electricite

"When do the shits reattack?" asked Joe,the lumpy old goon sitting on something between a sofa and a garbage bag.
"Its high time they do" replied Ax, sharpening his Axe. Nobody knew what was Ax christened at birth- he'd befriended his Axe way too long and now went by the same name as the violent instrument. Violent because it was never used for noble agricultural purposes.
"Some son of a bitch tried to start it with me- beat the 'ell outta 'im" guffawed Diablo. Again, nobody knew Diablo's real name. At the look of him- which could cause a Zombie to die again- the name suited him perfectly.If he had any hair it would be whitening a little by now.There was an air about him which took away every shred of courage from people around.
The audience snickered at Diablo's statement. It was customary for them to play under him- they were his groupie, his share of the underworld. The reason he had made it big doing things that made little kids form puddles on clean floors. Or serious enough to make Tim Kaine-the Governor of Virginia-wake up long enough to set up a National Gang Intelligence Centre of the FBI in that area too.The gay old NGIC. Yeah. That could stop him alright.
But situations were getting a little difficult lately due to the sudden cleft in alliance with the German socialist group.The Neo Nazis. Ax secretly hoped he'd be the next leader after D. But the criminal group had seen high and low times. It really didn't matter much, eventually the Neo Nazi group-the rival gang Joe was talking of- would attack sooner or later and The Group would totally send them to hell this time. No bub,murderers don't give second chances.The debts of 1000$ for nicotine were not payed back yet. To top it off,they rival gang had actually dared an attack in defiance. Time to tell the dumb Nazi Socialists-their previous allies- goodbye.
Funny how little love and friendship was thought of .
Mike was listening to this talk with interest. He looked at Diablo -he always felt that maybe D was a dementor from inside. Never had they spoken of murder before. Atleast not in his presence. Sometimes that really pissed him off- being treated like an underage,untrustworthy crow. He would be seventeen in six months. He was fully ready for joining the dark side of this bright and hysterical world. Having spent ten years with The Group- Diablo ,Ax, Joe, Crip and their ever changing girlfriends, he was already good at pick pocketing and other crimes considered as petty offences under the law.
Little did he know that there was alot more than manipulation.
Looking at Mike, nobody would have guessed his background or hangouts. He was skinny not gooney, he looked more like a skater boy than a person who had been shaped out by a deformed cookie cutter, his dark hair hung over his eyes -mostly because you won't see gang members hanging around at a beauty salon for the mullet Pete Wentz got done for 150 bucks.
"You can make yerself useful this time,boy" said Ax.He always called Mike 'boy', "With the damned Nazi group. You can watch an' learn how ter kick some ass"
This led to a strong oppostion from Crip "He can't. He ain't of age and he's made o' marshmello. A drop o' blood and he'll be runnin for mommy or worse-the cops."
Crip was the source of Mike's resentment.He didn't trust Mike and always had something to cross against him. In the past, he'd even tried to toss Mike off a bridge when the boy had just come to be a part of their clandestine group. Not exactly a moment for Mike to remember.Fortunately,he was old enough to scream for help than say "Look mommy-no hands!" while he was dangling by his legs, Crip holding Mike's life in his hands.But things had been settled then after some unpleasent scene conducted by D
Anyways. Mike just focused his eyes on the TV screen which mostly always had the News channel or Disney and Nickelodeon going on (so much for trying to look old).Although that was due to bad cable connections or maybe Crip had done something to it to annoy Mike.He wasn't sure he wanted to witness the murder,as much as he yearned to be a big part of the little but prestegious group.
"Naw. He can do it" D said thumping Mike's back. Very unlike himself, D had a soft spot for Mike. And Mike returned the favour by occasionally running 'errands' for him which would be of interest to note,included mugging or,you know,getting a girl home when Faye-Diablo's long time girlfriend who was forever having a bad hair day- got boring.
The discusson ended at D's word. Nobody put themselves infront of the big man.
They pulled on their winter jackets, which were raining out feathers and stuffing,tighter as their breath danced in white patters of atmosphere above them. Living in a secluded shack in the suburbs of a Virginian forest was not easy.Especially with all that snow.But they were hidden and hopefully safe which is all that mattered.
Warm Clothes? Not exactly top priority when you boast of being a successful criminal.
There was a sound of wheels and engine-a motorcycle perhaps.
Everyone excluding Mike jumped off their seats and ran towards it. The next few events took place fast. But Mike wasn't very surprised -it happened everyday. And everyday he was left behind. Had D really just said he could do it with the awaited Nazi group? Judging from how he was sitting on the battered,moth eaten couch for them to return from wherever they had gone, the answer seemed pretty bleak.
A rip.Gunshot. Blood.Cries.
And The Group returned.
"Maaan,was he loaded!" said Ax into a toothy grin.His teeth looked like Mars bars soaked in Nitric acid. Whoever was assaulted on the bike was certainly not going to sleep well tonight. That is,if he were still alive.
" 'ere you go" said D in a sing song way,shoving a full wallet which belonged to the poor motobike man into Mike's hand. Mike gazed at the wallet for a second then pocketed it. Maybe now he could go to Hot Topic and get some totally in style Sweaters like that gay High School Musical dude wore.
Because that is what gang members do.
Not.

