Carved from Darkness

Renegades

A loud crash cut off Brooks' train of thought and radiated from the center of the club. Hailey stood behind a severely-splintered disco ball, wincing at the glass fragments digging into her exposed legs. She grinned sheepishly. "Oops."

Brooks slunk towards the storage closet near the back as some intangible force released the partygoers back into reality. Most screamed, streaming out of the exit, even the bartender, who followed behind without heart. Arms flailed, and people fell to the ground with sharp yelps. When the club finally cleared, all that remained were piles of clothing, empty glass bottles, and three teenagers, two of which grinned at each other with satisfaction and one of which stared in disbelief at what they had caused.

"That was so much cooler than you said it would be," Hailey said, still standing in the center of the club. Small streams of crimson dripped off her legs and colored lights flashed in her eyes, but she didn't seem to care.

He shrugged, but he couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. "Destroying stuff is what we're best at."

Blair seemed to think otherwise. "Hey, Brookie. Don't tell Mom about me or I'll say that you wrecked this place."

"You've got secrets of your own," Brooks replied. He didn't bother trying to correct her at the word "Mom".

His sister pulled out her phone, holding it loosely out in front of her face. "Come on, Brooks—"

"What in the heavens is going on here?"

Brooks shot his gaze to the front door, where the bouncer stood, his clothes unkempt, probably from the hoard of clubbers trying to run him over. Hailey tapped a Morse code message to him on his shoulder, a series of letters that stood for "fight".

He nodded once. Muttering something incomprehensible, Blair crumpled to the ground, her head hitting the cheap flooring with a soft thump. The bouncer rushed forward, yanking off his dress coat to reveal unbelievably bulged muscles underneath. Behind him, Brooks could hear Hailey scraping together the broken shards of glass from the disco ball to be used as shrapnel.

In his head, a plan spread out almost as quickly as the bouncer had come charging at him. He ran for the storage closet, slamming the door behind him and flipping a stool over to brace its legs against the handle. A dim light flickered above his head as he set to work.

He had limited time. With a handful of rubber bands, a splintered broom handle gathering dust in one corner, and some wooden pencils, he crafted a large enough slingshot with shaking hands. The sound of someone running into the door and the handle's rattles sent panic shooting through his head, clouding all other thoughts.

"Hey, you! Need some detergent to wash out that nasty attitude?" Hailey yelled from the main room, her voice muffled behind the wall. Brooks breathed out a small sigh of relief as the rattles stopped abruptly, though that now meant that his friend was in danger.

When he finished, he kicked away the stool at the door, nearly tripping over its round seat. He emerged from the closet to find Hailey staying true to her words and shooting dish detergent at the bouncer's face; though the muscled man stood mere feet from Brooks, he didn't seem to notice the boy, though that was probably because his back was turned. Hailey continued to yell insults, most of which included words that would have Brooks' Aunt Sophie washing her mouth out with soap.

He had no more time to ponder over his current situation. With a heavy heart, he dropped his makeshift slingshot behind him and threw the broom handle straight at the back of the bouncer's knees.

The man fell to a kneel, then flat on his face with a weak groan. Hailey walked over and gave him a sharp kick in the head for good measure.

"What'll happen to Blair?" she said, eyeing the bouncer.