Post by wednesday on Apr 16, 2008 21:56:10 GMT
This in general isn't too violent a story so far, but it contains moderate language and violence so far (what do you expect in a gang story ;D)
Comments would be majorly appreciated, if it gets a lot of hits on here then I'll link the version on the CHERUB post to here, so that it helps with the advertising.
The site looks great
Chapter 1: Worries
Nicky panicked as cold liquid filled her nose and mouth and she gasped desperately for air. She instinctively threw her head backwards to try and re-surface, and a wave of relief passed over her as the familiar sight of the kitchen came back into view.
Beads of milk dripped from her nose and her fringe stuck awkwardly to her forehead, she sighed and half-heartedly picked the cheerios from her curly black hair, noting as she did so that this was the third time in two weeks that she had almost drowned in her morning cereal from lack of sleep.
“Bloody cheerios” growled Nicky as she mopped the remainder of the milk from her face with her blazer sleeve. Leaving the bowl and the small pool of milk around it, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her keys off the counter.
Most kids would have at least made an effort try and disguise the mess they had made, but Nicky was pleased to say that her mum, though fashionably challenged, and categorically overweight, was more than happy to run around after her children and was also an excellent cook.
Nicky still wondered why her mum found it so hard to get a man, after all, she may not be the best looking woman in the world but she shone in every other aspect. But even more than that, she wondered why her dad had never stuck around.
Once when she was ten, Nicky had even confided to her mum that she thought that the only reason her dad could have left is if he had found a hotter version of her, who also cooked and cleaned. Her mum had laughed at first, but when she realized that her daughter was being completely serious, she had concluded with, “your daddy didn’t leave for someone else sweetheart, he left for us.”
This is what confused Nicky the most, she didn’t see how not growing up with a dad could ever be a benefit to her, but although her dad had earned the right to be crowned ultimate b**t**d of the year, Nicky still cherished the crumpled pictures of them together, which she stowed in a shoe box under her bed.
Despite her longing to remember him, she never had cherished the name her father had given her, which was in fact Nike. After rounds of teasing through early childhood she had moved to the similar pronunciation of Nicky, which even her mum now referred to her by.
She shook her head to clear her raging thoughts and shouted “Bye mum!” before letting the door slam behind her and making the short walk to the bus shelter down the road.
**********
Chapter 2: Old Friends
Simmo spat into his palm and tried to flatten his mucky brown hair with a grubby hand, he had always hated it when his mum flattened his hair using this method, but since there was no comb nearby it was the best that he could do.
The chunky guard stood at the corrugated metal door in front of Simmo and chuckled to himself, he had seen many a young lad try to impress DM but most of them came in with a rolled up sock in their pants and a huge glock hidden inside their leather jackets. This young lad was taking a completely different approach.
“Nervous?” Chuckled the guard, Simmo nodded and gestured to the door.
The guard shook his head, “he has a customer, but he shouldn’t be long.”
Simmo jumped as gun fire ricocheted from inside DM’s metal office, he looked at the security guard for explanation but he just shrugged and said “guess he’s not buying?”
Several minutes later the door opened a crack and the guard stepped aside to let Simmo in.
DM was a powerful and frightening man, he was the founder and current leader of the LDN Vices , who were one of the most senior gangs that made up the world renowned LDN Bloods, though they had spread widely over Europe over the last twenty years the LDN had stuck.
“Now what the hell has a little white boy got to say to me” growled DM, at least Simmo thought he growled, but it was more likely that he growled all the time due to his addiction to cigars
“You…you said you wanted to see me...sir” said Simmo desperate not to let DM see how afraid he was, but failing miserably.
“Simon Blackwell?” Enquired DM, his grey flecks illuminating amongst his black hair as the light caught them.
“Yes sir.”
“Hmmmm” DM stroked the stubble on his chin and reached out to shake hands with Simmo, noting as he did so that for such a young and polite man Simmo had a surprisingly strong hand shake, and surprisingly well muscled arms to match.
“It is a disappointment that a man as great as your father would have a child with someone with contrasting ethnicity.”
“I was aware that you accepted those of colored background” croaked Simmo.
“Yes, though it is not often that someone of other than pure African American heritage passes far up the ranks” sighed DM, effortlessly lighting a cigar with one hand as he did so.”
