Spamono

Chapter 1

The moon shone down on the quiet streets, just beginning to wane, providing wan light, but plenty enough to see by on that dark night. "Damn, but it's cold tonight," thought Royce, an 18 year-old with maroon hair and deep violet eyes, as he strode tensely across the narrow alleyways of Horton Crescent. He had decided to take a detour out of sheer boredom, along with a need to avoid authorities. Anyone that looked sideways at anything nowadays with cops around was likely to get shot by a taser. Royce knew from experience. But it seemed as though the route he was taking now was no shorter, if not longer, than his normal route. Just as he was beginning to doubt his choice, and had begun to relax, a red car came screaming around the corner. At first Royce just moved to hug the wall. Speeding was a common thing, especially at this time of night. No doubt he would begin to hear the familiar siren's wail any minute now. Then, as he took a cursory look, he saw a pistol aimed out the side window...
At him.

After that, everything seemed to slow down, but somehow it was also very quick. Oh, well. Royce didn't trouble himself with quantum physics. The people inside had guns. No big surprise. Those guns were aimed at him. Surprise. There wasn't much more to it. Royce ducked into a small side street. If he stood still he was dead. He needed to get away from that car, and the gangsters inside it. Assuming they were gangsters (more than likely). And the guns. Couldn't forget the guns. A bullet slammed into the wall next to his ear as he turned the corner. The shrapnel stung his cheek. He fervently hoped that there would be a corner soon, because if there was a brick wall ahead he was screwed. He prayed to no one in particular, when…

He was forced to screech to a stop as a brick wall loomed from the shadows. Resigning himself to the pain that would surely follow, he could only hope that death would be quick. He felt strangely numb. The fear was there, but it was not as potent as he had expected. The red car turned the corner at a leisurely pace. Whoever was inside obviously knew the streets. The headlights were turned off, and the car became only visible as a faint silhouette in the darkness. Royce trembled in fear. The car doors opened, and two burly men stepped out. Royce recognized one as a man from the street. Easily recognizable by a bright purple shirt, he was hard to miss, especially when almost no one wore bright colors anymore. Standing out was dangerous. "Why me?" Thought Royce to himself. "Just dumb luck?"

Then he ran out of time to ponder.
The first man approached with a cocky stride. He had huge muscles, and by the looks of it, his attitude was rough. He looked Royce up and down, and a derisive sneer twisted his mouth. He took out his pistol, and pointed it right at Royce's chest.
"The fuck you doing here?" said the man, right up into his face, "You fuckers usually just back off of our territory. You're one of the first to be stupid enough to try and spy on us right here." He snorted. "They payin' you something, kid?" He had emphasized the word 'spy' by twisting the barrel of the pistol into Royce's chest, and he had to fight back a small squeak of pain. But what had he meant by that?
The first guy looked thoughtful. Obviously his brain was overheating in order to work out one of the great questions of the universe. Then-
"Hey, Gibs! Look at the little shit! I can't see any little friends around here- I'm guessing this poor fucker doesn't even have a gang!" the member called over his shoulder.
The two guys chuckled as Royce just stared in fear.
"Either way, we're already here…I think we can just kill him anyway. No need to leave a potential witness." A slow grin began to spread across his face. "Let's beat the shit out of him first. Then lets kill him," suggested Gibs.
"Sounds good to me," said Max. Max removed his pistol from Royce's ribs, and both men flipped their pistols, ready to pistol-whip him to within an inch of his life.
Royce backed up and hit the brick wall, without hope. He had no way out of this, of surviving this encounter. But suddenly out of the shadows came out a mysterious man.
"You know, picking on people who don't have anything to do with you is low," said the mysterious man, in a tranquil voice. His tone suddenly turned venomous. "That's why I'm going to show what you mother fuckers just what your dealing with!"
The mysterious man reached into his black leather jacket and pulled out a compact semi-automatic.

