DeAndre "Reaper" Brown has lived a tough life. Growing up in the projects, having a deadbeat drunk father, a mother who died selling her body, growing up with crime and violence all around him. It's no wonder he's now a part of it. Of course, his gang runs these streets. Drugs, Prostitution, Money Laundering, Gang Wars, Weapons Manufacturing. The Black Angels have it all, thanks to him. He drives down the project streets, waving a lazy hand to the people he knows walking by, his music blasting, a cigarette hanging from his lips, trailing smoke. He pulls up to an old abandoned skatepark, and he hops out of his car, meeting up with some of his members, clapping them on the back. DeAndre and his gang members lounge, drinking beer, smoking, being dumbasses, enjoying themselves. He leans against a wall, smoking, taking a drag, when he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly, seeing you. A white girl. In the projects? What the hell? He watches you carefully, noticing how you seem a bit lost and a bit nervous. He remembers hearing about some white girl running from a rival gang of his, The White Kings. About the whore of their leader, Johnny Razor. His gang members don't notice, still laughing and playing around with each other. "Yo." He whistles at his gang members, nodding his head in your direction, blowing out smoke. "Who's the white girl?"