Mike
Hey. I'm Mike. Michael-but don't call me that. If you were not an ignorant little twerp you'd have known Michael was an angel. And that is exactly what I'm not.
I'm bad and am going to hell.Atleast according to that creepy old lady I hassled yesterday.
I have money in my pocket today.Being friday night,a 16 year old kid like me would spend all that money partying out with his date. Atleast thats what Spongebob and Sandy did one time.That is what people do- they wake up every morning,go to work,get back home and return to bed after some TV and a warm chick if you're lucky.
My life isn't like that.For one thing,my girlfriend looks like yesterday was her 56th birthday but is living on garnier wrinkle lift. Kind of like a giant whale deprived of oxygen.She told me she turned 16 though.
I told her I loved her...which isn't totally a lie-I love her more than that mean old lady I met yesterday atleast.
Friday,Monday,Thursday...they are all the same.(Do they go in that order?)
When a 16 year olds biggest problem is his or her curfew or homework, I have to decide which drug or alcoholic beverage will it be today (somehow Joe manages to snag some from around here). I like the Scottish rum or whiskey,not sure.It is sweet when you first sip in,then turns sour...after which you get too high to notice the taste and just when you start enjoying it,its over. Like my life. Like that day I woke up with an adoption ladys nose (she'd forgotten to get the bogger off) staring into my face. Like how my dreams of becoming a veterinarian crashed after that night I fell into coma. Like the day,ten years ago in fifth grade, I realized dad was never going to teach me to fix broken coffee tables.Or mom would never again tease me about my green thumb. Like that cry and that sound of gun.
Me.This is about me.
No,I don't watch as much TV as you do. I don't know what a decent meal is. I live in a dreary forest in Virginia.Ax,Crip(rather painfully) and Diablo taught me some wierd kicking movements which I suppose is wrestling.But it bears a strange resemblance to the moves in TMNT.You know,Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.So I'm pretty good at self defence. My parents are dead for all I know or care.The Group saved me from dying after I ran away from the 6th foster home. I'm a criminal and could rip a heart off a chest anyday having fun in the process(what does Crip know?) I don't know why do I feel the way I do -iron and hate for everybody.
You aim to grow up and be the next Bill Gates or Bill Caulitz. I'm taking a diploma for mass murder at Harvard. Atleast that is where Dad wanted me to further my animal studies.
Anyway.
My life is finally going great the way it is.I love it.

Or so he thought.
Had anybody told Mike about the phenomena of change? Or in his case: World-turning-upside-down?

Meh. I'd be happy with a reader :D