Ryan finally got back into his small apartment, barely conscious. The air inside of his room was warm and fresh—the faint hum of the old fan was the only sound filling the room.
He kicked his shoes off and tossed his backpack to the side as he jumped on top of his bed, face first.
For a moment, he just lay there as he blindly stared at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling. His body still ached, his muscles were completely sore, but his mind was full of thoughts.
'Make a Crew. Get five members to join it. Take down the West High Crew.'
He tucked his hands behind his head as he let out a deep sigh; he repeated his words as he muttered under his breath. "Five people..." voice low, staring blankly at the cracks on the ceiling. "I thought that my only goal was to just get fit and live a better lifestyle..."
A small chuckle left his mouth. "And now I'm supposed to fight the gangs and even lead my own crew. And take down the damn school!?"
