Yammy shifted, muscles rippled under his expensive suit and metal clicked against leather at his thighs and under his jacket.

A hand appeared in his line of sight, and Yammy passed a gun to the leader.

The shot fired, and the muscular man slid the hot machine back into its sheath.

The man before them whimpered, clutching his leg.

"Let that be a lesson to you. Get out." The men at the door dragged the man out the door, not bothering to be careful of his deep and bleeding wound.

"I'm going." The leader stood, adjusting his hat and gold watch. Yammy's eyes were draw to it, but the glance was hidden behind mirrored sunglasses. "I'll trust that you'll keep things running, Prince."

The man on the 'King's' other side nodded. The guards opened the door as Yammy and the King passed through.

Yammy's fingers opened and closed as his rage surfaced, bubbling under his skin in an undeniable urge to rip something to shreds.

His hand brought out a gun involuntarily, and he rubbed it against his sleeve, brushing away specks of unseen, and non-existing, dirt.

The rival gang warlord sneered, gesturing his own boys back.

Yammy's rage snapped and his brought up both the guns in his holsters, bullets bursting from them. The rival gang 'soldiers' fell. There were enough that Yammy ran out of bullets.

"Now, how about that deal?" King asked, smirking. "You have no back up."

The warlord pulled a gun from his back pocket, and the muscular bodyguard didn't even flinch as metal dug through his shoulders.

"What are we going to do?" The Prince snarled. "Your…goon ruined our plans!"

"This may work in our favor." King glared up at Yammy. "And I hope for his sake, it does."

The man had the decency to look ashamed.

Inside, however, he was steaming.

Did the King expect him to not fight back?

For the other warlord to fill him full of lead?

He was sorely mistaken.

Yammy wasn't that kind of guy.

Ever since he was young, the too large and too musclely man had had anger issues. No amount of therapy could cure it and his parents eventually took him to karate, where it was toned down some because he had an out-source.

He was fourteen when he accidentally killed his parents.

Well, he'd meant to do it at the time. But he didn't really mean it.

He'd been sent to juvy for several years, and when he came out, he'd joined Kuro Ichigo.

Why it was called Black Strawberry was beyond his intelligence, and Yammy was sure there was a long , boring, story behind it that he really didn't want to hear.

He'd worked his way up to a Five Star Elite, and was working as the King's personal bodyguard. There were things that he knew, that most of the gang members wouldn't ever.

"We should get rid of him."

"How? He'll go into a rage and we'll die!"

"Besides, he's always near the King."

"So, we'll get him when he's not."

"Well, that makes sense. How are we going to kill him?"

"Bullets?"

"You're fucking joking, right?"

"No…"

"Did you see the bullets that got pulled out of him this time?"

"This time?"

"Oh, right. You're pretty new. His record is thirty-one."

"Holy mother fucking balls of a transvestite!"

"Yeah. That's his record. However, I ain't heard of him surviving a grenade."

"We'll get him somewhere secluded. Like the secondary outhouse."

"I'll get the out of order signs."

Yammy Llargo

Died in the bathroom.

What a loser.

5-Star Elite