Outcast Inc.

Chaos for Order

A/N: Hello everyone, I apologize for not updating in months now, turns out School took a lot out of me and all I wanted to do during that summer was chill and watch Jojo's Bizarre Adventures, didn't like Part 4 by the way. But I'm back with a new partner in crime, FIRDAFLY! This will sort of be an Author-Insert fic because I and Firdafly's friends made OCs with different abilities and are different species from one another, what better show than Inside Job to star a bunch of quirky superpower teens who will become a shadow government's equivalent to Special Forces.

Although we have not fully agreed on whether or not we will make this into an Inside Job Fanfic, I figured it's gonna need a Fandom to stay to make it readable to readers and not just labeled "x-overs" and ignored thinking that it's just a bunch of random characters from different fandoms having one-shot ship chapters.

Firdafly has been one of my best friends for the past year and her OC's background has some similarities with her real-life background. She is one of the few people I can be myself around and despite our differences, I love her AS A FRIEND SO DON'T MAKE SIDE STORIES ABOUT US UNLESS YOU WANT TO BE HUNTED DOWN! Our relationship is a long distant friendship. She's in Canada, I'm in the Philippines.

The rest of our little group of weirdos (we only have one normal person there and she rarely speaks to us but I'll add her regardless) will be apart of this story.

This chapter will be about my OC named Chaos (The name is merely an alias for him since no one knows his real name).

Enjoy!

NEW YORK CITY, TREMONT: 12:50 PM

The town of Tremont isn't what you would call a safe neighborhood, it is one of the most dangerous places in New York. The crime rate in this place is almost 200% above the national average.

During this time of night, in an alleyway with 3 street lamps with one flickering, there was a teenage boy walking through it with his hand in his pockets.

The boy was average height for someone his age, with a seemingly average build but a slightly hunched back. The boy's skin is as pale as bone, teeth are sharper than a shark's. He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood over his head concealing his eyes, jeans, and grey combat boots.

Most people would get out of that alleyway as soon as they got in.

He was not like most people.

"Hey, runt!" a voice called.

Turning around, the pale boy saw where the voice originated. It came from a man with ridiculous tattoos on his face and a red mohawk. He was wearing a red tank top, sneakers, and brown cargo pants. The man was holding a small switchblade with a sadistic and smug smirk on his face.

Behind him were 4 more men they all had the same hairstyle but different colors. They all had the same outfit but with different colored tank tops. All of them had different weapons, one was holding a pair of nun-chucks, one was holding a pipe, one was wearing steel knuckles, and the last one was holding...a stick...a pointy, frail stick. The last one was a bit underwhelming but the rest were still frightening to most civilians. But those who are brave enough, they'll probably assume they were a failed pop band that lead to a life of crime after being rejected from an America's Got Talent audition.

"May I help you?" the boy asked in a neutral tone.

He already knew what they wanted from him, he just wanted to play a little.

The men, who the narrator shall call BTS (Big Time Suckers), all smiled sinisterly and got closer to the boy with their weapons and stick raised in a sloppy, combat position.