Dark Chicago       The Usual Suspects    Crews    Criminal    Street Gangs      Crown Sons

Tier II - W
Militant, structured, and ideologically grounded, The Crown Sons are a disciplined Black street faction rooted in the northern end of West Englewood. They operate from a place of pride, pain, and sovereignty—enforcing order in the blocks they claim and punishing anything that stinks of exploitation, poison, or betrayal. To outsiders, they’re a gang. To locals, they’re law.

"We don’t bow, we don’t beg. We build—and burn when we must."
The Crown Sons, Sovereigns of 67th

Npcs

Malik "Saint" DeShawn (leader) – Lean, deliberate, dressed like a preacher, speaks in scripture and strategy. Former dockworker. Built the Crown Sons out of rage and old books.
"Grinny" Tate (lieutenant) – Crooked smile, gold tooth, trench coat full of knives. Handles enforcement and nighttime affairs. Calls himself a "surgeon."
Bishop Julo – Elder advisor, former Pullman porter turned neighborhood prophet. Still wears gloves and carries a cane. Tied to Veil knowledge.

Turf

King’s Court House (HQ) – A burned-out Baptist church at 67th and Hermitage converted into a community hall, ritual space, and command center.
Ashway Strip – Two blocks of storefronts, barbershops, and backdoor clinics under their protection.
Rook Alley – A fenced-in lot used for training and testing loyalty. Chalked symbols stain the pavement.

Notable Assets

Smuggled weapons caches buried under old church crypts.
A network of youth lookouts called "Pages"—barely teens, fiercely loyal.
Control of a Veil-stained mural in an abandoned school that inspires unnatural devotion in those who meditate before it.

Quirks

Members are titled by royal rank: Pages, Knights, Bishops, Lords.
Each member takes an oath written by Saint himself, sealed with iron and ash.
A Crown Son never carries drugs. Anyone caught selling in their name gets the fire.

Situation

The Crown Sons are consolidating power across northern West Englewood. With the Sinners pushing in from the west, tensions are rising—especially around Sherman Park. Saint has no love for ICB or anyone peddling Veil-laced poisons to Black youth. He’s planning something—quiet, careful, and final. And he hasn’t forgotten that the Sinners once ran with folks who looked the other way during the riots.
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