Wrong Side of the Tracks

by Daddy's Little Rabbit

In the wake of an unknown massacre, Vyvyan finds himself in one of the most feared gangs in Molalla, Oregon after he crosses paths with the gang's leader. Though he lives in Silverton, the boy has no problem with traveling, making sure to not allow his parents to find out. But when they get word of his doings, it's already too late, and only Vyvyan can right his wrongs.

A/N: This was actually inspired by one of my favorite movies: A Bronx Tale. I can thank my mother for forcing me to watch this. Anyways, enjoy the story!

Wrong Side of the Tracks

~Prologue~

"Vyvyan! Get over here, boy!" The child of only seven looked towards his mother, who was leaning against a streetlamp, her arms crossed over her chest as she held a stern look. With a small sigh, Vyvyan slowly turned around, walking towards his mother.

"I wasn't going to do anything, ma," he told her, though she ignored his words.

"I don't want you going anywhere near that side of town, you hear me?" she spoke, glancing back and shuddering a bit. "That place is filled with bad people, and bad things! Promise me you'll never go over there!"

"I promise, mom," he sighed, his honey colored eyes looking at the cement. His mother smiled.

"Good boy," She grabbed his hand, both of them walking down the street towards home. She looked down at her son, the smile still on her face. "Funny. You resemble your father, though your eyes and personality resemble me. I guess it's just a mixture."

"You got in trouble when you were younger, mom?" questioned Vyvyan. He heard his mother chuckle.

"I got in so much trouble!" she started, reminiscing about her own childhood. "I remember I used to get into fights with my older brother, a kid in my neighborhood... man, those were good times. But the more I think about it, the more I know that I was being stupid." She turned her gaze back towards Vyvyan. "Remember something, sweetheart: Fighting solves nothing. As much as you think it does, the only one who gets hurt is yourself. Even if you win, the person you fought will most likely retaliate. And when that happens, you probably won't be prepared. So, stay out of trouble, obey your father and I, and just be a good kid."

"Don't worry, ma!" he giggled, giving her a big grin. "I won't get into any fights! Papa already told me fighting is no good! Only if I really have to!"

"Such a good boy," she cooed, gently pinching his cheek with her free hand. "Now, come on. Let's get home and make something to eat!"

"Can we have tacos? Please, mommy!" he begged, making her giggle.

"Looks like eye color and personality wasn't the only thing you got from me," she said, now ruffling his soft, black hair.