Dead bodies laid around the room in a disheveled mess. Blood spilled from their wounds, turning the mansion floor back into the red that used to color it. Two rebels pointed guns at Killian’s head, ready to fire if he did anything rash. He wasn’t the brightest person, but it would take a special kind of idiot to move in a situation such as this.

Cheers from the streets erupted as a crowd surrounded the mansion. They cheered for the rebels while jeering the Owerneckers. Some left the crowd and spat on the corpses. Killian desperately wanted to kick their teeth in, but one step and he’d be riddled with more holes than the people the crowd was violating. He needed to live and finish the mess so he could climb with Kauss and Helona tomorrow.

Galler chuckled at the scenery. His plan was coming true at long last. The Owerneckers were his to control and nobody could stop him. A rebel civilian stepped up the stairs and stood next to Galler. With one long yell, he attracted everyone’s attention to them.

“Everybody!” The rebel screamed. “We’ve done it. We can now create a better future!” He pumped his fist into the air and the civilians followed. They yelled of triumph and victory as a new age in the city could begin.

Galler raised his gun and fired at the rebel. The bullet ripped a hole between his eyes, killing him instantly. He flew back and fell against the stair railing; blood seeped out of his skull as the yelling ceased and a new sense of foreboding sank in. Killian couldn’t believe how idiotic the rebels could have been. If an Owernecker was a part of them, they shouldn’t have trusted them from the beginning.

“Sir Galler, why would you do that?” One rebel yelled.

The traitor Owerneckers pointed their guns at the civilians and any remaining Owernecker that wasn’t a twelve main man. They fired and more bodies dropped and people screamed as they retreated back to the streets. The whole mansion screamed of gunpowder and screams. Bodies fell, blood splattered, and people lost the remaining hope they had left.

Killian could only stare as the guns were as steady as ever on his temple. Never had he seen such brutality in a single room. It got his own blood boiling for action, but there was no way to release it. All he could do was stand still and let the blood spill.

“Why are you doing this Galler?” Fellipe asked. He’s known Galler since he joined the Owerneckers. They were both loyal to the gang and never once had any thoughts of betraying their comrades.

“Oh, it’s simple really.” Galler said, looking Killian in the eye. “I merely want to be the top.”

Once the massacre finished, Galler looked around at his beautiful surroundings. Bodies, both Owernecker and rebel, turned the floor back into a pristine red that it should’ve stayed as. He was a blood and power hungry bastard, he could admit that, but there was a reason for everything.

He was brought up as among the more well-off people in the city. His father was a main man before him and he was one of reputable status. His father was second best to the first place main man, so he never had the time in the spotlight. At least, that was until he had Galler.

His father brutally beat the lesson into him that if he never made it to the top, then he would never find true happiness. If he never made it to the top, then he’d always be a meaningless wretch living among the masses. As Galler grew up, he adopted that meaning into his very soul. He obeyed that rhetoric to the point that when it came time to move up the ladder in the Owerneckers, he killed his own father.

Throughout his childhood, anytime someone would say they were better than him, Galler would show them the true meaning of power. He killed two bullies when he was ten as they were picking on his friend. Then when the time came, he even killed his friend as he tried to usurp his position in the Owerneckers.

Then he came to be in the third place of the twelve main men. He got as far as he did with all the hard work crushing people below him and making sure the people above him fell to their knees. His next target was Fellipe who was the second main man at the time. Their fight lasted for only a few minutes.

Fellipe’s nose was bleeding, and he had bruises covering his face, but he managed to stay on his feet. Galler was no better. His right eye was swollen shut, his lip busted, and he was missing a tooth. The next blow decided both of their fates for good. Unknowing to Galler, Fellipe had grabbed a pipe from a supporter of his who was watching the fight. The city was lawless and so were the fights. Anything went as long as a victor was decided.

Galler charged, his fist pulled back for one final blow to the head. Once Fellipe was knocked out, he would pumble his teeth in until he died for good. The plan didn’t work out exactly as he imagined, however. Fellipe swung the pipe around and slammed it against Galler’s cheek. Another tooth flew out as he fell to the ground, grabbing at his cheek in pain. His vision swirled and he couldn’t focus on anything that was happening.

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Fellipe approached Galler as he groaned on the floor. He wasn’t out yet, so the fight must continue on. He dug his knee into Galler’s chest as he ordered people from the crowd to hold his mouth open. There was no strength left in him to fight back. He couldn’t fight against the prying hands grabbing at his mouth, forcing it open.

The next few moments that he could remember were far from pleasant. Pain coursed through his body as he felt something hard and metallic go down his throat. Squirming around, he attempted to toss people off him, to no avail. He could see a piercing white light as his consciousness began fading away. A white light blinded him, and he began thinking it was the end. He was fulfilling his father’s prophecy as he died a meaningless death.

