Chapter 6 - Meeting the Anarchists

"Bro, look at these," Joe exclaimed happily over the steaming spread of food that was available to choose from, arranged in a self-serving buffet style. "The amount of choices alone here is enough for me to vote on this place–"

Before Frank could reply, however, they were suddenly surrounded by three students. They were all well over six feet and two-hundred pounds, and they hovered around them with matching menacing expressions on their faces. The jerseys they wore proudly announced that they belonged to Lincoln's basketball team, Howling Hyenas.

"If you know what's good for you, better cut the crap right now," the tallest one amongst the three looked down at them and rumbled in a deep growling voice. His thick eastern-European accent contrasted heavily with his African-American appearance, and Joe thought he saw a gleam of gold when the giant flashed a nasty grin before going back to glowering at him.

"Um," he said, looking at Frank before craning his neck up to stare at the guy with what he hoped was a fearful expression. "Excuse me?"

"You think we couldn't spot your act a mile away?" The second giant to the left of Goldtooth took a step forward. He was the tallest of the three, easily 6' 7" or more, and all muscle. He was completely bald and so heavily suntanned, he shined like a bronze statue. His mismatched eyes - one brown and the other blue - were narrowed in a cold glare that darted between the two of them as if he was trying to decide which one he wanted to punch in the face first. "You think we're stupid?"

Instead of giving Baldie the first wise-ass answer that popped into his mind, Joe silently took a small step back at the same time Frank did - a suitable response from two new quiet kids who had suddenly become the centre of the attention of three college bullies.

"I'm sure there's a misunderstanding–" Frank mumbled, moving close enough to bump his shoulder against Joe.

"Nothing like that," Goldtooth rumbled again. Baldie and the other thug, who was the smallest due to his 6' 3" and 180-pound leaner frame, moved to flank them from the sides, effectively cutting them off from going anywhere but where they were directed. "Keep your cool, grab your trays and follow me. We've got something to educate you two on before you get any fancy ideas."

Joe stole a quick look at Frank who was to his left. He had the silent thug on his side while Joe had the Baldie bumping his shoulder from his right.

The Anarchists, Frank's raised eyebrow and his subtle glance towards the small tattoo they all had on the side of their neck said. Then he blinked and hitched a shoulder in a tiny shrug. Saves us the trouble of hunting them down later.

Joe knew he was reading his brother right. He let his lips twitch for a fraction of a second and sniffed. Maybe they just wanna talk…

"I, uh, never say no to being educated," he said, letting his voice tremble a little.

"Knowledge is wealth," Frank nodded, gulping audibly. "Lead the way, please."

They were led to the table at the farthest corner of the large cafeteria near an emergency exit. There were three more huge Howling Hyenas seated at the table with five empty seats in a neat row on the opposite side. Joe felt as if he and Frank were being escorted for an interview/audition with Lincoln's newly emerging crime syndicate.

Goldie got hold of a chair and dragged it to the side where his fellow gangsters were seated, adding his considerable presence to the united front. Baldie and Shorty glared until the brothers settled themselves in the two middle seats and dropped themselves heavily beside them, making the poor chairs groan and creak as they supported the man mountains.

The huge, dark-haired player with dark eyes who was seated in the middle flanked by his fellow players scanned them both with an assessing gaze for a few long seconds. Joe kept his head down and his own eyes focused on the food in his tray just like Frank did.

"I'm Kent Rogers," he snarled, causing them both to look up at him. "You're the Castellanos boys, Frank and Joe." Then a smile broke out on his lips, flashing two rows of perfect white teeth. There was no humour in it. "And we know exactly who and what you are."

Damn. We must have broken some kind of a record for being discovered this fast while undercover, Joe thought to himself without letting the disappointment show on his face. Glancing at Frank, he was sure he was thinking the same thing.

"Um, you do?" he asked meekly, turning back to the leader of the group.

"Better believe it, little boy," the Hyena on Kent's left growled.

"Okay, Rogers," Frank said, completely ignoring the other thug. Blondie's eyes narrowed, and Joe was sure he was imagining beating Frank to a pulp. "Who and what do you think we are, then?"

"Two little punks with a rich daddy, waltzing around thinking everything is up for grabs, because why not, hah?" Kent said, with an almost philosophical air.

As if you didn't get in here with your daddy's money, hypocrite. Joe shot back in his mind. Yeah, well, at least some sanctimonious rhetoric is better than you figuring out our real identities, I guess…

"Everything has a price tag after all," Rogers continued, unaware of Joe's thoughts. "Entitled, spoiled and clueless. Pretty, arrogant and cocksure in your own little minds that you're the hot new game in town–"

"We were just–"

Frank was cut off mid-sentence by his minder with a resounding thump to the back of his head.

"Listen first." Shortie barked.

His brother grimaced and glared at the Hyena before ducking his head again. "Sorry," he mumbled to his french fries.

"Studying and getting the piece of paper with your degree shouldn't be your only goal if you continue to stay in here," Rogers picked up imparting his wisdom as if nothing happened. "You need to acquire some skills," he said and the others around him nodded. "Skills on how to defend yourselves and how to survive in the rough, real world out there. You need to make new friends, family, who'll have your back no matter what…"

"Those friendships begin in places like this," the Hyena to his right picked up the narrative. Joe could tell that he was the tallest of the group, probably over seven feet. Despite his towering frame, he had a very gentle and quiet voice. He had a feeling that this one was probably Rogers' second in command in their enterprise.

"You get to spend most of your time with other people while you're here," he continued. "You can hang, talk, play and learn about others. You need to find the ones you can trust, the ones who'll respect you, stay loyal to you through thick and thin and weed out the rest. Then, by the time you're ready to step into the big, bad world out there, you know you are not alone."

