The night was restless for Crescent. The young man had a hard time getting up for classes, Ahni repeated shaking could wake a bull.
He skipped morning lessons and planned to skip them all. Remaining curled beneath thick blankets built in a fort became a comfort. Crescent couldn't stop thinking about it. The horror that transpired the night before. He felt dirty, confused and lost. He didn't want his first sexual encounter to be one that he'd regret. Saikai clammy hands all over him with a prideful smirk. He'd never stoop so low.
What could've, should've, would've happened? It all played out inside of his mind.
He decided it would be best to avoid both of them for the time being. The awkwardness would be too much and he'd eventually get angry enough to where he'd punch Saikai. What would he even be able to say? In this world, a guy coming forth to report a sexual crime was nothing but a joke. Pulling the blanket closer, arm locked around the rough texture, the young man drew a clump over his head as his phone began beeping.
A message he wanted to ignore, but the sequence in beeps allowed him to know exactly who had been contacting him. The informant.
Irritated, arm whipped from the haven of fabric, slamming down onto the cell phone just across the bed. Crescent wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone.
With Ahni gone to classes, he could seclude himself from the world. Ahni repeadelty asked what had been wrong, but Crescent knew he couldn't tell him. He'd keep this secret to himself. Those that were in the room would be the only ones to know. The silence in the room aided in his wants. He felt secure, locked behind a door of contentment. Kisha, Saikai was a part of some of his classes today.
He couldn't bear the thought of sitting with them as the teacher spoke. No one admitting what took place due to being in the presence of authority. How would he be able to hold back?
Suctioning the device into the small hole used for breathing, Crescent pulled the phone closer to his features due to the lacking of his glasses. He squinted, traced the unlock pattern and the phone clicked to show his background image.
A dragon, flying up into the clouds. The photo colored in gold, grey and black, lightly edited to perceive a more blurred effect. Clouds filled the rainy grey sky with thunder as the dragon ascended.
Crescent could relate, he too wanted to ascend. He couldn't forget his original focus. These hiccups were not going to stop him. When he climbs to the top, he'll have Saikai licking the bottom of his shoe. For now, gritted teeth he'd bare with the regret. Crescent needed to keep focus and use Asho to gain a reputation. Knowledge, power, being invincible by the eyes of hundreds.
The stirring of his being shouldn't be enough to throw him from his goal. He's been through worse. Almost losing his life on the streets. Leaving Ahni behind became a thought he fought against when he had caught pnuemonia and spent a week in the hospital. A poor child visited my social services once he got better. He ran away and they were unable to find him. Foreign land of promises and broken homes. He'd rather suffer on his own accord than someone else's.
Scanning golden hues over the text, his other hand gripped the blanket and flung it to one side. Like a trap suddenly catching a mouse, he sprung into a seat position. The effects of being buried, messier strands of unkempt hair stuck out in multiple directions. Crescent kicked his legs from the bed, shoving feet into his slipper before he jumped to his feet.
"Rally up within 40mins, you are chosen for this job." Reading a sentence out loud, he spun on his heels in search of his glasses. Neatly placed on a blurred dresser, he grabbed them before searching for his other appropriate attire. Before long, the only sound in the room was a light click of the door closing behind him.
---------------------------------------------
Fully dressed in uniform, the only clean outfit he had for the moment, Crescent made his way to stand in a line of men. Falling neatly in place, he turned his gaze to see who had shown up. Not being well acquainted with other gang members sparked him without knowledge of familiar faces. There were various gang meetings for the juveniles to hang out and get along, but Crescent refused to attend.
Not one to listen to the hardships of others, he also wasn't one to tell his own. Barely filled with trust, Crescent has learned through his life that nothing was permenant. Whether he decided upon it or someone had the control to take it from him. That was how life worked. A few years and people became too comfortable.
Standing in an office as big as his room, a large desk and chair remained before them. The desk had a lot of scratches on it. It was as if someone repeadelty had taken a fork and dug into the wood. Carved out sections of the desk, pieces of shavens resting at the legs. The men at his side stood stiff, all hands tucked behind their back to represent soldiers. Either they were told to do so, or that was a norm here. Asho usually demanded respect; however, rarely gave any.
