Author's Rant: Thanks to everyone who's interested in this type of story. I was worried the general premise of gangs wouldn't be taken too well. Enjoy! ^_^

Fixed

Yugi felt his sides burning, his hand ached and whenever he tried to blink, it felt like someone was pinching his eyelids. He was scared out of his mind after getting a glimpse of the newcomer's shoes and legs. Gunshots echoed in his ears as loud as his heartbeat. It was too dark to understand what was going on. Everything funneled to him like vibrations beneath an ocean.

His heartbeat slowed down. Yugi closed his eyes, weariness overtaking him. He was jolted awake when more gunfire hung in the air. 'Oh god please,' he whispered in his head. 'Please, please, don't let me go out like this. You took my brother from my grandfather. Don't make him suffer a second time. Please, let me live through this.'

Yugi was growing cold, so very cold, despite the evening's humidity and warmth.

He heard music coming after what felt like hours. It was all he remembered before the world became dark and airless.

This was J.R.'s favorite part. Play nice at first, but when they tried to act stupid, he had all the reasons he wanted to do as he wanted. The O.G. had been suspicious of these three for a while. It was bad enough knowing they were doing wrong, but being caught in the act was just plain insulting. That spoke volumes of how arrogant they were becoming and how much they respected authority.

"I don't like repeating myself," Joey cocked his gun and pointed. He pulled the trigger twice, a round for every tug surging forth in a spark of orange. C.J. and Red howled in tune, like a pack of wolves serenading the night, as they clutched their bleeding thighs, tossing and flopping on the dusty ground. That was five bullets wasted Joey could've used on some blue bloods but here he was draining ammo with these fools. Fucking ridiculous. "Anyone wanna spill their guts now, or do you need another pick-me-up?"

Blondie had been the only one spared a second helping and did his best to sit up, bandaging his right arm with his left hand. "Why the fuck you shot us for? Fuck, oh fuck," he whined and gasped, body numbing. "I can't believe this motherfucka' shot me. And you shot them twice? Christ!"

"Ya feelin' left out?" Joey asked quietly. "'Cause I got six mags on me and nothin' but time."

Blondie wheezed and inhaled like holes were punctured in his lungs, gripping and flexing his fingers were blood seeped through. His eyes glared up at his senior leader, defiance and fear mingling all over his square face and red tinted eyes. "Man, whatever it is ya heard, I'm tellin' ya you got the wrong ones. We didn't do squat!"

J.R. frowned, hazel eyes narrowed, "Are you kiddin' me right now?" Blondie coughed and whimpered and mumbled under his breath, unfolding his hand to see the red puddle collecting in his palm and glued it back to hold in the rest of his blood. He looked close to cussing Joey out in three different languages but realizing the situation, smartly keep his trap zipped. "You really wanna play ignorant, Blondie?" Joey continued on. "'Cause I can play too. Yeah, I think I will. How's about I just cap all of you's and call it a fuckin' night! How's that sound?"

"Wait, wait, wait," That was C.J. rolling on his side, glancing up Joey's jeaned legs, hoping to find mercy in those eyes. "Whatever's goin' on, I swear I ain't have shit to do with it. I swear on my mama's grave, I didn't do shit!"

"Fuckin' cope out!" Red shouted and gasped. "The fuck y'all actin' scary for? We didn't do anything wrong! He's just runnin' around throwin' bullets 'cause he's just lookin' to pin shit on somebody!"

Joey cocked his eyebrow around the same time his finger relaxed off the trigger, "What cha' say?" This was another pet peeve of his. Joey couldn't stand the ones who liked to talk stupid. If they want to be dumb, he can do the same. "Speak up, Red. Don't pussy out now," he said once stopping in front of his subordinate.

Red glanced upward, one hand on his arm and the other masking the punctured hole near his knee.

"Fuck you!"

J.R. sighed. He rubbed the gun's muzzle against his temple. The mouthy ones always want to be trouble. Just like children. If you spared the rod too much, they usually ended up overruling the parents. Joey stepped forward, drew his leg back and kicked it across Red's face, smirking when his jawbone made a wet crack.

"Fuck me? Really? You wanna say that to the man holdin' the 9mm?"

Red yowled loud and crazed as a wild dog, blood gushing from his split lip and nose, "Ah damn!" he shouted, hands diving from his leg to his face, and his arm.

Joey stared the other two down. "Anybody else wanna jump stupid tonight or are you willin' to talk?"

"Talk about what?" C.J. whined miserably, blood flowing from his wounds like a broken faucet. "What did we do?"

Joey's patience was thinner than paper. He aimed his gun up and let off three sharp shots in the air, piercing the entire division with a horrid bang, bang, bang. "Does it look like I'm fuckin' playin', C.J.?"

J.R. wasn't concerned about being caught for firing. The neighborhood knew better because as the saying goes, 'snitches get stitches.' The precincts around this jurisdiction were half crooked anyway and as soon as stack of Benjamins was tossed, they'd keep patrolling like nothing happened. You didn't have to be in a gang to understand the code of ethics out here. It was common sense and if you were caught ratting out on anyone, well, you'd be wise to run and never stop.

