|Gangster|

t h r e e

"So... chocolate syrup or strawberry?"

It felt surreal. It didn't feel like they abducted me. No, it felt like they forced me to join their little gang. I didn't know which was better.

My mind reeled with thoughts. What did Jack eat? Did he eat at all? Were there cops and police cars outside our house? Did he report me? Was he crying? Did he try to find me?

"Chocolate or strawberry?" I heard him say. I glanced up at Neil, clad in only his superman boxers. These guys were way more whimsical than they let on. I smiled at him.

"The latter,"

"You like strawberry syrup?" He asks me, smiling back at me.

"I'm allergic to chocolate."

"Woah, really?" He widens his eyes and I laugh. Of course. Is it really that startling that some people in this world don't like chocolate? I can barely smell it without cringing.

"What's so funny?"

Zac walks in the kitchen, yawning. Holy moly. His hair looks so soft over his forehead, eyes barely open. But that's not what catches my attention. Oh no. It's his delicious eight pack, deeply defined and sturdy. His muscles flexed while he bites an apple he somehow got while I gawked at him. Slowly, my eyes meet his. He smirks.

"Like what you see?" He asks.

"Don't you think that line is getting a little old?" I retort, rolling my eyes.

Neil laughs and says, "Dude, she's something else."

Zac smiles, winks at me and then leaves.

"How'd you sleep?" Neil tries to make conversation.

I didn't sleep last night. I couldn't. The epiphany of my predicament hit me at three in the morning. I stayed up all night, inspecting my room. The windows were sealed shut, grills tightly packed. The room only had a lock on the outside, making it a insurmountable problem for me. There was no way for escape. No way.

"Good."

"Cool. Make yourself at home with us. It's going to be a long ride." He suggests, passing me my pancake with strawberry syrup.

I nod.

~

"Hey, Neilo! Get us beer," Zac shouts.

"Get it yourself, Zacky!" He screams back.

"Neilo, what are you even doing in the kitchen? We ate already!" Zac yells at him.

"I'm fucking constipated, you shit. I'm making some lemonade for myself." His voice echoes into a deadly silence before we burst into laughter.

"Yeah, laugh all you want. I'm not gonna cook your food anymore." He crosses his arms, walking in the lounge. I smile at him and rub my stomach. He mocks me with a scowl.

"Enough with that. We need to get to work," Zac turns to us in a solemn voice, "Brandon, get the map."

"Elijah, get the scale, pen and magnets." He orders.

He looks over at me, I pass him a sweet smile. He rolls his eyes but I catch a glimpse of a smile.

"Neil, the weapons." He says before looking at me. I shrug. Aw, he thinks I'll be scared. My uncle, Smith, was in the army so I had easy access to weapons. He taught me how to use a gun when I was thirteen - he had our custody.

After the items arive, he opens the map. I squint my eyes, trying to recall geography classes and figure out the shape.

"This is the map of California," Zac starts, his voice assertive. "We know that The Mob have palatial headquarters in California. Their primitive headquarter is in Los Angeles but the location is unspecified," he states, circling Los Angeles, his brows furrows in concentration.

"Who are 'The Mob'?" I ask.

He looks at me and sighs, "We need to explain this to her, guys."

They nod at each other, telepathically. I raise my brows at them. They are so weird.

They nod once again before Elijah starts, "In the mid of 2000, me, Brandy and Neilo and another fellow we had, Blake, used to work for The Mob. They produced drugs and juggled it. We had the job of providing the dealers with the drugs, nothing more. No one ever checked in because they had covert factories and also the police. They were venal and The Mob owned them."

"Our job never included assassination. We were young at that time. I was thirteen, Elijah was fifteen and Neilo was fourteen and Blake was sixteen," Brandon states, his arms crossed, "But once, they crossed all limits. One of their drug dealers, Menak, threatened to expose their intrigues. It was a mystery, how he knew about it. There were rumours that the drug dealer had told him, but nothing was confirmed."

"Why did he threaten to expose?" I ask, intrigued by the story.

"He didn't have the money for the drugs and he was an addict. He needed the drugs." Zac says, startling me. He didn't have a part in the story?

"Anyways, at that time we were inseperable. Always worked together, ate together, slept together. We were like brothers and everybody knew that. We were there, together, at the time the drug dealer was selling the drugs to Menak. It was a obscure spot. Late night and it was dark, except the one street lamp that luminated light. We saw them arguing. It turned into a cacophony, they were fighting like there was no tomorrow," Neil says, his voice deep like he was down a painful memory lane.

"I suggested to check up, to see what was wrong. After all, we were just oblivious kids. We didn't know the price it could hold. Blake went first. He told us that he knew how to use a gun and so we trusted him. We trailed behind him," Brandon takes a deep breath.

"Blake was also a kid, if I say so. He thought life was the same way as movies were. He went forward with the gun pointed at Menak but he didn't know that Menak had one pointed at him, already." Elijah's eyes glaze over.

"We were behind him. We didn't move. He whispered to us to go back and being the dumb fucks we were, we did. We were crying, quietly. Watching the ordeal take place before our eyes," Neil says and wipes his forehead to get rid of the sweat, "It came slowly. Menak shot him. He tried to fire a shot but it was a futile attempt. We watched our brother take the last breath and saw his soul leaving his body. He died in an instant. The bullet hole went straight through his heart. I gasped loud enough to draw their attention to us. It was bedlam after that. Shots and screams but we ran and ran." He finished, a tear slipping down his cheek.

I didn't realize I was crying till I felt the tears on my neck. I frowned. They were right when they said that you shouldn't judge the book by it's colour. Here I was, thinking I was stuck with three heartless serial killers. They weren't serial killers. They were broken people, trying to cope with their friend's death.

But I had a question.

"Where did you guys go?"

"We came here."

"Why here? How did you know Zac?"

They stop and look at Zac, almost sympathetically. I look at him too. His face was impassive and I knew he was trying to keep up with his faćade but I knew better than that. He was hurt too.

But why?

"Blake was my brother."

~~~

A/N: heyy! i think the story is going pretty right. i'm so excited for this adventure!!

Though I'm really sad today. I haven't talked to my boyfriend since he told me he loved me which is about a week ago. I'm stressed. Too stressed.

-Leah.