Rafa descended to near street level on the other side of the building, jumped on the roof of another one, walked to the street on the other side of it and landed on the sidewalk next to his Yamaha. Even though hadn't had the bike for very long, he'd grown to like his new toy -well, new to people who considered fourth-hand vehicles new anyway. He jumped on it, started it and after a couple of hundred meters and two left turns, arrived at the entrance to the underground parking.
His clothes had assumed the gang colors and his tattoos were back in full color and motion; dragons, giant feathered snakes and dancing naked women. Rafa's rifle hung slung over his right shoulder. He'd put on his best outfit, a set of hardliner gloves with golden feathered snakes over the knuckles. The fingers and palms were cut open, leaving leather straps around his wrist and each of his fingers to keep the patch of leather fixed over his knuckles and the back of his hands. He and the gloves had earned their reputation in this neighborhood.
He stopped next to his friends standing there, leaned on his left foot and nodded to each of them. "'bout time we go in, no? Dizzy show up yet?"
He held up a grease stained paper bag and showed its contents. Colombian style churro, ring shaped, dipped in chocolate, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. He grinned, fished one out and swallowed it whole. "Anyone want some?"
Rafa ignored the 'guards' completely. Muscle with heavy weapons, hardly skilled, just standing there looking tough. Not worth wasting time on.