GANGSTA - LEVEL UP : THE HUSTLER’S BLUEPRINT

Chapter 8 — Goodbye, Old Friend (Part 1)

Sector 10, South Neighbourhood.

Midnight.

Thirteen-year-old LeRoy Annan was running.

The alley twisted endlessly ahead of him, splitting and reconnecting like a maze designed to swallow people whole. Rusted fire escapes loomed overhead. Trash bags burst open under his feet, spilling rot and broken glass across the concrete. His lungs burned with every breath, sharp gasps scraping his throat raw as panic pushed him faster than his legs wanted to go.

Footsteps thundered behind him.

“Don’t let him get away!”

“We’ll show you what happens when you mess with the Joker Gang!”

LeRoy risked a glance over his shoulder.

Four of them.

Older. Bigger. Angry.

His heart slammed harder.

“I’m sorry!” he shouted, voice cracking as he sprinted. “They looked real! Second-hand versions, I swear! I didn’t know they were fake!”

The words fell flat. The gang laughed instead, the sound sharp and cruel, echoing off the narrow walls.

“Save it,” one of them called back. “You think excuses matter now?”

LeRoy pushed harder, shoes slapping against wet pavement. His thoughts raced, desperate for a way out.

I should’ve checked again.

I should’ve known better.

He turned sharply into another alley, barely keeping his balance as he cut the corner. For a split second, he thought he might make it.

Then his foot caught on something solid.

A loose brick near a dumpster.

The world tilted.

LeRoy hit the ground hard, pain exploding up his arm and shoulder as he slid across the concrete. The air rushed out of his lungs in a sharp wheeze. He scrambled, palms slipping on wet ground, but it was already too late.

The footsteps stopped.

He looked up.

The gang blocked the exit, spreading out casually, shadows stretching long behind them under a flickering streetlight. One of them twirled a metal rod in his hand. Another cracked his knuckles slowly.

“Well,” one said, grinning. “That was fun.”

LeRoy backed up until his shoulders hit the dumpster. His chest heaved as he searched for anything, anyone.

Nothing.

His luck had finally run out.

Then a voice cut through the alley.

“Let the kid go.”

It didn’t shout.

It didn’t need to.

Everyone froze.

The sound came from above.

A figure stood on the edge of a rooftop nearby, barely visible against the night sky. He looked down at the alley like he’d stumbled onto something mildly annoying.

The gang turned, confused.

“The hell?” one muttered.

Before anyone could react, the figure jumped.

He dropped from the roof and landed between LeRoy and the gang with a heavy thud, knees bending smoothly as if gravity had barely touched him. He straightened slowly, tall and relaxed, hands loose at his sides.

He wore a mask.

The alley went quiet.

“Who the hell are you?” the gang leader demanded.

The man reached up and removed the mask.

Recognition spread instantly.

Faces drained of color.

“…Levan,” one whispered.

Another took a step back. “No way. That’s Levan.”

LeRoy blinked.

The name meant nothing to him yet. But the fear in their voices said everything.

Levan tilted his head, eyes cold, bored. “So you’ve heard of me,” he said. “That’s good.”

He gestured behind him with his thumb, toward LeRoy. “Now leave the kid alone.”

The gang leader clenched his jaw. “Why should we? He tried to scam us.”

Levan shrugged. “These streets are full of scammers. What makes you think he’s not a victim of one himself?”

“We didn’t even buy the gear!” another snapped. “This is about respect.”

Levan’s gaze hardened. “Then you picked the wrong target.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” someone scoffed. “You think you can just—”

“I’m saying,” Levan interrupted calmly, “that I’m not letting you touch him.”

Tension thickened the air.

One of the gang members cracked his neck. “Even if you’re Levan, you mess with us and you’ll bleed like anyone else.”

Levan smiled.

“I’d like to see you try.”

That was enough.

One of them lunged.

The punch never landed.

Levan kicked the loose brick LeRoy had tripped on, sending it flying forward like a bullet. It cracked against the attacker’s forehead with a sickening thud. The man collapsed instantly, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Chaos erupted.

Two others rushed Levan at the same time. One wielded a taser rod, electricity snapping and crackling at its tip. The other swung an electrified bat, sparks lighting the alley with every movement.

Levan moved.

He stepped aside just as the bat whistled past his head, then grabbed the taser user’s wrist mid-swing. He twisted sharply, using the man’s own momentum to slam him face-first into the ground.

The bat came down again.

Levan kicked the attacker’s legs out from under him, then followed through with a brutal punch that drove him into the pavement. The bat skidded across the ground, sparks dying as it hit the wall.

It was over almost as soon as it started.

Only one remained.

The gang leader stepped forward, water forming at the tips of his fingers, swirling unnaturally. His eyes glowed faintly.

A QUANTUM user.

“So you wanna play hero?” he growled.

He flicked his fingers.

Water bullets shot forward, tearing chunks out of the alley walls. Stone exploded as Levan weaved through the attacks, moving faster than LeRoy could track.

Levan closed the distance in a blink.

An uppercut snapped the leader’s head back.

The man dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

Silence returned.

Levan turned to LeRoy. “You good?”

LeRoy nodded, still shaking.

Levan jerked his head toward the alley exit. “Come on.”

They left together.

Outside, under dim streetlights, LeRoy finally found his voice.

“Why did you help me?” he asked.

Levan didn’t stop walking. “Because it wasn’t your fault.”

LeRoy frowned. “How do you know?”

Levan glanced back once. “Because I’ve been there.”

He paused, then added, “And I don’t stand around while kids get beaten for someone else’s mess.”

That night became the beginning of everything.

Jobs. Hustles. Trouble.

And a friendship LeRoy would never forget.