Luca was sitting in his class, diligently taking notes. If you someone from outside saw his face, they would never believe this is the guy who runs the school and is going to take on another gang tomorrow. Dante was outside talking to Elio and Rocco about the taking care of their own gang for their fight against Marco tomorrow.
All of three of them were outside Luca's class, as Dante was leaning of the corridor's window.
"We got 25 on our side, Marco's got 45 and Enzo has 30-35 on his. We have great odds." Rocco standing on Dante's side replied.
"We got half of Vince's old crew, bunch of sheep. " Elio sneered, with his usual temper.
"It doesn't matter, we need some numbers on our side as well. Marco is not permanent. When we win tomorrow, expect more to join us." Dante glancing outside at the football field.
"Man, but who would have thought? I still don't understand Luca. We all used to think he was just a nerd who knows a little boxing" Elio looked at Luca's focused face, writing down and looking at the teacher.
"Well, let's just say he's different. He's had his fair share of success in almost everything. At the end of the day, it is Valleria. Either you work at the company, or you run the streets," Dante finished, nodding knowingly.
Rocco crossed his arms. "And if we pull this off tomorrow, there's no going back. No one's gonna question who runs things."
Dante gave a satisfied nod. "Yeah. Marco's done. and it's like making history"
Elio let out a sharp breath. "Let's just hope Luca's as good as he thinks he is. We've only got one shot."
The three of them stood in silence for a moment, feeling the weight of what was to come. The bell rang for lunch and teacher moved out of the class. Luca went out to meet the three of them. Josh arrived at the front of the class as well.
Without skipping a beat, Luca started explaining tomorrow's plan. "I will act as the bait to draw out Marco. Josh can spread the word that, I am near Valleria High, in Rox street. Dante and I will be the only present here. We will lead them to an abandoned building. The rest, I think I don't need to explain. It's an ambush."
"Damn, feels like an intelligence op. Doesn't seem like the shit middle school students will do." Elio grinned following Luca's explanation.
"Well it's either that or we get our shit beaten by Marco" Josh replied.
"I know, I know. What about Enzo?" Elio asked to Luca.
"He has to come. His crew is getting picked on one by one. He can't take that. He thinks we are the best opportunity for him." Luca calmly responded. There was a moment of silence, where everybody soaked in the plan. The prep they had done was good. Now, it was all about execution.
"Tell the crew to get any weapon, they can before the fight if they need it. Alright then." Luca nodded and went off. The tensions were high but they needed to keep it together
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The next day, Luca and Dante went to Rox Street. It was a popular street, with food stalls and clothes shop. Valleria High was not too far from there. Luca and Dante strolled down Rox Street like it was any other day. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the street, with vendors yelling out deals and people bustling between shops.
Luca adjusted his hoodie, glancing around to make sure Josh had done his job. Dante, walking beside him, kept checking his phone nervously.
"You sure they'll show?" Dante muttered, scanning the crowd like a hawk.
"They'll show," Luca said without breaking stride. His voice was calm—too calm for someone about to lure a dangerous gang into an ambush. "Marco's boys won't pass up a chance to catch me alone."
"Yeah, but we're alone, aren't we?" Dante grumbled, stuffing his hands into his pocket.
Luca shot him a sideways glance, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Not for long."
The two of them slowed their pace as they reached the meeting point: an alley off the side of Rox Street, just outside the sightlines of the busy shops. Luca leaned against a lamppost, hands in his pockets, looking completely at ease. Dante, less relaxed, stood close by, bouncing on his heels.
A group of students approached from the distance—Marco's crew. Five of them at first, but more were trailing behind, spread out like a hunting pack. Luca counted them silently, his sharp black eyes picking out their faces.
"That's them," Luca muttered.
Dante stiffened. "That's more than we expected."
Luca shrugged. "Good. We'll draw out all of them." He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a quick message to Josh. "It's time."
Dante tilted his head toward the alley entrance. "What now?"
"We wait," Luca said coolly, slipping his phone away.
It was Marco. He came himself, eyeing Luca and Dante with malice. "Didn't think you'd show your face around here, Luca."
"Yeah?" Luca replied, as calm as ever. "Well, here I am."
Marco smirked. "Big mistake."