“So I guess we will have to see, I am sure that you can do your father justice Simon, he was a good man, and a close friend of mine.”
Simmo had heard this before, from his own father’s lips in fact, but since his father’s death he had begun to realize that the life his dad had led was nothing that he should be proud of, though turning down the opportunity to follow in his footsteps would be punishable by death.
“So what do you want me to do?” asked Simmo, as he tried to gulp a dry lump from his throat with no success.
“Take a seat” offered DM.
Simmo sat precariously on the edge of his seat, fresh memories of the gunshots he had heard from DM’s office making him shudder.
“Water?”
Simmo nodded politely and took the jug from DM to pour himself a glass of water.
“I plan to start you off easy for now Simon, but do not expect it to last for long. I promised your father I would look after you, but as a well respected gang member himself he did not indicate that it was necessary to lessen up on any corporal punishment…should it be necessary.” As he said punishment he puffed a large plume of smoke into Simmo’s face making him cough.
“You are aware of our recruitment process are you not Simon?”
“Yes, sir” nodded Simmo fearing that the worst was to come.
“As I have said I am a generous man Simon, so I will give you a little task, should you prove yourself worthy, your recruitment task may not be so…painful.”
**********
Chapter 3: Attack
Nicky had gotten over her early morning drone after having slept through English literature and consuming three litres of Sunny D. The rest of the lessons drifted by her and she half listened to her friends as they told incredibly long stories ranging from past and future weekends to new boyfriends and parental scandal.
The sound off the bell echoed off the tiled lab flooring and Nicky grinned to herself as she realized she was free to wander back home and have a couple of hours sleep before tea.
“Hey Nicky!” Claire reached forward and put her hand on Nicky’s shoulder to slow her down.
“What is up with you girl, you’ve been totally zoned out, and you’ve drank enough Sunny D to feed an African country.”
Nicky momentarily wondered just how much Sunny D you would really need to feed an entire African country, then realized it was completely irrelevant and decided that it was best to just be honest, “Jake said he’s breaking up with me” sighed Nicky.
“Why!” shrieked Claire, “you were so good together.”
“I know” shrugged Nicky, "he said that he wants a more mature woman, who is ready for…more things, if you know what I mean”
“b**t**d” grunted Claire, “did you kick him in the nuts?”
Nicky laughed and shook her head, “slapped him.”
“Wonderful!” Giggled Claire. “I’ve got to head home, my aunt is bringing her totally lesbian lover round for tea, so I’ve got to go get cleaned up.”
Nicky snorted loudly. “Eric is a man he’s not a lesbian.”
“He’s a cross dresser!” Shrieked Claire, drawing in huge amounts of unwanted attention from all directions.
“See you later Claire” laughed Nicky, and decided to take the scenic route home to save her from having to listen to chavs blast rave at the back of the bus for the next ten minutes.
Nicky was half way home when the wind started to pick up. She shivered and zipped her coat up further to try and stay warm, without much success.
Nicky normally stuck to the open roads where she felt safer, after all the heart of London was not a safe place in general, especially with the gang wars going on in the background. But the high housing around the alleys provided decent cover from the wind, and in daylight hours she decided it was a risk she would take.
As Nicky cut through one of the longer alleys on the way to her home she heard a crash behind her, she screamed and swung round wildly but nobody was there, Nicky was ashamed that she had overreacted, but the sound had unnerved her, and she decided she wouldn’t cut down any more alleys once she reached the end.
Just as she concluded this thought a hand shot out from behind her and clasped her mouth shut, she tried to scream for help but the strangers hand stopped any audible sound from escaping from her.
Another hand spun her round and pinned her to the wall so that she was facing her attacker. She could see his dark brown eyes through the slit in his mask, but there was no other way to identify him.
“Don’t scream” he whispered. And gently removed his hand from Nicky’s mouth.
“Please don’t hurt me” she whimpered.
The attacker put a finger to Nicky’s lips to silence her and turned her palm upwards. Dropping a small red package emblazoned with the letters NM into Nicky’s hand, then he leaned forwards and whispered in her ear “welcome to the bloods.”