"You wanna know what you did? Fine, since you're all sufferin' memory loss, I'll remind ya," Joey said loud and clear, aiming his gun at the three, secretly pleased with the wide eyed expressions and tears bubbling from their eyes. "Stealin' money from the family. Yeah, that's right, you're caught. You know that ain't how we run things here—kid, I swear if you fix your lips to say you didn't do it, I'm shootin' you again!" Joey said specifically to C.J. when he opened his mouth to deny any wrong doings.

The three remained silent, which was just fine with J.R. because he wasn't done. "We've had seven fuckin' houses unable to pay protection fees. Why? Because you've been chargin' extra. So, O.G. is wonderin', hmm, if the houses are payin' extra, where is the extra cash? Who is in charge of collectin' this spot? Oh yeah, it's you three dumb fucks!" Joey paced back and forth, as if reciting a lesson. "How did we figure out you guys were stashin' loot? You can thank ya man here for that." He pointed his gun down at Blondie, who slinked away, shivering. "He got so cocky, he went and bragged to Marlin, Baby Jo, Travis, Luis, and oh boy, you told Dee Dee? You know he can't hold spit right?"

Joey pivoted on his heel, stroking the barrel of his pistol, chuckling and aware of the scrambling and shuttering the trio was doing. Joey soaked their fear up like a sponge. "So, O.G. and I kept quiet about it for a minute, ya know, just to see if you'd man up and tell us what's goin' on. But you never did. For three months we watched and waited, watched and waited, then we watched some more and waited some more. Still no Blondie, no Red and no C.J."

The three shared a horrified look and stared at the ground, at times sneaking peeks at where Joey's muzzle was pointed. It was over and they knew it. If you double crossed the O.G., you're pretty much saying 'to hell with the family.' Because that's what the RES was; a thoroughly established family who looked out for one another, but if one such person wanted to disregard the family, the favor could be returned.

Joey stopped walking in the middle of the three and squatted down to eye level, gun dangling from his index between his knees. His honey brown eyes stared at each one in turn. "Now here we are, all together, but not as a happy family. If da' O.G. ain't happy, I'm not happy and if I'm not happy, somebody's likely ta' suffer a beat down." Joey thumped the barrel of his gun on C.J.'s sneaker, "Is it ringin' a bell now, C.J.?"

C.J. dramatically curled his leg inward, side-glancing his partners like they had the ability to get them out of this. J.R. could see the gears turning in their heads a mile a minute. They knew they'd run out of options. Instead of defending themselves, they kept quiet, hands aimlessly trying to figure out what bullet wound was worth saving over the others.

"I know this feeling," said Joey. "It's that nasty moment when you don't know what's gonna happen next. That sick feeling's called karma. You were caught red handed; now the only thing left is punishment."

As soon as he said the P word, Joey couldn't believe his eyes. Red, big mouthed, uppity Red, started to cry. His shoulders were bumping with each soft hiss and his lips balled tight as a zipper. Red slowly lowered his hand from his swollen jaw and lifted his glazed eyes, heaving and tearing up. "This is bullshit man. I needed that money. I got a family to take care of. But is the O.G . tryin' to hear that? Hell no."

"Excuse me?" J.R. asked, scowling hard.

"Ya heard me. My girl pregnant, and she got another kid I treat like he mine and, and, and," he hiccupped. "I just needed the money man."

Joey stared at him with his mouth agaped for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. It took a moment; several in fact, for Joey to contemplate his next move as he lazily tapped his gun against his cheek. "Ya know what I hate more than anything in the world?" Joey rose to his feet, index easing off the trigger. Brown eyes narrowed thin as razor blades, and he sneered like a canine, lips pulling over his teeth.

The anger came and went in a breeze. He stepped around and stood directly over Red's head, "Answer me Red. What do I hate more than anything?"

Red paused, forehead scrunched in confusion.

When he didn't answer, Joey did for him. "I fuckin' hate liars." He pressed his gun to the side of Red's head and pulled the trigger three times. The discharge left an eternal ringing in the air. Silence came, thick as the settling fog. Red's body thumped on the ground and stayed there, the dirt stained in a pooling gleam of maroon.

"Lying ass." J.R. despised liars as much as he couldn't stand taking out the trash. Red using his dead daughter as a stepping stone to freedom was the lowest of the low. He had no girlfriend. She'd left his ass seven months ago and was pregnant with another man's baby. How did they know? The O.G. made it his business to keep track every member's lives, inside and outside the gang.

Now with the remaining two . . . Joey glanced over at them, quivering and whimpering like abused puppies. He couldn't help that now could he? They should've thought of the consequences beforehand. He inhaled the night's looming humidity, the scent of gunpowder filtering in the mist and then unloaded his gun. Blondie busily traded his wet eyes from J.R. to the lifeless lump next to him and then to the ground. C.J. was a wreck, rolled on his side, blubbering like a newborn baby. They could cry all they fucking wanted. Joey had no sympathy for traitors.

Joey jerked his head up when the ground started vibrating beneath his feet. He rolled his eyes. Coming down the narrow strip of dirt road was a 2012 dark purple Suburban LTZ with twenty four inch lavender and chrome rims, jet black tinted windows and mercury colored headlights. The bass system in the back was ridiculously loud, so much so the brushes rustled, and the rocks bounced. When the vehicle came barreling through, it rolled to a rumbling stop. The music stayed on, muffled within until the driver's door opened and Lil Wayne's and Drake's 'Love Me' could be heard clear as a bell.

