Ranked

Authors Note: I wanted to put my thank-yous at the beginning, so shoot me. Thank you to everyone who made me a cover, dedactions will be made. I will use every cover, dont worry. Thank you to my lovely new editor. This chapter is the first freshly edited, so if the ones after aren't up to par then they probably haven't been edited yet.

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Ranked

Chapter one

I hate school. It isn't one of those things that you pretend to hate but actually enjoy because of your friends' presence. Nope, I actually do hate school. I hate the building, the people, the work, the teachers, the dim florescent lights and even the dirty tiled floors.

I hate it all.

Unfortunately, I don't really have much of a choice in the matter. I either have to attend school or lose my job and turn into a bum in the streets.

I prefer to keep my job, thanks.

Michael doesn't understand why I hate school but he never even had an education. He isn't even American. His mother sneaked him across the American-Mexican border when he was a baby. He was totally off grid. The government has no clue on who is he or what he does.

He barely knows how to read or write. He does, however, know how to use a gun. If he had gone to school, he would get an A in killing people. It's his specialty. His right-hand man, Hans, is also Mexican and he excels in explosives and drug use. Hans could probably name every single kind of drug, prescription or not.

We would walk down the road and he could point out the plants that could kill you, or use as an explosive.

Hans is a genius.

I don't remember a thing about my parents and I have been living in the streets since I could remember. Hans found me when I was six years old. I was currently pick-pocketing at that time and he was my victim. I managed to steal his wallet, which was tucked inside his breast pocket with a chain attached to it, clipping it to the inside. He didn't notice at first and it took him a few minutes to realize it was gone.

He had grabbed my arm, and yelled. I shrank from his touch, rarely had anyone caught me pick-pocketing before.

"what do you have there?" Hans had asked, holding my arm tightly. Hesitantly, I showed his wallet. I expected him to be angry, to want to hit me.

He had actually found my "talent" very intriguing. I was the first one to ever successfully steal something from him.

Hans offered me a place to live in, some clothes and a job, under the condition of passing one test: I had to run across the street and steal another man's wallet. He doubted that I could actually do so, even after stealing his.

I accepted the challenge and when I came running back with the wallet, he was speechless. He saw the potential in me and wanted to become my mentor in stealing more than just wallets.

Hans and Michael run one of the tightest gangs in all of the north-eastern U.S.A., and living with them, I quickly learned what it was like to be in a one.

I became known as Hans' kid. Whenever I steal another gang member's wallet and get caught, someone would shout "Hey! That's Hans' kid. Don't touch him!" before they could even hit me.

As soon as I was old enough to fend for myself, I learned not to mess with people and how to become invisible the hard way.

In the beginning, my jobs seemed simple: steal this, buy that. Then it came to the point when Hans tried to use my gift to his advantage. Unfortunately, stealing two pounds of crack-cocain during a raid at the age of twelve wasn't exactly what I was cut out for.