w h e r e d o y o u g o {jack;;open

[jack metre]

The door was slammed. Derek yelled from inside, but Jack couldn't hear it. He was clenching his teeth too hard. He couldn't hear anything. Not his footsteps, not yelling of other people, and not even the traffic of the busy city. Unfourtunatly, this happened very often. Derek and Jack would get in a fight about something dumb and irrelevant, and Jack would be off to the street. Which Derek hated even more. Finally calming down, Jack took a deep breath and pulled an almost empty cigarette carton out of his back pocket. Just last night, at 11 in the evening when Jack bought this, the pack was full. Today had been stressful; Derek's day at work was pretty bad. He told Jack that some dumb ass wanted a "totally bogus deal". So Derek told him he would have to meet certain requirements. And the man couldn't do it. Derek, being the hothead that he is, got a little too pissed off for his boss's tastes.

So there Jack was, left to wander these familiar streets once more. It wasn't a big deal to him. New York was his home. The city, no, any city, was his home. He grew up in Boston, and moved to New York a few years ago. It scared some people, but not Jack. Well, of course it did a little, but that was fairly normal. If you are in a gang, and you stay in your territory, you have nothing to worry about. But God forbid you didn't "belong" to anyone and you were simply minding your own business, you could be shot up. Or, rather, shot down. Jack understood these rules. He lived by them.

Which, adding to the list, Derek hated as well. When he was younger, he was involved in some pretty heavy gang shit, but somehow, thankfully, got out. He promised himself nothing would ever happen to Jack. And when it did, he took even more heavy precautions.

Jack decided he was sick of where he was standing. He took a long drag, and blew it into the night sky, and walked to the end of his street. He lived in a pretty decent neighborhood, but nothing special. He didn't have too much money. But they had enough to survive. And that was all they needed. Crossing the not so busy street, Jack started to wander. All the while, he knew where he was going, but it looked very unfamiliar. Maybe, just maybe, he would actually go somewhere. A Club or something. Which he never did. He decided he should find something, or someone, to entertain him. [/size]

[jake brookes]

Jake left work early because he just couldn't take anymore drunken men starting random fights in his casino. Who did they think they were to just do anything they wanted in Jake's casino. Did no one have respect for him? The fight had started out as just an argument over who knows, something stupid like 'hey you took some of my tokens' or 'you cheater'. All Jake knew was that he didn't tolerate fighting in his casino at all. It was too messy and Jake would rather them take that kind of crap outside. But when the argument became more heated, the security guards had to step in. They merely tried to keep the two men away from each other which didn't work due to the size of one of the men.

When fists started flying, Jake had to intervene himself. His fist went flying to the face of one of the men, knocking him into a card table, sending cards and chips flying everywhere. That one punch calmed the other guy down instantly. Jake turned to the security guards and told them to get the two guys out of his casino. "Clean up this mess too," he ordered. Jake cracked his knuckles, his head on fire with anger. That kind of crap really just got on his last nerve. He would've fired the security guards for doing such a poor job if he actually felt like looking for people to replace them; But he didn't, so he just let it go.

With that, Jake left the casino slipping his right hand into the pocket of his jeans. If you looked at Jake's appearance you would never guess that he was the owner of a large casino. He didn't dress in suits all the time like most business owners did. No, he dressed just like a normal guy. Tonight wearing a black long sleeved button up shirt, with the sleeves pulled up to just below his elbows. Under it was a white t-shirt that peeked up from the large portion of the shirt that was unbuttoned.

Since Jake was in such a bad mood, any little thing would probably piss him off to no end. So he hoped he could get home without having to deal with something stupid like that fight. Jake pulled a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket along with a navy blue lighter. He lit the cancer stick up and stuck it in his mouth taking in a long puff. Jake was just about to stick the pack and lighter back in his pocket when he felt his arm bump into some guy, the pack of cigarettes and lighter dropping to the ground. Jake rolled his eyes in annoyance as he plucked the cigarette from his mouth, sticking it between his index and middle finger. Ah, damn it; Watch where you're going. Jake snapped, even though it was partially Jake's fault for running into the guy, but he wasn't really in the apologizing mood. So instead he blamed the incident on the boy in front of him. Jake picked up his things and shoved them into his pocket.