Though he never controlled his gang when they weren't in his presence, Crescent have seen many things without consequence, he was sure to play the part when he was around.
Crescent knew nothing, refusing to stand as one of them was prevalent. Hands tucked in his pocket, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his heels, awkwardly. Hoping Asho didn't bother him today.
Bookshelves covered all four walls, some rows missing the same thick black book without titles. Were these actual books or a decoration? He used to wonder that when he walked passed large builing with giant windows. From top to bottom, books riddled the rooms. There were ladders leaned against the book shelves and more books on carts. He would often see a slim build lady with large circular glasses and gold frames attending to the mass amount of books. She swipe them clean with a duster. Sometimes she'd look at him, smile and continue her work. Only later did he learn that it was a Library and she was a Librarian.
For what its worth this room was neat. Dark brown colored rug recently vacuumed by the streaks going across. It shared some brown stains, but they looked to be cleaned and faded.
The coffee table off in the corner harbored a lamp, a few teacups, and a small glass teapot. The room looks ordinary, and plain as if were just a simple cover-up. With the thin window opened, cool air kept the entire room from being stuffy. Crescent didn't see any air conditoner vents. His yes wandered around, trying to keep his mind busy. He wished whoever had summoned them would hurry up.
He had been escorted here once meeting up with Vergyl in the lunchroom. The second in command never addressed them. He fixed his spectacles and walked forward like a ritual was performed. Vergyl wasn't friendly. He seemed more immersed with what he had going on and when asked about anything personal, he'd never answer. Tried to keep the mysterious trope, but it just turned into an anti-social dianosis.
Now staring at the back of the chair, he narrowed his eyes. It was clear by the slight swaying that someone occupied it. Were they killing time on purpose? They were all standing here for at least five minutes
Walking up to each member, Vergyl handed out a card. The card mimicked the one they received as an ID for the gang; however, there was a completely different insignia on the side. Even the colors were different. There was an animals clawed scratch symbol imprinted on the back. The front read, The Pack. Why would they need another ID?
"Wear them for a few days, but don't forget where you belong." A voice traveled from behind the chair. Light, nonchalant, and very weak. Crescent kept examining the card, his brows furrowed. What job would cause them to abandone their original gang?
"I know what you're wondering. Why am I here? I'll tell you gosh dammit!" The large chair suddenly spun around with a heavy squeak. There seated comfortable and happy his boss, Asho Flennings.
Asho banged on the desk with both hands, Crescent jumped as Asho then pushed up on his hands. He barely made it over the top of the desk, Crescent certain he was standing on the legs of the chair to catch some height. Fingers parted, Crescent allowed the ID to slide until the lanyard ran to its end. He clamped down hard, balling up the object before shoving it in his pocket.
Asho rolled his eyes looking through the line of guys. When he requested Vergyl to recruit a capable team he didn't ask for all juveniles, though that was what he was given. They didn't look ready though they were trying to suck up to be obedient followers. Some of them were too skinny for his taste.
When his gaze landed on Crescent, he smiled. Crescent weakly waved back hoping to kill the mood. Since the failed job he had no encounter with Asho.
The goonies sent to punish him had to have informed him of Kisha's interference. He wasn't aware just how much Asho knew of the situation or would being here jeopardize his involvement. Here he remained, an empty smile on his features. This wasn't convincing.
Wearing an oversize blazer, buttoned up and a bit faded in color, Asho rose his hand and pointed down the line. His fingers danced in the air over the figures as if he held a wand. His lack of addressing Crescent seemed more suspicious when Asho's wave ended at the second last male in the line. Crescent was the last.
"Get it together. This is a fucking important mission." Looking to the side in the air suddenly, Asho snickered to no one. His features curled aggressively. Something had been there and he didn't approve of it.
"I know thaaattt~" His eyes darted back to the crowd and he began laughing, teeth clenched. With a frown on his face, Cresent watched the comical scene unfold. He's only seen Asho a few times, but none of the encounters were this bad. Asho would often talk to himself, but they were short lived. Small ticks, hand swats and some stops it. If Crescent wasn't so sure of himself, he'd believe that Asho was talking to someone. Today had to have been an off day for him.
