Jackson was only a young teenager, 16 years old, growing up on the streets of an area called Melbridge. Life was rough; the only way to get any dough was to cash in at the back of the local farmer's market with the drug dealers and dope fiends.
Jackson as you may be wondering is a 5"11 fit white male growing up in an all black ghetto neighbourhood. The locals call these the Scuffs.
Although this was a scuff, Jackson grew up with his buddy Fretza, or at least that's what he goes by, being that his parents were murdered when he was only 3 and was raised in an orphanage without a rememberence of his birth certificate. Techinically he's an illegal alien living in the scuffs of Melbridge. Fretza was 15 years old, 6"1 and a trigger happy maniac, or at least how the gangs described him. Fretza actually was a very intelligent man who recieved an education from one of his neighbourhood friends Milo. Milo lives in an apartment on a street called Brover's Place. 213 to be exact. He sits on the steps every day from 6am to 7pm to teach the "scufflings" about book and street smarts.
Jackson and Fretza were both street scholars from this man. They were recieving high school education from a fat old italian fuck living in a raggity-ass apartment. But hey, who's to say it's better than being like the rest of Melbridge's sewer junkies?
One day Jackson and Fretza were casually walking the streets. It was 9am, and the haze of the sun peaked over the clouds that hovered over the ocean. The sidewalks and street sandwiched the weeds that barnished and struggled for escape. The rusty bench that faces the waters was where they would always chill, but on this particular day, there were 3 guys sitting in it and one guy standing next, all wearing green, which could only mean one thing, these guys were apart of the notorious Melbridge gang the Sweeperz. The Sweeperz were a widespread orginization of drug dealers, drug addicts, murderers, robbers, rapists, and hitmen. They spread throughout Milbridge like dropping water onto a piece of paper.
Now see, Jackson and Fretza didn't appreciate gang members taking their spot, so Fretza did what he thought could solve the problem, he pulled out his weapon, a 45. ACP Taurus handgun he bought of some fiend for an ounce of crack. He screamed out
"Ya'll sweeperz best fuckin sweep ya ass out of my territory BITCH"
one of the sweeperz turned around. He was black, arms tatted with dragons and crosses. He wore a black shirt, but with green outlines on the shoulders, where they were cut. He had baggy black basketball shorts and a short trim haircut. He wore old white adidas sneakers and a green bandana that read "Rey'O" He spoke,
"These crackas think they gon' move us? Ha! fuckin funny shit dog, crack these bustas!"
The other 3 gang members turned and pulled out handguns of their own and fired.
"Shit, fucking duck bro!" Fretza hollered alarmed to jackson
"Damn son I know I know, here check this!" Jackson thought of an idea. While Fretza blindfired at the gangbangers, Jackson was making a phone call with his old BoostMobile flip phone
"My dude, the fuck is you doin?" Fretza asked
"You'll see, trust me"
After another 3 minutes of gunfire an ice cream truck could be heard. The sweeperz looked toward the sound of the truck. They prepared their weapons, but to no avail, the truck had made a sharp left and bolted straight into the 3 armed men. The so called "Rey'O" tried running. Fretza shot him in the back whilst staring at the man exiting the truck.
The man wore a Black leather jacket that read "Sentinels" and had perfect denim jeans, clean cut hair, Nike shoes, and black shades. He spoke
"Hey, I helped you, now you help us."
