Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer rights apply.

Warning:Updates will most definitely be slow. Sorry, guys.
This contains SLASH, in other words: same sex couples. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and MAY contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be sporadic, and a surprise. I'm not ruining the story by telling you end pairings.

Beta'd By: Sarah2437 (Thank you for your hard work!)

Getting Back Together Again

Chapter XXX - Spot's Demise

"Hey, you asshole," Racetrack called out as soon as someone opened his prison cell door. This was a new guy: some kid with strawberry-blonde hair and an upturned nose that Race thought would look a lot better broken. "You going to fucking feed me eventually? I'm fucking starving."

The little shit shook his head. "I wasn't told to feed you," he replied in a squeaky voice. The little asshole probably hadn't hit puberty yet. "Just told that I can take you to the bathroom if you need to. Do you? Need the bathroom?"

Going to the bathroom consisted of someone guiding him to a bucket in the corner of his cement cage and holding his dick while he pissed. Suffice to say he was content to hold it for as long as possible. Racetrack grimaced just thinking about it. "Unless you're going to suck it I don't want you anywhere around my dick.".

The kid nodded his head. "Right. Right. Fair enough. Technically I don't have to check in on you, by the way, so you might want to consider being a little nicer. Boss doesn't really seem to give a fuck about you except that you're kept alive, you know."

So maybe he shouldn't have called the little shit an asshole, but Racetrack was still all for giving the bastard a broken nose. "Sorry, I didn't realize. Of course I never meant any offense," he replied. "If you really want to touch my dick I guess I'd take a handjob, if blowjob's aren't your thing."

The kid walked over to where Racetrack was still handcuffed to the pipe above him and kicked him in the stomach. Racetrack's feet lifted off the floor at the momentum, but his hands didn't allow for much movement. "Hope you enjoy pissing yourself, faggot," the kid snarled before stomping over to the cell door.

"Not sure why you're calling me the faggot when you guys are the ones who keep talking about touching my dick!" Racetrack called at his back before the door closed. God damn it, of course his mouth would get him into trouble. He really just couldn't help himself. It was just a good thing they hadn't offered him water in a while.

He tugged down on his arms, wincing when all it did was dig the handcuffs into his wrists. He looked above him, trying to find a weakness in the pipe he was trapped to. There was nothing as far as he could see. And even if he did manage to get himself detached from the fucking pipe then he had to get through a locked cement door and however many goons were milling around outside.

It seemed a pretty hopeless situation.

At this point the only thing he was hopeful for was that he could hold his urine until someone new took up post. And hopefully the little bastard wouldn't tell his relief anything about Race being less than cooperative. If Racetrack pissed himself he was going to be really fucking angry.

Jack stood in the kitchen next to Stealth, surrounded by his ex-friends and doing his best to fake confidence. "I know you guys want to do something, and we will, but we can't all go running off in different directions; we have to stay organized."

"Always the jock, pushing us little people around," Skittery complained from the crowd. "What the hell makes you think we'd even listen to you?"

"Because I have a plan," Jack snapped back before glancing over at Stealth. "We have a plan," he corrected. "And if you'd shut up and listen I can explain it to you," he commanded, looking over the crowd to make sure no one else felt the need to interrupt. "Stealth and I were talking-"

"Right, because people can just talk to Stealth," Speed announced from the crowd, elbowing Bam in the arm and smirking at him.

"Didn't I just say to shut up?" Jack snapped at him, giving the man a glare.

"Oooh, Jack, you do not want to piss that guy off," Skittery warned him, glancing at Speed for a second before turning back to Jack. "Trust me on that one."

"I don't give a fuck," Jack told him before slamming his fist into his open palm. "This is important!"

"What do you know about how important this is?" Mush broke in. "Are you his best friend? You don't know anything about him anymore."

"Argh, you guys-!" Jack growled out, pulling at his hair.

"We don't have any type of plan right now," David announced calmly, standing up and walking over to Jack. "It certainly won't hurt us to hear Jack out."

Stealth bowed his head. "Queen," he greeted before stepping away.

David gave him a confused look before shaking his head and turning to Jack. "So? Jack? You were saying?"

Jack blinked at him before he gave a start. "Right, yeah," he said before clearing his throat and looking back at the crowd. "So, Stealth and I think it'd be best to split up so we can cover more ground. We can split off into groups and fan off from there." He clasped his hands behind his back and started pacing in front of the crowd "That way we'll be able to cover some ground and protect each other. Each group will have one gang member who'll be in charge of protecting the team. Listen to him. If they say pull back don't hesitate. We aren't exactly going for a walk in the park." He stopped his pacing and looked about the crowd, surprised that he still had their attention. "Stealth thinks Racetrack's being held at the Bronx, which the Brooklyn gang has just been chased out of, so keep it to yourself why you're there and what you're doing. Any questions?"

Specs raised his hand and caught Jack's eye before speaking. "This is fucking dangerous right? For us and for Racetrack and for Sean. So, if that's true, why are we all stepping into the line of fire with only four Brooklyn boys for backup?"

