the Jado and mikola story

Life here wasn’t just about survival—it was about moments like these, when the weight of the world could be forgotten, even for a second. They darted down the alley, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls. Their soccer ball bounced between them, a constant companion, a reminder of simpler times. They didn’t have much—a few possessions, a couple of good friends, and each other—but that was enough for now. Then, without warning, a group of men appeared at the far end of the alley, blocking their path. Their faces were hard, their eyes cold. The Black Fang gang. They leaned against the walls, arms crossed, their eyes fixed on Mikola and Jado. The leader, a tall man with a jagged scar across his cheek, stepped forward, his lips curling into a smirk. "You think you can just walk through here without paying the price?" he sneered. Mikola’s heart sank. The last thing they needed right now was trouble. "We’re just heading home," Mikola said, trying to keep his voice calm. The scarred man chuckled darkly. "Yeah, and what makes you think you get to go home without paying your dues?" He gestured toward his gang. "You wanna pass, you play us." Jado stepped forward, his body tense. "Play you? What’s that supposed to mean?" "Simple," the leader said. "We play soccer. Lose, and you stay with us. Forever." Mikola exchanged a glance with Jado.

His first instinct was to back off, to avoid this, but there was no way around it. The Black Fang didn’t let people walk away without consequences. If they said they wanted to play, then play they must. "I’m game," Jado said, his eyes flashing with that spark of challenge Mikola knew too well. He loved a good fight, even if it was just a soccer match. Mikola hesitated but then nodded. "Alright. One game. First to two goals." The Black Fang leader raised an eyebrow. "I like your spirit. But don't think it's gonna be easy." He tossed a dirty, old ball onto the ground, its surface worn and scuffed. The game was about to begin. Mikola and Jado quickly positioned themselves on the makeshift field. The Black Fang’s leader stood in goal, his gang surrounding Mikola and Jado. The narrow alley didn’t provide much space to maneuver, but the boys were used to tight spaces. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the sound of distant sirens and the occasional shout from nearby streets. The whistle blew, and the game was on. Right away, Mikola could tell that the Black Fang played dirty. One of their members shoved Jado as he tried to make a move, sending him stumbling to the ground. The other gang members laughed, egging each other on. Mikola had to keep his temper in check. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse.

"Watch out!" Jado shouted, as a Black Fang member lunged at Mikola. Mikola sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the attack. He passed the ball to Jado, who managed to weave through two defenders before getting pulled back by the collar of his shirt. "Come on, play fair!" Jado shouted, trying to push the thug off him. But Mikola wasn’t about to back down. He grabbed the ball and flicked it to Jado. This time, Jado had more space. He aimed carefully, took a shot—but the ball flew wide of the goal. The Black Fang leader smirked. "Better luck next time, kids," he taunted. "You’re not gonna win this." Mikola wiped his brow, his mind racing. They had to win, not just to escape, but to prove they weren’t scared. They had to show the Black Fang that they weren’t easy targets. "You ready?" Mikola asked Jado. Jado’s grin returned. "Always." The game wasn’t over. Not yet. Chapter 2: No Way Back The game was on. Mikola and Jado stood face to face with the Black Fang gang, and there was no way out. It wasn’t just about winning the match anymore. It was about survival, about proving to the gang that they weren’t just kids to be pushed around. They had something to prove. Mikola could feel the weight of the ball in his hands as he adjusted his stance. His mind raced. He and Jado had played in every weather, on every surface—mud, dirt, grass, even concrete.

But this wasn’t just another game. This was life and death in a way. The Black Fang gang, already familiar with dirty tricks, played aggressively. Their leader, a man named Vince, had a reputation for making people regret crossing him. The scars on his face weren’t from accidents; they were battle marks—proof that he’d survived in this city longer than most. "You two think you’re good? You’ve got no idea what real soccer is," Vince said, his voice rough and commanding. He kicked the ball to the nearest gang member, who instantly made a move for Jado. Mikola’s heart pounded. The game wasn’t just a game anymore. Mikola watched as Jado maneuvered the ball, faking a pass to the left before weaving right. He was quick, but one of the Black Fang members grabbed his shirt, pulling him back. Mikola clenched his fists, his nerves on edge. They were trying to intimidate them. "You won’t make it out of here," one of the other gang members sneered, his voice dripping with venom. Mikola ignored him. He had to focus. They had to win this. "Let’s go!" Mikola shouted, rallying Jado. The ball was now at his feet. He looked up to see an opening—the goal. It was narrow, but it was there. With a quick flick, Mikola passed the ball to Jado, who ran up the alley, dodging two gang members trying to block him.

