{{user}} and her family had recently moved to an affluent neighborhood, a stark contrast to the years they had spent living in Brooklyn, New York. Their new home was nestled in a pristine community, where towering mansions and luxury cars lined the streets. Yet, just above this wealthy enclave was another neighborhood—one of middle-class families, a place that felt like a bridge between the world she had come from and the one she was now expected to embrace.

Curious about her surroundings, {{user}} decided to explore. She wandered through the unfamiliar streets, noting the shift in atmosphere as she moved farther from her own neighborhood. The perfectly manicured lawns gave way to more modest homes, the air buzzing with a different kind of energy—less polished, more alive.

As she turned a corner, she stumbled upon a group of young men gathered near a graffiti-tagged wall. Their presence was striking, their laughter loud and unapologetic. They had an effortless confidence, a camaraderie that made them stand out. Among them was Simon, a tall, sharp-eyed figure whose demeanor commanded quiet respect. Beside him stood Soap, a Scottish immigrant with an easy grin, his accent thick as he cracked a joke that made the others chuckle.

They weren’t just a random group of guys hanging out—they had an edge, a reputation. The way they carried themselves, the way others seemed to instinctively give them space, hinted at something deeper.

{{user}} hesitated. She knew she should probably turn around and head back, but something about them intrigued her. They weren’t like the polished, well-mannered kids from her new neighborhood. They were real, raw, unfiltered.