I'm on that good kush and alcohol
I got some down bitches I can call
I don't know what I would do without y'all
I'mma ball til the day I fall

Yeah, long as my bitches love me (yeah, yeah)
I can give a fuck 'bout no hate
Long as my bitches love me
I can give a fuck 'bout no n*****
Long as these bitches love me

The owner stepped out of the car, looking every bit as pissed as a bull, stalking forward with the aura of a predator. Thief was tall, maybe an inch over Joey. Disorderly, smoke gray hair was messily combed in every direction it wanted to go, banes hanging over his razor thin eyebrows and vicious mulberry eyes. A red bandana was tied around his neck like a loose noose. His facial feathers were sharp and angular and his neck was thick as a tree branch, navigating down to wide broad shoulders and a magnificently muscled chest. His skin tone was like melted caramel, and out for public display because he was only wearing some dark blue heans and Timberland sandals. His right arm was tattooed from his wrist to his shoulder with symbols of his name and RES4LIFE.

"Sup, Thief," Joey greeted, performing the difficult handshake known and memorized by all RES members.

Thief snorted, "Not much, man. I'm tired as hell. Got places to be, and shit to smoke."

"I know that's real."

"This better be good if O.G. didn't wanna explain what was going on over the phone."

"He didn't tell ya?"

"Nope, he said you'd do the honors."

Joey grinned like he'd just hit the lottery. Oh he was going to enjoy this part, "You two sit tight a bit." He gestured to the cowering thugs and escorted his partner to the side and explained everything from point A to point B. No detail was spared. Joey relayed everything and as the story unfolded Thief's lips split into a Great White grin, revealing every sharp tooth in his mouth.

"Worddddd?" Thief laughed out loud, a rough baritone rumble in his chest. "You mean I'm missing my dick getting sucked 'cause these couple of pussies were slinging cash? Are you serious?"

J.R. nodded, "As a heart attack."

"Ha, Christmas just came early." Thief cracked his knuckles, making his way over to the two troublemakers.

J.R. made himself comfortable on the front of Thief's suburban and bobbed his head to the hypnotic effects of Lil Wayne's music. The music was vicious against his eardrums and the scent of Purp floating out of Thief's car, nearly distracted Joey from noticing another body on the ground.

The silhouette of someone else—Joey paused where he'd been about to get in the vehicle and reached behind for his pistol. He couldn't tell if the person was low crawling, trying to play dead or already dead. Shit, he'd let off so many rounds, there was no telling if someone got caught in the crossfire. He wandered closer, eyes peeled.

There wasn't mention of a fourth person. Red, Blondie and C.J. had been the only listed suspects. Had they missed one? Had he been crouching in the dark, hoping to be overlooked? Was he biding his time until the opportune moment to shoot?

Those and more were the scenarios playing in Joey's head. Any sudden movements was his automatic right to shoot and question later. The possibility of another traitor was what Joey had envisioned, not the mangled, broken body of that Muto kid. Joey froze, mind boggled that this was the same player he'd seen on the television beaten to an inch of his life. He clipped his gun and reached out to check a pulse.

"Shit," Joey whistled. He was all kinds of fucked up. Those idiots did a real number on the kid, it was a wonder he still had a pulse. Joey whipped out his cell phone and pressed speed dial.

The phone picked up on the first ring, "Talk to me."

"Yo', we got a problem. Remember when I said those idiots were at the Muto house? They tried to lay out that Yugi kid."

There was a pause, then, "Is he alive?"

"Not for long," Joey mumbled, pressing his index and middle finger over the kid's jugular just to be sure. "He's breathing but they messed him up good."

O.G. sighed, which meant, as Joey knew, he was massaging the side of his head or squeezing his nose. "I don't have time for this shit," O.G. grumbled softly, more to himself then his second in command. "Take him to the hospital and stay put till I give you a call."

"Will do." The call disconnected and left Joey staring down at the prone body, thinking how he needed to do this. He hated putting himself in this situation, but when you had a tiny little ant of a conscious it had this nagging way of rearing up when it wasn't needed.

J.R. quietly turned Muto's body on its side and pressed his fingertips wherever he saw blood. He wasn't shot or stabbed. However he suffered some other injuries from the feel of it. J.R. hissed under his breath. There were two, no, he counted four cracked ribs; this kid's wrist was broken and his eyes were swelled shut.

Damn.

J.R. looked over his shoulder where Thief was stomping a hole in Blondie's head. This was going to be a long night. "Akefia!"

Thief stopped, foot in midair. "What?" came his irritated answer.

"Don't 'what' me asshole. Finish up with that. We gotta make a trip."

"The fuck—where?"

"To the hospital." Joey hunkered down low, scooped his hands under Muto's body, and hurled him over his shoulder like a sack of rocks. "O.G. wants us to take the kid to Kaiba's."

"Like now or right now?"

"Like yesterday dude!" J.R. annoyingly said. "Hurry up!" They needed to get this over with. He was tired, he was dirty and he was still pissed off. After all of this was over, O.G. owned him big.

When Yugi opened his eyes next, an agonizing throb in his temple robbed him of his eyesight. He shifted and winced. Blinking hurt, breathing hurt, hell, even thinking hurt. Yugi tried again, a little slower, to open his eyes. The right opened a slither, but the left was a no go. Everything was so white, like being inside an egg shell. Bright parallel light bulbs hummed above his head and the scent of sterilization confirmed, to his relief that he was in the hospital.

