First Punch ➟ Kellic

P R O L O G U E

{A/N: this chapter's just for context. The rest will be written in Cooper/Kellin's POV}

Cameron, part of the Triad gang, made the usual run of breaking into cars, hot wiring and stealing them. He wandered through the south side of town, scoping the area out for cameras. It was about his third trip down the street and he'd finally found a blind spot, when someone across the way started yelling.

"Hey! This is my corner, N**ga, get the fuck out of here!" a black guy wearing a red sport jacket screamed. A Blood. Cameron didn't want any trouble, but had already spent an hour casing this place not knowing it was Blood turf.

He decided to ignore him, staying in the blind spot and shoving the thin metal rod into the base of the window, angling it perfectly so it slips through. He fiddled around, using the custom hook on the bottom to snag the latch, pulling it up and unlocking the car. He whipped open the door, just wanting to get out of there, but the alarm started blaring, the guy across the street pulling a gun.

"You're asking for pigs now!" he yelled, starting toward Cameron and aiming the handgun at him. Cameron's eyes went wide as his hands nervously reached for the piece tucked snuggly in the back of his jeans. He flicked off the safety, aiming it at the same time he pulled the trigger. He wasn't used to shooting guns. He would always resort to knives, but this situation warranted bullets.

"Fucking tits," he breathed, realizing he'd missed, shooting the window of the store behind the guy's head. The blood member smirked, pulling his trigger and shooting him without a second thought. He looked around, not seeing anyone before taking off down the street. It was his 32nd 187. Not a big deal for him.

But as Cameron bled out on the sidewalk, through convenience store window the clerk was on the ground bleeding out too.

"Abuelo!" Jake screamed as he tore across the shop's floor.

He lived with his grandfather and brother in the apartment above the shop. He would always come down here late at night to sneak out the back and chop to some people from school. Tonight was different. He came down the stairs as usual, stopping as a car alarm sounds. He looked over at his grandfather who was standing at the window and seconds later it shattered and he fell.

When Jake reached him, blood had already soaked through his shirt and his breathing was erratic. He was dying.

"No!" Jake cried, literally, as tears flooded his vision. He did what he'd always seen on TV and pressed his palm into the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"J-Jacob. The phone," his grandfather said, stumbling over his words. Jake was frozen, not understanding at first. His mind quickly cleared though and he finally stood on shaking legs, grabbing for the store phone and dialling 9-1-1.

"Help! Help! We're in the convenience store on Young and Queen he's bleeding out. Please hurry! He's gonna die, oh God he's gonna die."

He threw the phone from his hands, dropping back down to his Abuelo's side. Jake took his hand and held on tightly, his grandfather looking into his eyes as his life slipped away. This wasn't the first person Jake ever watched die, and it was far from the last.

That night changed a lot about Jake's life. As the ambulance and police arrived outside the store, he completely dissociated. The world moved in slow motion all around him as he and his little brother were shut into the back of a police car. They had no family left except each other. Jake vowed to find out who did this. He vowed to make this right.

He looked out the window, watching as the paramedics load another body into the ambulance: a young looking Black guy wearing all black, a yellow bandana tied around his head.