Chapter 2: Jake

In a horrifyingly dirty room. Clothes piled high, with the occasional pizza box in the mix. The loud noise of traffic and barking dogs travels through the broken window. A portrait is sitting on the dresser displaying a happy family of 3: a young boy with short blonde hair is smiling, his mother, a blonde American woman with green eyes, stands above him looking down with a smile, and a young man with spiky brown hair and brown eyes approaches the happy mother and her child with an even bigger smile on his face. 

A young teenage boy with a blonde buzzcut rolls out of his bed, landing on a pile of trash then rolling onto his dirty clothes. He gets up half-awake, locks his feet to his pull-up bar hanging above the door, then starts knocking out some sit-ups. His arms and face are covered in bruises and cuts. After a few sit-ups, his phone suddenly rings. He grabs the phone from his pocket while still hanging upside down on the pull-up bar and answers it. 

"Hello." "Jake, c'mon, man, I'm outside; my dad is going to kill us if we're late again." "Oh shi…" *thunk* 

Jake now on the ground after falling off the bar, rubs his head in a speedy back and forth motion to make the pain disappear. He sighs, then looks up at his alarm clock. The time is 9:03 am, and he realizes he's late. He quickly throws on a grey hoodie and slips into his shoes, then bolts out of his dirty room, knocking over the towers of dirty clothes. He runs into the living room, kicking trash over with each step of his torn-up black and white converse. 

As he gets to the door, he stops and quietly continues forward. A woman with blonde hair and tattered clothes is lying on the couch in the other room. Next to her is a pipe with a crushed-up rock next to it. He looks over to make sure she's asleep, then opens the door slowly. A loud voice comes out of nowhere, "Where the heell doo you think you're going?" He stops in his tracks. "Mom I…" He looks over at her, and she has fallen back asleep. He slowly opens the door and exits the house. He whispers, "bye, ma." Jake peaks back at his mother with a sad look in his eyes. Then closes the door. 

"Yo, Jake!" An African American teenager stands at the bottom of the apartment stairs with his hands in his pockets and a gym bag by his side, leaning against the stair railing. 

"What's up with you? You look down."

"I just fell out of bed. I'm not having the best day."

"I got you, well, let's go. My dad is probably already pissed. Last one there is paying for lunch." 

"You're on!"

Jake pulls his hood over his head, glances at his friend, and smirks, then they take off running as fast as they can down the sidewalk. Old broken-down apartment buildings hover over them. Then run past a street sign labeled "Hull Ave and E 209 St." 

After running well over a mile, they finally reach their destination. A colossal brick building covered in graffiti and murals. An enormous run-down sign hangs above the rusted metal front doors labeled "Marcus & Mark's Boxing Gym." The boxing part of the sign is missing some letters, some of them are hanging off of the sign. They run inside, fighting over each other to get through the door. 

Once they enter, they slow down and start to sneak by the office door to get to the locker rooms. A very tall, muscular African American man towers over them from behind. 

"I thought we agreed on 9 o'clock sharp?" 

Both of the boys let out a scream and slowly turn around. They have their heads tilted up to see the man's face. 

"I expected this from Jake, but not you, JJ." 

"Dad I…" 

"No excuses, now go get ready; you guys are going to work extra hard to make up for my wasted time." 

The boys head over to the locker room. 

The man looks up at a big picture hanging above the boxing ring. A younger version of himself stands in the ring with an arm hanging over his neck, a brawny, brown-haired American man with boxing gloves on and a Dragon Tattoo behind his ear is pulling the man's head towards his. 

"Mark, you left a real troublemaker in my hands, y'know that?" He sighs and then walks away.

The boys exit the locker room, wearing nothing but shorts and boxing shoes. Their hands are wrapped up in boxing wraps. They're each holding a pair of boxing gloves at their sides. 

Marcus looks down at Jake's arms and asks, "Where did you get those bruises? Sure, as hell ain't from boxing."

Jake avoids eye contact and says, "I just fell riding my bike home from school." Marcus looks over at JJ, who is looking down at the floor. 

Marcus scoffs. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but y'know how close me and your pops were. I just want to make sure you are being safe. I don't want JJ involved in any of your "biking accidents." 

"I'm fine, Marcus. Can we just focus on training?" Jake angrily responds. 

"Fine by me," Marcus responds. Jake walks over to the heavy bag and unleashes a powerful combo of punches. Marcus stands behind him and observes. 

The clock on the wall is at 2 pm. The boys are lying on the floor covered in sweat, trying to catch their breath. 

