Little Layer's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

They buried Big L on a Tuesday, and by Wednesday Little Layer had no army left to avenge him. Three nights ago a rival crew caught Big L in an ambush and put six bullets in him. Layer had been his right-hand man, the one who counted the money and ran the corners. Now he stood alone in Big L's big house, staring at an empty phone. The hundred soldiers Big L built were gone. Nobody answered. Nobody wanted a war for a dead man. Layer drove to the corner store where the crew used to gather. The lights were dark. The awning hung torn. A single kid sat on the curb out front, not one of theirs. Layer showed him a photo of Big L. The kid shrugged and pointed down the block, then walked off. The crew hadn't just scattered. They'd chosen new bosses already. One name stuck in Layer's head. Robbing Rob. Rob had delivered those hundred soldiers to Big L in the first place. If anyone could pull them back, it was him. But Rob answered to money, not loyalty. Everyone on the block knew that. Layer found him at the store an hour later, filling a trash bag with bottles from the cooler like he owned the place. Rob was huge, bald, tattoos crawling down both arms, a knife handle poking from his belt. He didn't look up. "You're the money kid," Rob said. "Big L's shadow. Word is you got nobody now." "I got what Big L left behind," Layer said. His voice held steady. "Cash. Enough to pay every man who ran." Rob turned. His eyes moved over Layer, weighing him like a crate of fish. "Those men don't follow a shadow. They followed L because he won. You want them back, you buy them back. Upfront. Same as always." "And you'll bring them?" Rob smiled, cold and slow. "For a cut of the block, I'll bring anybody." Layer's chest went tight. He knew the deal. Rob had switched sides before. He'd switch again the second a better offer came. Handing Rob a cut meant handing him a leash around Layer's own neck. But standing here with no muscle, no crew, and a dead boss to answer for, Layer had no other card. "Half of L's stash tonight," Layer said. "The men muster by morning. You keep your cut only while they hold." Rob spat on the floor and stuck out a scarred hand. "Deal, money kid." Layer shook it. The grip swallowed his whole hand. By dawn, forty men stood in the yard behind Big L's house. Not a hundred. Not close. But it was steel, and it was Layer's now. Rob leaned on the porch rail, counting the crew and counting Layer both. Layer had his muscle back. He'd also just built the man who could take it all away.