The man then released Nicky and ran swiftly into the street. Nicky shuddered with fear, and as the meaning of the words sank in, Nicky realized that the strange attacker was the least of her troubles.
**********
Chapter 4: Regrets
Simmo dropped his ski mask into a dustbin and ruffled his hair up, he felt awful. When DM had suggested that he perform a task to lessen the straint of his initiation Simmo had suspected the worst, so when DM said that all he had to do was recruit another member he was practically jumping for joy.
The documents had been pushed through his door a couple of hours later and he hadn’t felt too worried. He had broken the seal on the brown paper envelope and slid out a small portfolio.
The first page showed a head shot of a young girl with curly black hair and an honest smile; he had flipped idly through her profile, learning that she was almost sixteen, had a three quarter African American heritage and her only known relative was her forty two year old mother, he had felt a pang of guilt as he realized that he was about to ruin the life of this young girl and her endearingly podgy mother, but quickly flicked further through the next couple of pages to distract his mind from this fact.
The next few pages showed various snaps of the same girl, laughing with friends, walking home, chatting in her living room with her mother. Simmo coughed and flicked to the next page, there were several detailed maps of the area that showed the routes that this girl took home from school each day.
Simmo had engulfed himself in remembering all the times and places for the next twenty minutes, he was determined not to find out what DM had meant when he said…painful.
He almost jumped out of his skin as there was an abrupt knock at the door. Simmo slid the portfolio under the sofa, he had lived in the same council youth facility for the last six months, and a mugging was not uncommon.
Before he could reach the handle the door burst open and a burly African man burst in and slammed it behind himself.
“s**t” gasped Simmo and quickly stood in a third position aikido stance to show that he meant business.
“Ha, white man knows his s**t” guffawed the intruder, “my names Ike, I’m with DM.”
Simmo didn’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved, but he dropped his stance slightly to show that he wasn’t a threat.
Ike reached into his jacket and Simmo’s heart raced, praying that he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. Much to his relief Ike’s hand emerged seconds later with another brown envelope and a small red pouch.
“This is for the girl” grunted Ike, and tossed the small red pouch to Simmo, then handed him the brown paper envelope, “read it, then burn it.”
Simmo nodded and watched mesmerized as Ike left and slammed the door behind himself again.
Inside the envelope was an explanation of the small red pouch, which Simmo inspected gingerly. It contained three blood stones, each one inscribed with a date and time, these were the contact times that the new member would need to know in order to be initiated.
The bag itself was no bigger than Simmo’s little finger, it was blood red in color, characteristic of both the Bloods and the Brims, and on the outside the letters NM were hand sown in gold thread.
On further inspection Simmo found something more sinister, the inside of the pouch contained a message in black thread: refusal is punishable by death.
Simmo glanced at his watch and swore out loud, he was late; he stuffed the pouch in his jacket and grabbed the ski mask from his rucksack before dashing out and making the short journey around the corner to ST Josephine’s school.
Simmo spotted the girl he was looking for stood talking to a loud blonde haired girl; he leaned against the brick wall with his hood up over his face and waited for her to board the bus. Strangely the girl walked off to the left instead, it appeared she was walking home, excellent.
Simmo waited until she had picked up some distance and then slowly began to follow her, the wind picked up and he zipped his jacket up to his chin to keep the cold out. As the girl cut into a winding alley he saw his chance and pulled the ski mask over his face.
At one point a cat jumped from a nearby roof and crashed into a discarded trolley in between them, the girl turned around and almost caught him, but he managed to crouch behind a grubby dustbin and avoid being seen.
As she picked up pace Simmo slipped his hand round her mouth and pinned her to the wall to stop her getting away. Simmo didn’t want to hurt the girl but she wouldn’t stop trying to scream so he gave her a quick warning and removed his hand from her mouth.
She begged for mercy and Simmo realized what must be going through this poor girls mind, so he decided not to hang around too long, so as to lessen her trauma.
Simmo deftly gave her the package and whispered the message he had been sent to give into her ear, before dashing out into the street and discarding his mask.
No matter how hard Simmo tried the girl’s terrified expression remained etched into his brain, her call for help making him shudder every time he thought about it.
Simmo felt like dirt, he had just ruined that girl's life, no matter whether he wanted to or not, he had gone along with it, and that made him as bad as the rest of them, as much as he hated it he finally felt like a Blood.