His arms were numb, his legs felt cold and this poor excuse of a blanket was thinner than toilet paper. When Yugi opened his eye wider, the overhead beams cursed him with a nasty glare. "Ssss, damn," he hissed and coughed. God, it felt like someone was beating his head from the inside with a hammer.

Then, it suddenly hit him why he was in so much pain to begin with.

Those Red Eye thugs; they'd went pass their three minute limit and damn near killed him. There was no way that wasn't planned. They knew from the jump Yugi's family didn't have that type of money on hand. Yugi theorized it being over jealousy or a lousy bet placed on the rival team and they wanted to get their earnings out of him.

That person came too. Some guy in black, or what Yugi judged to be all black, because it was so dark. There were gunshots, some yelling and then nada. He couldn't remember anything beyond the frightening cries and bullets firing off. Somehow he'd missed it and was blessed to be brought here. Yugi settled more comfortably on his pillow, closing his eyes.

His prayers were answered. Grandpa wouldn't have to suffer another loss.

Now, to figure out which hospital he was in because it didn't look like Domino Memorial Hospital. Yugi would know; he'd recognize the stiff beds, daisies placed in every window sill and the fresh peach cups they left for their patients. Nurse Trina worked here; she always treated his sprain wrists, twisted ankles and scraped knees he'd receive after some games. And she was always the usual party to come visit first and turn on the table radio.

This place just didn't have that hospitable atmosphere. It was too desolate and cold. The interior decoration was a strict haven of pure white, as if the smallest stitch of color was unacceptable. There wasn't even a potted plant to accent the large room. A large panel window was at his left. The sun's warm glow purged what it could of the empty chill. A white nightstand sat at the foot of his bed, a white leather armchair was angled in a corner and two doors were positioned to his far right. One was probably the bathroom and the other the exit.

Yugi tried urging his eyes to open again, somewhat aware of his index being inside a blood pressure monitor and something—something soft and cottony was wrapped tight around his wrist. What the hell was—"Ow, ow, ow," Yeah ok. He was still sore. Yugi managed to endure the burning sensation from the natural and artificial lights to turn his head downward. There was gauze wrapped around his entire hand. He lifted his arm up and stared. When had that happened?

Yugi heard a soft swish and the click of a door handle. He frowned and quickly wish he hadn't because it aroused a brand new headache. He groaned, absolutely miserable.

"'Bout time ya woke up, Pretty Boy," an unfamiliar voice said.

Yugi's head rolled to the side, dissipating the light's direct shine and looked to see who came into his room.

His eyebrows rose instantly. Shaggy blond hair was tucked beneath a Dodgers cap, with loose tendrils fanning around. Two mischievous cinnamon brown eyes journeyed from Yugi's face to his toes. He was dressed in a short sleeve green Henley shirt with white trimmings around the collar and sleeves. A pair of low riding grey jeans revealed the black band of his Fruit of the Loom briefs and went down to his white Converse shoes.

The visitor presented a lopsided smile as bright as the white room, as he casually strolled over like he owned every inch and flopped down in the armchair, flipping out the foot rest.

Yugi's gaze zeroed in on the red bandana tied around his neck and the one peeking from his right pocket. Tattoos raced like wild fire up the stranger's right arm, symbolizing RES in a gothic cross, RES centered in gothic letters and RES written inside a red ribbon. Yugi's brow scrunched tight. So, he was one of them; a Red Eyes.

The newcomer grabbed one of the magazines off the night stand and started flipping through it. "How ya feelin'?"

"Lousy." Yugi coughed and tried again. "My head hurts."

A snort, "That's to be expected. You nearly met your maker and I doubt he'd wanna look at that jacked up mug."

Yugi rolled his eyes. Damn it, that caused a world of pain too. When the pain dulled, Yugi half winched, half glanced over at his visitor. "Who're you?" he slurred.

"Nobody you gotta know," the man casually said, flipping a page. "Just lay there and shut up."

"How did I get here?" Yugi grumbled anyway, surveying the room a little more now that his eyesight was gaining strength. "Where is here?"

The blond stranger sucked his teeth, "General Domino Hospital. Now pipe down. I'm tryna' read."

"Where am I?"

"In Domino."

"Where in Domino?"

"Kid, come on?" the man grounded out. "Go back unconscious or somethin'. I don't feel like talking to you!"

"Then tell me what I want to know!" Yugi snapped back. His head started spinning, but he ignored the dizzy spell in favor of an irritated glare. "How'd I get here? What happened to those Red Eyes?" Yugi blinked as it suddenly came piling in at once. "Where's my grandpa? Is he hurt? Did they take the money? Damn it, I gotta get back—"

"Kid, look. . ." There was a deep look of desperation that gave pause to the blond man's rough tone. Maybe, maybe waking up in an unfamiliar area would put anyone in a state of shock. He ran a tired hand over the top of his cap and released a short breath through his nose. "Listen, yer grandpa's fine. We had a couple of people check the house to be sure he didn't get hurt."