"Three," Jack corrected. "Stealth has to stay here."

"Five," Bam recorrected. "If Spot calls Jack and Skittery Brooklyn boys then they're Brooklyn boys. Ain't no arguing with Spot."

"'... Isn't any arguing with Spot'," Bumlets quietly said from beside him.

Bam pointed a thumb towards him. "See? Bumlets agrees with me."

Bumlets' eyes widened as he looked towards the crowd. "I was correcting you. I wasn't-" he tried to explain.

"Doesn't matter," Speed interrupted. "There aren't many of us because we're openly defying Spot's orders to not go after him, and most of us are too afraid to even think about doing that."

"And you guys aren't?" Bumlets asked from his place beside Bam.

Bam smiled at him and rubbed his arm. They were so reaching level three soon. "Nothing we haven't done before, Sweetums."

As the room settled back down Jack decided to skip telling them that the reason more people from the gang weren't down here was because these were the only people Stealth had said he trusted. "Right, so we're clear on the plan then? Great," he said, not waiting for a response. "So, the teams are as follows ..."

"You're being moved," a gruff voice explained, making Racetrack open his eyes and lift his head up. It was another new guy, a big one this time, with wide shoulders, a beer gut, and grey in his beard.

"Didn't realize an old man would stoop so low as to be working for some snot-nosed kid," Racetrack croaked out, his voice hoarse from lack of water.

The man didn't hesitate to slap him across the face. "You aren't cute," he replied. "Though it certainly answers the question of why Spot would like you." He grabbed the back of Racetrack's neck as he undid his handcuffs from the pipe above him. "Think about running off and I'll break this," he warned, tightening his hold even more on Racetrack's neck. "I don't think we necessarily need you alive anymore,"

"You think Spot likes me?" Racetrack asked, not bothering to struggle. He'd been standing in the same position for he didn't know how long, but it was enough for him to lose all feeling in his arms; he couldn't punch the guy if he tried.

"Enough to come after you," the older man confirmed. He fastened Racetrack's arms behind his back and pushed him forward. "Not that he's going to be able to find you, of course."

"Spot's coming after me?" Racetrack asked, not quite connecting the dots. Despite what Slingshot had said he hadn't been convinced that Sean wasn't at least turning a blind eye to whatever was happening to him. He had never thought the other boy would actually be coming after him.

"Wouldn't have bet on Spot taking to some retard though," the other man replied, walking Racetrack to the door.

Racetrack resisted for half a second and the man twisted the handcuffs, digging them into Race's already sore wrists. "Where're ... Where are you taking me?" he asked, his teeth clenched against the pain. "And aren't you worried about Spot rampaging through here?"

The old man laughed. "That's for my boss to deal with," he explained. "I'm just here for the money. Just gotta transport you, and then I'm free and clear."

"You do realize that I'm kidnapped, right? And that I'm just some high school kid that has nothing to do with Spot or his business?" Racetrack asked. He tried to look behind him but stopped as the handcuffs were twisted again. "And do you realize that that fucking hurts?" he grit out.

"Don't care, kid," the man declared, unlocking the door and shoving Racetrack through it.

Racetrack frowned as he looked around him and realized that he was still surrounded by concrete. There wasn't a window in the place to give him a hint about where he was or even what time it was. "You know, some people have this thing called a conscience, and it makes sure you aren't a huge fucking dickbag to poor, innocent kids."

The man gave a hoarse laugh. "Anyone mixed up in business with Spot ain't innocent, kid. I know that much about him. Now, stand still," he demanded, grabbing the back of Racetrack's neck again.

Another man advanced on him, this one with a giant smirk on his face and two of his teeth missing. "This Spot's pet, eh?" he asked, looking up at the older man.

"Shut up and get to work," the man behind Racetrack demanded. "Last report said that he'd get here within thirty minutes, and if Spot gets here either he or the boss are going to give both of us cement shoes and take us for a swim in the river."

The other man rolled his eyes. "Thirty minutes away if he knows where he's looking, and I'd bet you anything that he doesn't." He smirked at Racetrack before wrapping a blindfold around his eyes. "Can't have you seeing anything when we bring you outside, now can we?"

"You smell god awful. … Like rotten milk and bad decisions," Racetrack replied, which only served to earn him a punch to the stomach.

"Nice to see you again, Caveman," Speed greeted with a smirk as they headed out the door.

"Caveman?" Blink asked, looking over at Bumlets as they followed behind. "You guys know each other?"

Speed nodded. "Intimately, you could say."

"Except no one would, because it's not true," Bumlets corrected, glaring at the back of Speed's head before turning to Blink. "I met him one time."

"And I already know what that hunk of man meat looks like in boxers," Speed replied, winking at Blink. "I do like it when they move fast."

Bumlets scrunched up his nose. "Don't call me a hunk of man meat. It's- … It's kind of gross."

Speed shrugged as he continued the brisk walking pace he had set. "Suit yourself. I just thought you liked it, since that's what Bam calls you all the time."

