Bloods and Crips are the two rivial gangs in L.A and the nieghborhoods they own are extremely dangerous. There are shootings every night, people overdosing due to the mass amount of drugs on the streets.
The Bloods own the east side of downtown and the Crips on the west. Now we get into the story......
Michael got out of his '77 Monte Carloe. He was wearing a black checkered shirt and ripped black jeans. He looked around, then cocked a 9mm revolver. He slipped it between his waistband and walked up to a door. He knocked and waited. A man opened the door. He was tall ,dark, and shockingly muscular. Michael just looked up. " Can I come in?"
He pushed past the man and walked into the living room. He sat down and looked in at the women in the kitchen. He smiled and waved. She brought him in a beer. The man was still standing. "Sit." Michael commanded, waving at the couch. "We've got lots to talk about. When you shot up the house, you really messed up. See the house you shot up belonged to a guy named Stanley. And Stanley runs the Crips. Or used to. You hit his neck with a shell last night. Anyway you... for lack of a better word, aggravated him. So what do you have to say?"
The man nodded into a mirror that faced the hallway. Michael pulled out the gun and pointed it at the woman. Then.. he sipped his beer. The man spoke.
"Well, since I have three boys in the hallway with Uzis, I say I don't think you should be pointing that gun at my wife. Or anyone else." Michael scoffed. " Why shouldn't I ? I was told to scare you, not kill you. But it was never said about any other member of your family. So, the next time I see your car in west side, I will drag everyone over here to shoot your ass up." Michael stuck the revolver back between his waistband and got up.
He heard the man get up and a click. Before he could react, there was a cold metal barrel on the back of his neck. " I wouldn't do that." The man laughed. "Why? Because you're the second in line for the control of the Bloods? I'm not afraid. In fact, I have the whole east side backing me up. See, you messed up to. But... um.. you see, I'm Sylvester Scott. I OWN east side."
Michael realized his mistake. And that he couldn't run without getting shot. Michael pulled out his pistol and shot the door. Scott thought his house was getting shot up and dove into the living room. Mcihael swung around and fired two shots into the hallway. The boys scattered. Michael opened the door and ran. Three shots glanced off of his car. Michael ducked behind it and shot off the gun four more times. Then he got into his car and sped off into the night.
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