Yugi's eyes twitched, on guard, though his body weakened with relief. Grandpa was ok at least. That was one less worry to stress over. "Then what—Hmm!" He opened his mouth to ask another question but found it snapped shut when a hand cupped over it.

"On the South end of Domino, about twenty miles from yer place. No, yer grandpa doesn't know where you are. My name is J.R., no you don't need to know my real name 'cause it's none of your business. Ya happy now? Now shut the hell up and get betta'." J.R. held his palm in place for a full minute to be absolutely sure he'd get some peace and quiet and moved his hand away to retake his seat.

Yugi's lips balled, eyes squeezed at the corners, "Your hand tastes salty."

J.R. looked from his magazine. "And you yap more than a horny Yorkie. Looks like we both got our faults to deal with."

"You could wash your hands."

"You could shut your mouth, but it doesn't look that that's happening." J.R. sighed long and annoyed, tossing the Home Living magazine to the side. He slouched low in the armchair, dragging his hand over his face. "God, help me," he murmured to himself and then straightened up with a twisted expression. "By the way, what the hell were ya doin' fightin' three runners on yer own?"

"I thought you wanted me to shut up."

J.R. smirked. "Answer my question, then you shut up."

Yugi flinched when he flexed his back. Memories repeated in his head like a reflector switch, everything pouring in black and white. Some he wished to forget and the rest he really wanted to forget, "Making change."

A pause, then an amused smirk spread across the man's face. "You volunteered or did they force ya?"

"I volunteered," Yugi said simply. "There wasn't much choice. It was either me or my grandpa." He went quiet a moment, chewing over his blood clotted lip and ducked his chin down to level his gaze with the visitor. "I can have your money by next week if you're willing to wait on it."

"Pfft, don't worry about it. It's covered."

"Covered?"

"Yeah, covered. Your tolls 'bout five c-notes, yeah?"

When the incorrect amount was said, Yugi's face pinched like he smelled something foul. "Five hundred? We haven't paid that in months. It's eight."

"Eight, as in eight hundred?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"About nine months."

"Was it the same goons?"

"No, two others." Yugi didn't understand. It wasn't uncommon for a protection fees to increase. If word spread around about any of the businesses flourishing better than they had previously, another hundred or so was tacked on. Kame's had a gained a slight build in popularity. As Yugi's reputation grew, more people were wanting a chance to meet him and sort out every method possible, one of which, included visiting at the shop during the afternoon when most of the gang members from vacant from the streets. He couldn't comprehend the heated way J.R's hazel eyes flared like he'd been told someone killed his friend.

Yugi discreetly slid under his blankets.

"Is everything ok?"

"Hell no," the blond growled. He snatched a phone from his back pocket and pressed two keys.

Yugi slinked under further, body tensed. The blonde's entire composure flipped like a light switch. Yugi didn't trust Red Eyes. None of them. They couldn't wink without putting the teen on high alert, because the slightest bit of wrongdoing on their side usually meant backlash in the worst possible way.

"Yeah. . . yeah he's awake," the blond said into the phone. Yugi jolted when he heard the conversation directed towards him and frowned. His fingers clenched and flexed beneath the sheets as his eyes follow the man's back and forth pacing. "Nah, everything turned out cool. Thief took 'em to the docks. . . . Huh uh . . . nah . . . Yeah . . . listen we got more of 'em on the loose. That Muto kid said his fee was 'bout eight hundred." The blond sighed and walked over to look out the twenty story window. "That's what I thought. His place's marked for five hundred, ain't it? Said he's been paying eight hundred for nine months . . . nah he said it was two other guys. The three we took out—I mean took care of," J.R. quickly corrected.

Yugi made himself ignore that last part and tuned out the rest of the conversation to focus on an empty space near the entry way.

"They'd only been hittin' other houses with some extra tax thing. They tried to pull a fast one on his house last night. . ." Silence carried in the room for so long, Yugi thought the phone call was over until a loud and angry, "What!" rattled the room. Yugi couldn't help his curiosity this time and gave his full attention to the blond pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed. "Yer kiddin' right? . . . Ah, come on O.G., we're not some kind of charity. Money is money!. . . . Oh fuck me, ya gotta be jokin'—what, no, I'm just sayin', why does he get special treatment?" The blond suddenly pulled the phone away and stared at it like it sprouted an extra head. "You want me to what? . . . Three G's? Three fuckin'—wow, just wow. Yeah. . . yeah." Whatever was said esd definitely not in his favor. "Fine, I'll take care of things here. . . then I can go? . . . Damn it. Alright, I'll see ya then." J.R. tapped the phone off and swirled around to face Yugi with a strange look.

A very long, strange look. Yugi sat up a little, winching from the pull and tugs on his bruises. His eyes strayed on J.R.'s grabbling hands and the way his lips were pressed firmly together, almost glued. There was something damn near unwavering. Yugi's hand nervously reached up to plow through his chaotic spikes.

"What now?" Yugi asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Shut up," came the cold tenor. The man said it soft, though the words carried more weight than a block of steel. Yugi slowly leaned away, on edge when the blond started to reach behind his back and pulled out a brown paper bag.

"W-what are you doing?" Yugi started to panic, clumsily backpedaling himself up against his headboard.

Hands going behind your back were never a good sign. Yugi knew that first hand. He'd seen it enough to understand the implications and the results always came out the same.

