For Money

"Are we seriously sticking with this dude?" whispered one of the lackeys.

They knew Asher had a reputation as a skilled fighter, but they were still jealous of him.

James paid Asher a lot more money than them, even though he wasn't a full member of the gang.

It felt like a slap in the face—James clearly valued him more than them, despite their loyalty.

Some of them didn't even get a cut of the gang's income, which made it even worse.

To make matters worse, Asher was really good-looking.

Standing next to him, their new uniforms and styled hair made them feel like nobodies. He wore old clothes, but he had a way of standing out that made them look like extras. 

If they were in a movie, they would be blurred in the background; that's how much Asher stood out.

"What about classes?" Asher suddenly stopped and turned to them.

They had wanted to laugh at the silly question, but his cold stare stopped them in their tracks.

It was unsettling how someone who looked so good could have such an intimidating presence. 

Asher was actually in a bad mood. He knew he had to hurt people again, and while he agreed to work with James for the money, he still did not like his way of doing things. 

"Don't worry about class. Boss will handle it," one of the lackeys said,

"Good," Asher replied, moving on. They needed to take another way out of the school to avoid attention.

Along the way, Asher spotted some students on the rooftops. He recognized them as the only group in the school that James couldn't touch, which made him wonder why.

After walking for a bit, they reached a small, worn shed behind the school building. The structure was painted a faded green, its wood weathered and chipped from years of exposure. 

Behind the small structure, a solid brick wall separated the shed from a narrow alleyway, its surface covered in graffiti and faded posters.

Using a large trash bin as a step ladder, they worked together to climb over the wall.

Each of them pulled themselves up carefully, but Asher just jumped onto the wall in one leap, impressing them with his athleticism.

THUD.

He landed smoothly on the ground like it was nothing.

"Lead the way," he said to the lackeys, who were still stunned by what they had just witnessed.

They wanted to pinch themselves or look for hidden cameras and invisible wires, but there were none, meaning he had actually pulled that off with his own skills.

Asher ignored them, not out of arrogance, but because what he had done came naturally to him; it was like breathing, nothing impressive.

"This way..." one of them said, finally snapping out of their shock.

They spoke with newfound respect, and none of them dared to gossip behind his back.

Following them, they moved through narrow alleys and quiet streets.

Asher's presence made them feel safer, but the tension grew as they got closer to their target. 

And they didn't have to wait long. In the distance, they spotted twelve guys casually smoking, all wearing black uniforms with green pants. 

"They're just hanging out like they own the place," one of James's lackeys scoffed, but deep down, he was getting anxious. There were only six of them, including Asher.

Though they called themselves gangsters, they knew they were just high schoolers trying to act tough. They weren't really that strong—especially this group, since James had intentionally placed weaker members here.

"What's the plan... ?" one of the more nervous lackeys asked.

Asher stayed quiet for a moment, observing the rival group looking at them. 

A smirk spread across their faces, and their laughter echoed off the alley walls as they slowly advanced.

Some leaned casually against the brick wall, while others swaggered forward, hands in pockets, their postures oozing arrogance.

One of them pointed at Asher with a mocking grin.

"Hey, look who decided to show up!" he shouted, then pretended to check his watch. "I think it's time to beat some sense into these Spring High idiots."

Asher's team shifted uneasily, exchanging nervous glances. Doubts crept in as the moment of confrontation approached; some of them had never even been in a fight before . 

"This turf is ours now!" shouted one of the rival members, pointing at the ground beneath them.

STEP.

Asher took the lead, walking toward them like he didn't care. He had a job to finish—and he'd do it fast.

"How many of you are there?" he asked in a flat voice.

"Why? Planning to give up now that you see we outnumber you? We've got over one hundred guys!" The rival student sneered, clearly enjoying the moment.

James's lackeys became more anxious after hearing the numbers.

With only forty members in their gang, they realized they were up against more than double their numbers. 

"Only a hundred?"