He resembled a patient in need of daily medicine. Vergyl stood beside him unfazed, arms crossed beneath his chest. The clear difference between the two was staggering. How could they find means to get along? So estranged. The first year said they were friends, but how could anyone be friends with Asho?
"Nevermind, look..." Grabbing a small stack of papers beside him, Asho scooped them up before a flick of his wrist did he toss the sheets across the desk. They slid, hitting eachother and toppling everywhere. Falling all over the floor before the goons, the pictures spilled out for everyone to see.
"These big trucks. They carry something juicy. Money!"
The pictures taken of four eighteen-wheeler trucks, all lined up in the back of a building. Barbed wire and gated, from every angle. Perfectly photographed by someone who knew what they were doing. The trucks were protected with minimum security from what Crescent could see. Only chains and locks on the main door? Easy.
"I want you to go and bust up these trucks. Do whatever you want to them, but don't take the money. These trucks must look very pretty by the time you're done. Snip the lock, go in at night. Make sure you're wearing your goddamn new IDs!! Your originals you will be kept here with me. Vergyl will take those." He raised a finger and stabbed at the table mutiple times. The hard thumping of bone meeting wood.
"Listen! Listen-- Don't fuck up! ... No, do that." He plopped down into his seat, leaning back and releasing a long sigh. Asho brought up his feet, touched at the table before he pushed hard, causing the chair to slide across the floor before it stopped. He hit the wall, slumping down like a bored child.
Cresent raised his hand slowly, one finger held high. He had some questions. First and foremost,
"Why the ID change?"
"You're questioning my authority?" Asho mumbled, only to respond with another type of aggressive tone.
"No, fuck! You know better."
Crescent sighed, his finger hesitantly drifting down before he cut his eyes to the floor. There were so many details missing from this job. His first job was thorough.
"Who's trucks are they?" Crescent challenged again.
"You really want to know? When you get there please phone me back and then tell me!" Asho refused to answer.
"Boss, are you sending us to die...? Whoever this is they have to be a big shot. Who the hell carries that much money--"
"It's rumored to be fake." Suddenly Vergyl budded in which sent Crescent's gaze his way.
A lift of a hand and press at center spectacles, Vergyl remained stiff the entire time.
"You are a great asset due to your background in skills. Nimble, quick and... protected."
Crescent listened to the last part of Vergyl's words. Protected? What was that supposed to mean? The way Vergyl's tone spoke, it made Crescent weary to know the answer.
Whatever, he'd get the job done no matter what.
Vergyl raised one of his hands, pointing towards the door. In a small voice, eyes never leaving his forward gaze.
"Get out." Was all he spoke.
---------------------------------------------------
Clenched backpack straps in both hands, Crescent drew a long sigh. It was time. The members came to his room under the cover of darkness, having him lie to Ahni before he left.
Now, dressed in all black, a baseball cap to hide their expressions, the group approached the large gates.
The location was hard to find. Tucked securely around some buildings, it was clear these trucks were not to be found. Had Principal Jones known about this? Wait... Were these his saved funds?! Crescent shuddered by the thought. Doing anything to these and the school would certainly take a hit right?
Nearly ten feet tall, the gates were built as walls to keep whoever out. Climbing here was suicidal because they were barbed at the top, rusted and sure to infect.
Crescent looked around hesitantly before he approached one of the men who carried large chain cutters.
"Where are we?"
"You think I know?" The man snapped back.
The area was darker than any spot outside of the school. Lights weren't built back here. The eerie scene was enough to deter students.
"All I heard was money. I need some." The man shot him a glare before he returned to break the chains.
Crescent backed up, looking around once more. They were told not to take any of the money! Just beat the trucks up enough and then leave. Fake money wasn't of value in this world. Wait... If it was fake, why had it been concealed? So many questions stopped the brunette from doing his job. All the other men were already moving around, scouting and finding their places. This place was deserted. Why was it important!?
The time it took to get over here was even more suspicious. It wasn't Asho's money that was clear. Though, he did seem like the type to attack himself and blame others. A gloved hand brought up to grapple the ID around his neck.
He flipped it over to expose the gang sign.
