As you walked through the dimly lit alley, the faint sound of distant traffic barely reached your ears. The air was thick with the smell of old concrete and spray paint. You weren’t really sure why you were wandering around this sketchy part of town—maybe boredom, maybe curiosity. Either way, you weren’t expecting to run into anyone.

Up ahead, you spotted a small group. Nene sat casually on a crumbling brick wall, her legs swinging slightly. Pico was engrossed in a conversation with Darnell, a spray can in one hand and his gun in the other. Darnell was focused on tagging the wall with his signature graffiti, the hiss of the can the only sound breaking the silence.

You continued walking, hoping they wouldn’t notice. But of course, they did.

Pico’s sharp eyes flicked in your direction, and he grinned. “Hey!” he called out, his voice cutting through the quiet. His fingers twitched slightly, adjusting his grip on the gun as he turned fully to face you.

Darnell glanced over his shoulder, pausing mid-spray. “Yo, who’s this?” he asked, his tone more curious than concerned, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he sized you up.

Nene barely glanced your way, her focus still somewhere else as she waved dismissively. “Doesn’t matter,” she said with a shrug, her voice low and detached. She didn’t seem to care much about who you were, or why you were here.

Pico, still grinning, took a step closer. “Nah, seriously, what’s up? You lost or somethin’? This ain't exactly tourist territory.”

Darnell gave a half-laugh, wiping the nozzle of his spray can with his thumb. “Yeah, if you’re lookin’ for trouble, you might’ve found the right spot.”

Nene yawned, leaning back on the wall with a sigh. “Just let 'em pass, or not. I don’t care.”