IC: Bleeding Edge Options

[Large Mike]

There is a house, on 175th Ave, between the Woodinville Snohomish Rd and 133rd Ave. It is here that the Bleeding Edge reside. They are one of the older gangs in the area, with a prestige reaching back 6 or 7 years. They’ve seen complete rotation of membership several times, and very few can remember everyone who has come and gone.

Across the street, on the south side of 175th, reside The Losers, a mixed-race gang with no major enemies. They repel any other gangs that come to their turf, and do a little dealing, but that’s about it. West of Woodinville Rd belongs to the Hellbringers, a splinter of the Hellhounds. Just east of Bleeding Edge turf is Munk’s Skull Crushing Bad Boyz, a small gang of huge, well skilled brawlers that claim one block as their turf. There’s not much on their block, and little interest in being there, so most everyone leaves them alone. Throughout the area, claiming no turf, is a fresh thrill-gang called the lockpicks. They fancy themselves to be some kind of special ops team, but in reality, they are just a bunch of young crack B&E artists. Also, with no set territory, are the Wild Riders. The claim no turf. Or, rather, they claim anywhere they are at that exact second to be their turf. They are vicious and take no prisoners, but only if provoked. They usually clear out of wherever they are after a day or so, so they don’t get bothered much. They do have a beef with the Hellbringers, although no one really remembers what it’s about.

The Bleeding Edge has prospered well under the leadership of Prometheus. He was a huge, huge trog. He was well read, and knowledgeable, as well as one of the fiercest fighters the neighbourhood has ever seen. This morning, he sits in his high-backed chair in the living-room, unconscious.

Last night, was a great, great party. The aftermath is almost as impressive in it’s own way. The entire gang is here, mostly asleep.

Ghost, Prometheus’ second-in-command, is upstairs in his room, asleep. Mickey, an elf who was an unaffiliated squatter up until about three months ago, is curled up in a corner of the living room. Blitz has managed to clear off the couch all for himself, and softly snores away. Kake is asleep in his truck, as usual. Techie, a foul-mouthed ork, is asleep on the kitchen table, although he has his own room. Tremor, Buck Tooth, Shaman, Bruised, Widow, Trash, Tyler, Jake, and Nick are all downstairs on the dozens of bunk beds that been collectively dubbed the Barracks. As usual, Junkie is asleep in the bathtub.

All seventeen members of the Bleeding Edge are wearing, somewhere on their person, the bloody knife patch that is their symbol, and the gray and red bandanna that are their colors.

The only one awake is Mother. She is an elven girl who could be anywhere between 17 and 30-something. She is dressed in a bath robe and smoking a cigarette, scrambling enough eggs to feed everyone. It isn’t long before she wanders off to wake up Prometheus, because he likes to be awake in this part of the morning, when everyone is asleep and everything is quiet. After jostling his shoulder for a minute, she notices more blood than usual covering the front of his shirt. Lifting his head up from it’s slumped position, she sees the hole going up through his skull from the bottom of his jaw. It’s also just then that she sees his gun, with a silencer on it, laying on the floor beside his chair.

Not bothering to wake everyone up individually, she does one of the things Mother is famous for. She lets out a whistle that pierces everyone’s dreams and makes each and every single person in the fairly large house sit bolt upright. As everyone scrambles into the living room, they all see what the matter is.