I spent too much time early this morning, on the edge of sleep, alternating between pondering the implications and seeing them play out in a dream. My role was a guy who had managed to piss off a few of those gangs by declining their "invitations" to join, but who had a "superpower" of extraordinary luck which managed to let him not be hit -- just barely -- by various "accidents" and explicit murder attempts. For a bit more than a year, which meant that that luck was overdue for going away. And everybody knew it. "Don't worry about it, we'll get him next time."
My subconscious is not a happy person.