A few hours later, it was morning.

The two sides started preparing their forces for the peace talks that would take place later that night. Bryan packed everything he needed before heading out to interview various members. The reporter maintained the appearance of a reporter as he moved between the two camps.

Then he met Andrew and Beck, whom he interviewed as well. Due to their inexperience, they were a little stiff. Brian tried to calm their nerves before their fight, but they didn't calm down. The only option left for Bryan was to give up and let fate take its course. The outcome of their lives would depend on their wits and luck.

John, Brock, and Gerald were also mechanical when Bryan interviewed them. In his head, Bryan laughed as he saw this. While they were leaders of big gangs, they still had stage fright, which amused the young man.

The time passed until the sun began to set. He was at the Red Viper's base, finishing an interview. Bryan went up to Brock, who was overseeing the preparations with scrutinizing focus.

“I'm staying behind, I got all the material I needed for my article. I'm not a field reporter, so I can't go to the peace talks. I'll still note down the result.” Bryan said with a smile.

There was something off about the reporter, but Brock could not pinpoint what it was. He did not wish to upset him, so he nodded to show his approval. He nodded back before turning away from Brock's fierce gaze. Likewise, he headed back into the base, waiting for the sun to completely set.

Brock moved out with most of the gang members, but left behind a small force to guard the base. Bryan donned the black combat suit after they disappeared out of sight. He decided to bring all his weapons with him; he was going to need it. He took out a white mask from the that he would wear to hide his face.

There were two narrow slits for the eyes, while the mouth curved up like a bow.

Although it looked simplistic, there was a certain undertone to it that made people want to look away. Bryan wanted to hide his identity, not only for Great Colows, but for the Dark Net as well. This would be the beginning of his legacy in the underworld.

Wearing the sinister mask, he left unnoticed. As he ran through the alleys and streets, he reached the plaza. He immediately noticed there was no one there. As they were moving in large groups, they were bound to take longer than Bryan, who was moving alone. The young man looked around, finding a large boulder overlooking the scene. His body hid behind the huge rock as he climbed up.

He then waited.

For a chance to strike.

***

With a relaxed smile, John pushed forward. Gerald walked beside him, yet he was quieter than usual. Even so, John took no heed of the oddity. John ran the plan over and over in his head. He knew this was his best and only shot to end the brainless fighting, which he was quite happy about. The leader of the Blue Wolves was quite confident he could crush his opposition in an ambush. Seeing how they almost annihilated them the first time, doing it again wouldn't be that difficult.

The reporter his father brought with him had already slipped John's mind. He never agreed with his father's methods, and that caused him to have a bad relationship with him. In contrast to Old Jacobs, who would resolve issues through peace, John would shed blood at any given opportunity.

After John failed to convince him, Old Jacobs moved away from the town, living near the train station to welcome new guests. John felt he had lost something important he had all these years, but he convinced himself it was for the best. He had food, fame, and power as the leader of the Blue Wolves.

However, it wasn't all his.

John's relaxed smile faded as he thought about Brock. Since they were young, he considered Brock to be a blood brother. He wondered when their relationship began to deteriorate. When he thought back to when they were young, the vow they made came to the surface. Finally, noticing Gerald's uneasy expression, he turned to him. In contrast to his previous tone, he spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Do you remember the vow?” John looked at Gerald, who turned to face his gaze. He gave a wry smile before facing forward.

“Always, and so does Brock. Did you?” John looked down. Whether it was shock or embarrassment, he didn't know.

He rid his burdened mind of those unnecessary thoughts. He needed to focus now, he would think later about what happened next.

I can fulfill our vow by myself anyway, I don't need Brock.

While he emptied his mind, he reached the plaza. Brock and his members were carrying guns and blades on the other side. Both of them approached the center before stopping. Brock, Gerald, and John stepped forward, standing a car's length apart.

“…”

“…”

“…”

Silence reigned. Nobody spoke a word. The two men stared at Brock, who did the same. After a while, Gerald spoke up. Yet, he didn't speak to John, but to Brock. Gerald returned the gaze, speaking up in a soft voice which only the three of them could hear.

“You want to know why I sided with John, right?”

Brock could only nod his head. John scoffed before speaking up.

