From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 124

Chapter 124: Meeting The Boss

When Max stepped out of the car and into the hangar base, something immediately caught him off guard, the sheer number of people. _{fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm}

It wasn’t just the ten or so guys from the van.

There were way more.

Outside, some were lifting crates, hauling gear, or sparring in the dirt like it was routine. A couple of them were just goofing off, drifting cars in wide, loud circles, tires screeching against the cracked concrete.

In total, Max counted at least fifty members, maybe more. That was a lot. Sure, it matched the number of delinquents he’d fought back in school, but for a street gang? This was a whole different level.

Compared to a group like the Pit, these guys are stacked, Max thought. Bigger numbers usually mean more power. And this isn’t just a gang... this is something else.

The whole vibe... it feels like they’re one step away from being classified as a full-blown organized crime group. But if they’re still under someone else’s command, then whoever’s above them must be massive.

He followed Dud through the open hangar doors.

Inside, rows of long tables had been set up. Packages were being sorted, taped, labeled, loaded. Guys moved in and out with practiced efficiency. It looked less like a gang hideout and more like a small-scale shipping operation.

So this is it, Max thought. According to Dipter, this is where they got their packages. Dud’s crew handles the intake, and Dipter’s old crew handled distribution. That’d explain why they’re so large, they’re not just a gang. They’re a subdivision. A part of something even bigger.

And I can’t forget... somehow that idiot Chad managed to misplace one billion. A full billion, gone. That money’s being filtered down through all the connected groups. Since Dud’s crew is on the lower end of the ladder, they’ve probably only seen scraps of it... but even scraps from a billion could change everything.

As Max and Dud walked past the rows of tables, Max spotted a longer one set up at the very back of the hangar. Seated at the center was a man who stood out instantly, not just because of where he sat, but because of how he looked.

He wore a sharp waistcoat and a tall black top hat, like he’d stepped out of another era. Everything about him screamed style and control. At his side stood another man, marked with the same insignia Dud wore.

If they’re running this place by rank, Max thought, then those two must be equals.

As they approached, the man in the top hat pressed his hands together with a warm, calculated smile.

Dud gestured for Max to sit in the open chair. Max slid into it without a word.

"I’ve been meaning to meet you for some time now," the man said smoothly. "The one who took down Dipter."

His name was Chrono.

"I watched Dipter for a while. He was impressive, a strong student with vision. You could tell early on he wasn’t built to follow. He was meant to lead. A bit like myself."

Chrono leaned forward slightly, his voice calm, but confident.

"That’s why I offered him the chance to cut ties with his former crew. To work directly with us, but still lead his own group. It was meant to be a partnership, mutual benefit."

Max nodded politely, but inside, he wasn’t buying it. Sure, he thought, that’s how it might’ve looked on the surface. But anyone who knew the game understood what it really was.

This wasn’t about partnerships. It was about control.

The Rejected Corps needed a street-level crew they could keep under their thumb. It was the fastest way to grow, use another gang as a puppet, and leverage that size to gain recognition from bigger syndicates. It was all about leveling up.

In the underground world, names and rankings mattered more than most people realized. Street gangs, recognized groups, organized crime groups and syndicates, they were like different species in the same food chain. And the only way to climb the ladder was by winning battles. Making noise. Crushing someone in the tier above you.

That’s why newer gangs constantly started fights with the bigger players. That’s how they earned a name. And it’s why syndicates liked having smaller crews tied to them, it gave them extra reach, extra muscle, and fewer risks, and less fighting of their own.

"But then you all had some kind of high school drama, whatever. I don’t care. Dipter’s out of the picture. So now I’ve got a new proposal: I want you to take his place."

Max raised an eyebrow. "You want me, a high schooler, to join a gang? To do what, exactly? And how do you know you can even trust me?"

"But here’s the truth: most of us in this life didn’t choose it. We’re not here because of some dream. We’re here because we don’t fit anywhere else. Guys like us, we speak with our fists. We solve problems by breaking things. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for... respectable careers."

"You’ve got three roads in front of you: prison, the hospital, or this. And don’t get me wrong, even as a gangster, you’ll still hit the first two eventually. There’s no glamor here. It’s not a movie. But if you’re going down one of those paths no matter what... why not go down it rich? Why not take what you want while you’re still standing, and maybe even rise to the top?"

Chrono was smooth. The kind of guy who knew exactly how to talk to a delinquent. How to sell power, freedom, and purpose to someone who felt like the world had already counted them out.