The Emo Mafia

•Truce•

•July•

Independence Day, many people celebrated it in different ways; most shoot fireworks and have parties, some invite a few friends over and drink the night away, others just sit at home and do nothing. But some people don't get to celebrate in the best of ways. Sometimes the days that are supposed to be full of laughter and fun, are full of nothing but sadness and dread. And there's nothing you can do about it.

On this day, Pete sits in an uncomfortable chair with his elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped together. His eyes are rimmed red and puffy from crying all night, eyeliner smudged from wiping his tears away. He hasn't cried like this since he was fourteen, when his mother passed. But now he was listening to a heart monitor beep in one elongated, monotone noise and it makes his ears hurt.

He officially hates hospitals now.

It's been two minutes since his dad died and no one has came in yet, he knows the monitors have sensors or something on them to notify nurses but no one has shown up. It's not like them showing up now will make a difference though, not unless they can reverse heart cancer and bring his old man back to life. But he definitely knows something is up when another five minutes pass and still no one is there. And then-

"Knock, knock," a voice says.

Someone finally enters the room but it's not the medical staff. Instead it's two guys both wearing all black clothing, except one was wearing a red beanie and the other had red dyed hair and a nose ring.

"Who are you?" Pete asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

They ignore his question and the redhead says, "Sorry about your dad, Pete. But we hope you know that the whole state is now up for grabs because of this. No more split territory, Chicago isn't yours anymore."

"Your dad was a powerful guy," The one in the beanie speaks. "He knew how to handle business. He set the rules and boundaries between us but now that he's gone, the slate is wiped clean."

Pete stares at them for a moment trying to get an idea of what all those words were supposed to mean, but comes up short. The question of how they knew his name popped up in his head, but he figures there are more important matters at the moment.

"What are you talkin' about?" He asks.

Beanie guy actually rolls his eyes. "Our truce dies with your father." He summarizes.

"We want Chicago," Redhead says. "And we're gonna take it."

Then both guys are gone, silently shutting the door behind them.

Okay, that was weird, Pete thinks, still stuck on how those guys knew who he was. He figures it out soon enough though, remembering the agreement his dad told him about a while back with Blurryface. If he would have realized it a little sooner, he would have probably scolded them about how they destroyed his house the other night. Maybe punch one if he got angry enough.

But now isn't the time to think of such things, Pete's father is dead and he deserves the proper respect. He was a strong man and a fighter, but every fight has to have a loser, and his dad just wasn't strong enough for the battle.

Pete vows to do right by him and take Chicago back and then some. He refused to let Blurryface take what was rightfully his and destroy everything his father worked years for. This city belongs to Pete and the Emo Mafia. But first, a few things needed to change.

So the first thing Pete does when he gets home is go to his bathroom and clean his face. He wipes away the excess eyeliner from around his eyes and the smudges from his cheeks. Then he reaches up to the shelf above the toilet and grabs a black box, setting it down on the counter. Inside are hair clippers and a pair of scissors, no one's ever really used them except for Travie a few times and Joe on one occasion.

Pete opens the box and takes the clippers out, making sure to put a guard on them so he won't cut his hair too low. He plugs them in and turns them on, hearing the buzz, feeling the vibration in his palm. He raises the machinery up to his head and begins to cut off his dark fringe, watching as each tuft of straightened hair drops from his head and into the sink below. He continues cutting until most of his hair lies in the sink, leaving him with a short buzz cut.

Instead of dusting his shoulders of excess hair, he simply removes his shirt and grabs a new one from his dresser.

No more bullshit. No more fucking up and making mistakes. Pete means business and shouldn't be goofing around anymore, so no more teasing the fed or crushing on him, he's going back to that one moral. Don't fall for the fed. He didn't think it'd be so difficult but he manages to avoid Patrick for the whole month, focusing only on him and his gang for the moment. He can't afford anymore distractions, especially when they're as distracting as Patrick.