**********
Chapter 5: Blood Stone
Nicky sat cross legged on her bed and carefully examined the pouch that the strange attacker had given her.
She had decided not to tell her mum anything, because she could only see it making the situation worse.
However her mum was no fool and she had been bugging Nicky all night, constantly asking how she was. Nicky put it down to her maternal sixth sense, most mothers can sense when their child is unhappy from a mile off, and Nicky’s mum seemed to have mastered it.
Nicky’s initials were sown onto the outside of the pouch, ‘Nike (Nicky) Mitchell’ it made her shiver as she realized that the Bloods must have been following her for a long time.
All her life Nicky had heard dreadful stories of what the Bloods were capable of, she had also heard tales, all of which she thought were fake until now, that if the bloods wanted a specific member then you would be hand delivered a bag of blood stones.
This to Nicky at the time seemed as unlikely as the rumor that if you danced naked on the rugby pitch at school then you always passed the ofstead examinations.
However the bloody colored pouch which she held in her hands was living proof that the rumors were true. Or were they?
Nicky undid the lace on the pouch and tipped out three stones, for a moment she thought it was Jasper; the greenish color would indicate so, but her heart pounded as she saw the red flecks all over the green stone, like it had been splashed with blood from up high.
On closer inspection she found that the stones had some kind of indent on them, she grabbed a marker from her draw and began to color in the grooves, when she had finished she saw that they were all numbers.
Twenty eight, seven and nine-thirty-three. It only took her moments to realize that this was a date. She stood up and tried to find out what day it was on the calendar, her finger rested on the twenty eighth of July, it was today’s date.
She looked desperately to the clock praying that the time was not too close. Nine-thirty-two, she watched in terror as the tock clicked onto nine-thirty-three.
But nothing happened… she began to think that this may be some terrible practical joke, and her fear turned into anger.
But as she was running through the list of possible culprits in her head, her mobile began to vibrate and play a snippet of Low by Flo Rida, “Apple Bottom Jeans, Boots with the fur, The whole club was lookin at her…” Nicky snatched the phone from the bed and examined the caller ID, ‘unknown number’.
Nicky made a split decision, the usually energizing music making her heart pump even harder, she hit the red phone on her menu, and the music ceased at once.
Nicky didn’t know what to do, but she had to talk to somebody. She booted up the computer, noting as she did so that it was painfully slow, though this was most likely down to her nerves.
She logged onto her email account and browsed through the messages in her inbox, they were mainly promotional rubbish from companies she had never heard of, but she couldn’t be bothered deleting them.
About five emails from the top Nicky found what she was looking for, ‘sender Claire, time eight-fourty-two’. She clicked the little open button to the side of the email, and a picture of a puppy with a bone in it’s mouth that read “sorry.” Stared up at her from the computer screen.
Underneath it was a long story about how dinner with her aunt and Eric had gone, containing moderate language and frequent use of the word lesbian. At the bottom of the page it said, “sorry can’t come on tonight, grounded for telling Eric that he was mildly obese (by accident)”. xxx
Nicky knew that it was impossible to use the phrase “mildly obese” accidentally, she also knew that when Claire said mildly, she meant massively, and when Claire said obese, she meant obese. So it wasn’t hard to imagine why her mum had decided to ground her.
Despite her slight amusement Nicky was still incredibly uncomfortable and restless about the whole situation. She didn’t know for certain that this wasn’t a hoax, but she was shaken up pretty badly.
Loud bleeps emanated from beside Nicky making her jump and almost fall out of her chair. As she checked the display on her phone it read, “One message, unknown.”
Nicky was scared, but she decided that reading the message couldn’t hurt her, she clicked the ok button to open the message from the main screen.
It contained only one sentence, “Turn the pouch inside out.”
Nicky looked at the pouch lying on her bed, she placed the phone carefully on her beside cabinet and picked it up looking at it curiously from all angles. She stuck her index finger inside and used her other fingers to pull it inside out.
Inside in black thread was a message that made Nicky’s heart skip a beat, “refusal is punishable by death.”