Paper crinkled, something sharp flapped and the snap of a rubber hand nearly sent Yugi into cardiac arrest. The silence to follow was as awful as not knowing. As soon as he'd heard the snap, Yugi closed his eyes and waited. He let himself open his best eye and glanced up.

"Here."

A paper bundle was thrust in his face, an inch from his eyes. Two red rubber hands were wrapped on both ends and it was less than half the size it was when Yugi first saw it. Hesitantly, he reached out and took the package in his hands and kept his eyes steady, "What is it?"

"Back pay," the blond seemed less than pleased to say. "M'boss says that's what you're owned."

Yugi's expression perked, surprise wrenching his swelled eyes open. "Why?"

"You're seriously askin' why someone gives ya money?"

"Yeah, when it's so sudden," Yugi grumbled, undoing the bonds on the supposed refund.

Yugi had heard stories of the legendary O.G., but beyond that they were just that, stories. None of them ever ruled him as a good Samaritan, out to spread blessings and good fortune. Granted Yugi had never laid eyes on the Red Eyes O.G. and he thanked his lucky stars for that. Despite rumors and unreliable descriptions of what he looked like, one thing Yugi knew was true was the Red Eye Leader's ruthless behavior. He was a killer, evil and, cruel. Yugi had heard about the time the O.G. had secured a twenty square mile territory in one whole night, and that was by himself with a box cutter. There were more stories of how he had connections within the Kaiba Corporation and ties with several police stations, but those could be as phony as any other rumor. Regardless, Yugi wouldn't be the first to deny them. As far as South Domino was concerned the RES O.G. was at the top of the food chain and no one dared to disrespect his wrath.

Yugi slipped off the rubber bands and unrolled the paper. One stack of perfectly crisp bills landed in his lap, fresh as the first day they printed.

"W-wait, this is . . ." Yugi stuttered. "There's so much."

The blond arched a brow, totting his lips to the side of his mouth, "It's the difference subtracted from the fees you've already given. You're only supposed to pay five hundred."

Yugi shook his head, "I can't take this."

"Come again?"

Yugi finished rewrapping the cash and pushed it to the end of his bed, "I don't accept money from your kind."

Hazel eyes darkened several shades. "What's that supposed to mean? You think you're too good for our money or something?"

"No, that's not it." Yugi fidgeted, eyes draw to the space between his legs. Then he lifted his gaze with as much pride and determination. "Tell your boss I appreciate the generosity, but I refuse to take it. There's always some kind of catch when taking money from gangs. I'd rather not get involved anymore than I am. I'm sorry," Yugi bowed his head. "Thank you, but no."

"So lemme get this straight. You don't want your money back—mine you, it's yours—because you think we have some hidden vendetta? We're giving you money kid. You honestly think we'd want something from your scrawny ass? The fuck outta here, even explainin' it sounds stupid." The man pushed the money towards Yugi. "Just take the money. You ain't got squat to offer us."

"I don't want your money."

"Look, orders are orders. I can't take it back. You gotta keep it."

Yugi pushed it away. "I don't want it."

The man pushed it right back, "I said keep it."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Yugi took the bag and lightly tossed it in the chair next to his bed. When he turned it was with a hardened glare that could easily rival RES member. "I don't affiliate myself with gangs and that means not taking your dirty money—"

The blond stepped into Yugi's face, devouring the entire right bedside with his presence. A malicious grin was the only warning Yugi got before he was suddenly shoved flat on his back, J.R's large hands wound tight in his hospital gown. Yugi's eyes bulged out of his head, staring up at the person straddling his waist. "You're cute kid, but don't get ahead of ya self. I'm not feelin' that tone of voice, so I suggest ya change it. Unless ya want both yer eyes shut fer good?"

Yugi's head nodded fast as a bobble head. "No, I'm good," he murmured.

"Alright then." When the blond abruptly released Yugi's gown, Yugi stayed perfectly still out of caution of possibly offending the man anymore then he has. The teen gulped, lips balled tight and watched as J.R. unlooped his leg over Yugi's body, his piercing, manic brown eyes glaring out the window. He wanted to move, hell, Yugi wanted to hightail it out of there as fast as his wobbly knees would take him. Something was anchoring his body down in the same place, clamped on all sides by chains of fear. He didn't know what to think, how to react; he could only stare, unsure if he should move.

Yugi jumped out of his skin when something was thrown in his lap.

It was his cell phone.

"Call someone to come get you," J.R. roughly barked. "Hurry up!"

"Ok, ok." Yugi pressed in the password, damning his quaking fingertips for mistyping several times before getting it right. He couldn't call his grandfather. That only left one person. Yugi sighed and dialed.

Tristan picked up after the first ring, "Where the hell are you?!"

Yugi nearly dropped the phone. "Hello? T-Tristan?"

"Do you have any idea how worried I was? I rode to your house to find it trashed and you aren't anywhere in sight? Christ man, I nearly called the police!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Yugi mumbled after Tristan took a breath. "Things got . . . a little out of hand last night."

"No shit, where are you?"

"General Domino Hospital."

"How the hell did you get out there?!" Tristan shrieked.

"Please Trist' stop yelling. My head's killing me," Yugi whined, flopping backwards. "Can you pick me up, please? I'm in room, um." Puzzled, he turned and looked to find J.R. looking at him. "One sec Trist'. What room number is this?" he asked.

