The Broken Hearts Club

Prologue

   The basement of a worthless laundromat in the city, hardly a proper meeting place for some of the most dangerous crime bosses in the country of New York. Although the space
wasn't ideal in size, it was arguably the best option for their plans. They needed to be discreet and unpredictable if they were going to have a meeting with wanted men. Each of the men had their own gangs, but these were the big leagues. The guys with the most successful gangs, the ones who made the most, and the ones who killed the most. Every so often they met up to discuss their current standings with all they've been doing.

    The space was somewhat dark, but provided enough light for their faces to be seen. The eerie atmosphere only added to the fear they wanted people to feel in their presence. The men were all seated in a circle of chairs, with no guards present to keep the information to themselves.

    " What fool called for this meeting?! I had plans for a raid tonight, once I find out who did it I'll slit your damn throat!"

   Yelled Rob Franco, an Italian mob boss known for pillaging any kind of trade ships or planes that came into the country. The other men in the group were always annoyed by what he said, they all agreed they should've killed him a long time ago, but then who would stop all the goods from getting to the capital?

     The men broke into an argument, yelling over each other like a group of toddlers fighting over a toy. There was one who refrained from participating in such silly banter, he knew better, he was better. The Poison King, AKA Curt Mace, the self appointed leader of this disturbing crew. No one would dare argue with this decision though, he was known for getting news from the inside of the government. An extremely difficult task for a normal person, but not for him. He would torture his victims with vials of poison gas until they cracked, hence the nickname.

    He stood up, immediately the group became silent, scared they would be tortured by their leader just like all of his previous victims.

    " I called this meeting for a new acquaintance of mine Mr. Franco," he spoke in a low, gravelly voice. " Also, just a simple reminder." The Poison King walked over to Mr. Franco and stared into his eyes, which were full of fear. The Poison King always had to remind the others that he was the leader, he was the predator, they were the prey.

"Whether you knew it was me who called the meeting or not, never threaten me like that. Or one day you might just find a bullet in the back of your head."

" As I was saying," he continued. " I have a new friend. He's got something to tell us, a presentation of sorts, a proposition for a new gang."

    The Poison King gestured to the back of the room, the others gaze following the direction of his hand. In the back stood a tall, intimidating young man. He had dark, black hair cut short to accentuate his dark features. He had tan, sun kissed skin. He was wearing a leather jacket and a gray t-shirt, showing off his muscles underneath. Weirdly, his eyes were a sullen gray, his expression was numb and showed nothing of his pain or anything at all.

     He took a seat near The Poison King, trying to look intimidating to the other members, unbeknownst to them he was, they just didn't know it yet. " Gentlemen," spoke The Poison King. " This is Everett Perez. I just met this man not too long ago at a raid of my own. He slaughtered almost a dozen of the city's guards singlehandedly. I was impressed, so he's here with us now so you're gonna listen to what he's got to say." Glances were exchanged between Everett and The Poison King, signaling permission for Everett to speak.

    " Thank you, sir. Now, I think we can all agree the hardest part of the goal to control our country is to get the most important resource, money. " he emphasized.