Mikola could feel the air shift as the Black Fang closed in, trying to trap Jado. But Jado wasn’t going to back down. He faked another shot, drawing the defender in, then passed it back to Mikola—just in time for him to take the final shot. The ball sailed through the narrow space between two gangsters. Vince lunged to block it, but it was too late. "1-0!" Mikola yelled, throwing his arms up. They had scored their first goal, and for a brief moment, the tension in the alley eased. But the victory was short-lived. Vince’s eyes narrowed, and the gang didn’t take the loss well. "You think this is over?" Vince growled, his voice low and threatening. "This is just getting started." The rest of the gang began moving in, their presence suffocating. Mikola and Jado exchanged a quick glance—they couldn’t let their guard down. Jado stepped forward, positioning himself near the ball. "Bring it on," he said, his voice steady but challenging. Mikola knew that no matter what happened, they couldn’t let themselves back down. Not now. The Black Fang gang didn’t take losing lightly. They quickly regained possession, with one of the members darting past Mikola and heading straight for the goal. Mikola was forced to sprint after him, his heart racing. The air was thick with tension, the alleyway narrowing as the game pressed on. One of the gang members slammed into Mikola, knocking him off balance. He stumbled but quickly regained his footing.

This was the kind of play they’d been warned about—brutal, aggressive, and unrelenting. Jado, seeing Mikola in trouble, rushed to intercept the ball. With a swift, well-timed tackle, he stole it away from the Black Fang member and sent it flying toward Mikola, who took it in stride. "Let’s finish this," Mikola shouted, determination clear in his eyes. The game continued, and the Black Fang gang grew more frustrated with each move. They weren’t used to losing—especially not to kids like Mikola and Jado. Then, it happened. A break in the defense. Mikola pushed the ball forward, with Jado running ahead, calling for the pass. The ball flew through the gap, landing perfectly at Jado’s feet. The last defender lunged, but Jado sidestepped and, with a quick strike, slammed the ball into the goal. "2-1!" Mikola shouted, breathing heavily. "We win!" But instead of celebration, the gang members remained silent. Vince just stared, his eyes hard and calculating. "You might have won the game," he muttered, "but you’re not leaving. Not like this." Before Mikola or Jado could react, hands grabbed them from behind. The Black Fang gang wasn’t finished. The boys struggled, but it was no use. They were quickly overpowered, their arms pinned to their sides. A bag was thrown over their heads, and in moments, they were shoved into a van, the doors slamming shut. The Black Fang gang had taken them captive. Chapter 3: Dirty Play (Expanded)

The sound of the van’s engine roared in Mikola and Jado’s ears, the movement of the vehicle unsettling as it rumbled through the streets. The rough pavement beneath them made every bump jolt their bodies, and they couldn’t even tell where they were going. The air inside the van felt thick with dread, but they couldn’t afford to panic. Mikola’s mind raced. What now? He couldn’t shake the thought of how easily they’d been captured. They’d thought they’d won—but they hadn’t. This wasn’t some game. This was survival. And they weren’t out of the woods yet. "Jado," Mikola whispered, his voice hoarse from the adrenaline. "What do we do now?" Jado’s voice came back, low but steady. "We don’t give up. We’ve gotten out of worse situations." Mikola nodded, but the uncertainty gnawed at him. He’d been through a lot with Jado, but this felt different. This time, the stakes were higher. This was bigger than them. The van skidded to a halt, and the doors flew open. Rough hands dragged them out and threw them into a dimly lit warehouse. The smell of rust and dampness filled the air. Mikola’s heart skipped a beat as he scanned the room. They were in a cage—literally. "Welcome to your new home," Vince’s voice rang out, cold and menacing. "You think you can mess with the Black Fang and get away? You’ll learn the price of defiance." Jado shot Mikola a look, his eyes filled with determination. "We’re not staying here."

