"Dillon-?" someone cried from amidst the stilling chaos. The feeble voice was cut off almost immediately by a louder, angrier one.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" The man in the middle, Dillon, turned within the fray to face a large, dark haired man, equally as intimidating as himself when the silver revolver in his hand was taken into account, standing less than three feet away.

"Lorcan," Dillon nodded, training the sight of his pistol away from the foe towards the ground. "Either you are here to do what you do best, or you are about to help me separate these imbeciles. I severely doubt the latter."

"Good fucking judgement," Lorcan jeered, tossing back his head. Eyes remained trained on the two enemies standing a close distance to each other. Not a single soul moved, in fear of having the barrels of either gun emptied right between their eyes; judging by rumors told around the city about these two, they were not someone to go against. "Now either continue with your self-preserving act, or put them up, because I'm not about to let some worthless Capo's spread their filth on our land."

Words like these are dangerous tools, ones that can push even the most righteous beings to the edge of a cliff and taunt them to jump off into the darkness. Dillon was not exactly a righteous kind of person in the first place, so this insult directed at himself as well as his circle of family had him lifting his forearm. Another shot rang out.

When the dust settled, and the dimness began to recede in the new morning light, the concrete was still cracked. The homes dotting the street were still painted in a variety of crude images, and the invisible boundary was snapped back into place along the center of the road. The air was still full of the ever present fear of what lay in the shadows and the street lights continued to flicker. The only evidence of what had just occurred in the middle of a dimly lit street were the scatterings of randomly placed bodies strewn all along the pavement. The darkness could not hide the wet, sticky substance that was dripping over curbs and streaming along the crevices like streams on a map. Blood was everywhere, mapping out the details of deeds done. Abandoned innocents lined the sidewalks, children wrapped in their own arms as their curious parents ditched the scene once gunfire began.

Survivors abandoned the scene at the first sirens call, when the lights began to show from around the bend, and tires began to screech into sight. Fences were jumped, walls climbed, and buildings used as temporary hideouts in order to escape the unthinkable fate; jail.

It only took a single glance at the assortment of corpses for the bears to spin on their heels and return back to their desks at the precinct. It was easy enough for them to understand who was responsible for this heinous type of street fight, and there was little to nothing they could do about justice in regards to this. The Capo's and Potenza's were not simply gangs in this respect; they were smaller versions of the New York mafia. There was no way to nail them for any form of indecency and fortunately, this had been learned rather quickly among cops.

Across the city, two cop cars pulled up in front of two separate houses, weapons holstered despite the fact that they were about to enter the homes of two of the most vicious men in the city. The message would be the same to both of the families, the same threatening statement that would warn both Vincent Capo and Eric Potenza against any further violence. The same message would be spread throughout both gangs; any further displays of public violence would be paid for with the freedom of their leaders. If there was one more fight such as this, Viny and Eric would be locked up for the rest of their lives, no matter what the cost.

There were few places that people would care to look for a gang member; the library, the church, and the park, to name a few. It was within one of the three places that David sat; a book on his left, an assortment of papers on the ground and a cheap guitar slung across his lap. His low voice rumbled along the verses of a song half finished, his fingers gliding along the chords that he hoped to fit each tone.

Across the city, his mother was frantically looking for her missing son after the fighting broke out upon the streets; however, no one thought to look beneath the single large oak tree in the center of the unnamed park. This was where David sat, with nothing by the half dark street light to write lyrics by. There was nothing particularly troubling about his life at the moment, unless you considered the fact that the girl he loved had just dumped him because of his background, or the fact that said background was due to his lovely gang leading parents. There was nothing bothersome about the fact that in a few years, he would be expected to take over half of the Potenza gang, and there was absolutely nothing irritating about the fact that he had been expected to remain in Kiryas Joel, New York for the rest of his life, despite his plans to further his education elsewhere. Elsewhere specifically meaning any place that was so far away, his parents would not be able to even reach him by phone without having to pay a heap of money; if there was anything his parents hated, it was spending too much money on seemingly inconsequential things.

