As the sun set on the dark city of Gotham, a small but powerful gang collected at the docks by Warehouse 9. The group of nineteen men stood, waiting for their leader; Crow. Two minutes later, a man dressed in jeans, black t-shirt and brown leather jacket stepped out of the shadows and said "Boys, quiet."
The others immediately obeyed and turned to face the leader. "Ok, I've gotten word Zucco has been coming onto our turf. If you see him, you have my permission to put a bullet in him. I know it will start a gang war, but I personally hate the arrogant sack of rocks." A roar of cheers followed the small speech and then suddenly stopped when a child's scream echoed around them.
Silence, then another pain and fear filled wail rose. Crow held up a fist, which the others copied, then lowered it and followed the noise. The twenty males walked quietly across the docks and towards warehouse 12, where the childlike cries for help were emanating from. The group tensed, then charged forward when all sounds stopped. The gang burst through the doors to a sight one could never forget, Tony Zucco was standing over a small, bloody heap.
The cries had come from the child that had been beaten by the mob boss and they stopped when the boy passed out. One enraged gang vs. one unsuspecting man equals a bloody beaten unsuspecting man. While nineteen men were beating Zucco, Crow was kneeling by the body of the child. The gang leader had taken a first aid class when he was in high school and looking back now, he was glad. He checked for a pulse but when he found none, he did not panic. The man rolled the child onto it's back, started CPR and hoped he was not too late.
After a minute, there was a sputtering cough and several quick inhales from the small boy. Two of the gang members dragged Zucco towards an alley to rot, while Crow ordered four more to get some stuff from their base and return as soon as possible. The other thirteen crowded around while their leader took off his leather jacket, balled it up and placed it under the unconscious boy's head.
The child's shirt was bloody and in shreds. The pants were bloody as well but were in better shape than the shirt. Fang ripped the remains of the shirt off and started assessing the extent of the child's injuries. Multiple cuts and severe bruising on his chest and stomach. His left eye was obviously hurt, by the way it was glued shut with blood and puss. There were cuts and bruises on his small, pale face. The four members returned with the items Crow ordered them to get; gauze, disinfectant spray, water and a rag.
Once the men handed it to Crow, he immediately started cleaning and wrapping the boy's cuts, while the others helped as much as they could. After they were done, they had successfully cleaned and covered every major scratch. "Sparrow," Crow called out to a rather muscular man "carry him back to base." Sparrow walked forward, gently picked the boy up and exited the warehouse. Moments later, the building was empty except the small pools of blood; from an innocent and from a mob boss.