Jim and his ‘friends’ walked down the street away from the club, underneath the flickering streetlamps of Krymehaven. Blitz was happily counting a large stack of money in her hands, and Eddy was pulling a seemingly endless stream flowers out of his hair.

“Accept it, Mohammed, your scalp is now and forever a botanical garden.” Garrett said, annoyed.

“I keep finding more!” Eddy shouted. “It’s not my fault!”

“Just wash it out of your hair later, you amatuer.” Garrett sighed. “The shower is the only way to be positive you get it all.”

“We still talking ‘bout flowers?” Blitz asked, eyebrow raised with a smirk.

“I can’t believe you won four grand on one fight.” Jim said, walking up next to Blitz.

“I can’t believe you bet on the other guy...” Warren grumbled from the back of the group.

“It’s called faith, boys.” Blitz responded loudly, holding up her winnings with pride. “Maybe next time, you’ll have some.”

“You gonna share any of that ’faith’?” Warren asked. “Seein’ as I’m the reason you got it in the first place.”

“Nope! Nice try though.”

“Hey, stop right there!” came a voice coming from farther down the dilapidated alley that Jim’s band was cutting through. Three thugs wearing purple started walking up towards us, with all of the swagger, and none of the authority, of gangsters thinking they were very much in charge.

Oh shite.

Nonono!! Jim get us out of here! 

-I shout, spinning around, only to see two more thugs blocking our exit. 

No!

We’re cornered. Jim said, giving away a half smile. Which means...

One of the benefits of hangen’ with psychopaths. 

-I mutter, while still scanning the area, and taking in the low hanging ladders of nearby rusted fire escapes. 

Assuming that Jim could even jump that high, the one to our left was barely hanging on to the condemned building that seemed just as likely to collapse around us as stay standing. And the fire escape to our right, was collapsed and lying in a pile. If I was half as insane as the people Jim was hellbent on associating with, I would have enjoyed the fact that it had landed perfectly into a trash bin that was under it.

“No fucking way...” Eddy mumbled next to Jim.

“Acquaintance, Eddy?” Garrett asked, barely invested as he watched the two from the back.

“Barely. I sell their leader there coke and pot at my dad’s country club sometimes. Friends with that douche, Philip. They all are. They Like to talk big about starting a gang or some shit. Afraid to try heroin.”

“Pfft.” Warren snorted, spinning around and moving towards the three thugs from the front. “So they’re nobodies.”

He’s gonna get us fucken’ killed.

“Careful Warren.” Jim said, as Warren walked by him, fuming.

“The fuck you want, trust fund?” Warren growled, inches from the ‘leader’.

The guy, for what it’s worth, wasn’t intimidated by Warren towering over him and snarled back with, “You cost the Roma a lot of money today, deadman. And you killed our best fighter.”

Warren laughed at him. “The Roma? Big bad gang are ya?” Warren’s face went back to a snarl and he shoved the leader back a few feet. “Name of the game, prick. Don’t like it, fuck off to somewhere else.”

One of the guys friends jumps in between them, getting into Warren's face. “Hey, get your filthy fingers off him!”

“Do you know who you’re dealing with or are you too stupid to realize it? The Roma are gonna take the No-Man’s-Land one day!”

“No one can control No-Man’s-Land.” Jim laughed. “It’s impossible.”

“No one’s talking to you! Know your place, you enay fuck!” the leader shouted.

Warren grabbed past the guy in front of him, almost picking up the leader. “Call him that again. See what happens.”

“What’re you going to do, bitch?” The thug asked, separating his leader from Warren.

“Ten bucks on Warren.” Garrett grinned.

“Not exactly the time, Gar.” Eddy said, hand covering his face.

Oh this is really, really bad.

Yeah I got it.

Uh, no you don’t.

Wanna bet?

I bet we get a fucken' concussion.

Jim separated Warren from the group. “Okay guys, let’s settle down a bit, yeah? Listen we lost money on our buddy’s fight too, anyway.” Jim quickly glanced at Blitz, who was cheerfully watching the whole thing play out. When she noticed Jim looking at her, she grinned and waved. “Well...most of us. So how ‘bout this, we all cut our losses and lament lost money with a pint on me?”

For a second, one split second, it looked like Jim actually got control of the situation. But all chance for a peaceful resolution died the second the third thug from the front made contact with his fist to Jim's face. We caught it as movement from Jim’s peripheral. A flash of gold as a large fist and a gaudy ring propelled forward. It caught us square in the temple sending Jim to the ground with a thud. Our head bounced on the concrete, and hit again, sending a ringing through Jim’s thick skull.