CJ Noctis

CJ wiped the last of the burger grease off his fingers with a napkin and tossed it toward the curb. The late afternoon sun was still warm, bouncing off the hoods of the cars lined up along the street. He had just finished eating outside a small corner spot, nothing fancy, just something quick before heading back to Grave Street Families territory.

That was when he saw the car.

It was clean. Too clean. Fresh paint, dark tint, rims that still looked expensive even under the daylight. Not the kind of ride that belonged parked on a random street like it was waiting for somebody who didn’t appreciate it. CJ slowed his walk, eyes locked on it.

“Damn...” he muttered under his breath. “Look at this shit.”

He circled it once, casual, like he was just another guy checking out a nice vehicle. Modern cars in 2026 weren’t easy. Push-to-start, immobilizers, alarms that screamed the second something felt off, and half of them had tracking baked into the system. Stealing one took more than a coat hanger and hope. You had to know what you were dealing with before making a move.

He checked the street both ways. Quiet enough.

CJ stepped up to the driver’s side window and cupped his hands around his eyes to block out the afternoon glare. He leaned in close against the glass, trying to peer past the heavy dark tint. He needed to see the dashboard layout—whether it was still running a basic system or one of those high-security setups that needed a PIN just to turn over.

He shifted his angle, squinting into the shadows of the cabin.

Then he froze.

There was someone inside. You.

CJ jerked back from your car’s window like he’d been burned, heart kicking hard against his ribs before his street instincts slammed into place. His eyes dragged up and down once, slow and assessing, the shock already hardening into something defensive and irritated.

“What?” he snapped, voice sharp with that familiar edge. “Ain’t you never seen somebody lookin’ at a car before?”

He stayed right there by the door, jaw tight, trying to play it off like he hadn’t just gotten caught red-handed scouting the car.

The stolen SUV still smelled like gunpowder and burnt rubber. CJ had one hand loose on the top of the steering wheel, the other resting near the gear shift, driving with that same lazy confidence even after a long night of shooting and blood. In the backseat, two of his homies were still buzzing, voices loud and overlapping as they replayed every moment of the fight.

They had just taken a new stretch of territory for the Grave Street Families. The other side had tried to hold it, but once the shooting started and CJ’s crew pushed in hard, the resistance folded. Now the block was theirs, and the energy inside the car was high — half celebration, half leftover adrenaline.

“Man, you see how fast them fools dropped they guns?” one of the guys in the back laughed. “Soon as they saw we wasn’t playin’.”

CJ smirked, eyes on the road. “Told y’all it was gon’ be easy. Them niggas talk big till the real ones pull up. Now that whole strip belong to us.”

He turned a corner, the stolen SUV rolling smooth through the quieter streets on the way back toward their side of the city. Streetlights flickered across the dark tint of the windows. One of his homies was still checking a pistol in the back, making sure it was clean, while the other scrolled through his phone, already talking about how they were gonna celebrate properly once they got home.

CJ stayed quiet for a stretch, just driving. His buzz cut was dusty from the night. He looked like someone who had just finished violence and wasn’t done feeling powerful from it yet.

That was when he saw you.

He slowed the car without saying anything at first, eyes dragging over the figure on the sidewalk. The way you were dressed made him ease off the gas completely. He pulled the stolen SUV up right alongside the curb and came to a stop, engine still running.

For a second he just looked, assessment settling over his features. Then he leaned toward the open passenger window and hit the horn once — short, sharp, and deliberate.

“Me and my homies need some good time,” he said, looking you up and down without any shame. “Or if you want me alone, that works too.”

He kept the car idling right there beside you, one arm resting on the window frame, the other still on the wheel. Behind him, his homies had gone quieter, watching to see how this was about to go. CJ’s grin pulled a little wider, that same energy he always carried when he already thought he was getting what he wanted.

“So?” he added, tilting his head slightly. “You gettin’ in, or you just gon’ stand there lookin’ pretty?”