Having walked her around the stadium and shown her his cherished video games room – a squalid shrine to all things PlayStation – they'd moved on to the main lobby. Ava was eyeing the boarded-up doors longingly when one of them started to thud and rattle.
Stroke grinned wide, dry skin cracking around his lips. 'My boys are home.' He gestured to Shane. 'Open up.'
Shane obeyed in silence, unbolting the doors.
'Your boys?' Ava queried, heart sinking.
'My generals,' said Stroke. 'We rule this city – just that the city doesn't know it yet. But it will.'
'So,' Ava deduced as Shane threw the final bolts, 'they've been checking out the other gangs in New York, making sure they'll all be at your big fight come Friday?'
Stroke's eyes were cold, his smile a little less sure on his face. 'Clever kid, ain't you? Yeah, we're about through with the heat. The time now for the main event.'