Footsteps on the pavement, echoing from a few meters away notified David of someone's arrival. He quickly gripped the neck of his guitar, having no other means of weaponry with him at the time, and ducked his head down.

"Daaaaviiiidddddd?" His head lifted at the familiar tone of voice.

"Dillon?" he murmured, lifting himself to his feet. He caught sight of the familiar head of dark hair beneath the flickering lamps, whipping around in confusion.

"David?" Dillon asked, glancing down the empty street ways. He could have sworn that he heard David call his name, now if only he could locate where the damn voice had been coming from.

"Over here you idiot," David called, stepping through the bushes. Dillon's head swung in his direction, and he emitted a loud sigh of relief at seeing his friend.

"What is wrong with you? You disappeared earlier today, you haven't answered my texts, and your mother is worried sick. Do you know what happens when your mom gets worried? Your dad gets worried. And what happens when your dad gets worried? Everyone in his way gets a death threat. Coming from anyone else, these threats may not worry someone, but from your dad... Half the gang went into hiding after the fight this morning, that's all I'm saying," Dillon ranted, shaking David's sweater covered shoulder. The two teenagers began their trek alone the musty street, heading towards their home.

"Rachel dumped me." Dillon paused in his ranting to glance over at his friends face.

"What?"

"I said Rachel dumped me."

"Why?"

"She found out my last name was not just a coincidence. For some strange reason, she really doesn't want any affiliation with the Capo family," David muttered bitterly. "Not that I blame her."

"Oh." Dillon remained silent for a few moments, walking steadily beside his friend before pausing momentarily. "You know, she wasn't that hot anyways." David barked out a dry laugh, but remained silent. "And she was kind of stuck up. Really self-righteous, if you ask me."

"I never asked you," David mumbled, attempting to keep pace with his cousins long strides.

"No, I know you didn't. Then again, I never asked to be sent out to find you after a gang fight." David sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Another one?"

"Another one," Dillon confirmed. "According to Alexander, they started it; however, I seem to find that difficult to believe."

"Just say you believe them. Save everyone the trouble."

"Lorcan picked a fight with me when I tried to stop the shit, so that's good enough for me," Dillon shrugged. "Back to Rachel, forget her. I mean, this is New York. There are plenty of other stuck up bitches around, if that really is your type."

"Ha. Ha."

"See? I knew I could make you laugh." Dillon jumped a few paces ahead of his cousin and spun in a full circle. "You're so pathetic, always moping about one girl or the other. When was the last time you got some?" David shifted his feet uncomfortably, keeping his gaze firmly on the ground rather than on Dillon's accusing stare. "You're serious," he stated dumbly. "I knew your parents were uptight, but I never thought that they passed that on to you..." He paused at a brick wall that was covered with multi coloured fliers and tore one off before David could protest. "Oh, keep your panties on David, it's not like those fliers were going to be of use to anyone else anyways. Besides, look at this." He turned and thrust the bright blue flier into David's face. "Do you see that there?"

"No. I can't. Because unlike some people, I actually need a tad bit of space between my eyes and the paper in order to read it-"

"Oh, never mind then. I'll just tell you what it says. It says that there is going to be a huge ass bash over on Main Street."

"Is that not the Potenza's address?" David asked, ripping the page out of Dillon's hands. His cousin shrugged a set of broad shoulders.

"Who honestly cares? Music, free booze, and girls? I am so there." Dillon laughed, grabbing the flier from his friends and crumpling it into a ball. He tossed it carelessly to the side, rolling his eyes at David's disapproving glare before bending over and tossing the litter into a nearby garbage can instead. "God, sometimes I wonder how the hell you're the heir to one of the most bad-ass gangs in America," Dillon muttered, scuffing his sneakers on the pavement. "You don't even carry a goddam gun."

"I don't need one," David shrugged. "I've never been approached."

"That's because no one has a death wish."

"Exactly."