He gestured to the others, and they started circling in, slowly closing the distance. Luca could feel the tension, like the air was thick with static. Any second now...
"You're a long way from your little crew," one of them sneered.
Dante's jaw tightened, but Luca gave him a slight shake of his head—not yet.
Then, just as the first of Marco's crew lunged forward, Luca spun on his heel.
"Now," Luca whispered.
They bolted into the alley, just as planned. Marco's boys gave chase without hesitation, eager for the chance to crush them. But they didn't know what waited at the end of the alley.
As Luca and Dante sprinted toward the abandoned building ahead, the sound of footsteps behind them grew louder. Just a few more steps...
They slipped inside the building in moments. Marco's crew stormed in after them.
And then—Elio, Rocco, and the rest of Luca's gang emerged from the shadows like a pack of wolves. The trap was sprung.
"Surprise, motherfucker" Luca whispered, a cold smile spreading across his face.
Behind them, there were even more. Enzo arrived at that place with his crew and now Marco was completely surrounded by them. After that the chaos ensued, Marco was frustrated looking at smug Luca and Enzo furious walking towards them. "TAKE CARE OF THIS LITTLE SHITS FIRST." He decided to attack Luca first and then Enzo.
The chaos of the larger fight echoed in the background, but in a narrow space, it was just Dante and a hulking brute named Bruno. The man cracked his knuckles, a grin spreading across his scarred face.
"You should've ran away, kid."
Dante rolling his shoulders to loosen up. "Let's get this over with."
Bruno lunged first, a freight train of muscle barreling toward him. Dante slipped to the side, barely dodging the tackle, and landed a solid hook to Bruno's ribs. The big man grunted, but it was like hitting a brick wall. Before Dante could pull back, Bruno swung a hammer-like fist that caught him across the jaw, sending him staggering.
Dante shook it off, blinking away the stars from his vision. Bruno didn't wait—he grabbed Dante by the collar, slamming him against the cold alley wall.
"Not so tough now, huh?" Bruno sneered, raising a fist for another blow.
But Dante had been hit before—this wasn't new. He twisted just as Bruno's punch flew, making it glance off his shoulder. Dante followed up fast—a sharp elbow to Bruno's jaw, then a body shot with all his weight behind it.
The air rushed out of Bruno in a painful gasp, and he stumbled back, surprised by the power behind Dante's punch.
Now it was Dante's turn. He pressed forward with relentless hooks and uppercuts, each hit cracking off Bruno's ribs and jaw. But the brute didn't go down—he took the punishment and swung back, landing a heavy fist into Dante's side. Pain flared in his ribs, but Dante didn't back off.
"You're all muscle," Dante muttered, dodging another wide swing. "No technique."
Bruno growled, throwing wild punches, trying to overwhelm Dante through sheer force. But Dante kept his cool, bobbing and weaving just enough to avoid the worst of the hits. He stayed close, punishing Bruno's ribs with short, brutal jabs.
Bruno stumbled.
Dante saw his opening. He planted his feet, wound up, and delivered a crushing right hook to Bruno's jaw. The big man's knees wobbled, his eyes glazing over for a split second—just long enough.
Dante followed with an uppercut that snapped Bruno's head back. The enforcer crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath, struggling to stay conscious.
Dante stood over him, breathing hard but steady. "Stay down," he warned, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.
Bruno groaned but couldn't move. The fight was over.
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The dim light inside the abandoned building flickered as Elio locked eyes with Marco's strategist, Nara, who stood across from him in a narrow corner littered with broken crates and debris. Nara gave a smug grin, bouncing on his toes, light on his feet.
"Still angry, Elio?" Nara taunted, his voice cool and mocking. "That temper of yours will get you hurt."
Elio clenched his fists, veins bulging on his forearms. "Shut up and fight, you fucking snake."
Nara didn't rush. Instead, he weaved side to side, testing Elio with small movements. Then, without warning, he darted forward, landing a quick jab to Elio's ribs before slipping back out of range. Elio growled, wiping at his side.
"Too slow," Nara chuckled.
Enraged, Elio charged at him with wild force, swinging a heavy hook. The strategist ducked, danced to the side, and snapped a counter-punch into Elio's jaw. Elio stumbled, growling through gritted teeth.
