Chapter 121: Call Me Sir!
Max spotted ten men pouring out from the back of the van, all dressed like Dud. Same boots, same jackets, same dead-eyed look. The only thing that set them apart? A small mark stitched onto the tops of their hats. Subtle, but definitely there.
I never paid much attention to military stuff, Max thought, squinting. But those have to be rank markings, right? Looks like they’re all wearing the same one, maybe that’s what a private wears? But this guy... he’s got something different. I don’t know exactly what it means, but I can tell he outranks the others.
But that wasn’t the only thing eating at Max. The word gang war kept looping in his brain like a siren that wouldn’t shut up. That term wasn’t just thrown around. Not even in street gang circles.
The problem with criminal groups? Most of them weren’t just little neighborhood squads. They were big. Organized. Spread out across different zones, different cities even, and this was the case for even Street Gangs.
The Pit was an exception. The Billion Bloodline had called on them for help, but that was a weird move. The Pit was known for being scrappy and small, obsessed with fighting more than territory. That wasn’t normal. Most gangs were bigger, more methodical.
So when someone said "war," they weren’t talking about a single blowout in a back alley. No. It meant constant, ruthless clashes with another crew that matched them in size and strength.
And it never ended in one night.
Wars like that hit everything, rival businesses, stash houses, clubs, bars, anywhere money flowed. Each side did whatever they could to cripple the other, step by bloody step.
There were only three ways it usually ended: one side got completely wiped out, the two bosses made a deal and called it off, or one gang absorbed the other. No matter how it finished, it always came at a cost. People got hurt. People got killed.
"Come out. You’re coming with us," Dud barked, like this was routine.
Max stepped out of the vehicle without flinching. "You think I’m gonna run?"