Liam Carter wiped sweat from his brow, the ammonia fumes from his mop bucket biting his lungs like a feral cat. The community center's bathroom walls were smeared with graffiti—a neon-green serpent, the symbol of the Iron Fist Gang. His younger sister Mia's asthma inhaler rattled in his pocket, empty again.
**Derek Holt** leaned against the doorway, his tailored suit clashing with the grimy tiles. "Still playing janitor, Carter? Should've stayed in the gutter with your junkie parents."
Liam's grip tightened on the mop handle. "Get out."
Derek smirked, kicking the bucket. Water sloshed over Liam's worn boots. "Oops. Guess you'll mop harder."
Liam's fist twitched. *Not worth it. Not worth Mia.*
Later, in the alley, he rummaged through the dumpster. A tattered journal fell at his feet—**Old Joe's journal**. A page fluttered open:
***"Day 1: If you can't breathe, breathe deeper. If you can't fight, fight dirtier."***
**Cliffhanger**:
*"Liam!"* Mia's voice crackled over his burner phone. *"They're at the door again!"*