Across Notting Hill, in group chats, online forums, and scattered lunchtime conversations, a single name kept popping up among teens:
Bloodline Merch.
It wasn't just a brand anymore. It was a thing.
"Hey, have you noticed everyone's wearing that Bloodline stuff lately?" one kid asked, spinning his phone in his palm as he leaned back on a park bench.
"Yeah, I've seen it around. Kind of a lot, actually. Must be some new drop from a streetwear brand or something."
"I heard they got a bunch of local influencers pushing it. Like real ones. From around here."
"That explains the hype. But you know how these things go. Probably another industry plant. Hype now, trash later."
"I thought the same," another kid chimed in, "but their pricing isn't insane. It's not trying to be designer or exclusive. Just… regular prices. Like Nike-tier."
"For real? Lemme check, "
Tap tap tap.
"Yo, you're right. Prices aren't bad… but it's all sold out. Damn."
"Guess if you get real influencers and don't overcharge, people actually buy. Wild concept."
"It's more than that, though. This one feels different. Like, even with influencers, most people don't care. But with Bloodline? People are actually going out of their way to find it."
"And because it's local, it feels more genuine."
"You think this could be the first big brand to actually come out of Notting Hill?"
"I heard something else too. A rumor. The merch? It's coming from those new gyms that opened up. You know, the sketchy ones down by the tracks."
"No way."
"Yeah, and apparently if you go there in person, they'll sell you some, if they've got any left."
"…I dunno if I'm ready to risk getting stabbed just for a hoodie. I'll wait until they restock online."
That was the buzz among the general teen crowd, kids across the city noticing the trend, chasing the hype.
But in the neighborhoods closest to the gyms, in the schools where the Bloodline name had taken root, conversations were different. The tone wasn't about fashion.
It was about survival.
"You get your hands on any Bloodline merch yet?" a girl asked her friend as they walked down the school hallway.
"Nope. Sold out everywhere. I even checked the resale apps."
"We might have to go straight to the source. The gyms themselves."
"You sure that'll work? What if the rumors aren't real?"
"Wait, what rumors?" someone else butted in. "I was too busy beating up my little brother, dude was trying to suck my toes again."
A beat of silence.
"You seriously need to get him checked out."
"Anyway, what rumors?" another friend snapped, ignoring the tangent.
"That the delinquents, all of them, have been steering clear of anyone wearing Bloodline gear."
"Like, completely ignoring them. Not robbing them. Not picking fights. Just letting them walk."
"Dead serious. It's like anti-bullying clothing."
"…That's kind of genius."
"Yeah, but why though? Why are the troublemakers backing off just from a hoodie?"
"I heard, it's connected to a gang. Like, a real one. Word is, Bloodline's being run by them. Not that the gang cares if random kids wear it, but the delinquents don't want to take any chances. They see the logo, and they freeze."
"Yo. That's wild. So we won't get in trouble for wearing it?"
"We can't. The gyms are selling it publicly. It's not like we're claiming turf or anything."
"I dunno, it's like this whole movement popped out of nowhere. One minute, no one's heard of them. Next thing you know, it's everywhere. Feels like they're doing legit business through the gyms."
"Well, whatever it is… I'm in. I'll pool whatever money I've got, ask my parents for early birthday cash, whatever it takes. We have to get that merch."
What started as streetwear hype had mutated into something else.
The Bloodline logo meant different things to different people.
To some, it was just a fashion statement.
To others, it was protection. A badge.
But no matter the reason, the result was the same:
A wave was building.
And it wasn't just the merch flying off shelves. The gyms were booming too.
The regulars, the fighters, lifters, and loyal members, had no complaints. With the renovations and new equipment, their old haunts had only improved. They didn't care who ran the place now. As long as the gear worked and the space stayed clean, they were in.
Then there were the new faces.
Some came looking for merch, drawn in by the rumor mill.
That's where the sales tactics kicked in.
Discounts on clothing for gym members. Waiting lists for restocks. Priority access for those with active memberships. It was smart. Aggressive.
Others came just to see what was happening. Curiosity turned to interest. Interest turned to sign-ups.
A few stuck around.
They started learning. Training. Watching the older kids spar.
Fighting techniques. Strength routines. A sense of structure. For some, it was their first time feeling part of anything real.
On a warm Friday evening, with the sun still low in the sky, a sleek black sedan rolled through the quieter edges of the city.
Inside, Na sat in the driver's seat. Another member of the Rejected Corps lounged beside him, scrolling through his phone lazily.
"You noticed something lately?" the passenger asked, glancing out the window. "More and more kids wearing that Bloodline gear."
Na didn't respond right away. He hadn't been paying much attention, but now that it was pointed out, he saw it too.
Delinquents smoking on street corners, wearing it.
Students walking home in packs, wearing it.
A symbol. A shadow. Everywhere.
"Hadn't heard of them before," the passenger continued. "Think it's a gang? Should we report it to Chrono?"
Na raised an eyebrow like the guy had just suggested calling the cops on a lemonade stand.
"Report what?" he scoffed. "That a bunch of high schoolers are playing dress-up with matching hoodies?"
The passenger hesitated.
"I mean, if it's spreading that fast, "
"Relax," Na said, eyes narrowing. "It's nothing. Just kids playing an adult's game. Let 'em wear their uniforms and act tough. It doesn't mean anything."