"The sky overhead was unusually overcast, blocking out the rays of the setting sun. The streets were quiet; it was far too early for the gangs to begin their crossfire with one another. The darkness of night was their only camoflauge, especially when the police arrived, and it was necessary to flee the scene of a murder. Many were crowded in the small alleys that seperated each apartment complex from eachother, getting high, dealing drugs, or just biding their time before it was time to go.
A small group of teenagers, only five of them, were sauntering down the street, as if they owned the place. The youngest looked to be 17, the oldest, 21. There was a girl among them, her hands shoved deep into her already bulging pockets. One held a wad of cash, the other, her M-5 pistol. She had a unique face; Asian features, with a little Latina thrown in for good measure. She got her Japanese blood from her father, and her Puerto Rican blood from her mother. Her entire frame was lean; this was from all the hard drugs that she forced into her body, supressing her appetite for days on end. Her jet black hair made it halfway down her back, silky smooth and straight. She was not ashamed of expressing herself, let alone showing off her body. Her dark grey tank top was tucked upward so that her belly button ring shone to all who cared to see it. She also donned her infamous low rider jeans, and black Enties skateboarding shoes. Earrings ran up the length of both ears, the gold glinting against the rays of the sun which managed to make their way through the overcast skies.
A tall young man stood beside her. He was a tall, Puerto Rican boy, at the tender age of nineteen. He had a black doo rag on his head, covered with a backwards black and white Yankees baseball cap. His clothes were baggy; an oversized white baseball shirt, baggy denim jeans and sneakers. He had traces of facial hair, neatly trimmed. His hands were haphazardly shoved into his pockets, his head low as he walked. He didn't dare make eye contact with her, let alone any of the men leaning against the crude brick walls of the projects.
"God." The girl finally said, breaking the awkward silence. "I hate going down this ******** road." She was referring to "Bloody Lane", a street who's nickname suited it well. Often times, this is where the gangs clashed, sending a deluge of blood into the storm drains. It had earned his name; often times the streets were littered with the bodies and cries of dead and dying men, their groans of agony echoing for miles. Other times, homeless men lined along the sidewalk, beat and battered as they begged for spare change.
"Nobody better start any s**t tonight. I ain't in the mood." She pressed her lips together, covered in a clear lip gloss. "Let's just get back to the apartment, before anyone sees us." She ran her fingers through her hair, shutting her eyes as a look of annoyance came to her face. "I don't know how you ******** convinced me to come down here, of all the streets in New York. You know you're just lookin' for a fight." Her grammar was course, almost crude as these words spilled violently from her lips. A high school dropout, she left class in the middle of her sophmore year and never came back. She wasn't like the stereotype of all gangsters though. She came from a nice, middle class family who lived in the suburbs of New York. It was her friends, however, that convinced her to leave her cozy, "boring" in her standards, life, and get involved in the crazy, hectic life of sex, drugs, and alcohol. "
Yes.
Those are how long my introductions usually are. I pack in every single detail.
I tend to use a lot of descriptive language, but I'm not sure if I used as much as I could have.
Comment/critique, please.
Also..sorry about the language. I swear a lot, especially in gang/urban roleplays.
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