Earth
In a one bedroom apartment in Chicago the sun beamed through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a soft golden glow.inside the apartment you can see a naked man laying on top of his covers with a fan directly in his direction, slowly opening his eyes he was immediately greeted by the sun shining directly on his face.
Twisting his body with his back facing the window he grabbed his phone and checked the time."it's already 3 I might as well get up now" Before he could put down his phone, it started buzzing in his hand. The caller ID read Twin.
"Did you sense that I woke up? You called right when I grabbed my phone."
"Jordan, you wake up at the same time damn near every day. But anyway, I need some za—just a 3.5." Twin's voice came out the phone loud and easy, like he was calling about lunch.
Jordan let out a short laugh, rubbin his eyes. "Yea I gotchu send me yo location and I'm on my way."
"Bet."
With the call ended, Jordan stood up and walked to his dresser, pulling open the top drawer. He grabbed a clean shirt, sweats, and a pair of socks, stacking them under his arm as he headed for the bathroom. The cool tile met his feet, and he twisted the shower knob until the water ran hot, steam rising to cloud the mirror.
Thirty minutes later
The door swung open, letting a wave of warm, damp air spill into the hallway. Jordan stepped out, dressed and fresh, his hair still wet enough to darken the edges of his collar. Phone in hand, he checked Twin's location and slid on his sneakers.
Jordan grabbed his keys off the counter, letting them spin around his finger as he stepped outside. The afternoon sun bounced off the deep black paint of his Scatpack Charger parked in the middle of the driveway. Sliding into the driver's seat, he fired up the engine, the low rumble vibrating through the air.
He pulled out onto the street, music thumping lightly from the speakers as he headed toward Twin's location. About halfway there, the glowing sign of a gas station caught his eye. He eased into the lot, parked by the pump, and hopped out.
Walking into the store, Jordan noticed a Black man behind the counter.
"Waddup," Jordan said as he kept moving further inside, heading straight for the chip aisle. After scanning the shelves and not seeing anything he wanted, he turned back toward the front to pay for gas.
Just as he reached the counter, the bell above the door chimed and two men walked in. Both glanced at Jordan, and he caught their eyes for a quick moment.
"Aye, that's you in the Charger out there?" one of them asked with a grin.
Yeah," Jordan replied, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"She look real good—must feel crazy to drive something like that all the time."
"Most definitely. I never get tired of driving her," Jordan replied to the taller man, though his eyes stayed locked on the shorter one. The way the guy was staring at him felt like an attempt at intimidation, but it fell flat.
"Y'all be safe," Jordan added, his tone calm but final.
The two men nodded, one with a smile and the other still watching him as they moved deeper into the store. Jordan pushed the door open, stepping back into the warm sunlight. He slid the gas nozzle into the tank, the faint click of the pump filling the quiet while his mind stayed alert, replaying that stare.
As Jordan waited for the tank to fill, the familiar ding of the store's bell cut through the quiet. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the two men from before stepping out, now walking in his direction.
His eyes locked with theirs, and theirs with his. Jordan took in the taller man first—hoodie now pulled up over his head, a change from how it had been inside, hanging loose around his shoulders. The guy stood maybe 6'4, matching Jordan's own height, his long stride carrying him with an easy confidence.
Jordan looked toward the smaller one of the two—maybe 5'10, hoodie still up just like in the store. His eyes were lower now, sharper, carrying that same hungry look Jordan had seen plenty of times before. He knew exactly what it meant. Most people might've tensed up or looked away, but for Jordan, it was different. That look didn't rattle him—it sparked something.
A slow grin crept onto his face. , he thought, almost amused. The pump clicked, signaling the tank was full, but Jordan didn't rush. If anything, he welcomed the idea of what might come next.
Just as the pump clicked, the two men reached him at the same time. About time, he thought, blatantly running his eyes up and down each of them, checking for the telltale shape of a gun. Seeing nothing made his shoulders loosen slightly, the tension easing just a bit.
Unknown to the two men in front of him, even if they had known, it would've been too late. Jordan loved to fight—and he was good at it. Boxing, karate, MMA, kickboxing—he'd dipped his hands and feet into all of it. He wasn't the best, not by a long shot, but to someone who'd never trained a day in their life, he might as well have been Mike Tyson.
Jordan shifted his stance, turning fully to face them, eyes sweeping over the two again. The taller one broke the silence first.
"How much for the car? It's my brother Dylan's birthday"—he jerked his thumb toward the shorter one—"and I wanna get him a car."
That's when it clicked. They weren't trying to buy it—they wanted to take it.
Jordan wasn't the type to get sentimental about things, but this wasn't just a car. He'd had her since he was sixteen. Now twentie, he'd spent two years with scraped knuckles and late nights in cold garages, fixing every problem she threw at him—engine failures, flat tires, brakes that decided to quit at the worst times. Every repair came from his own pocket, every hour of labor after long shifts at a job that barely paid enough to make it worth showing up.
"I'm not selling my car—no matter what price you try to offer," Jordan said, locking eyes with Dylan.
Dylan's lip curled into a sneer. "Told you, DJ… now can we do this my way?" He glanced at his older brother, his mouth twisting into a smirk.
That smirk was all Jordan needed to see. Whatever DJ was about to say got cut short when Jordan's right hook cracked across his jaw, the blow sending him stumbling sideways.
DJ caught himself against the side of the pump, shaking his head like he was trying to reset his senses. Jordan didn't give him the chance. He stepped in quick, closing the gap with a sharp left jab that snapped DJ's head back, followed by a low kick to his thigh that made him stagger again.
Dj swung wild in retaliation, but Jordan slipped it easily, the punch cutting through empty air. He countered with a clean body shot that made DJ grunt, his guard dropping just enough for Jordan to drive another right hand into his cheek.
The sound of the hit cracked through the air, drawing the attention of a couple people at the pumps. Jordan didn't care—his focus was locked on DJ, and DJ alone.
Off to the side, Dylan saw his brother getting worked over and tensed, ready to jump in—until his eyes flicked to the Charger.
In an instant, he rushed toward it, reaching for the door handle. But before his fingers could close around the metal, an arm snaked around his head from behind, locking him in place.
"Are y'all stupid? Next time you try to steal a car, don't make it so obvious… or at least swing first," Jordan said, calm but firm. Flexing his muscles, he tightened his arm around Dylan's head until the man's body went limp in his grip. Letting go, he let him drop to the ground.
Jordan exhaled slowly, then grabbed Dylan by the collar, dragging him across the pavement. DJ, still groaning from the beating, got the same treatment as Jordan hauled both brothers and dropped them in front of the store.
He turned back toward his Charger, but before he could reach it, the familiar ding of the store's bell rang out—followed by a sharp BANG.
Jordan's head snapped toward the sound. The man from behind the counter was standing in the doorway, arm extended, a pistol aimed his way.
For a split second, Jordan didn't feel it. Then his eyes dropped to his shirt—already blooming red.
For a split second, Jordan didn't feel it. Then his eyes dropped to his shirt—already blooming red.
Before the pain could even register, another deafening BANG split the air. His head snapped back violently, the world tilting sideways in an instant. Sound faded first, replaced by a deep, hollow ringing. His vision tunneled, colors draining into black at the edges until there was nothing left but the taste of metal in his mouth and the sudden, crushing silence.
Darkness swallowed him whole