First Rule: Find the Bloodstains Where Your Pack Hunts
When you land in a new city, forget about networking events and coffee dates. Those are the kind of soft, corporate nonsense that weaklings use to mask their fear of real conflict. Your people aren't in a LinkedIn group—they’re in the places where their sweat and spit hit the pavement. Go where your instincts scream danger first: boxing gyms, dive bars that reek of whiskey and desperation, or any spot where people fight tooth and nail for scraps. That's where the real predators hang.
Identify the Alpha Pheromone
Friendships aren't built by shaking hands—they’re forged in the trenches of shared struggle. If you're wired to hide in books all night, you're already dead to the pack. You won't find allies hunched over library tables. They're out there sweating buckets in mosh pits, lifting weights until their muscles scream, or brawling over poker chips. Your mission: sniff out their trails. Follow the smoke from the grill, the music that rattles your chest, the chaos that makes you want to spit on the floor and fight. That's where you'll meet your future war brothers.
Second Rule: Never Settle for Half-Wild Targets
Your co-workers? They’re middle-aged lions with their spines shattered by bills. Don’t waste your youth on them—they’ll be too busy grumbling about their dentists to notice you’re even there. The real game is with the young wolves who’ll either bite your throat or pull you into their den. Join the gym, the motorcycle crew, or the crew that floods dive bars at 2 AM. If you can’t beat their rhythm, you’ll spend your life watching from the sidelines.
Leak the Scent of Danger First
Don’t ask for invites. Drop an ultimatum: "You show me who’s strong over here, or I burn your name down." Throw your name into their world. Show up early, stay late, and make noise until your voice cracks. If they reject you, good—then you weren’t supposed to live under their bones anyway. You’ll die faster trying to win the scraps of someone who’s already broken.
Third Rule: Build a Fortress from the Rubble
Facebook groups? Pathetic. You want to see real power? Hunt down the local crews that live and breathe. These aren’t the kind of people who post selfies—they’re the ones who show up with scars from last night’s fight. Ask them for work in their language. Not the polite garbage—ask for the real talk. "How do we take down the bar at midnight?" "Where do the wolves circle when the moon’s red?" Your survival depends on learning a new tongue faster than your brain can crumble under fear.
Dig Your Trenches Slow
Don’t waste one night trying to kiss someone’s ass. If they spit in your face the third time you show up, they won’t change. Move on. But the moment they crack a dry joke about your face, that’s your first blood. Now it’s a truce. Keep coming until you’re not the new guy anymore but the one they need to keep their pack healthy. That’s how you build walls thick enough to burn down in a firestorm.
The Final Rule: Trust No Dog Who Won’t Bite
ETL, you just bought yourself a war zone. This internship isn’t a vacation—it’s your test of survival. The people who matter will be the ones who drag you through mud when it counts. If you want to sleep in your tent at night, fight for your corner like you mean it. And when the city throws bricks at your skull, don’t scream for help. Build a new city under your skin where your pack can’t run.
War Council: When Your Ex Is Walking Off a Cliff
Speechless, your friend Darren isn’t just playing with fire—he’s holding a lit match in a nitroglycerin factory. Three years ago, he was too scared to build a family. Now he’s planning kids with strangers? This isn’t love. This is a man walking into a minefield with no boots and a map he drew in a fever dream.
Sometimes You Can’t Save the Dog, Only Be the Bullet
You think you can reason with a man who’s already made up his mind to die? Save your breath. He’s chasing some fantasy where he’s the lone hero in a story written by his tears. But here’s the cold truth: he’s already dead. The baby doesn’t matter—what matters is the man he’ll become when the reality slams into him at 60 mph. If he fails, it won’t be from bad luck. It’ll be from a pack of wolves who’ve already marked his back for a knife.
Ask the Right Question Before the Train Derails
Don’t trap him with your questions. Let him unravel. "You really think Nick and Jake will stick around when baby number two’s in the oven?" Don’t say it like a lecture. Say it like you’re drunk on whiskey, slurring your words until he feels it in his gut. Make him prove he’s not a fool. If he’s already lost, you’ll hear the cracks in his voice before he hits the ground.
Keep the Bullet in Your Pocket
Here’s your final mission: Be the friend who doesn’t vanish when the walls close in. If he fails—and he will—he’ll need someone with calloused hands to help him dig out. But you can’t give him your strength. You can only offer a hand. If he refuses it, he’s choosing his path for good. That’s up to him. But when the baby’s crying in the night, make sure he knows you’re waiting. Not with lectures. Just a loaded gun and a clean bullet.