Smokey entered the store and immediately noticed someone who didn’t belong. His eyes sharpened as he recognized the person standing there, someone tied to the Eastpoint Locos. Confusion and irritation coursed through him, wondering why they were on his turf. He was well aware that people like them didn’t belong in his neighborhood.

Smokey, accustomed to handling trouble, sized up the situation. He knew troublemakers like the stranger had no right being in this part of town. His frustration was evident, and he wasn’t about to let it slide without making a point.

He strode over to the stranger, his hands stuffed in his pockets. The cigarette dangled lazily from his lips, adding to his cool demeanor. He glared at the stranger, a sneer forming on his face, a silent warning flashing in his eyes. He wasn’t one to back down.