J.R. lifted an eyebrow, "602."

"Thanks," Yugi nodded. "It's room 602."

"I'll be there in a jiff. Don't talk to anyone or eat their food. And when I get there, I want a full explanation. No if, ands or buts, you understand?"

"Yes mom," Yugi chuckled.

"That's right, 'cause mother knows best, you idiot." The phone disconnected. Yugi was left alone once more to deal with the blond haired gangster and thought twice about engaging him in conversation again. That was like tempting a pit bull with a raw steak.

The blond whipped out his phone a second time and spoke into it again in a much quieter voice. Yugi slowed his breathing and jerked when the phone was snapped shut. J.R. frowned out the window.

"Yer pal's here."

Yugi stiffened. "Oh."

"I'll tell the nurse to let 'em up," The blond sniffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Keep the cash. Do something nice fer yer grandpa or whatever. I don't give a shit. Just stay outta trouble." He slinked out the door without another word.

Yugi felt himself able to fully let himself relax and sunk as deep as the mattress allowed, wishing his heart wasn't pounding ridiculously fast. Had he been scared? Yes. Was he willing to stand up to a RES? Sure was. Was it worth risking his life? Hell no. He enjoyed living thank you very much.

Though he doubted he'd be living much longer when Tristan got in here. Yugi prepared himself for that ear bleeding lecture and sighed, turning on his side.

The angle put his face in direct line of the rumbled wad of cash thrown in the armchair. An immediate frown animated on his face. None of this money was his. It belonged to the neighborhood, to those the gangs harassed for the dangers they created. It wasn't fair to take it. Why couldn't that guy realize that? It wasn't out of pride. It was principle. It was dangerous to take money from gang members.

And yet . . .

Yugi's frown softened.

It was considerate of the O.G. to fix his mistakes. And Yugi was always raised to thank those who did right by him. So . . . he if wouldn't keep the money, why not return it? Yeah, yeah that's what he'd do. Yugi smiled the first time since yesterday evening and settled into his bed bunk. As soon as he was well enough, he'd find that J.R. guy and ask him to relay a message.

Or better yet, properly thank the O.G. for himself.

They were having a meet tonight; O.G. was on edge about something. It had to be big if he was assembling the senior members and leaders at once. The evening was late, a little after eleven thirty. The sky full of wispy stringed clouds with the moon pleasantly glowing. The property up ahead was a manicured, well kempt home sitting on six acres of land on the outskirts of Domino, away from most prying eyes and robust sounds of traffic. A rust colored tile-roofed Mediterranean-style home about twenty thousand square feet, stretched from one end to the next like the scene from a modernized past in the 1900s. It was two stories from top to bottom, a large three car garage to the left and three side doors to the right, all closed tight. The Victorian fountain in the middle of a cultivated bush was shut off, not a sprinkle of water spilling from its overlapping layers.

Around the winding driveway sat four vehicles; a jet black '96 Chevy Impala SS, comfortably settled on twenty six inch black rims and dull crimson inserts. The next car was parked two feet behind dressed in polish, gunmetal gray '68 Impala nestled tight on platinum chrome twenty inch rims. These belonged to the O.B.G. and O.L.G.

The next car parked on the lawn was a dark red 2010 Toyota Tundra, windows tinted pitch black, with light gray interior leather and all four wheels hugged on twenty inch gold chrome rims. The final car hanging on the outside of the three car garage was 2011 pearl colored Dodge Charger SE. The owners of these were the B.G. and O.L.

The last car to arrive, whipping hard around the circular pathway was J.R.'s black Tahoe. His expression was mellow and his eyebrows creased in a tight fold. Something was pushing him the wrong way about tonight for some reason.

Joey hoped out, surveying the lot and the large house that took him in when no one else wanted too. He was raised here, learned how to be a killer and here was where he became a part of a family. It was home sweet home and his safe haven from the real world.

J.R. was wearing a dark red sleeveless hoodie, and a white wife beater with black acid washed jeans, hanging loose off his hips and low top black and red Air Forces Ones. A casual outfit for a less than casual evening, but everyone knew his style. He did what he wanted, when he wanted.

J.R. knocked on the door twice before stepping in. There were at least eight pairs of shoes near the door and his pair became the ninth. His footsteps swished on the cherry wooden floors of the creamed interior hall, curving around a wood panel ceiling, descending further to where the he could hear deep voices conveying from one end to the other. The walls had styled paintings, mostly expensive abstracts of native landscapes and a few of African wildlife.

He made a sharp right into the opening of a living room foyer. A fireplace illuminated the wide spaced décor. Two large creamed laced sofas were positioned facing each other and on each sat a gangster noble. There was another couch, two Victorian chairs and in the center of the area closest to an alabaster stone fireplace, was a single armchair and in it sat the longtime leader of the Red Eye Spades.

Joey took his seat next to the only other three senior members besides himself, Seto "Slim" Kaiba, Valon "Aussie" Dartz and Akefia "Thief" King. "Sup guys," Joey did the signature handshake with each senior.

"You're late, Pup," said Seto, dressed in a long white Armani trench coat and black jeans and dress shirt.

Joey shrugged. "Had business to take care of. Not everybody's got flunkies like you."