“Isn't it obvious? He chose to side with me than you.” Gerald shook his head, causing John to frown.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Isn't that it? Don't tell me there's another reason.” Gerald didn't even glance at John or Brock, looking up at the night sky.

“I never wanted to take any sides. Both of you are like brothers to me. We survived that massacre all those years ago together. Haven't you forgotten the vow we took? To destroy those soldiers and the country itself? Why are we fighting each other now?” John looked down. In the corner of his eye, he saw Brock look down as well, avoiding his gaze. Gerald laughed in a pitiful tone, which made both of their hearts lurch.

“It didn't matter whether I chose either side, since I didn't want to go against you in the first place. Is it too late to go back to the way we were before?” John considered his words, thinking to take his proposal.

At first, he thought he could do everything himself, and he didn't need either of them. Now, things were changing. John knew Gerald's words had some truth to them.

Why couldn't they work together?

Why did they have to fight?

John didn't know whether Gerald's words would change Brock's opinion about him. They fought each other for so long that even John, who had known Brock since they were kids, didn't know if Brock would forgive him for what he did.

As he was starting to worry, Brock made his way to John, who noticed his movements. He didn't speak, or rather, he couldn't speak. Seeing Brock's attempt to speak washed John in guilt. When he was wallowing in it, Brock patted his shoulder, which surprised John. He looked up to find Brock smiling for the first time in a long time. Seeing his smile, the leader of the Blue Wolves thought of the last time he smiled.

Wandering through his memories, he went back to the very first time they met.

----------------------------------------

John walked out with two other children, heading towards the bustling market.

“John, where are we going?” one of the children asked with a curious expression.

John turned back, a fed up expression on his round face. He turned his hand into a knife and chopped the child's head. He made an aggrieved expression as he asked why he did that. John shook his head.

“I already told you five times, we're going to steal some food!” Just as John was about to turn away, the other child voiced his confusion with an innocent expression.

“But why do we have to steal? We're getting good food at the orphanage. If we get caught, Bessita will spank us!” The three of them shuddered thinking about the old hag hitting them with her walking stick. John shrugged off his fear before he spoke in a shaky voice.

“We need to fend for ourselves! Since our parents left us in that place, we're supposed to escape and find them. Don't you guys think so?” Seeing his baby-like face, the two other children looked at each other unconvinced. John huffed as he turned away.

“Then go back, I don't need you anyway!” John stormed off, leaving the two children by themselves.

John weaved through the bustling crowd, angry at the two for chickening out. It was always like that. No one ever stood by his side for long, always abandoning him. It was the same with his parents, and now with the two before. Yet, he didn't care.

It was normal for him.

He searched through the markets, finding the perfect shop to raid. At a market stand, fresh baked bread was being sold. John's stomach grumbled as he inhaled the smell. Taking a loaf of bread, the baker cuts it into slices. John drooled even more when he heard the fresh bread's crisp sound.

John devised a plan. He would rush in to steal a couple of loaves while diverting the baker's attention. The young boy looked around near the legs of passersby until he found a large enough stone. As he stood far from the stall, he made sure to remain hidden. When he was about to throw the stone, he saw another person rush into the stand.

The boy looked the same age as him. The dirt color of his eyes blended well with the sand. He was short for his age, and he was even shorter when he crouched. His stout legs propelled him to the stall, where he grabbed two loaves. He took notice of his blatant movements and attempted to block him. His small figure allowed him to avoid him with ease, rolling between his legs. The baker shouted in rage as he ran off at full speed.

“THIEF!” His shout drew the attention of the crowd, attempting to find the little boy.

Angry, John stamped his foot and ran into the baker's shop. He also stole two loaves before running in the same direction as the little boy. The baker also noticed this and did not hold back. John felt a tremendous force whip him at his side with full force. Because of his underdeveloped body, he couldn't dodge. Upon landing, he flew several meters before rolling onto his back. While he clutched his side in agony, but he didn't linger for very long. He got up, enduring the excruciating pain, running with all his strength.

He ran and ran, leaving the market a trail of dust. When he turned into an alley, his legs collapsed simultaneously. Leaning against the wall, he gripped his side. He looked around and saw the boy with dirt-colored eyes munching on the bread he had received.

John, who was still in pain, was about to give him a piece of his mind.