[jack metre]

Get in the car! Derek yelled, and Jack followed. Bullets pounded around them, shattering glass and tin. Derek was smiling; apparently he was used to this. Jack, on the other hand, was terrified. He had nothing on him, and the last experience he had in front of a gun wasn't too great. Derek took the wheel, stepped on the gas, and caused a loud screech of the tires. Take that cannon and bust some shots, Jackie. And then Jack smiled. He took the cannon, stayed low, and rolled the window down. It was hard, doing this backwards, but the recoil of the gun made Jack happy.

Grunting, and being thrown out of a rather pleasant memory, Jack lurched forward. He turned around in annoyance, wondering who was disrupting him. Lately people had been giving him some serious shit. Jack's reputation back in Boston was now known in New York, and certain people wanted to take advantage of that. How Jack would do anything for a friend, or a fight. How his brother and him could take on an entire gang world. Then, there were the lies. About how Jack was a serious killing machine. About how after numerous encounters with the law, Jack had finally snapped and killed a cop. And gotten away with it.

Jack looked up, tracing the face of the man. Where, where, where? He knew this guy. Then again, everyone probably new this guy. Jake Brookes; tough guy; Blood. Jack didn't know him too well, although there was some reoccurring memory of Jake saving his ass once. Which probably happened. Why he was so angry was totally beyond him.

Ah, damn it; Watch where you're going.

Taking another drag and blowing it to his side, Jack simply nodded. "Sorry man," he muttered, unaware if Jake would even know who he was. It was all for the better, if he didn't. Jack didn't want to get involved with that kind of stuff. Sometimes it looked glamorous, but in the long run, it wasn't.

[jake brookes]

Jake let the cigarette hang loosely from the corner of his mouth as he stared at the guy in front of him. He'd seen him somewhere before, but couldn't put his finger on a location. Ah yes, Jack Metre. Jake's heard rumors about this kid. But to Jake, this Jack boy didn't look like a cold blooded killer. He just looked like a normal teenager taking a little walk around the city, like so many other people around them. Frankly, Jake didn't care about this Jack's rep, as long as he stayed out of Jake's way then everything will be fine and dandy.

If Jake had saved this kid before, it probably wasn't on purpose. Jack was probably just at the right place at the right time and whatever Jake did, saved Jack. But there's rarely a time when Jake actually saves someone because he wants to. Oh no, he was definitely not one to put his life at risk to save anothers unless he was really close to them. Even then he'd have to think twice about it.

Jake took in a long drag of the cigarette before tossing it to the ground, his foot killing the flame. Jack Metre, he said, letting the smoke file out of his mouth. If I hadn't recognized you I probably would've kicked your ass, he stated in a serious tone, but his eyes had a teasing expression in them. Jake stepped around him to keep walking, motioning for Jack to follow with a nod of his head. Maybe having some company will let off some of that steam..And another cig. He pulled one from the half empty pack in his pocket and lit up.

Jake took another long drag and blew it out as he gripped it loosely in his fingers. So what're you doing out here at this time of night? he questioned curiously. They were awfully close to Blood territory and if Jake didn't know Jack even just a little, he'd have the right mind to start something right then and there. But Jake considered Jack as an acquaintance so he wouldn't say anything about it just yet.

[jack metre]

Jack's mood lightened. It was strange, really. He went from being worried about what Jake would do, to feeling pretty confident and cool. Jack hated his mood swings and change in behavior. He took his medicine, yet it still happened. It wasn't as drastic, thankfully. The doctors didn't know what caused it. It couldn't have been the emotional and physical abuse Jack went through, but nothing could be decided. Not like they cared.

It started off as nothing too big. Jack would be happy in one class, but then move to the next and be furious for no real reason. Then he started fighting; at school and at home. His mother couldn't pay for the type of meds Jack needed, but the government forced it upon her. They said he was a "threat to his peers".

