Chapter 1- Darling Darley

Jack Mercer walked down the street, his arms swinging powerfully by his sides. He put a hand up, and ruffled his spiked blonde hair, and scuffed his cigarette into the ground. He glanced around the empty Detroit streets casually. Suddenly, two cars drove up the street: one red with black fire strikes, one black with red fire strikes. Jack could see that they were gang cars- the loud metal music and threatening way they talked to one another proved that. He dug his hands in his leather pockets and kept his head down. The cars were closer now.

"JACK! OI! MERCER! MERCER!" one man inside the black car yelled to him. He bit his lip. 'Bobby.' he thought. 'What would you do? Bobby…'

"MERCER! DON'T FUCKING IGNORE ME! MERCER!" the shouts continued. Jack flicked his head around, tugging his scarf.

"COME HERE!"

Jack took a deep breath and headed over, his shoulders back, his head high. If he was gonna die here, at least he'd die proud.

The leader, a rather good-looking guy, albeit a very bad one, glanced at him with menacing, piercing, sharp, almost mad steel grey eyes. A twist of cruel tribal tattoos curled half-way up to his neck. He was heavily muscled with a powerful build and shoulders, his head shaved and his mouth stretched in a harsh smirk, balancing a cigarette whilst he spoke. It was very clear to Jack that this man possessed something unnaturally dark- nothing like any man or gang he had encountered in the Detroit underworld. It troubled him to doubt Bobby Mercer, his biggest and best brother, but he did- against this foe. His senses heightened- a man so strange and alien obviously had stocks of artillery- and would not hesitate to use it.

The man's smirk flickered as he took the youngest Mercer in.

"Where's Bobby, Jack?" he asked in a low deep voice, waiting for his reaction.

Jack glanced away, tormented by those eyes. He bit his lip again. And shrugged.

The man cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "Jack Mercer." he stated, but it was almost a question, an interrogation. He laughed, raw and cutting.

"What do you want? Who are you?" Jack asked, regretting being so bold even as he spoke.

"No trouble, Jack. No trouble at all. I'm Billy Darley." he mockingly held out a scarred hand.

Jack shook it quickly, and stepped back. The other men in the cars had their eyes on Billy, dressed similarly and twisted their hands over their guns, threateningly.

"I gotta go." Jack muttered and pulled away.

Billy grabbed Jack's jacket roughly, pulling him back. He twisted Jack to face him.

"I'm going to find Bobby. And I'm going to kill him." he whispered.

Jack tore Billy's hand away. "Why?" he cried.

"Unfinished business." Billy smirked, and let Jack go, revved his engine and tore off up the street, tyres screeching, metal music pounding, the other car following.

Jack stood in shock. He gathered his wits, and glanced around the empty Detroit streets. Heart pounding, he raced back up his street to the Mercer house, his scarf swinging wildly, wanting only to see Bobby- alive.