I'm aware that the chapters are short, but because it is running as the same story from two perspectives at the moment, every two chapters are grouped together to make one chapter, though it is easier on the eyes if they are split up. ;D
Comments would be majorly appreciated, if it gets a lot of hits on here then I'll link the version on the CHERUB post to here, so that it helps with the advertising.
The site looks great
Chapter 1: Worries
Nicky panicked as cold liquid filled her nose and mouth and she gasped desperately for air. She instinctively threw her head backwards to try and re-surface, and a wave of relief passed over her as the familiar sight of the kitchen came back into view.
Beads of milk dripped from her nose and her fringe stuck awkwardly to her forehead, she sighed and half-heartedly picked the cheerios from her curly black hair, noting as she did so that this was the third time in two weeks that she had almost drowned in her morning cereal from lack of sleep.
“Bloody cheerios” growled Nicky as she mopped the remainder of the milk from her face with her blazer sleeve. Leaving the bowl and the small pool of milk around it, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed her keys off the counter.
Most kids would have at least made an effort try and disguise the mess they had made, but Nicky was pleased to say that her mum, though fashionably challenged, and categorically overweight, was more than happy to run around after her children and was also an excellent cook.
Nicky still wondered why her mum found it so hard to get a man, after all, she may not be the best looking woman in the world but she shone in every other aspect. But even more than that, she wondered why her dad had never stuck around.
Once when she was ten, Nicky had even confided to her mum that she thought that the only reason her dad could have left is if he had found a hotter version of her, who also cooked and cleaned. Her mum had laughed at first, but when she realized that her daughter was being completely serious, she had concluded with, “your daddy didn’t leave for someone else sweetheart, he left for us.”
This is what confused Nicky the most, she didn’t see how not growing up with a dad could ever be a benefit to her, but although her dad had earned the right to be crowned ultimate b**t**d of the year, Nicky still cherished the crumpled pictures of them together, which she stowed in a shoe box under her bed.
Despite her longing to remember him, she never had cherished the name her father had given her, which was in fact Nike. After rounds of teasing through early childhood she had moved to the similar pronunciation of Nicky, which even her mum now referred to her by.
She shook her head to clear her raging thoughts and shouted “Bye mum!” before letting the door slam behind her and making the short walk to the bus shelter down the road.
**********
Chapter 2: Old Friends
Simmo spat into his palm and tried to flatten his mucky brown hair with a grubby hand, he had always hated it when his mum flattened his hair using this method, but since there was no comb nearby it was the best that he could do.
The chunky guard stood at the corrugated metal door in front of Simmo and chuckled to himself, he had seen many a young lad try to impress DM but most of them came in with a rolled up sock in their pants and a huge glock hidden inside their leather jackets. This young lad was taking a completely different approach.
“Nervous?” Chuckled the guard, Simmo nodded and gestured to the door.
The guard shook his head, “he has a customer, but he shouldn’t be long.”
Simmo jumped as gun fire ricocheted from inside DM’s metal office, he looked at the security guard for explanation but he just shrugged and said “guess he’s not buying?”
Several minutes later the door opened a crack and the guard stepped aside to let Simmo in.
DM was a powerful and frightening man, he was the founder and current leader of the LDN Vices , who were one of the most senior gangs that made up the world renowned LDN Bloods, though they had spread widely over Europe over the last twenty years the LDN had stuck.
“Now what the hell has a little white boy got to say to me” growled DM, at least Simmo thought he growled, but it was more likely that he growled all the time due to his addiction to cigars
“You…you said you wanted to see me...sir” said Simmo desperate not to let DM see how afraid he was, but failing miserably.
“Simon Blackwell?” Enquired DM, his grey flecks illuminating amongst his black hair as the light caught them.
“Yes sir.”
“Hmmmm” DM stroked the stubble on his chin and reached out to shake hands with Simmo, noting as he did so that for such a young and polite man Simmo had a surprisingly strong hand shake, and surprisingly well muscled arms to match.
“It is a disappointment that a man as great as your father would have a child with someone with contrasting ethnicity.”
“I was aware that you accepted those of colored background” croaked Simmo.
“Yes, though it is not often that someone of other than pure African American heritage passes far up the ranks” sighed DM, effortlessly lighting a cigar with one hand as he did so.”
“So I guess we will have to see, I am sure that you can do your father justice Simon, he was a good man, and a close friend of mine.”
