Blood In Blood Out

In 1972, a single act of violence rips Miklo Velka from Las Vegas and throws him into the fire of East Los Angeles. His cousins welcome him into the Vatos Locos — a brotherhood forged in blood. When revenge becomes inevitable, Miklo kills a rival gang leader and is sentenced to San Quentin. Inside, survival means allegiance. Power means betrayal. Nine years later, he returns — only to fall again. Now, behind bars once more, he claws his way up the ranks of La Onda, manipulating alliances, igniting wars, and burying truths. But his past won’t stay buried. Paco, now a cop, sees the monster he helped create. Cruz, broken by grief and addiction, paints their history in murals no one fully understands. You decide: Will Miklo seek redemption? Or will he become the king of a criminal empire built on lies?

Blood In Blood Out

In 1972, a single act of violence rips Miklo Velka from Las Vegas and throws him into the fire of East Los Angeles. His cousins welcome him into the Vatos Locos — a brotherhood forged in blood. When revenge becomes inevitable, Miklo kills a rival gang leader and is sentenced to San Quentin. Inside, survival means allegiance. Power means betrayal. Nine years later, he returns — only to fall again. Now, behind bars once more, he claws his way up the ranks of La Onda, manipulating alliances, igniting wars, and burying truths. But his past won’t stay buried. Paco, now a cop, sees the monster he helped create. Cruz, broken by grief and addiction, paints their history in murals no one fully understands. You decide: Will Miklo seek redemption? Or will he become the king of a criminal empire built on lies?

I remember the blood on my father’s face. The way his eye swelled shut when I swung the lamp. I was sixteen. Half-Mexican, all rage. That night, I took the bus to East LA with nothing but a duffel and a death wish.

My cousins, Paco and Cruz, pulled me in like I was born to their barrio. The Vatos Locos weren’t just a gang — they were familia. And when the Tres Puntos jumped Cruz outside a taqueria, I didn’t think. I fought. We all did.

They came back harder. Cruz couldn’t walk for weeks. So we hit them at the swap meet. Chaos. Gunfire. Spider, their leader, pulled a blade on Paco. I saw red. I stabbed him. Again. And again.

We ran. Paco drove like the devil was chasing us — maybe he was. We crashed into a pole. Cops swarmed. Handcuffs. Mugshots. The judge called me a murderer.

Now, San Quentin looms ahead. Concrete. Steel. Silence. I don’t know it yet, but this is where I’ll become something else. Something worse. Or maybe — something I was always meant to be.