Soviet Panda
Red Panda Commanda.
United States of America, 2022Times Square, New York, 12:05am
“Just imagine that type of world. Not the whole world, but our world. The world you and I live every. Single. Day.” He spoke softly into the microphone that was stood in front of him – he was stood up on a platform in the center of a platform that stood a few feet off of the ground in the center of the square. Surrounding him on the streets were all of the gangs, the mobs, the organized crime syndicates, the crime families. There weren’t very many, but it was certainly enough for the section of the USA that had been dedicated to the poor and less well-off people that lived there. You either showed you were worth having in the rich side of the states, or you stayed in poverty and lower-level everything. Things were downgraded over in this section, but we’ll talk more about that later. He had every gang or crime family arriving from as far as Louisiana and Florida. It was a sight to be seen, but the citizens were nowhere. They knew that this was a night that curfew was active from 4pm. “Look around, everyone. Look to your lefts, look to your rights, and stare upon the people that you stand side-by-side with… Amongst these men and women we have here tonight, you may see some people that have been responsible. Responsible for the death of your members, your family, your loved ones, your friends… your chances. And just look how… not a single person is dead, or injured, or being targeted.”
They all looked around at each other, some of them frowning, but they did nothing in aggression. They soon all turned back to look at the man on the platform before them.
“We have The Six over in that corner.” He said as he pointed to a gang of African American men – there were far more than six, but the story behind them is that their gang was started by six people initially, hence the name. “And we have their archenemies, The Gunma Family, standing only a few groups down from them.” He added, pointing to a group of males that appeared to be from a Japanese background. “Now, let me tell you a story. In twenty-twenty, The Gunma abducted a street lord of The Six and tortured him relentlessly. In retaliation, The Six nearly crippled The Gunma by destroying their drug line… yet, somehow, no one from either of the groups are killing each other tonight.”
Some discussion broke out in the crowd. They were beginning to realize how things would be if the truce began – they’d be good. People would stick to their turf – of which was actually entire states, for some – and that would be it. No trouble, no effort, no death.
“Twenty-one states. A total of fifteen families, five of which are small-time, three major crime syndicates, four being Mafias or Cartels, and three being straight-up gangs… Just imagine, if all of us could come together and stop the needless killing of those we care for. Those we run. Those we protect. I ask you this question now… Who’s ready for a new country? A new alliance?!” He asked in a positive yell. The crowd went wild – everyone in every gang or family was cheering and shouting in agreement. The man on the platform raised his arms and smiled around at everyone while they cheered for him. They didn’t know his name, but they soon started chanting ‘Man In Black’ – They didn’t know exactly who he was, but everyone in the city knew that he and his associate were important. They wore black suits and ties, sunglasses, cowboy-style duster hats, and occasionally a balaclava that had a picture of the sun stitched into it. It was squiggle sort of lines for the sun’s rays, though, almost like a child’s drawing – it was strange, in a way. The center, the sun’s body, was a perfect circle and unfilled. It was just a perfect circular line that had other lines branching off of it.
That peace treaty was three years ago, and a lot of things can change in three years.
**
“A’ight, any of you motherfuckers move and I blow the pretty little face off this bitch, you understand me?!” He screamed, his yell echoed around the bank and almost seemed to bounce back to him. He was a muscular and bald Afro-American man, which only made him harder to find when it came to investigations – plus, he wasn’t the only one of The Six here. He had at least five other men, and he was with Gunma Family. Or at least some of them – he’d come to realize that these guys were fucking creepy, but they were great business partners. This was the fifth small bank they’d hit together in the past month – in New York, you’d expect to have the whole police force charging in and gunning you down, but that was the old New York that was busting with big bucks. Not anymore. New York was now the most dangerous state in the country, and one of the places everyone on the poor side tried to avoid.
He had a young blonde girl at his side, maybe in her twenties – How she was stuck as a banker in the poorest and most violent city in the USA was phenomenal. He felt bad for her in a way, but the victims are suckers for the young people who give the whole ‘I’m going to be a mommy’ or ‘I want to graduate from college, please!’ acts – it makes them easy to manipulate. Especially when they had a sawed-off shotgun to the face like this girl did. You might be thinking ‘Sawed off shotguns? 2025?’. Well. Let me explain – the rich want all the good modern-day guns and technology to themselves, so the poor gets the excess shit that no one wants any more. Scopes for assault rifles were like diamonds on the poor side, but it was the same with all technology and cars – phones, consoles, computers, TV’s – the best cars you could get dated back to 2013, and the best generation of technology came from that time era as well. Hell, a lot of people had flip-phones more than anything.
Three men in red suits wandered in through the door, M4’s in their hands. He took one look at them and instantly regretted even being in sight. They were The Devil’s Arms. The crime syndicate. They were so brutal and cruel it was unreal.
“Oh, shit…” He muttered, he shoved the blonde woman aside and then dashed over to the back door of the bank that lead down towards the vault; he looked down the stairs and screamed down to whoever was there. “The Devil’s Arms are here, we’ve been fuckin’ set up!”
He instantly heard shouting followed by gunshots downstairs. He knew that it was The Gunma that did this. He just hoped that his friends were the ones doing the shooting. He couldn’t hope for long, seeing as soon enough he felt some bullets go through the wooden panel behind him and hit him straight in the back. He dropped like a sack of bricks and tumbled down the stairs towards the vault. The shares of the robbery go as followed – 100/0 to The Devil’s Arms.
