The first week was like my first day of high school. People who had been there for ages would stare at me like I was a disease. Most of these people wouldn't even talk to me. The only one I could really speak to about anything was the cousin, who's name was Ambrosi. We actually became good friends over the months that followed my recruitment. Though, time and again, I recall how distrusting he was the first day.
On the day of my recruitment, I was simply let inside the compound, and given a tour by Ambrosi. We would walk by rows and rows of residential rooms, entire floors devoted to the members of the gang. On the first floor, it was mainly the armory, training center, firing range, and other strange military related stuff. I was surprised by this actually, as I thought this gang was just a way for young men to get together and just hang out. But the actual feel of the gang wasn't that of relaxation, but of war.
These people hated the government. Everyone had varying political opinions, but they were all rooted in hatred for the law, the senators, the mayors, the generals, even the presidents! It was a strange concept, that such a display of treason and betrayal toward our country was safely tucked inside this compound. I could tell that they were planning for something big, but what it would actually be was just rumors floating by my ear as I passed the scarred thugs of this gang.
Back to the tour, we had passed a check-in point near the entrance that insures only certified gang members could enter the main building. We walked in after a few security questions, and we jogged past the armory, past the firing range, and into the spiraling stairwell that began in the exact center of the first floor, and went up all the way to the top of the massive tower. We started our climb, which felt much more difficult than climbing any ordinary stairs.
The stairs, and the tower in general had a strange, overgrown feel to it. It was rather dirty, and vines, plants, and weeds grew out of almost every crevice on every floor. I didn't mind. I certainly didn't expect it to be clean.
On the second floor there were several offices for the gang members who actually kept track of the gang's finances. Some of the people in these offices actually worked on buying and selling weapons from a shipping company that originated in Europe, as I learned a few weeks later.
Third floor. Residential. Fourth floor. Residential. Fifth, sixth, seventh, and eighth; all residential. They had so much room for recruits. I was simply shocked. Not even half of these rooms were occupied, which made me think about how big this gang used to be. What caused them to have so little recruits? And then I started to notice the holes in the walls, the ash surrounding a collapsed wall, and the bullet holes embedded in the balconies.
TheDreadPyrateRoberts Community Member 
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