Chapter 2 – "Block Business"
Two Days Later…
The air was thick with smoke and the smell of fried grease. Kids played barefoot in busted yards while loud music pumped from someone's garage down the street. Jayce sat on the hood of Rell's Crown Vic, chewing sunflower seeds as Maya argued with an old lady about unpaid rent and broken water pipes.
Down the street, a fight broke out—two teenagers scrapping over stolen kicks. No one broke it up. Everyone just watched.
Jayce turned to Rell.
"We ain't got no structure, no soldiers, no respect. This ain't the Blades I left."
Rell sighed, "We barely hold Southbridge anymore, Jayce. Rustborns pushin' us from Eastlock, Vultures got all of Northside, and the cops? Shit—they show up just to take bribes or beat someone down."
Jayce stood. "Then we take it back."
---
Recruitment Drive
That afternoon, Jayce and Rell rolled in the Crown Vic to round up what was left of the Blades. Their first stop was the barbershop—an old hangout spot where the walls were filled with pictures of fallen brothers. Inside, Kenny "2-Fade" Maddox, the local barber and former Blades enforcer, still gave fades with a Glock on the counter.
"Jayce?" he blinked. "Ain't seen you since—"
"Yeah. I'm back. I need you."
2-Fade turned off the clippers. "That war never stopped, kid. You sure you ready to bleed again?"
Jayce nodded. "I'm done runnin'. Southbridge is home."
One by one, they moved across the block. They found:
Lil Dre, a 16-year-old wild card with something to prove.
Keisha, Tariq's ex, now slinging weed and watching over the younger ones.
Tank, ex-Blade muscle, working as a bouncer at a strip club.
Some were skeptical. Some were loyal. But all of them knew one thing—Jayce Carter was serious.
---
Trouble with the Vultures
That night, Rell got a tip: Vultures were setting up a new dope corner on 143rd & Lenox, just a block from Blade turf. Jayce gathered the crew.
"We hit 'em fast, no deaths—just a message."
2-Fade handed Jayce a bat. "You sure you don't want somethin' louder?"
Jayce smirked. "Nah. I want this personal."
They rolled up in two cars. Jayce, Dre, and Keisha led the charge. Four Vultures stood by the corner store, laughing, smoking, showing off bags of rock.
Jayce and Dre walked up like customers. The moment the Vulture turned his head—
CRACK.
Jayce's bat broke across his ribs. Keisha tossed a flash-banger from her pocket that filled the corner with smoke and chaos. Fists flew, glass shattered, one of the Vultures screamed as Tank slammed him through the corner store window.
The message was clear.
Southbridge wasn't dead.
---
Snakes in the Grass
Back at Maya's garage, the crew celebrated. Beers cracked open, old rap bangers played on a dusty boombox. Maya patched up Dre's bloody knuckles while Jayce leaned on the hood of his newly polished dirtbike.
Then Tone pulled up in his tricked-out ride, wearing shades even though it was dark.
"You makin' waves, Jayce. Loud ones."
Jayce folded his arms. "You got a problem with that?"
Tone smiled. "Naw. Just sayin'… The louder you get, the more folks start listenin'. Cops. Feds. Other gangs."
Jayce stared at him. "That a warning?"
Tone laughed and tapped Jayce's chest. "Just advice, family."
As Tone drove off, Rell joined Jayce.
"You trust him?"
Jayce shook his head. "Not even a little."
---
Police Pressure
The next morning, Detective Corbin—a dirty cop with ties to every gang in Steelpoint—rolled up on Jayce outside the Carter house.
"Word is you're making moves again. That's bad for business."
Jayce leaned into the window. "You tell your friends the Blades are done hiding."
Corbin smirked. "Cute. But Steelpoint ain't about honor anymore, kid. It's about who pays the most."
He tossed a folder at Jayce's chest and sped off. Inside was a photo of Maya's garage, circled in red. A threat.
Jayce's jaw clenched. "So it's like that…"
---
End of Chapter – Rebuild Begins
That night, the Southside Blades held their first official meeting in years—inside a broken-down rec center that once held basketball tournaments and neighborhood cookouts.
Jayce stood on the stage, staring at a ragtag group of fifteen.
"This ain't just about turf," he said. "It's about home. Family. If we let the Vultures and Rustborns win, they take everything—your mom's house, your sister's safety, your block. I say hell no."
Cheers erupted.
"We ain't backing down. Not this time. Southbridge rides again."
They chanted the name like a war cry.
SOUTHSIDE BLADES.
As they left the meeting, graffiti crews started tagging every wall they passed with the gang's symbol—silver wings over a bloodied dagger.
And up on a rooftop, Tone watched from a distance, lighting a cigar.
"Let's see how long you last, Jayce."