"Okay," Joe nodded earnestly. "Sounds like great advice. Thank you."

It was his turn to get smacked in the back of the head by his own minder.

Oops, some of my condescension must have slipped out…

"Watch your tone," Baldie's growl confirmed his suspicion.

"You think you're smart and cool because of the attention you received," Rogers let his lips widen in a nasty grin. "Don't think just because they flashed their pearly whites and shook their tits at you, they like you. Sometimes vipers come in all pretty colours and shapes."

Joe knew he was talking about the Saunders twins. News and gossip seemed to travel through this college at lightspeed, as they did in all schools. He turned his head and found Frank staring at him with the same thoughtful look in his eyes.

"Vipers." He made a face at his brother.

"I don't like snakes," Frank shuddered.

"The Saunders bitches have their sights on ya," the Hyena on the left piped up with a growl. "Soon they'll have their claws in you too. Boys, let me tell ya, there's no saving your punk asses when that happens."

They shared another timid glance and turned their focus back on the three Hyenas taking turns educating them.

"Which is why you need someone who's capable, who's trustworthy to look after you," Rogers declared, spreading his arms to indicate that he meant The Anarchists. "A pair of wiry slips like you won't stand a chance against that group," he spat the word like a curse. "Those two witches will eat you alive and spit out your bones before you even figure out what's happening to you. Like Chase said, by then that'll be too late."

Okay, that's not where I expected this to go, Joe had to admit in the privacy of his own mind, confused by the turn the Anarchist leader had taken.

"Wait!" Frank exclaimed, wide-eyed. "You mean, you're offering us…protection of your group against the Saunders' Circle?"

"We are the Anarchists," Baldie rumbled next to Joe. "We take care of our own."

Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Since the gangsters seemed to have such altruistic motives, he decided to press their luck and see how far he could dig.

He opened his eyes and focused on Rogers. "Do you, though?"

In his periphery, he saw Frank wince and next to him, Baldie let out a roar. Before the enraged giant could bash his head in, Rogers raised a hand, wordlessly ordering the man to calm down.

"You sound like you have evidence to the contrary?" the presumably second in command of the Anarchists observed mildly.

"You see, we have friends," Frank said quietly. "We were sort of warned against you guys before we even set foot here."

"Yeah," Joe joined in. "We were told to stay away from you guys unless we wanted to end up like…Melvin."

That elicited a reaction from the entire group. They all broke into snarls and scowls as one, instantly offended by their insinuation. Joe could see that they barely held back from physical violence, only because Rogers seemed to stay calm at the perceived grave insult.

"Carl and Melvin Winters were our brothers," the one on the left, Chase, said through clenched teeth. Joe saw his knuckles turn white as he clenched his hands into fists, squeezing the life out of his food tray. "They were both Wolves," he said, which meant the two brothers were both on their football team. "Here's another lesson. Don't believe all the stories you hear."

"Lots of kids here went crazy after Carl killed himself."

"Do you know why?" Joe braved another question.

"Because he went sniffing and drooling after food he wasn't allowed, like the dumb, horny dog he was," Rogers scoffed angrily. "He got slapped. Those bitches have a way of messing with your minds–"

"He was a good kid," Gentle Hyena added. "Best quarterback the Wolves had seen in three years. He was our brother, he was cool until he got leashed."

"You mean he left your brotherhood for theirs?" Frank frowned. "Did his loyalties change?"

"Stupid asshole thought he had a chance with one of them queen bitches, one of the blue-eyed, bloodthirsty ones," this time it was Goldtooth who spoke. "He went to ask her on a date. I saw the flowers and the simpering smile on his face and everything. The next day, he finished his lunch and offed himself. Swan-dived right off a damned roof of all things."

"Devastated that Melvin kid, he did," another Hyena who was quiet until now, mumbled to himself.

"Why did your guys go after Melvin then?" Joe asked softly.

"We didn't," Rogers shook his head. "He was one of ours. He was even trying out for Carl's spot and the kid showed promise. Carl trained him well. We were all at his back, supporting him, cheering him on, man…"

"Then what–"

"The two dumbasses from our group got hooked on the bullshit on them girls spilling," Baldie picked up the story this time. "They have these secret meetings… some creepy cult bullshit. These two listened to their wild stories and had their brains fried or something. They went blind. Started to worship them like fools, like starving dogs frothing at the mouth, whenever one of them walked past them. We tried to reel them in, talk to them…even tried beating some sense into them. Nothing worked."

"Next thing we knew, the guards were dragging Boris, Freddie and three other crazy assholes they managed to rope into that madness, off Melvin's broken and bleeding body…"

"Goddamn it!" Frank's minder cursed when Chase trailed off.

"You're right," Joe spoke quietly after a long moment of silence. "It seems that what we heard was not the entire story. We are very sorry about what happened."

"How is he doing, if I may ask?" Frank added.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Gentle Giant sighed. "We all have special permission to visit him every day. The ICU at the NY Hope only let us in one by one and that's only for an hour. We take turns."

"He's Carl's brother," Goldtooth repeated. "We look after our own."

"The purpose of this meeting was to warn you," Rogers said, pinning them both with a very serious look in his dark eyes. "You look like you haven't stepped outside without daddy shadowing your footsteps, even once," Joe thought he detected an almost brotherly concern in the Anarchist leader's eyes.

Despite the menacing, gang-like behaviour and the dutifully cultivated air of violence, the group of players seemed genuinely concerned for their continued well-being. What a bunch of contradictory thugs… Joe wondered.

"You need to learn the true natures of the people," Rogers continued. "And you're lucky to have a safe place to do it without ending up dead like Carl or broken like Melvin. That's what we're offering to the two of you. Keep that in mind."

"And you say you're it?" Frank raised an eyebrow.

"Damn right, kid," Rogers nodded. "We are it."