"Fuck! The guy is armed!" shouted Gibs.
The members started shooting at one another. The man hid behind a garbage dump and two shots rang out, the sound reverberating around the walls. Gibs cried out and dropped his gun. He collapsed and was dead before he hit the ground. Max, not realizing his partner was dead, was still firing. The man was still cover by the dump, and as soon as there was a break in the gunfire from Max, as he half turned to flee, his semi-automatic popped out and strafed the entire alley. Royce hit the floor, barely avoiding getting an extra air hole punched into his head. Obviously, most of the shots missed, ricocheting but Max had been hit several times in the general body area. As max, too, collapsed to the floor, the man stepped out from behind the dumpster and strolled towards Royce with a cocky spring in his step. Royce looked at Max writing on the floor in terrible pain, holding on to his chest with his hands.
"I hate you, Spamono. I hate you!" groaned Max.
The man walked up to his twitching form on the ground, and spat on his face. Then he raised his gun and fired a single round. Max's corpse twitched jerkily once, then lay still. The man came up toward me.
"Are you alright, kid?" said the man.
"W-what the hell was that?" stuttered Royce. He wasn't squeamish, but that scene would probably have scared the shit out of anybody.
"Don't worry, kid. I'm not going to kill you like they were planning to," said the man. "I'm actually here to recruit some people."

"Recruit? Don't tell me I'm in this shit now, too!" Royce tried to sound threatening, imposing, but his voice cracked on 'this'. He cursed in the back of his mind. The last thing he wanted was to sound like a coward- He might decide he wasn't worth the time and just kill him.
"Don't worry, kid. No pressure. It's your choice to join our little family or not." His tone was tranquil again. "If you don't want to die right here, right now, I suggest you acquiesce to my, ah…recruitment program."
"I'm guessing this recruitment program is for the infamous Spamono?" questioned Royce.
"You guessed right, kid- but the other gang members you met now were members of the Brolers," said the man, his face twisting into a grimace. He spat on the sidewalk. "They'll take anybody out- If we're in their territory, they won't be nice and show you the way out until you're in a body bag. Nobody will help you, or accompany you into their territory, unless you're in a gang. So basically, you owe me your life. And if you decide against joining, I might as well rub you out right now. Wouldn't want any witnesses, and since your life is mine now anyway-"
"So if I join this "gang" of yours- if I become one of these 'Spamonos', I'll be safe?" Royce interjected quickly.
"Sure, you could say that. But you also got to cover your members backs," the man said. "And we can't guarantee your safety. But you'd sure as hell be better off than on your own."
"One more question before I decide. Why the hell are you recruiting anyways, and why me?" said Royce.
"Why? It's because the Brolers have been a disturbance to us ever since they got here, and we plan on a final brawl to shut those fuckers up once and for all," said the man, "But we're lacking members. So we must recruit. And if we can't recruit someone, were not going to take the chance that the Brolers will get 'em."
"And me?" Royce prompted.
"Ah, but that's two questions."
"The way I see it, is I'm more good to you alive than dead. If I decide not to join after I've heard this, then you kill me anyway. Might as well give me a chance. All you'll lose is a few minutes."
"Hmm. Clever, eh? Well. In response to your question, let's just say… I see what I can want, and we have a little talk. If we see eye to eye, they're in. If not, that eye will find its' way punched to the back of their skull by a bullet." The man winked. "So- are you in?"

"When you put it like that…I don't really have a choice, do I?" said Royce dryly. "I'm in." Then he added, "And I want to get back at those bastards who tried to kill me just now."
The man chuckled heartily. "I like you already, kid. Follow me." He began to walk away, then paused. "Oh, and by the way- the name is Troy," said the man. Then Troy strolled off, with that same cocky step, his gun over his shoulder, always ready to be brought back up. The dark streets of Cajus now held a new sense of danger. Before Royce could ponder anymore about if he had made the right decision- if death wouldn't have been preferable than the things to come- he realized the footsteps were fading. Royce hurried to catch up and meet whatever awaited him in the future.
His pondering would not cease any time soon.