Travis waited at the edge of his small territory, essentially just two dozen cells filled with psychopaths, assholes and prison bitches. He slumped against a wall as his top three men, Scar, Jack and Clyde brought the rest of the crew to him. Altogether they were 40 men strong, clearly not the biggest gang; but that was why they always went out with everyone so at least if there was a big fight the numbers would be in their favour, plus who would mess with 40 men.
Travis led his men out of their "territory", leading an expedition deep into Aryan turf. They ran across their few Aryan allies but soon it was obvious that they needed a good god damn reason to lead so many men into another gang's camp. Travis raised his fist for the crew to stop and he and his three best men walked forward to meet some guards.
"The fuck are you doing here you old piece of shit?" Barked an Aryan guard holding a busted up shotgun.
"We're here to make parley, and with some information your boss will want to know" replied Travis.
"I'll be the judge of that, whatever you gotta say you say it to me" demanded the twitchy guard.
"Okay" smiled Travis. "The Crips have declared war and are killing your boys in the streets."
"What!" The guard yelled back to some other Nazi's to bring one of their highest rankers. "You stay right there old man!"
"You call me Dragon boy." Travis spoke with a strong sense of smugness. After a few minutes an ageing man strode down, not as twitchy as the rest but quite clearly an addict as well.
"I believe you have some information about the Crips?" he said, sounding tired and worn out.
"Yeah I do," spoke The Dragon, "But it'll cost you. I wanna know who's supplying you with meth."
The old Nazi responded furiously "What the fuck is it to you?"
The Dragon spoke sharply. "Well, I figure you'd wanna know who was helping the Crips plan on taking you all out."
The old addict remained silent as his face flushed red with anger before finally speaking. "You tell us first what you know."
"Okay, I've got enough info to get what I want out of you. The crips and other collaborators are attacking Aryans in the street." Travis knew that if he twisted his words the meth heads were so out of it they would believe him.
The man sniffed and twitched, clenching his fists. "Who else?" he barked.
"Not so fast. I want to know who is supplying you with meth, and I want a collaboration between our groups. The Dragons want to expand."
The Nazi scoffed and spat at the floor, "You really think we'd lower ourselves to-"
"I think you already have!" shouted Travis, alerting some of the Nazi guards to prepare for a fight. "You need to know what I know, and we could be invaluable in protecting you. Think about it, they don't know we would be working together, and we are... somewhat small time." It pained Travis to admit his gangs status. "You give us what we want, and we can all make it out of this alive."
There was a long pause before the old man spoke back. "I'll tell my bosses, you'll get what you want. Know tell us who is killing our boys."
Travis smiled. He had won this war of words. Addicts are so easy to manipulate, he thought. "The Crips, Zulus, and even the Orphan and his *****. As well as some bald dude, my intelligence tells me, but your main problem is the niggers."
The faces of the various Aryans turned to one of fear, they were large but not large enough to take on two gangs, and the rumours of what Orphan could do was something fierce. "Alright" replied the Nazi leader. "We get our drugs from Azrael, but we don't know were he gets them from, and you'll get your protection."
The Dragon smiled and extended his hand to the Nazi. "Pleasure doing business with you." With that The Dragons turned back and returned to their territory.
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The Dragons got back at the early hours of the morning. By the time they were back they were shouting and celebrating, all returning to their cells. Travis and his three lieutenants were smiling like children on Christmas, finally having a good insurance plan in this place. However, there was something unexpected greeting them. A young boy, looked like a teenager, sobbing and handcuffed to a pipe.
"What the fuck is this!" Travis explained, taking off the boys blindfold. "Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?"
That question would never be answered as before the boy could respond gunfire was heard in the other cells. Various Dragons were running out of their cells, shouting and fighting, as some men came running up on Travis and with a sub machine gun in hand, firing rapidly. Travis, Jack, Scar and Clyde scattered, trying to escape to parade of bullets. Travis had run into a cell were one of the hit squad was being beaten, having been disarmed by a Dragon. Travis hid in the cell waiting for his pursuer to enter. He rushed in and Travis tackled him, ripping the gun out of his hand before pounding his skull against the ground with the hilt. "C'mon!" Travis roared to all of his Dragons, his voice piercing the walls of all two dozen cells. The hit squad ran out into the open and began indiscriminately firing upon the Dragons, killing many, many men. However, the sheer numbers of the Dragons was more than the attackers could take, and by the time they had to reload they were being mauled to death by the remaining men. Travis rushed from cell to cell, finding his three lieutenants, all in bad shape. He searched for the rest of his men, and to his horror 40 had been reduced to a mere 15. They searched all the dead bodies, the only upside to this battle was that now at least they had guns, real guns none of that zipgun shit. But given the amount of ammo spent, and how many Dragons were lost it was not worth it.
Travis found the tied up boy and saw him riddled with bullets, his knees destroyed and his stomach was losing an intense amount of blood, but somehow he was still alive. Travis raised the boy's chin and screamed "Who did this! Who the fuck are you!"
The boy stuttered his words before eventually saying "M-M-Mafia... I... I..." he bled out. Travis took out his frustrations by beating his body, crushing his dead bones and organs. The powerful Dragon had no idea what to do. What had he done to anger the Mafia? What would he do with such a small force, even smaller than before? Could the Aryans protect him from this? He was lost, and for once maybe even scared.