Simmo had heard this before, from his own father’s lips in fact, but since his father’s death he had begun to realize that the life his dad had led was nothing that he should be proud of, though turning down the opportunity to follow in his footsteps would be punishable by death.
“So what do you want me to do?” asked Simmo, as he tried to gulp a dry lump from his throat with no success.
“Take a seat” offered DM.
Simmo sat precariously on the edge of his seat, fresh memories of the gunshots he had heard from DM’s office making him shudder.
“Water?”
Simmo nodded politely and took the jug from DM to pour himself a glass of water.
“I plan to start you off easy for now Simon, but do not expect it to last for long. I promised your father I would look after you, but as a well respected gang member himself he did not indicate that it was necessary to lessen up on any corporal punishment…should it be necessary.” As he said punishment he puffed a large plume of smoke into Simmo’s face making him cough.
“You are aware of our recruitment process are you not Simon?”
“Yes, sir” nodded Simmo fearing that the worst was to come.
“As I have said I am a generous man Simon, so I will give you a little task, should you prove yourself worthy, your recruitment task may not be so…painful.”
**********
Chapter 3: Attack
Nicky had gotten over her early morning drone after having slept through English literature and consuming three litres of Sunny D. The rest of the lessons drifted by her and she half listened to her friends as they told incredibly long stories ranging from past and future weekends to new boyfriends and parental scandal.
The sound off the bell echoed off the tiled lab flooring and Nicky grinned to herself as she realized she was free to wander back home and have a couple of hours sleep before tea.
“Hey Nicky!” Claire reached forward and put her hand on Nicky’s shoulder to slow her down.
“What is up with you girl, you’ve been totally zoned out, and you’ve drank enough Sunny D to feed an African country.”
Nicky momentarily wondered just how much Sunny D you would really need to feed an entire African country, then realized it was completely irrelevant and decided that it was best to just be honest, “Jake said he’s breaking up with me” sighed Nicky.
“Why!” shrieked Claire, “you were so good together.”
“I know” shrugged Nicky, "he said that he wants a more mature woman, who is ready for…more things, if you know what I mean”
“b**t**d” grunted Claire, “did you kick him in the nuts?”
Nicky laughed and shook her head, “slapped him.”
“Wonderful!” Giggled Claire. “I’ve got to head home, my aunt is bringing her totally lesbian lover round for tea, so I’ve got to go get cleaned up.”
Nicky snorted loudly. “Eric is a man he’s not a lesbian.”
“He’s a cross dresser!” Shrieked Claire, drawing in huge amounts of unwanted attention from all directions.
“See you later Claire” laughed Nicky, and decided to take the scenic route home to save her from having to listen to chavs blast rave at the back of the bus for the next ten minutes.
Nicky was half way home when the wind started to pick up. She shivered and zipped her coat up further to try and stay warm, without much success.
Nicky normally stuck to the open roads where she felt safer, after all the heart of London was not a safe place in general, especially with the gang wars going on in the background. But the high housing around the alleys provided decent cover from the wind, and in daylight hours she decided it was a risk she would take.
As Nicky cut through one of the longer alleys on the way to her home she heard a crash behind her, she screamed and swung round wildly but nobody was there, Nicky was ashamed that she had overreacted, but the sound had unnerved her, and she decided she wouldn’t cut down any more alleys once she reached the end.
Just as she concluded this thought a hand shot out from behind her and clasped her mouth shut, she tried to scream for help but the strangers hand stopped any audible sound from escaping from her.
Another hand spun her round and pinned her to the wall so that she was facing her attacker. She could see his dark brown eyes through the slit in his mask, but there was no other way to identify him.
“Don’t scream” he whispered. And gently removed his hand from Nicky’s mouth.
“Please don’t hurt me” she whimpered.
The attacker put a finger to Nicky’s lips to silence her and turned her palm upwards. Dropping a small red package emblazoned with the letters NM into Nicky’s hand, then he leaned forwards and whispered in her ear “welcome to the bloods.”
The man then released Nicky and ran swiftly into the street. Nicky shuddered with fear, and as the meaning of the words sank in, Nicky realized that the strange attacker was the least of her troubles.