"Alright, maybe next time you guys won't show up 30 minutes late. We're done for the day. Go clean yourselves up and get something to eat. JJ, head home and get started on your homework. I'll be there before it gets dark." 

JJ whines, "Dad, I'm not a kid anymore. You don't have to tell me what to do anymore." Marcus looks at him with authority. 

"Ugh… Yes, sir." 

"Good, I'll see you tonight." Marcus walks into his office and closes the door.

"Man, Jake, you're really lucky sometimes. I wish I didn't have to have my dad barking orders at me 24/7."

Jake looks down and says, "You shouldn't take it for granted, JJ. I mean, I'd kill to have my dad back home." 

JJ realizes what he said was insensitive. "My bad, Jake, I didn't mean it like that." 

Jake reassures him, "It's all good, just don't give your old man such a hard time. It's coming from a good place." 

JJ exhales deeply, "Whatever you say, man. Alright, well, I'm headed home. You wanna come over?" 

"Nah, man, I got to do some stuff; I'll catch up with you tomorrow." 

JJ looks at Jake with judgmental eyes, "…alright, my man, just stay safe. Peace." JJ throws up a peace sign and then crosses the street.

Jake looks down the way leading back to his house. He hesitates, then heads in the opposite direction. He walks down an alley filled with dumpsters and trash bags. He pinches his nostrils to block out the scent. While walking down the alley, he arrives at a loading dock for a warehouse. He knocks on the giant metal door. It slides up, and a young man approaches him. 

"Jake! My brotha, you made it." Jake hops up on the platform and enters the room. The smell of marijuana fills the air. 5 men are in the room. Some are smoking, 2 of them are gaming on the TV, and one is crashed out on the ripped-up couch. The young man throws his arm over Jake's neck. "You ready for today? We gotta initiate you into the gang somehow, and what's a better way than a fight with 5th Avenue Bulldogs."

"What are you talking about? I thought we were doing something else. You said I proved myself already with the jewelry I snagged and that I wouldn't have to do this shit, Tyler." The man gets serious and pulls out a silver pistol and rests it on Jake's forehead. 

The room goes silent. "You think you're big shit already, huh? Is that it? Don't forget you're still a rookie brat." Jake starts to sweat. He looks at Tyler in terror. "Oh, c'mon, Jake, I was only playing. But you will fight today, or you're done running with us. Got that?" 

"Got it." 

"Alright, boys, let's head on over!" 3 men, along with Jake and Tyler, all pack into a Subaru with decals covering the entirety of it. The driver opened the sliding door with a handheld remote and then sped out of the warehouse. They drive for about 10 minutes until they arrive at another alleyway with a black and red car sitting in the middle of the street. 

About 5 men are outside leaning on the cars with very bored expressions on their faces. They see the cars pull up and get excited. The car stops, and everyone piles out. Tyler calls out to one of the men resting on one of the cars. 

"You got yours?" 

The man nods and tells his men, "Bring him over." Two of the men go to the back door of the red car and let out another young man who looks no older than Jake. 

The man tells the teenager, "Don't disappoint us. Just do what we talked about, and you'll finally be a part of the gang."

"Okay, Jake, here's your time to shine. Kick that kid's ass, and we'll be on our way. And you won't have to put up with any shit like this anymore." Jake shakes his head, walks past Tyler, and puts his fists up. 

"Now we have ourselves a fight!" Tyler shouts.

The other teen towers over Jake. He is much bulkier than him. 

*There's no way I can beat this kid. Are they crazy? He has at least 50 pounds on me* 

"Begin!" The other guy puts his fists up. He instantly goes for a heavy swing to Jake's head. Jake slips under it and returns with a light jab to his jaw. Jake dodges another haymaker from the left side. *I can do this. He's slow. Just do what you and Marcus practiced* Jake fakes a left jab, then throws a right hook to the guy's temple. 

*I got this. Any moment now, he'll be out for the count* 

Jake's opponent finally realizes his size advantage and charges him. He wraps his arms around Jake and slams him to the ground. 

The air is knocked out of Jake's lungs. He gets on top of Jake and starts sending blows to his head. Jake tries to block them, but it's to no avail. Eventually, Jake's guard drops, and he's almost rendered unconscious. 

Tyler stops the fight, "Oi, you big troll, it's over! We said to fight, not to kill each other. You Bulldogs seem to have a listening problem." Jake, barely conscious, is trying to make sense of what Tyler is saying, but he can barely understand him. Out of nowhere, he sees Tyler pull out his pistol. The barrel of the gun gets closer to him, then a shot rings out.