Magic gangster

Billy sat hunched over a grimy table in the back of a dimly lit bar, nursing a cheap whiskey and rubbing his still-swollen jaw. His defeat at the hands of Rod was a fresh wound, both physically and mentally. He'd spent the past few days stewing in humiliation, replaying the alleyway brawl over and over in his mind.

He couldn't let it go.

The bar's cracked door creaked open, and a stocky man with tattoos crawling up his neck stepped in, scanning the room. Billy straightened up and waved him over, his face breaking into a smug grin.

"About time you showed up," Billy said as the man dropped into the chair across from him.

The man sneered. "You're lucky I even came, Billy. You've got a habit of making messes I have to clean up."

Billy ignored the jab, leaning in conspiratorially. "Listen, Roy, this one's worth it. There's this punk, Rod. Thinks he's some kind of big shot now. He humiliated me—twice!" His voice rose, and Roy shot him a warning glare.

"Keep it down," Roy growled. "Who's this Rod? Why should I care?"

Billy smirked, his confidence growing. "Because he's stepping on our turf, acting like he runs things. If we take him down, people will remember who's really in charge."

Roy sighed, clearly unimpressed. "You're making this sound like some big crusade, but it's probably just your fragile ego talking. What's the angle?"

Billy's grin widened. "We corner him, rough him up. Show him he's not untouchable."

Roy leaned back, considering. He wasn't one to jump into petty squabbles, but Billy was family—even if he was the annoying, troublemaking kind.

"Alright," Roy said, draining the last of his beer. "I'll handle it. But this better not be another waste of my time."

The next afternoon, Rod was walking down a quiet street, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of trouble. He wasn't paranoid—trouble had a way of finding him, especially now that he'd begun consolidating his power in the Viper gang.

He turned a corner and froze.

Billy stood at the far end of the alley, flanked by three burly men. At the center was Roy, his broad shoulders and scarred face exuding menace.

"Well, well," Billy sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Look who we have here. The king of the trash heap."

Rod sighed, already bored. "You again? Didn't you learn your lesson the first time?"

Billy's face turned red, but Roy stepped forward, silencing him with a raised hand. "You're Rod, huh? The kid who thinks he's something special?"

Rod tilted his head, his expression calm but calculating. "And you are?"

"Roy," the man said, his voice low and threatening. "Billy's cousin. I hear you've been causing some trouble."

Rod smirked. "Billy's been causing his own trouble. I just cleaned up the mess."

Roy chuckled, the sound dark and humorless. "Smart mouth. Let's see if it's still running after I'm done with you."

As Roy and his crew moved closer, Rod's sharp eyes caught a glint of something in Roy's pocket—a Viper gang insignia.

Rod stopped, his smirk widening. "You're Viper, aren't you?"

Roy froze, his eyes narrowing. "What of it?"

"I'm the new boss," Rod said, his voice steady and confident. "Didn't you get the memo?"

Billy's face twisted in confusion. "What are you talking about? He's lying!"

But Roy wasn't so sure. He studied Rod carefully, noticing the confidence in his stance, the lack of fear in his eyes.

"You're saying Old Smoke's out?" Roy asked, his tone cautious.

"Gone," Rod said simply. "I'm in charge now. You're threatening your own leader."

Billy's jaw dropped. "What? No way! He's bluffing, right, Roy?"

But Roy was already stepping back, his face pale. "Damn it, Billy," he muttered. "You dragged me into this without telling me who I was dealing with?"

Billy sputtered, his bravado crumbling. "I—I didn't know! He's just a nobody!"

Roy's patience finally snapped. Without warning, he swung his fist and landed a solid punch on Billy's face, sending him stumbling backward into the wall.

"You've embarrassed me enough today," Roy growled, his voice like gravel. Billy clutched his jaw, too stunned to respond, his eyes wide with betrayal.

Roy turned to Rod, his stance firm but no longer threatening. "Boss," he said, lowering his gaze slightly. "I didn't know who I was messing with. This fool's my cousin, but he's an idiot. I take full responsibility."

Rod crossed his arms, waiting.

Roy continued, his tone almost pleading. "Please, let him go. I'll make sure he doesn't cause any more trouble."

Rod's expression hardened as he took a step closer, his presence suddenly commanding. "Apologize, Billy."

Billy blinked, his confusion giving way to panic. "What?"

"You heard me," Rod said, his voice cold. "Apologize for wasting my time."

Roy crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed with his cousin. "Do it, Billy. Now."

Billy stammered, his pride and fear warring inside him. Finally, he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Louder," Rod demanded.

"I'm sorry!" Billy shouted, his face red with shame.

Rod nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, get out of my sight."

Billy scurried away, his head low, while Roy stayed behind, giving Rod a respectful nod. "Boss," he said, his tone clipped but deferential. "Didn't know who I was dealing with. Won't happen again."

"It better not," Rod replied, his voice firm. "Now, go make yourself useful."

Roy left without another word, leaving Rod alone in the alley.

As Rod turned to leave, a small smirk played on his lips. It wasn't just power he was building—it was respect. And in Dustvale, respect was everything.