**********
Chapter 4: Regrets
Simmo dropped his ski mask into a dustbin and ruffled his hair up, he felt awful. When DM had suggested that he perform a task to lessen the straint of his initiation Simmo had suspected the worst, so when DM said that all he had to do was recruit another member he was practically jumping for joy.
The documents had been pushed through his door a couple of hours later and he hadn’t felt too worried. He had broken the seal on the brown paper envelope and slid out a small portfolio.
The first page showed a head shot of a young girl with curly black hair and an honest smile; he had flipped idly through her profile, learning that she was almost sixteen, had a three quarter African American heritage and her only known relative was her forty two year old mother, he had felt a pang of guilt as he realized that he was about to ruin the life of this young girl and her endearingly podgy mother, but quickly flicked further through the next couple of pages to distract his mind from this fact.
The next few pages showed various snaps of the same girl, laughing with friends, walking home, chatting in her living room with her mother. Simmo coughed and flicked to the next page, there were several detailed maps of the area that showed the routes that this girl took home from school each day.
Simmo had engulfed himself in remembering all the times and places for the next twenty minutes, he was determined not to find out what DM had meant when he said…painful.
He almost jumped out of his skin as there was an abrupt knock at the door. Simmo slid the portfolio under the sofa, he had lived in the same council youth facility for the last six months, and a mugging was not uncommon.
Before he could reach the handle the door burst open and a burly African man burst in and slammed it behind himself.
“s**t” gasped Simmo and quickly stood in a third position aikido stance to show that he meant business.
“Ha, white man knows his s**t” guffawed the intruder, “my names Ike, I’m with DM.”
Simmo didn’t know whether to be alarmed or relieved, but he dropped his stance slightly to show that he wasn’t a threat.
Ike reached into his jacket and Simmo’s heart raced, praying that he wasn’t reaching for a weapon. Much to his relief Ike’s hand emerged seconds later with another brown envelope and a small red pouch.
“This is for the girl” grunted Ike, and tossed the small red pouch to Simmo, then handed him the brown paper envelope, “read it, then burn it.”
Simmo nodded and watched mesmerized as Ike left and slammed the door behind himself again.
Inside the envelope was an explanation of the small red pouch, which Simmo inspected gingerly. It contained three blood stones, each one inscribed with a date and time, these were the contact times that the new member would need to know in order to be initiated.
The bag itself was no bigger than Simmo’s little finger, it was blood red in color, characteristic of both the Bloods and the Brims, and on the outside the letters NM were hand sown in gold thread.
On further inspection Simmo found something more sinister, the inside of the pouch contained a message in black thread: refusal is punishable by death.
Simmo glanced at his watch and swore out loud, he was late; he stuffed the pouch in his jacket and grabbed the ski mask from his rucksack before dashing out and making the short journey around the corner to ST Josephine’s school.
Simmo spotted the girl he was looking for stood talking to a loud blonde haired girl; he leaned against the brick wall with his hood up over his face and waited for her to board the bus. Strangely the girl walked off to the left instead, it appeared she was walking home, excellent.
Simmo waited until she had picked up some distance and then slowly began to follow her, the wind picked up and he zipped his jacket up to his chin to keep the cold out. As the girl cut into a winding alley he saw his chance and pulled the ski mask over his face.
At one point a cat jumped from a nearby roof and crashed into a discarded trolley in between them, the girl turned around and almost caught him, but he managed to crouch behind a grubby dustbin and avoid being seen.
As she picked up pace Simmo slipped his hand round her mouth and pinned her to the wall to stop her getting away. Simmo didn’t want to hurt the girl but she wouldn’t stop trying to scream so he gave her a quick warning and removed his hand from her mouth.
She begged for mercy and Simmo realized what must be going through this poor girls mind, so he decided not to hang around too long, so as to lessen her trauma.
Simmo deftly gave her the package and whispered the message he had been sent to give into her ear, before dashing out into the street and discarding his mask.
No matter how hard Simmo tried the girl’s terrified expression remained etched into his brain, her call for help making him shudder every time he thought about it.
Simmo felt like dirt, he had just ruined that girl's life, no matter whether he wanted to or not, he had gone along with it, and that made him as bad as the rest of them, as much as he hated it he finally felt like a Blood.