"You didn't miss much anyway." Akefia yawned, resting his chin on the back of his knuckles. "Just a bunch of the same ole', same ole."

Valon chuckled. "Quick grumbling. It ain't like ya had much ta' do anyway."

"Fuck you, wallaby," Akefia said, bored.

"Anytime you can handle it."

"Right in your mouth."

"Excuse me?"

"Knock it off, both of you," Seto snapped quietly. "Show some respect. We're in the presence of the leaders."

Valon leaned back, crossing his arms, and Akefia went the opposite direction.

The higher rank members of the group got settled together around the couches and Victoria chairs.

The O.B.G. (Original Baby Gangster) Raphael Dartz, O.L.G. (Original Lady Gangster) Mai Valentine, B.G. (Baby Gangster) Mahado Shinkan and O.L. (Original Lady) Ishizu Ishtar.

Everyone was here and accounted for. The ones that mattered. Whatever conversations being discussed were silenced by a swipe of the Yami "O.G." Sennen, who was wearing a solid black, Armani three piece, buttoned up, with a crimson tie, red breast napkin and matching vest creased to perfection. His legs were crossed, right over left, and in his right hand was a neatly rolled blunt, halfway finished.

Yami stood from his seat and acknowledged everyone with a single nod, "I trust everything's been running smoothly after the weak links were eliminated?" he questioned.

"Almost," Joey answered. "We found one but the other ditched. Ain't no tellin' where he went."

"That's fine, he'll come back. He has a sister running that laundry mat on Brooklyn, yes?"

"Yep."

Yami jutted his chin toward Valon, "Take care of that for me."

"Understood," The teen answered promptly. "Tonight or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow preferably. Make sure it's well-advertised," said Yami. The two traitors mentioned before by that Muto were immediately identified and tracked. One was caught but the last one was still MIA. No worries though. By the time he returned, he'd find his sister's head placed on his pillow. Yami finished the rest of his smoke and flicked the dull end in an ash tray. "There's one more bit of information to discuss." He drew everyone's attention with the gradual decline of his voice. "Some runners spotted a couple of Blue Eyes near our Eastern Border."

Joey responded first. "Who were they?"

"Foot soldiers, no one important, but the fools were brave enough to rob a civilian within our lines." A servant entered the room. Yami snapped his fingers and pointed to the empty glasses. The young woman was frail as a reed and quiet, filling wine flutes and short glasses with wine. She kept her eyes sown to the patterns on the carpet, never daring to lift her eyes up even when she left the room. Yami gestured for everyone to take their drinks, "I had a runner trail them back near the docks. This is the third sighting this month."

Joey punched his right hand to his left palm, "Those jerks are getting bold. We oughta go rough 'em up a lil' bit and reclaim a few pieces of dirt. We lost Emerald Landing to them three weeks ago. They even tried to rob the convenient store on Fifth and Broad street!"

"That's too close. They're closing in on the Mediums tuff," Mai said, lips smoothly curved around her wine glass. "I haven't heard them get this riled up since . . ." Her lips thinned, and her eyes sharpened. "Oh, I see," she said when silence came instead of a verbal answer. "Atem's back in town. No wonder they're running around with brass between their legs." She draped one elegantly long leg over the other, gently splitting apart of the opening of her soft red cocktail dress. "So what now?"

"We'll need to have someone keep us posted on when he actually arrives in Domino. I'll have Keith set up at the border and call us with the details," Mahado suggested airily. "Atem's no threat to us so long as he remembers where his reign ends and ours begins."

"I disagree," Raphael spoke at last, folding his arms. "Why prolong it any longer then we have too? Atem's likely to stir up trouble just for the hell of it. He'd fuck the Pope before shooting him between the eyes."

Joey flinched. "That's dark."

"But not far from the truth," Yami murmured. "The Mediums are scheduling a meeting for us to attend Friday. I want each of you there as witnesses, but no more. The rest is between me, Atem and Maximillion. That means no sudden outbursts or random rejections," Yami pointedly said and smirked at Joey. "No secretly organized revolts without my say," This time he looked at Seto, whom upturned his nose and snorted, "and absolutely no sorts of rebellious drive-byes." It was Akefia and Valon's turn to receive a subtle warning and the two averted their eyes away. "This'll be settled as it is each year, without incident and without bloodshed."

Silence crept after Yami's announcement as the high ranks shared looks, mostly disturbed and others mentally collaborating together over their next course of action.

Ishizu politely cleared her throat, gathering everyone's attention "And when the meeting is over, Yami? What then?"

"As soon as we leave Medium territory," Yami's eyes darkened ominously, "then all bets are off."

TBC: I'll explain some things. Though Joey is marked as a senior member, he is Yami's right hand man. Gang ranks are based on who's lived on the street the longest. RES= Red Eye Spades. BEA= Blue Eye Aces.

I'll explain the same chain of command for the Blue Eyes and the smaller Medium gang in the next chapter. And Yugi meets both Atem and Yami.

Leaders

OG (Original Gangster) Yami

OBG (Original Baby Gangster) Raphael Dartz

OLG (Original Lady Gangster) Mai Valentine,

BG (Baby Gangster) Mahado

OL (Original Lady) Ishizu Ishtar.

Senior Members (All equal in terms of power)

Joey Wheeler (Has more pull)

Seto Kaiba

Akefia King

Valon Dartz