The week continued like normal for the citizens of Ashbridge.
Waking up in the morning and getting ready for work or school and kissing their loved one's goodbye before tackling the day's challenges.
But for Doug, there was nothing normal at all about the week that had passed. He had made sure to take Edger's advice of preparing for war. Making sure that he recruited even more people in his gang and stocking up weapons using all the connections he had.
The first real spark of the war was felt deeply by him, a confrontation that occurred in one of the repair garages they frequently used. In that one exchange alone, he lost four of his men. That was a huge blow for him. The Los Garra crew were out for blood. They were sending a message to everyone who thought of messing with them.
And El Garra wanted to use his blood as ink. Everywhere they encountered each other, a shoot-out would start, leaving bodies behind. Their numbers were starting to dwindle, and this was a major hit to his crew's morale. From a crew of sixty people down to only nineteen people left. This was a disaster for them.
Inside the basement they used as a meeting place, Doug and his four lieutenants were sitting there, the air thick with tension.
One man with a bandage wrapped around his shoulder spoke, "Boss, what do we do? we are losing people here..."
The situation was dire, Doug looked at his man, each one of them marked by the war that was ongoing. He knew that each and everyone of them wanted to retaliate, hurt the bastards. Heck, even he wanted to rush out and kill every single one of those Mexicans. But he was a leader now, and he knew that he had to be calm in situations like these.
They have also retaliated during this war, and they probably killed more of the enemy than the enemy killed them. But one of the many advantages that Los Garra had over them, was the number of people they had in their crew.
They could kill twice as many, and Los Garra wouldn't even flinch.
Frustration started to build up as he was contemplating what to do. His hands twitching on the handle of his gun as he looked at the table, contemplating just shooting at it to vent his anger.
While he was deep in thought, a notification sound came from his burner phone. For a second, he was confused as to who's phone was it, but he immediately remembered.
Rage contorted his face as he thought about his Boss who didn't reach out and didn't even acknowledge that he knew they were dealing with the Los Garra crew.
The silence made him feel abandoned- and somewhere deep inside, resentment towards Alex began to bloom.
Taking a look at the message, his frown deepened.
{Sender: Specter}
~Report to The Silver Quill~
Looking at the blunt, straightforward message, he felt his anger rise but managed to calm down as he took a deep breath and spoke to his men.
"For now, remain in the house and wait for my orders, I'll be back." He said as he stood up and left.
Leaving the basement, he knew that he had to make a decision that would impact the future of his Gang.
---
Entering the Bar, the atmosphere was just like any other day, people enjoying their drinks and mingling with their companions.
This irked Doug, he didn't know why everything was pissing him off, maybe he was expecting that they would at least close the bar.?
Climbing the stairs to the office, he stood in front of the door, contemplating if he was ready for facing what's to come. Unexpectedly, Alex's voice come from inside while still in thought.
"Are you going to just stand there?"
Hearing the voice, Doug's whole body just felt a chill.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and entered the office. Inside Alex sitting on the couch playing chess with Edger, and both enjoying a bottle of bourbon while doing so.
Hearing him enter the office, Alex spoke without turning to look at him, "Take a seat Doug." His voice neutral, not betraying any thoughts he was having at the moment.
Doug just stood there for a minute, "I think I will stand Mr. Gray." Responding with a cold tone but still filled with respect.
"Take a seat Doug…" Alex repeated, his tone colder.
His whole body flinched slightly hearing Alex's cold voice, reluctantly he took a seat on the single couch that was left in the office.
Alex looked at the sitting Doug, studying him, "Do you hate me.?"
Doug caught off guard by the question was silence, the silence stretched as he was hoping Alex would continue to speak and not let him answer.
Seeing that Alex was waiting for an answer, he responded hesitantly, "No, Mr. Gray I don't hate my benefactor."
Alex continued to look at him, studying his every expression and movement.
"So, you do huh." Alex commented soon after. Doug flinched hearing that.
"Doug, tell me... between a soldier who's bled on the battlefield and a soldier who's only ever sucked up to the general for promotion — who would you want at your side when the bullets start flying?" Alex asked as he looked deeply into Doug's eyes.
Doug didn't take too long to think about the question as too him it was obvious who he would want to fight alongside, "The one who's been through it"
Alex hearing his answer, he turned to look at the chess board while asking, "And what type of soldier to you think you are…?"
The question stumped Doug; he didn't know how to answer it. It's true he did fight with his men, but he was reluctant to call himself an experienced soldier.
As if sensing his inner turmoil, Alex continued, "I need people who've lost. People who know what it feels like to fail — and still get back up."
Turning back to him he continued, "You've tasted defeat, now you ready to truly lead your gang and turn them into something more that just a bunch of idiots with guns."
Doug listened to what Alex was saying, he felt torn. His man died and he was there looking at them fall with pools of blood cushioning their fall, each one of them desperately clinging to life while drifting to the sweet slumber of death.
The feeling you get while seeing a person begging for just another breath was something he wouldn't forget.
Alex looking at him, he saw the changes in expression, sudden shifts of his body and the twitching of his hands as though he was reliving the scenes of his men dying. He nodded to himself as he spoke to the man In front of him.
"Doug, you now ready to taste victory."