“Just imagine that type of world. Not the whole world, but our world. The world you and I live every. Single. Day.” He spoke softly into the microphone that was stood in front of him – he was stood up on a platform in the center of a platform that stood a few feet off of the ground in the center of the square. Surrounding him on the streets were all of the gangs, the mobs, the organized crime syndicates, the crime families. There weren’t very many, but it was certainly enough for the section of the USA that had been dedicated to the poor and less well-off people that lived there. You either showed you were worth having in the rich side of the states, or you stayed in poverty and lower-level everything. Things were downgraded over in this section, but we’ll talk more about that later. He had every gang or crime family arriving from as far as Louisiana and Florida. It was a sight to be seen, but the citizens were nowhere. They knew that this was a night that curfew was active from 4pm. “Look around, everyone. Look to your lefts, look to your rights, and stare upon the people that you stand side-by-side with… Amongst these men and women we have here tonight, you may see some people that have been responsible. Responsible for the death of your members, your family, your loved ones, your friends… your chances. And just look how… not a single person is dead, or injured, or being targeted.”
They all looked around at each other, some of them frowning, but they did nothing in aggression. They soon all turned back to look at the man on the platform before them.
“We have The Six over in that corner.” He said as he pointed to a gang of African American men – there were far more than six, but the story behind them is that their gang was started by six people initially, hence the name. “And we have their archenemies, The Gunma Family, standing only a few groups down from them.” He added, pointing to a group of males that appeared to be from a Japanese background. “Now, let me tell you a story. In twenty-twenty, The Gunma abducted a street lord of The Six and tortured him relentlessly. In retaliation, The Six nearly crippled The Gunma by destroying their drug line… yet, somehow, no one from either of the groups are killing each other tonight.”
Some discussion broke out in the crowd. They were beginning to realize how things would be if the truce began – they’d be good. People would stick to their turf – of which was actually entire states, for some – and that would be it. No trouble, no effort, no death.
“Twenty-one states. A total of fifteen families, five of which are small-time, three major crime syndicates, four being Mafias or Cartels, and three being straight-up gangs… Just imagine, if all of us could come together and stop the needless killing of those we care for. Those we run. Those we protect. I ask you this question now… Who’s ready for a new country? A new alliance?!” He asked in a positive yell. The crowd went wild – everyone in every gang or family was cheering and shouting in agreement. The man on the platform raised his arms and smiled around at everyone while they cheered for him. They didn’t know his name, but they soon started chanting ‘Man In Black’ – They didn’t know exactly who he was, but everyone in the city knew that he and his associate were important. They wore black suits and ties, sunglasses, cowboy-style duster hats, and occasionally a balaclava that had a picture of the sun stitched into it. It was squiggle sort of lines for the sun’s rays, though, almost like a child’s drawing – it was strange, in a way. The center, the sun’s body, was a perfect circle and unfilled. It was just a perfect circular line that had other lines branching off of it.
That peace treaty was three years ago, and a lot of things can change in three years.
**
“A’ight, any of you motherfuckers move and I blow the pretty little face off this bitch, you understand me?!” He screamed, his yell echoed around the bank and almost seemed to bounce back to him. He was a muscular and bald Afro-American man, which only made him harder to find when it came to investigations – plus, he wasn’t the only one of The Six here. He had at least five other men, and he was with Gunma Family. Or at least some of them – he’d come to realize that these guys were fucking creepy, but they were great business partners. This was the fifth small bank they’d hit together in the past month – in New York, you’d expect to have the whole police force charging in and gunning you down, but that was the old New York that was busting with big bucks. Not anymore. New York was now the most dangerous state in the country, and one of the places everyone on the poor side tried to avoid.
He had a young blonde girl at his side, maybe in her twenties – How she was stuck as a banker in the poorest and most violent city in the USA was phenomenal. He felt bad for her in a way, but the victims are suckers for the young people who give the whole ‘I’m going to be a mommy’ or ‘I want to graduate from college, please!’ acts – it makes them easy to manipulate. Especially when they had a sawed-off shotgun to the face like this girl did. You might be thinking ‘Sawed off shotguns? 2025?’. Well. Let me explain – the rich want all the good modern-day guns and technology to themselves, so the poor gets the excess shit that no one wants any more. Scopes for assault rifles were like diamonds on the poor side, but it was the same with all technology and cars – phones, consoles, computers, TV’s – the best cars you could get dated back to 2013, and the best generation of technology came from that time era as well. Hell, a lot of people had flip-phones more than anything.
Three men in red suits wandered in through the door, M4’s in their hands. He took one look at them and instantly regretted even being in sight. They were The Devil’s Arms. The crime syndicate. They were so brutal and cruel it was unreal.
“Oh, shit…” He muttered, he shoved the blonde woman aside and then dashed over to the back door of the bank that lead down towards the vault; he looked down the stairs and screamed down to whoever was there. “The Devil’s Arms are here, we’ve been fuckin’ set up!”
He instantly heard shouting followed by gunshots downstairs. He knew that it was The Gunma that did this. He just hoped that his friends were the ones doing the shooting. He couldn’t hope for long, seeing as soon enough he felt some bullets go through the wooden panel behind him and hit him straight in the back. He dropped like a sack of bricks and tumbled down the stairs towards the vault. The shares of the robbery go as followed – 100/0 to The Devil’s Arms.
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