By Geth 2 Comments
CJ Knight was a 24-year old African-American man, and quite the imposing figure. Standing at 6'3 and weighing in at 230 lbs. out of gear, he could easily overpower any one of his men through physical might alone, not to mention his skill in hand-to-hand combat. He kept his hair to a buzzcut, only allowing minimal facial hair to grow. When out of his gear, he often wore only an undershirt and jeans, keeping clothing to a minimum as well.
The neighborhood he watched over as the windowless van rolled slowly towards him was the same one he'd grown up in, and it was not a good one. He'd been brought into a gang at a young age by his older brother, he'd killed a man at the age of 13 to prove himself. However, he wanted a better future for himself that he knew his family couldn't afford and that he could not achieve academically, so he put his physical prowess to use and joined the United States Marine Corps. However, his loyalties still lied with his brother and their gang, so he spent any time he could back home, increasing their influence across California. Eventually, he murdered his brother for his position as leader of the gang for a lack of coordination. Renaming his gang the Rampage, he began work on training the men under his command to be the best they could be.
Every high-ranking member of the Rampage has been trained extensively by Knight himself in the combat disciplines taught to him by the Marines, and any members under those have been trained by their respective leaders. Knight struck a deal with an old quartermaster to supply the Rampage with military-grade equipment in return for massive amounts of cocaine. In the short 5 years that the Rampage had existed, they had essentially overtaken Las Angeles' gangland, becoming the ruling force in the city. As trained, organized, and well-equipped as the police, the Rampage boast superior numbers as well as lacking the burden of dealing with meta-crime, pushing their control of the area above even that of Law Enforcement. Now, Las Angeles answered to them. Attempting to kill CJ Knight was on par with an attempt to kill the Governor or Chief of Police.
Yet someone as attempting to right now. CJ watched from the top-floor window of his textile factory-turned office, quietly smoking a cigarette as the van parked in front of him. This neighborhood had the highest concentration of Rampage anywhere in Las Angeles. These men had driven straight into the belly of the beast. There was only one way in, and one way out. From the moment they left that van, they'd be surrounded. Knight admired their courage, but pitied their inevitable and bloody deaths at the hands of the Rampage. These thoughts, however, were interrupted as a group of Rampage approached his office, openly carrying their pistols. "Sir, there's a shady looking van out there. I think they're here to-" Knight cut him off with a wave of his hand, turning and putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk. "Wait on the lower level. Return fire only." The two bodyguards assigned to Knight's office looked silently to him for approval, but remained in their positions after a slow shake of the head from Knight. They drew their weapons and kept their eyes trained on the office door as Knight closed the blinds on the windows and rested an Uzi in his lap.
Any second now.