Mikola didn’t say anything, but he knew the truth. They weren’t going to give up. Not without a fight. Chapter 4: The First Strike The cold metal bars of the cage seemed to mock Mikola’s desperation. The Black Fang gang wasn’t just playing rough—they were dangerous, relentless. Vince’s laughter echoed around the room. "You’ll learn not to mess with us, kids." Jado clenched his fists, his eyes hard. "You think this is it?" he spat, trying to hide his fear behind defiance. "You’re not stopping us." Vince circled them slowly, his boots echoing off the concrete. "You’re not leaving this warehouse. We’ll make you regret ever stepping into our world." His voice was laced with venom, each word a warning. Mikola stayed silent, his mind racing. This was bad. If they didn’t figure something out, they’d be stuck here forever. The Black Fang gang was notorious for taking prisoners. But there was one thing Mikola knew for sure: They couldn’t stay in that cage. The gang members didn’t give them much to work with—there were no windows, and the only way in or out was the heavy steel door guarded by two burly men. Every move they made was watched, every breath under scrutiny. But Mikola wasn’t about to let this be the end. "You two," Vince called to the guards, "make sure they stay put. I’ve got business to take care of." He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Mikola and Jado alone.

Jado shot Mikola a look, and Mikola knew what he meant. They had to escape. The minutes ticked by slowly. Mikola kept his eyes trained on the guards. If they could distract them long enough, they might have a shot at the door. "Got any ideas?" Jado asked quietly. Mikola thought for a moment, then his eyes locked onto the rusted bucket in the corner of the room. It was crude, but if they could use it right, they could cause a distraction. Jado followed his gaze. "You’re not serious, right?" "We don’t have a choice." Mikola grabbed the bucket and started banging it against the bars, making as much noise as possible. "Shut up!" one of the guards shouted, stepping forward. But Mikola kept going, his heart racing. It was a gamble. The other guard, clearly annoyed, started toward Mikola to silence him. That was when Jado kicked the bucket across the floor, sending it clattering noisily into the far corner of the room. The guards turned their heads for a split second. In that moment of distraction, Mikola acted. He launched himself toward the cage door, gripping the bars with his hands. It was locked—of course it was—but there was something about the way it shifted when he pulled. The lock was rusted, just like the bars. "Come on…" Mikola muttered under his breath, using all his strength. He could hear footsteps coming closer. The guard was turning back. But Mikola wouldn’t stop.

With one last hard tug, the lock gave way. The door creaked open. "Jado, now!" Mikola hissed. Jado was already on his feet, ready. He charged past the guard who was now scrambling to get back into position. Mikola followed, adrenaline rushing through his veins. They burst into the hallway, and Mikola could hear the sounds of shouts echoing behind them. The gang wasn’t going to let them escape without a fight. But they didn’t care. They didn’t stop. Chapter 5: The Fight for Freedom The hallway was narrow and dimly lit, with shadows stretching along the walls. Mikola and Jado sprinted down the corridor, turning sharp corners and leaping over debris. They could hear the gang members yelling behind them, their footsteps growing closer. "Faster!" Jado urged, but Mikola was already ahead, his mind focused on getting out. They reached the end of the hallway, and Mikola slammed his shoulder into a metal door. It flew open, revealing a small storage room filled with crates. "Where now?" Jado asked, panting. Mikola surveyed the room quickly. There was no exit, but in the far corner, he spotted a small window—barely big enough for them to fit through. "Up there," Mikola said, pointing. Jado didn’t hesitate. He scrambled up the crates, boosting Mikola up to the window. With a grunt, Mikola hoisted himself through. The cold night air hit him, and he breathed deeply. They were outside. They had escaped. But there was no time to relax.

Mikola glanced around quickly, spotting a fence on the far side of the alley. "We’ve got to move fast," he said. They sprinted toward the fence, only to hear voices behind them. The Black Fang gang was hot on their trail. They climbed the fence in record time, and Mikola was the first to land on the other side. But as soon as his feet hit the ground, a shout rang out. "Stop them!" Mikola and Jado didn’t look back. They ran through the dark streets, desperate for safety, but they knew they couldn’t keep running forever. "Where do we go now?" Jado asked, breathless. Mikola looked around, weighing their options. The city stretched out before them, endless and unforgiving. But there was one place they could go—a safe house, deep in the industrial district. They had to get there. "Follow me," Mikola said. "We’re not giving up now." Chapter 6: A Close Call They arrived at the safe house hours later, their bodies aching from the chase. But the danger was far from over. Inside, the place was quiet, but Mikola knew it wasn’t safe. "We can’t stay here for long," he said. "They’ll find us." Jado slumped against the wall, exhausted but determined. "We can’t go back. Not now." The sound of sirens echoed in the distance, but it wasn’t just the city that was closing in on them—it was the gangs. The Black Fang was relentless, and Mikola and Jado had no idea what was coming next.

mikola and Jado are 10 years old and Jado is African American