**********
Chapter 5: Blood Stone
Nicky sat cross legged on her bed and carefully examined the pouch that the strange attacker had given her.
She had decided not to tell her mum anything, because she could only see it making the situation worse.
However her mum was no fool and she had been bugging Nicky all night, constantly asking how she was. Nicky put it down to her maternal sixth sense, most mothers can sense when their child is unhappy from a mile off, and Nicky’s mum seemed to have mastered it.
Nicky’s initials were sown onto the outside of the pouch, ‘Nike (Nicky) Mitchell’ it made her shiver as she realized that the Bloods must have been following her for a long time.
All her life Nicky had heard dreadful stories of what the Bloods were capable of, she had also heard tales, all of which she thought were fake until now, that if the bloods wanted a specific member then you would be hand delivered a bag of blood stones.
This to Nicky at the time seemed as unlikely as the rumor that if you danced naked on the rugby pitch at school then you always passed the ofstead examinations.
However the bloody colored pouch which she held in her hands was living proof that the rumors were true. Or were they?
Nicky undid the lace on the pouch and tipped out three stones, for a moment she thought it was Jasper; the greenish color would indicate so, but her heart pounded as she saw the red flecks all over the green stone, like it had been splashed with blood from up high.
On closer inspection she found that the stones had some kind of indent on them, she grabbed a marker from her draw and began to color in the grooves, when she had finished she saw that they were all numbers.
Twenty eight, seven and nine-thirty-three. It only took her moments to realize that this was a date. She stood up and tried to find out what day it was on the calendar, her finger rested on the twenty eighth of July, it was today’s date.
She looked desperately to the clock praying that the time was not too close. Nine-thirty-two, she watched in terror as the tock clicked onto nine-thirty-three.
But nothing happened… she began to think that this may be some terrible practical joke, and her fear turned into anger.
But as she was running through the list of possible culprits in her head, her mobile began to vibrate and play a snippet of Low by Flo Rida, “Apple Bottom Jeans, Boots with the fur, The whole club was lookin at her…” Nicky snatched the phone from the bed and examined the caller ID, ‘unknown number’.
Nicky made a split decision, the usually energizing music making her heart pump even harder, she hit the red phone on her menu, and the music ceased at once.
Nicky didn’t know what to do, but she had to talk to somebody. She booted up the computer, noting as she did so that it was painfully slow, though this was most likely down to her nerves.
She logged onto her email account and browsed through the messages in her inbox, they were mainly promotional rubbish from companies she had never heard of, but she couldn’t be bothered deleting them.
About five emails from the top Nicky found what she was looking for, ‘sender Claire, time eight-fourty-two’. She clicked the little open button to the side of the email, and a picture of a puppy with a bone in it’s mouth that read “sorry.” Stared up at her from the computer screen.
Underneath it was a long story about how dinner with her aunt and Eric had gone, containing moderate language and frequent use of the word lesbian. At the bottom of the page it said, “sorry can’t come on tonight, grounded for telling Eric that he was mildly obese (by accident)”. xxx
Nicky knew that it was impossible to use the phrase “mildly obese” accidentally, she also knew that when Claire said mildly, she meant massively, and when Claire said obese, she meant obese. So it wasn’t hard to imagine why her mum had decided to ground her.
Despite her slight amusement Nicky was still incredibly uncomfortable and restless about the whole situation. She didn’t know for certain that this wasn’t a hoax, but she was shaken up pretty badly.
Loud bleeps emanated from beside Nicky making her jump and almost fall out of her chair. As she checked the display on her phone it read, “One message, unknown.”
Nicky was scared, but she decided that reading the message couldn’t hurt her, she clicked the ok button to open the message from the main screen.
It contained only one sentence, “Turn the pouch inside out.”
Nicky looked at the pouch lying on her bed, she placed the phone carefully on her beside cabinet and picked it up looking at it curiously from all angles. She stuck her index finger inside and used her other fingers to pull it inside out.
Inside in black thread was a message that made Nicky’s heart skip a beat, “refusal is punishable by death.”
I'm aware that the chapters are short, but because it is running as the same story from two perspectives at the moment, every two chapters are grouped together to make one chapter, though it is easier on the eyes if they are split up. ;D