Volume V: The Tragic End of Treason

Chapter 2: Proper Courtesy

            Please excuse me; I’ve forgotten my manners. I should properly introduce myself I imagine. My name is Dean, least; it was the last time I checked. Most people don’t really call me by my given name. That’s because I don’t usually tell them my name. So they’ll call me whatever comes to mind. Usually, it’s Havok. Dean or Havok, whatever you see fit to call me, I’ll answer. Well, I might, depends on the situation. You need help; I might come running. You want the guy that broke your buddy’s arm? He went that way. Back to the point, my name’s not all that significant. I’m 21 years old; least I was last time I checked. I have to check on these things a lot lately, never can tell anymore. I don’t do much with my life - I work, kind of. I do all kinds of odd jobs, whatever I can find, whatever gets me through the days.

            Galat and I have been friends for half of forever, we were gang mates once upon a time. When the leader went missing, the structure fell apart and war broke out. We were “fortunate” enough to survive the mess and move on to have lives. Luck or skill, I’m not sure. Either way, we got out before it got bad. Kids died; kids, that’s all we were. To die so young for no purpose, no point; yet they died. The streets ran with blood for weeks as the weak fell and the strong were overtaken and mutiny became the world’s bedfellow. Loyalty was a distant memory, a long forgotten idea that screamed betrayal at its’ whispering. Next chapter.

            So that part of our lives died out and we got our individuality back, a rebirth of sorts, if you will. And we started over again, the gang disbanded mostly and the younger ones took over and remade what we’d destroyed. Hence, Dev. She took over where Cicero and Vince had fallen. She was worthy, in her own sense I imagine, we didn’t really keep score. We grow up and out of such games and things.

            Streets run by kids, like we were once upon a time. Dev was the latest and greatest model, yet there was no loyalty in her ranks. If I did a little research, I could probably learn why. Her crew and the other main group were always at odds and ends, always messy, never ending. Nothing truly important ever really ends, and as long as it matters to someone, it is, theoretically important. That’s my idea of it anyways, perhaps. Maybe I’m just being foolish.

            Dev’s reputation precedes her, though it was nothing to compare to the greats; Cicero and Vincent’s names were permanent in the minds of the weak, in the victimized and social. Dev…where she came from, I’m not sure. But she crawled out of the madness and took control of what remained. How she took hold…I’m not sure of that either. It’s like how she ended up in my bed, one of those things you’re just not sure of. Anyways, she took charge. I knew the names and faces, the times and places, I’d been there too once upon a time and there wasn’t much time between them and me. I just grew out of it, the sense of dying for petty nothing. I learned and adapted to reality. The nemesis in our tale, his name was Marcellus. They were the two gods, the high masters. And each was ruthless in its’ methods, Marcellus more so. True, Dev had fought her way to the top, but she retained the simplest human emotions. Marcellus didn’t believe in loyalty or trust…how he managed a gang without those, I’m not sure. There’s not very much I am sure about…

            His name was Cellus actually, Marcellus was too…”proper” and drawn out. What kinds of hippy reject parents name their son, “Marcellus” anyway? Hippies that smoked up a little too much all together…somehow, he became a gang leader though. With a silly name like that, a gang leader. It’s funny if you really think about it from a logical standpoint…well, maybe not as funny as I’d like to imagine it was. Once upon a time; did so much change in such a short time? It was…five years or so since dear ole Vince disappeared. What a tragedy, he was so sorely missed. Cry, cry, tear, tear.