Back in Detroit, the night hung heavy over the quiet city streets, broken only by the hum of old, dimly-lit neon signs and the distant siren calls that were as common as the wind. Reggie sat in a dim, low-ceilinged room that smelled of stale cigarettes and liquor, the haze of smoke swirling above him like a constant reminder of the life he'd signed up for long ago. Around him were his men—grim, tough-faced soldiers who'd run these streets with him for years, each bearing their own scars and silent loyalty. Tonight, they were gathered for one reason: Snake.
Ever since Tyrone greenlit the shipments to Snake, things had been boiling over in Detroit. Snake was no longer the scrawny, street-level hustler scraping up crumbs. Now, he was a player, his operation sprawling across territories that had once belonged to Reggie and his men. Reggie scowled as he swirled a drink in his glass, his face hardening at the mention of the name. The men around him exchanged glances, as if waiting for him to say what was on all their minds.
"Y'all know," Reggie said, voice low and cold, "I talked to Tyrone about this." He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he let the silence build. "Man told me he doesn't care about no beef in Detroit. Said he's got product that needs fast movement. Fast profit. That's all he's seeing right now." He paused, looking each of his men in the eyes, letting the disappointment simmer. "So, he don't care if Snake grows or bleeds us out. All that matters to him is numbers, bottom line."
His words hung in the air, igniting a mix of anger and frustration among his crew. They'd been loyal to Tyrone, bled for his empire, and now they were being hung out to dry over a petty hustler. One of the men, a thick-built guy named Marcus, spat on the ground in disgust. "So we're just supposed to sit back while Snake takes our corners, muscles in on our people?"
Reggie's jaw clenched as he looked down at his hands, his mind racing through the options. This wasn't just about territory or dollars; it was about pride, about the years of loyalty and respect they'd built on these streets. But Tyrone's words weighed heavy, and Reggie knew he had to tread carefully. He wasn't blind to the power structure—Tyrone had been the one to elevate him, to give him his shot at the top. And yet… loyalty had to go both ways, or it was worth nothing at all.
"Snake's just a pawn," Reggie muttered, his voice tense. "He's a nobody—don't even know the game he's playin' right now. Tyrone's lettin' him run wild, pushin' product like he's big time, but the second he messes up, he's done. Tyrone'll drop him without a second thought."
Marcus shook his head, eyes dark with frustration. "I hear you, Reg. But while we're waitin' for Snake to fall on his own sword, he's takin' what's ours. Territory, respect. Folks are already startin' to see him as more than he is. They see him in our places, our people runnin' his work. How long till they start thinkin' he's the one in charge?"
Reggie gritted his teeth, knowing there was truth in every word. Allowing Snake to rise unchecked was a dangerous game, and Tyrone was playing it with Detroit as the board. But Tyrone was on a different level now, his ambitions stretching far beyond these streets. Detroit was just one piece in the puzzle he was building, and Reggie was starting to realize that loyalty to Tyrone might mean sacrificing what he'd built.
But Reggie wasn't ready to watch everything he'd fought for crumble, especially not at the hands of a hustler like Snake.
"We're not about to let Snake own these streets," Reggie finally said, his voice taking on a harder edge. "But we're not gonna take him head-on. Not yet." He leaned forward, the dim light casting shadows across his face. "Snake thinks he's untouchable because he's got Tyrone's blessing, but everyone has a weakness, and if there's one thing I know about Snake, it's that he's greedy as hell."
The men nodded, a dark excitement sparking in their eyes. They knew what Reggie was hinting at. Snake's greed was as predictable as clockwork, and if he could be made to reach just a little too far, his fall would be inevitable—and it wouldn't trace back to them.
"Tonight, we get smart," Reggie said, the plan already forming in his mind. "We'll spread word on the streets, hype up a deal so big even Snake can't resist. Something too good to pass up. And when he bites…" Reggie's lips curled into a smirk, the kind of smile that promised pain. "We'll be there to show him he's out of his depth."
The crew leaned back, grinning and nodding as they absorbed the plan. This wasn't a direct hit, but it was a trap. One that would make Snake's own greed his downfall. Reggie's gaze hardened, and for the first time that night, a sense of satisfaction filled him.
"Snake thinks he's got Tyrone's protection, but he's wrong," Reggie continued, looking each of his men in the eyes, his voice lowering to a dark whisper. "This is still our city, and I'm not gonna let some punk walk all over us." He paused, letting the words sink in. "So we play this smart. We stay low, let Snake dig his own grave. And when he does… we'll be the ones to throw the dirt."
The men nodded, eager for what lay ahead. In the gritty underworld of Detroit, power could shift in an instant, and loyalty was a fragile thing. Reggie was going to make sure that by the time Tyrone came back, Snake would be nothing more than a memory—and Detroit would be his again.
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A/N: Sorry for the late update, just been gathering my thoughts these past weeks and trying ways to earn an income. But I'm back with another banger Chapter, so enjoy