"Come on, big ass bitch," Nara sneered. "You'll never catch me fighting like that."
Elio's nostrils flared, his fists trembling. His cheek stung from another fast jab, and he slipped away again, grinning.
"Cool off, Elio," he mocked, hopping back with ease. "Or I'll have you bleeding by the end of this."
Elio's breath came in angry bursts, but then—he stopped. Through the red haze of his temper, an idea clicked. Instead of rushing forward again, Elio shifted his stance and started circling, angling the strategist toward a cluttered corner of crates and metal scraps. Nara, too focused on landing more shots, didn't notice the narrowing space.
The moment Nara took a step too close—Elio lunged, driving him backward into the pile of crates. Wood splintered and Nara fell awkwardly, catching himself just before hitting the ground. But it was too late.
Elio was on him in a flash, gripping the front of his hoodie and smashing a knee into his ribs.
Nara tried to scramble free, but Elio's weight pinned him down. With his opponent trapped, Elio unleashed a savage flurry of punches—lefts and rights, each one landing with raw fury.
His hands shot up to block, but Elio's fists hammered through, rattling his guard until it gave way. One last vicious right hook cracked against Nara's temple, and his head slumped to the side.
Elio stood over him, chest heaving, his knuckles throbbing. For a moment, the rage flickered in his eyes, as if he might keep going—keep hitting until there was nothing left. But then he took a deep breath, wiped the blood from his lip, and stepped back.
"Not so smart now, are you?" Elio muttered, spitting to the side.
The strategist didn't answer—he was out cold.
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Rocco and Vito circled each other slowly, both calm, both waiting for the other to make the first mistake. Vito, Marco's second-in-command, moved with the ease of someone trained—fast and efficient, no wasted motion. Rocco stayed patient, his eyes sharp.
Vito struck first, snapping out a jab that caught Rocco on the chin. Rocco barely flinched, rolling with the punch and keeping his focus. Vito pressed forward, throwing quick jabs—one to the ribs, another aimed at Rocco's temple. Rocco blocked most of it but absorbed a few hits.
Vito smirked. "That all you got?" he muttered, circling again.
Rocco stayed silent, watching. He noticed the small pattern—Vito favored his right hand slightly, always shifting his weight before launching a heavy blow. When the next hook came, Rocco was ready. He slipped inside the arc of the punch, sweeping Vito's legs out with a sharp kick to his ankle.
Vito hit the ground with a loud thud, gasping as the air shot from his lungs. Before Vito could scramble up, Rocco was on him.
Rocco drove a precise punch into Vito's temple with brutal efficiency. Vito's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled, unconscious on the spot.
Rocco stood over him, chest rising and falling steadily, the fight already gone from his mind.
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The circle of onlookers tightened as Luca and Marco stood face-to-face. Tension hung heavy in the air. Marco cracked his knuckles, his smirk confident and dangerous. "You really think you can take me? you FUCKING KID.." he shouted.
Luca's gray eyes stayed cold. No emotion, no banter. Just focus.
Marco lunged first, fast and aggressive. His punches came in rapid bursts—jabs, hooks, which Luca was dodging and he attacked with his knee aimed at Luca's ribs. Luca swayed just enough to slip each strike. Marco kept pushing, trying to overwhelm him with sheer force, but Luca's footwork was flawless—calculated and efficient. He gave Marco nothing to grab onto.
Frustrated, Marco swung wide with a hook. Luca ducked under it and shot a sharp jab into Marco's ribs. The blow was quick but precise—enough to make Marco grunt and step back.
"That all you got?" Marco spat, wiping his mouth. His cockiness cracked slightly.
Luca didn't answer. He stepped forward, delivering two quick jabs to Marco's face. Marco's head snapped back, but before he could react, Luca pivoted and drove an elbow into his jaw.
Marco staggered, blinking hard, his confidence slipping into desperation. He roared and lunged, throwing a wild haymaker.
Luca moved fast—sidestepping with ease and slamming a hard punch into Marco's gut. As Marco doubled over, Luca didn't waste a second. He followed up with a clean uppercut to the chin.
Marco crumpled, hitting the ground hard.
The crowd was silent. Luca looked down at Marco, his expression unreadable.
And with that, Luca stepped back, standing tall as his crew gathered behind him.