouse door. It swings wide, then clicks shut behind him.
I am ready for something like this?...
He lowers himself onto the loading bay edge, feet dangling just above the cracked concrete.
Did you have to make decisions like this? Is that what took you so far away from home?
The door swings open, and a man steps out, lowering himself a few feet away from Jake. He's noticeably older than Jake, a bit rugged— bearing the weight and wear of a life spent in the streets. His dark eyes hold a quiet weight, and a faint scar cuts through his right eyebrow.
He pulls out a cigarette, lights it and takes a drag. The smoke curls lazily around them both, filling the silence without a word.
The man extends his arm, the glowing tip of his cigarette nearly brushing Jake's cheek.
"Here. Take a hit. It'll calm you down."
"Uh…thanks, but I'm good." Jake nervously waves it off.
"Don't smoke?" the man shrugs.
"Eh you'll pick it up soon… I've been there—the nerves before your first real job." His eyes drift to some distant memory.
"After a while, you start needing these just to keep steady. You sure you don't want a hit?" He waves it in front of Jake's face.
"Trust me, without something to calm your nerves, you won't last long in this line of work."
Jake uncertain, "Yeah I'm alright, thanks."
After a brief silence, "Your name's Slim, right?"
The man swings his arm back, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. He takes a slow puff and exhales the smoke. "Mhm, that's me."
Jake lingers in the silence, unsure what to say next.
Suddenly, the man turns towards Jake, the lightness in his expression gone.
"You gonna be able to pull that trigger when it counts?" He fixes Jake with a piercing, steady look.
The thought hits Jake like a wall, and he freezes.
"I-I-uh…"
A man emerges from the warehouse, breaking the tense silence.
"Let's move, it's time to head out!"
Slim springs up. "We heard you, now shut your damn trap."
The man heads back inside.
Slim glances at Jake before following the man inside. "I guess we'll find out soon enough." He turns and heads inside.
Jake's mind flashes back—the sharp crack of Tyler's gun. The lifeless stare. The crushing weight of his opponent's body. The wet warmth of blood seeping through his shirt.
His fingers curl, then loosen again.
His eyes drift to the alley—a quiet and easy escape.
Marcus's voice lingers in his mind, Tyler's threat echoing close behind.
I don't get to walk away, not anymore.
He buries the thought and heads inside.
One by one, cars tear out of the warehouse, chaos surging behind them as they disappear into the gathering dark.
The cars slide silently into a narrow alley just outside a cluster of abandoned apartment buildings, engines shutting off one by one.
Before they move, Tyler whispers to the gang, "Our target's the boss. After that, everything else is your call. Now let's move out."
They move quietly down the alley until they reach the apartments.
Tyler cues the teams with subtle hand signals.
The fifteen men split into three groups of five, each assigned to enter from a different side of the building. They move slowly into position.
Jake falls in with Slim, Tyler, and two others as they move in.
Silently, they slip through one of the back doors. Tyler takes point, and Slim secures the perimeter. They sneak through the hallways, moving silently from door to door—each one dead quiet, showing no signs of activity.
Finally, they approach a door buzzing with noise—laughter drifting through, music pulsing beneath it. Tyler signals the group to close in.
He leans in, whispering, "I'll go in first. No one get jumpy and follow, wait until you get the signal."
Then suddenly, he hits the door and bursts inside.
Jake panics, "What the hell is the signal?!"
"Don't worry, just be ready. Everyone, make sure you're locked and loaded," Slim whispers to the group.
One by one, the soft metallic clicks of readied weapons echo in the quiet. Jake stares at his, gripping it tight, hands trembling.
Tyler enters the low-lit room, stale smoke thick in the air as music pounds through the space.
Four guys are gathered around a beat-up table, locked in a game of poker—cards in hand, chips clacking softly. Two girls linger by the table, laughing softly as they drunkenly sway to the music.
Off to the side, another guy is sprawled on a worn-out couch, a girl tucked under his arm, half-asleep against his chest. Another leans against a pillar back turned to the door, slowly dragging on a cigarette, the smoke swirling softly above him.
Tyler lingers in the doorway, waiting for someone to notice him.
Everyone remains focused on their own business, not a single eye on him.
He clears his throat, hoping to draw some attention.
Still nothing.
The guy on the pillar fumbles with his lighter. It slips from his hand and skitters behind him. As he turns to pick it up, he spots Tyler in the doorway.
He snaps up, the music still pounding. "Aye—what the fuck, who are you?"
No one else in the room seems to notice Tyler yet.
"You guys sure run a tight ship. Anyways—where's your boss?"
"Are you deaf motherfucker?! I said who the fuck are you?" the man steps forward aggressively.
"No need to get tough. I'm just looking for Knox. Point me in the right direction, and I'm gone."
One of the other men looks up from the table and finally notices the commotion.
The man in front of Tyler snaps a look back at his friend.
"Yo! He's with the Reapers!" a voice shouts from the table as a chair scrapes back.
"That motherfucker's the one who shot up the pit!" The man's hand drops toward his belt.
Suddenly, all eyes are on Tyler.
"Well, I did give you a chance."
Before anyone can blink, there's a flash of chrome—one clean shot rings out, and the man drops, a bullet through his head.
Slim calls out loudly, "Now!"
They burst into the room, bullets flying, the echo of gunfire cutting through the cold concrete.
Jake watches in slow motion as bullets tear through the room. He stares down at his piece, then glances at the bodies strewn across the floor.
The girls scream in terror as the men are butchered. Two scramble beneath the table, clutching each other in fear.
The other on the couch sobs over her man's dead body, her grief twisting into anger as she reaches for his gun.
"Ah ah ah," Tyler warns, gun pressed to her temple.
She stops cold.
"Scram. All of you."
The women rush for the door in a panic.
Frozen in place, Jake stares at the bodies before he turns away and vomits all over the floor.
"Hey, snap the fuck out of it and pull yourself together! More of this shit's coming." Slim barks, shaking him by the shoulder.
Holding his mouth, Jake snaps back to reality.
"Good job boys! I knew I could count on you!" Tyler says with a grin.
"Fuck—I think I'm hit," the man in front of Jake groans.
Slim rushes over, inspecting him quickly. "Damn it, Boss Crane's hit."
"You." Slim grabs the fifth man in the group. "Get him back. Take one of the cars, make sure you're not followed."
"Yes, boss!" he shouts. He hoists the wounded man up and rushes out.
Tyler glances at Jake. "Fun, huh? It's just the three of us now—let's go finish this."
This guy is a fucking psycho…
"Boss, we need to find him quick, or he'll slip away," Slim reports.
"Alright well let's go find his ass."
One by one, they file down the hall. Jake falls back to cover the rear.
Not here. Not like this.
If I make it out of here, I'm done. Marcus was right—I'm in way over my head.
He can take me and Ma somewhere Tyler can't find us. We'll be safe.
I just have to make it out of here…
"Jake!"
The sound jolts him back.
"You're lagging behind c'mon!" Slim barks.
As they move through the hallways, gunfire breaks out across the complex.
They approach a heavy door at the end of the hall, a concrete stairwell marked on the sign beside it.
Slim throws up a hand, stopping the group. "Staircase here —let's check the garage. Might be a good chance he's already trying to leave."
"After you," Tyler mutters, motioning forward.
Slim swings the door open, and they make their way down.