What gang title was this? Hearing large chains snap, one boy gave off a cheer which signaled Crescent that it was time. Pushed open gates, the gang rushed in, dropping their bags and pulling out whatever choice of 'art' they desired. The vandalism began quicker than anyone could blink.
Crescent stood with a bottle of spray paint in his hand. Something about this didn't feel right. Asho's desire to leave off important details left Crescent hesitant. He rose the bottle slowly, spraying a sad face on the base of the back door. Besides it Crescent drew a happy face, then a silly face. He smiled to himself before he began zoning out and without noticed sprayed the face of an angry wolf.
When he realized, he froze, eyebrows falling. Fuck...
First the failed job, the encounter with Saikai, and now this. His digits wrapped tightly around the can and he squeezed, the fun he was having killed in that moment. The picture reminded him of someone.
"Hey, the boss said to do it, so do it. Don't just stand there and draw 1sr grade art." A male spoke impatiently, shoving past Crescent who was in the way.
Crescent scoffed... 1st grade art?! These were very beautiful from where he--
An explosion hit the air as one gang member shouted 'whoooo'. Tires now slashed, the large truck began to tip, the container tipping further due to weight sent the truck to lean against another one parked only a few feet apart. Crescent jumped back, wide-eyed. No this wasn't a part of the plan.
"I want that fucking money!" Another one shouted as he banged on the side with a crowbar.
"S-stop! We were told not to touch--" Crescent tried to calm the growing tension.
"Who fucking cares?! You think I'm gonna sit here with a bank account in front of me and not help myself?! You're a fucking idiot." The one who had been money hungry, Crescent heard him call back.
Animals, thirsty animals thrilled by destruction. Their eyes glistened in the dim light of the moon and they breathed like goons without restrictions. These were the capable men? Crescent looked around at every individual, their expressions laced with manic desire. Rabid dogs, doing bidding without even knowing anything.
Puppets...
Another explosion, but this one was the loudest. Someone would be alerted soon enough. The noise forced Crescent to jog over to the side of the truck, a gaping hole spilled money from inside. When did these men receive explosives? He watched as they rejoiced, all cheering the guy holding the crowbar.
The noise level went from sneaking to an unruly mob. Asho ordered them to remain silent, but everyone now full of adrenaline. The smell of fresh money picked up in the wind. A foul smells like a paper mill.
They began scooping up money, stuffing it inside the backpacks until they were going to burst.
"Hey, put it back--" Crescent tried to correct them.
Suddenly a spotlight turned on and an alarm blared, sending Crescent to end his sentence.
The deafening tone shattered his thoughts, an attempt to drown it out by covering his ears. Crescent's frame whipped around, staring directly into the beaming light which was on a nearby platform, danced around the entire area before locking onto him. He stared eyes widening in sudden realization. Were they caught?
The men began to panic, one holding a Molotov cocktail lighting it, and tossing it inside the truck as a diversion. The smell of burning money, blackened smoke began to fill the air moments later.
"We need to go!!" One tried to shout, but his voice was blocked out.
"It's gonna blow!!" Another shouted, the men now making their way from the gate. As he watched them disperse, Crescent took in a large inhale, coming to his senses. He tosses his bottle of spray frantically, gathered up his backpack, and takes a look at the area of the spotlight once it begins to follow the men running.
He can't see who it is, but there are two dark figures. One shorter than the other. The only thing he makes out is the shiny reflection from a pair of glasses.
Glasses...?
The spotlight suddenly landed on him, the straggler. He started to run, it followed. Adrenaline rushing his body, he held his hat on his head with a quick look backward, making sure no one else had been left behind.
The trucks were engulfed in flame, thick blackened smoke lifted to block the view of the sky and that became the image posted in his mind. His jaw clenched, Crescent turned his attention forward. This was not a good idea. He had a heavy thought in his mind that this wouldn't be without severe consequences.
"Dammit...!!" He spat. He needs to get out of the area. He could remember on the side of one of the trucks the large red letters in fine cursive.
D.A.
(A/N
D.A.? Hmm what gang is that?
And how will this pan out for Crescent?
Don't be afraid to tell me what you think by commenting.❤️❤️
Drop a vote if you liked. 👍👍))