[i]Buzz buzz[/i] Atter looked down at his phone and scanned the message. He frowned. They were coming at least. He only hoped it would be enough time. He poked his head out of the stair well door and glanced down the hall. Music still blasting and no one in the hall. With their music this loud and no door man it meant one of two things, or both. One: These bangers had a deal with the manager of the building, and, this was a distribution hub. If it was a distribution hub the two apartments next to the middle of the floor home would be empty. No need to keep involved people around. Say what you will about gang members but they did like to have space between themselves and those who might pry into their business. Less chance for civilian casualties for those who wanted to shoot the place. American gangsters anyway, they had a sense of community. That sense of community normally did not extend to the block past their own, or, to anyone with a different ethnic background but at least there was something. Two: These dicks had Rosa inside and needed their door man to head in for [i]fun[/i]. That, or, they sent him off or in because they had moved Rosa from the apartment and taken her to some kind of central den. Gangsters were like insects. They liked to have a central colony and then have little hubs outside of the colony for resource gathering. The 'worker' bangers were mostly young guys with nothing going for them due to shitty environments and need comradery and turn to the gang. They function as look outs, distributors, and sometimes fall guys. The 'soldier' bangers were the older smart guys. They had been on the street for a while, probably with done time, and would only step in if things got serious. They usually served as the heads of smaller sub-gangs for resource gathering. The banger 'queen', or king in reality due to gangs' affinity for the fixation of manliness, was whatever 'soldier' banger managed to fuck over enough people to get his hands on the direct line of supply. There was a kind of banger emperor too, some dick in prison making phone calls, but, that was irrelevant. 

Black punched his text in quickly, '6th Fl. apt# 6. No door guard. Likely empty neighbors. .38's most likely round to encounter. Holding.' Atter walked across the hall and leaned against the wall that the door in question was set into. If someone looked out the peep hole, even with the expanded vision angle the fish-eye lenses gave them he would be beyond their perception. Black busied himself with clearing his mind for the forthcoming violence. He listened intently to the sounds of the apartment. Everything was masked by the booming of their sound system. At least they had good taste. Atter found himself with his eyes half-lidded, almost meditative, drumming on his chest with the fingers of his left hand. The big and tough soldier boys from the lobby would likely be here soon enough and then they could formulate some kind of plan. The silver lining was with that music bumping the fucks inside could hear very little that would be going on in the hall. Things like rounds being chambered. He found himself mouthing along to the music from the room as he waited, tiny whispers escaping his lips, "So dope they wanna, fuck, so dope they wanna, suck, so dope they wanna, give it up really abrupt. So heroine, so coccain, so ketamine, so X..."