The Runaways

Chapter Eleven - Werid Guys and Werid Knives

Me and Remington make it into the main part of town, there are a cluster of poorly built buildings that surrounded the middle of town where many people lined the streets selling various items. Food, clothes, knives, all sorts of stuff.
Remington starts to drift over to the stands and begins looking around. I follow him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. See, Remington has very bad habits, one being stealing even if he didn't want or need it. And more often than not it always ends him up in trouble. I don't know why he steals things so often, even if he doesn't need them. It's just so weird.
I watch carefully as Remington stops at one of the little set up and picks up one of the more seemingly expensive knifes and runs his fingers over it as he examines it. It was a very sharp knife that had a nice purple tinted shine to the blade. It's handle was elegantly wrapped in an expensive cloth and had a small symbol engraved just at the bottom of the blade where it met the handle of the knife. All topped off with a glossy purple streak running threw the middle of the blade.
"You want that?" The raspy voice of the older man selling it asked.
Remington simply looked up at his with a confused look in his eye, "Where'd you get this knife sir?"
"Found it," He muttered.
"No, no, stuff like this isn't just found, where did you steal this from," Remington inquired.
"Remington what are you doing?" I ask threw gritted teeth.
"Are you trying to accuse me of something?" The man asked as his fixed his poster standing up straighter.
"Where did you get this knife?" Remington asked again.
"Look buddy if your not gonna buy anything just put the knife down and leave," The man said.
Remington looked back down at the knife and then back up at the seller, "How much?"
"Well it is a pretty decent knife," The man said clearing his throat, "At the least I'd give it to you for five and two quarter portions,"
I froze up. That was a whole lot of money, about as five times as much as we had currently. And knowing Remington, he was only going to argue the price down until he managed to get it at an insanely cheap price, he was kicked out, or had to run away and steal it.
Remington simply stared up at the man and dropped the knife on the table. He glared at him and started walking away. Not a word. I was astonished, usually he always puts up some sort of fight. But he just gave up. Why?
"Elias!" Remington calls.
"Coming," I say as I pick up the pace and catch up with him. I walk over and notice how his hands are twitching, he looks antsy, "Something wrong?"
"He shouldn't have that knife," Remington mutters angrily to himself, he's suddenly turned so serious and upset. Remington knows more about knives than any of us. He can even make his own that look just as good as the one we just saw.
"Why? What's wrong with the knife?"
"He shouldn't have it!" Remington snapped.
"Why? Is it yours or something?" I ask.
"No he— he just shouldn't have it!" Remington exclaims.
"Remington if you just want the knife you can just say so, it was a really pretty knif—"
"NO ONE SHOULD HAVE IT!" Remington yells.
"Remington what the hell?" I ask as I take a step back. He looks so paranoid. I don't understand, I've never seen him like this.
"It's— that knife is bad, when the war first started there was this gang— you probably don't remember, you were still young right?" Remington asked.
"Well thirteen, I can still remember—"
"Alright yeah— yeah you wouldn't know," Remington muttered.
"Wh— Remington what is going on?"
"There was this gang that went around when the war first started and they... They worked with The Syndicates. It was just a bad situation and that type of knife was one of their signature pieces, " Remington says, "It's not important now it's just-- you usually don't see those around anymore--" just as he finished he was suddenly knocked over as a tall man who had ran into him on accident, "HEY!"
"Oh God, I'm so sorry I didn't mean, God I'm stupid, sorry," The tall man said as he took a step back. He had broad shoulders and pale skin, messy, black, curly hair and rough stubble Long his jaw.
"Watch where your going," Remington growled.
"THERE!" A man called as he ran over to the tall man along with another person.
The tall man quickly turned and started running away before another man ran out of an alley and blocked his path.
"Do you know what's going on?" I ask looking over at Remington.
"No idea," Remington muttered, "But this is pretty interesting. He probably stole something."
The three men started closing in on the tall man who was taller than all three of them and looked like he could easily take them all down. This dude had a strong build on him. Why wasn't he doing anything? Why wasn't he defending himself.
"A-Alright now guys this is a complete misunderstanding I swear," The tall man said.
"Give us the papers." One of them ordered, "GIVE UP THE PAPERS!"
"Please— look maybe we can work this out together you know?" The tall man said nervously as a knife was held up to his throat. By this time most people near by had formed a circle around to watch, "Please, we're all on the same side here, we're all against the Syndicates,"
A fourth man approached from the crowd and dropped the limb body of a blonde haired man on the ground.
"You give us those papers or we'll slit your friends throat," One of the men threatened.
The tall man swallowed and looked at me and Remington with a pleading glance, right before reaching into his pocket and holding out a mess of papers in his hand which was shaking horribly. The men took it and lowered their weapons they immediately walked off as soon as they had the mess of papers and let the tall man be alone with leaving the limp body of the blonde haired man in the middle of the street. The crowd that had formed broke apart and everyone went back to what they were doing.
The tall man with black hair then started crying. Sniffling and wiping his eyes as he walked over to go pick up his friends body.
"Jeez, what just happened?" I ask.
"I'm guessing some sort of gang rivalry with the Syndicates, which means it's none of our business," Remington muttered as he turned around , "C'mon lets go, there plenty elsewhere were we can look around,"
"H-Hey! HEY WAIT!"
I turned back and saw the black haired running up to us as he carried his friend over his shoulder.
"Hey! Hey! You're arm!" The man exclaimed as he hurried over. "That tattoo!"
I look at Remington with a shocked gaze only to see a panicked look in his eyes.
"No, no, you've got the wrong idea, I don't—"
"Oh thank God Your here," The man said as he wiped his eyes with his arm, "That's the mark of a Prerogative!"
"No— you don't understand—"
I look at Remington's arm that isn't completely covered in burn scars and bandages. It too has its own set of large scars scattered across her arm from possible scuffles with others, and also a weird pattern of small circular burn marks scattered around each one no bigger than a pencil eraser. But right on the outside of his forearm was a tattoo of a symbol, different from any symbol I've seen.
"But we finally found you! You can help us!" The man took a big sigh as he held out his hand for Remington to shake, "My names Cleveland, and the guy on my shoulder is Warren,"
I watch as Remington sighs and pushes Cleveland's hand down, "Look I'm not whatever you think I am, I'm just some guy who runs around stealing stuff from people,"
"But your a Prerogative!" Cleveland says, "why else would you have that specific tattoo!?"
"I was never a Prerogative. It's just a tattoo I thought looked cool." Remington says as he turns to leave, "C'mon Elias we're going,"
"Wait, what? Remington what's going on? What's a Prerogative?" I ask.
Just as we start walking away the ground rumbles and the sound of a large crash fills everyone's ears. Before I know what's going on people are already screaming and running. Cleveland speeds right past us and as I turn around behind me all I can see is an army of Syndicates.
They've come to raid yet another town.