The school hallway was silent, except for the faint groans coming from the floor.
Loma lay there, bruised and bloodied, struggling to breathe. His shirt was torn, knuckles scraped raw.
A shadow loomed over him.
Xoza: Tch… go home, newbie. What are you even doing lying here?
Loma shook his head, pain tightening his jaw.
Loma: I… I can't go home.
Xoza crouched beside him, his eyes narrowing.
Xoza: Why? What happened?
Loma clenched his fists, trembling with both anger and shame. His voice cracked, but his frustration poured out.
Loma: They said I can't breach that territory… their territory.
Twenty of them… they—
(he coughs, blood at his lips)
They beat me down… just for walking there.
Xoza's expression hardened. A cold silence hung between them for a moment. Then he smirked faintly, though his eyes burned.
Xoza: …Ohh. So it's one of the rival gangs, huh?
They beat you up… (he stands tall, cracking his knuckles) …then they've just declared war.
He reached down, grabbing Loma by the arm and pulling him up.
Xoza: Come with me.
Loma stumbled, but followed. His eyes, though swollen, lit with a faint spark of hope.
They entered the RDX hideout — a dim, graffiti-stained warehouse buzzing with chatter. The moment Xoza's voice roared, the room fell into silence.
Xoza: RDX!!
Every head turned.
Xoza (furious, pointing at Loma): They've beaten our newbie. Twenty against one. That's not just a fight — that's an act of humiliation against RDX!
The gang erupted in murmurs, fists clenching, eyes glaring with fire.
Xoza: That's why we won't sit back. We won't stay silent.
Prepare yourselves.
His words echoed like thunder. The room came alive — chairs scraped back, bats and chains were pulled from corners, sneakers slammed against the floor.
The air thickened with the scent of rage, loyalty, and the promise of payback.
Tonight, RDX wasn't just fighting for territory.
They were fighting for their name.
Chapter 3 End