Shaking off any remembrance of feeling dumb, Jack kept quiet. He followed Jake, walking slowly, and punched himself mentally for doubting his existence. They were in Blood territory; Jack wouldn't be surprised if Jake just wanted to jump him. Not that Jack would have anything valuable. The only thing he owned that cost more money than his life was the small gold cross hanging from his neck. He'd thought of pawning it once, but couldn't bear to separate from it.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Jack thought about what to say. My dumb ass brother and I had a fight? Weak. "Fuming," he said, clearing his throat and playing his lips into a fake smile. Jake didn't have to know anything. To him, Jack was just taking a walk. At almost midnight. Alone. With nothing on him.

Jack wondered if Jake had heard anything about him and his brother. He had been approached just earlier today by some gang banger, asking if Jack was open for work. Jack simply scowled at the man, which, apparently, looked like a death stare. The man backed away with his hands up, laughing just a little. "Keep in touch, man." He smiled, and got back into his car. If anything had spread as far as to the Bloods, Jack wanted to know.[/size]

[jake brookes]

Jake slipped his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. He started to feel the chilly air against his arms and face as the wind picked up a bit. It was winter time and Jake had decided not to wear a jacket. At this moment he kind of wished he hadn't left it at home. Oh well, he'll have to deal with it for tonight.

To Jake, Jack was pretty lucky that his mood was changing a bit. He felt a little less steemed and more interested in Jack. There was word around the street that someone from the Bloods thought it would be a good idea to try and recruit Jack without even asking Jake. And as soon as Jake found out who it was, he will personaly take care of the situation. Every Blood new that all members were recruited through bloodline, that's partially why they were named the Bloods. But of course every now and then there will be some idiot that thinks he can just change the rules. If there was someone that Jake might even consider letting into the gang, Jake would recruit them himself, but that rarely ever happens. Jack was completely welcome to join the Disciples if he wanted to do some dirty work though. But Jake was curious as to how Jack had responded to the attempted recruitment.

Jake raised a brow slightly at Jack's response. Fuming, huh? May I ask why? Or is it confidential? he asked with a slightly eery tone, it was kind of mocking, but at the same time it wasn't. Oh who knows, it's hard to explain. Basically, Jake's question was noting that Jack chose not to give details, which only made Jake even more curious about why Jack was so 'fuming'. That brother of yours giving you some trouble? he asked, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Frankly, Jake hated Jack's brother. There was something about the guy that irked Jake and he wouldn't mind fighting him just for the hell of it. It wasn't like Jake was afraid of Derek, hell no, it was just that Derek was one of those guys that rubbed Jake the wrong way. Because of that, Jake didn't like him.

[jack metre]

Jack's finger burned. He was paying no attention to his cigarette, which was already burnt out. He dug into his pocket for the carton, and took out the last one. He didn't like to litter, so he shoved the carton back into his pocket. Lighting it up, Jack kept his Zippo out. He fiddled with it, like he did a lot. Just waisting fluid, I'd say.

"Yeah, Brother giving me trouble," he said, laughing lightly. Jack knew Jake and Derek weren't the best of friends, but Jack didn't know why. Derek was a nice guy when you first get to know him. And then only if he likes you. Alright, So Jack could understand why. Derek was an ass hole. But who was Jake to judge him? The brothers always got offended when the other was putting up with something. It was in their non-related blood.

Jack looked to Jake, then back at the street way ahead of them. He crossed his feet, one in front of the other as he slowly walked forward. He took a long drag, holding in in for a while, then letting it out into the moonlight. How he wished he was getting stoned tonight. But Derek would kill him. Not that Derek cared or anything, but just that Derek used to have a problem with the stuff. So Jack was left alone, his sources gone and his friends whoever crosses his path.

The sad thing was, Jack had no idea about Derek. He thinks he works in some attorney's office, but goes to school at night sometimes to become a teacher. "Pays better," Derek would always say. "Nothing big though. Just the usual shit." he looked back again to Jake. He looked...different. "Shit happen at that place you're running down there?"