He didn’t expect to wake on a bed as one of the Owerneckers few nurses was checking his heart rate. When she saw him wake up, she alerted a doctor of his somewhat recovery. When the doctor arrived, he was told he’d been out for a few days because of the amount of pain he experienced.

After hearing that, his fury skyrocketed. He wanted to scream his lungs out, but no noise came out. Any time he tried to speak, his throat burned with a fiery passion. That pain only made him more frustrated, and the cycle continued until he had an endless supply of fury circling through his veins.

After the doctors checked to see if he was alright, they said he could resume his activities after a month of rest. Before then, he’d have to stay in bed and eat through a straw in his stomach. After a day of rest and his anger finally giving way, he thought he could get through the month rather smoothly. The world had other plans for him, however.

Fellipe walked in through the door with a shit-eating grin on his face. Galler’s face reddened as the man who put him in his condition came in through the door like it was nothing. He would rather have been dead than be looking back on his failures.

“I see you’re alright.” Fellipe said. “I spared you since I know how loyal you are to the Owerneckers. Don’t let that loyalty put you in fights that you can’t win though. You may want to prove yourself, but its better to stay alive and act on the boss’s behalf rather than dying needlessly.”

Galler’s face reddened even more. Fellipe had no clue about the real reason he wanted to rise in the ranks. He was planning to get to the top of the twelve main men, then kill the boss. Once he did that, he could control all the Owerneckers territory, and then dominate the rest of the city. He’d be at the top; he’d be the most unstoppable force to ever be seen within the city. There may not be a plan after he became ruler, but he knew what wasn’t going to happen, him dying.

After that fight, Galler realized brute forcing his way wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He needed a plan, and even if it took years, he was going to become the boss no matter the cost. As the years passed, he stayed behind everyone else for a change. He needed time to assess what to do with the information he had.

Galler witnessed as Fellipe moved up on the twelve main men and became the new right-hand man. Seeing the person who ruined his voice permanently move up as he stayed number three infuriated him. The boss’s kid, sixteen at the time, was also growing up and moving up the ranks as well, nearly becoming a part of the twelve main men.

Thinking about the boss’s kid gave Galler an idea. If he could pull things off correctly, he envisioned he could become boss within a year or less. All he needed to do was get rid of the boss for good. He managed to get his hands on a rat that carried rabies, a disease with nearly a one hundred percent kill rate. He made sure that it carried the disease by letting a doctor check it out. He had to kill him afterward, but now he knew what he had to do.

At night, he let the rat into the boss’s room after he fell asleep. He gave it a drug that made it even more aggressive and agitated than normal before releasing it. All he had to do was play the waiting game. Sure enough, the rat bit the boss and symptoms showed up soon after.

A week passed, and the boss died, leaving his son to inherit his position. As Killian walked up the mansion steps to acquire his new jacket that symbolized his status, Galler couldn’t help but smile. With the first phase out of the way, he could successfully move on to phase two, the longest portion of his plan.

The second part of his plan required one of his most trusted supporters to head out into the city and gather allies. Galler told him to fill them with dreams of hope and a better future. He could wait months, even years, as long as he’d gain enough people to strike. Killian wasn’t experienced enough on how to properly handle situations like a rebellion, so all he needed was time and the rest would fall into place.

The present day only happened the way it did thanks to an entire year’s worth of patience and agony. No longer did Galler have to listen to the moron teenager that called himself boss. From now on, he was the ruler of Owerneckers, and soon the city.

“Do you have any last words, Killian?” Galler mocked.

Killian tilted his head toward the ground, making it was difficult to see his eyes. People looked at him, wondering what the man of the hour had to say about the situation. He rose his head slowly, and with it, so did the terror in Galler’s spine. He knew Killian was hopeless, but the look he gave him was one of vengeance.

Killian’s hair fell in a way where one eye was covered while the other was exposed. His exposed eye carried wrath so enormous that the stare could burn a person alive. If he didn’t have guns pointed at him, then he was positive that Killian would charge and break every bone in his body. His presence and gaze were one of crazed anguish; a stare that would put anyone on their knees out of fear.

“I’ll kill you.” Killian spoke as if he were whispering, but his voice echoed around the room.

Galler had to control himself to keep the gun steady. Killian had the strength to overpower anyone in his way. He wasn’t a human. He was a monster disguised as one.

“Take Killian and the twelve main men to the basement.” Galler ordered. “I’ve got plans for them tomorrow.”

The people holding the twelve main men hostage began escorting them down a hallway that led to the basement door. Two Owerneckers that supported him took Fellipe off his hands and escorted him along with the rest. As Killian went into the hallway, he never let his petrifying gaze break from Galler. He could only find relief once their eye contact broke from the hallway wall.

Sighing, Galler walked up the mansion steps. He needed to make plans for the events ahead.