Bumlets blanched. "He doesn't actually call me that, does he?"

Blink looked back and forth between the two boys before focusing his attention on Bumlets. "Are you going out with one of these guys?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"No," Bumlets answered immediately before frowning. "We're only on level two," he explained. "I don't really know what level dating comes into play, but I know it's not level two."

Blink frowned back at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about. So, you aren't dating, but you're talking about dating … a Brooklyn gang member."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Speed interrupted. "Bam's a good guy. Kind of dim sometimes … definitely overexcitable. And he idealizes Spot maybe a bit much. His spelling is just god awful. And don't even get me started on-"

"He's sweet," Bumlets broke in, shooting Speed a frown before looking over at Blink. "And he's annoying in a really endearing kind of way. He doesn't … " He looked over at Speed before lowering his voice and leaning in closer to Blink. "He doesn't act like a criminal, at least not around me."

"Right, but that doesn't mean he isn't a criminal," Blink whispered back, glancing over at Speed to make sure they weren't overheard.

"We can't all be in love with our best friends," Bumlets replied, his smirk widening as Blink blushed. "Didn't think anyone would notice the way you two kept staring at each other?"

"We weren't doing anything," Blink replied, forgetting to whisper as he frowned. "Our best friend's missing! We were-" He waved a hand in the air as he stumbled on his words. "We were taking comfort in each other."

Speed, from ahead of them, laughed. "'Taking comfort in each other'? Is that what you call that eye fucking you two were doing before we left?"

Blink's blush intensified. "That's not what we were doing!" he argued.

Bumlets put a hand on Blink's shoulder. "I wouldn't waste your energy arguing," he told him, not bothering to lower his voice. "I think it's a requirement that if you're in the Brooklyn gang you have to be hard headed."

"That's a gross generalization," Speed replied, glancing back at them. "An accurate one, granted, but still a gross generalization. It's not like we put it on our applications."

"Not like you have applications," Bumlets muttered back, making sure he was loud enough for Speed to hear him.

"Also, true," Speed said. "But now it's time to shut up, because we're entering enemy territory. Stay close, and, as a warning: I'm a runner, not a fighter, so you'd better keep up."

Blink and Bumlets pressed closer together as they looked around them. The Bronx had never seemed so threatening.

"For Race," Blink muttered to Bumlets.

Bumlets sighed before nodding. "For Race," he agreed.

"So, I couldn't help noticing that you …" David said, only to stop himself. He hadn't had a full conversation with Dutchy in years; he didn't want to start off their conversation talking about the sore subject of Specs. "How have you been?" he asked instead.

Jack snorted at him and answered before Dutchy could. "David, if you want to ask an actual question just ask it."

It was just the three of them, and Jack was on high alert despite the fact that they hadn't even reached the Bronx yet. He was worried he paired people up wrong and more worried that he wouldn't be able to protect the two people he'd paired himself with. And more worried still that Stealth had gotten it wrong and one of the Brooklyn boys heading out to the Bronx was actually the traitor, and they had just given him two Manhattan boys as extra hostages.

So it was a lot easier to push those things to the side and focus on ridiculing David instead.

"Your sister wasn't kidding when she called you a pussy, huh?" Jack asked.

David turned to glare at him. "Pussy or not I've got a pretty good right hook so I'd watch it," he snapped. "Though feel free to try it out if you don't believe me," he offered, cracking his knuckles.

"One day I woke up in this world," Dutchy explained without prompting, looking between the two other boys, "and nothing has really made sense after that."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jack asked, turning to him as he slowed his walking. "You hit your head or something?"

David glared at him, but couldn't get a word in before Dutchy answered.

"Maybe I did," Dutchy said, nodding his head. "That might make the most sense. I hit my head, made up this dream world, and, in real life, I'm just laying on a bed in a coma as the hospital eats through all of my parents' savings. That'd be nice. I think I'd like that." He nodded his head once more, a small smile on his face.

David stopped glaring at Jack to glance at Dutchy, raising an eyebrow. "Dutchy, do you … er, do you maybe want to expand on that? What makes you think that you hit your head?"

"Besides the obvious," Jack muttered quietly to himself.

Dutchy either didn't hear Jack or was content to ignore him. He turned to smile at David, nodding his head again. "Oh, something definitely happened. Hitting my head is just the most likely scenario. But it's fine because in this world Specs is really sweet, and you, David, you're a gangster ... I guess. And Skittery, he's back together with Itey, thank fucking god. And people don't hate Jack, so that's pretty nice. And the old gang's back at it, so that's really exciting. AND we're going on adventures together, and that's SUPER exciting. And-"

"Wait, people never hated me," Jack corrected, frowning over at Dutchy as his brain caught up to the quick rambling.

"Yes, they did, Jack," David answered as he looked over at Dutchy as well. "I couldn't help but notice about the Specs thing. He was kind of … I mean, he was hanging all over you."

"I know!" Dutchy replied, bursting into a smile. "It's perfectly magical, isn't it? That's my favorite part of this pretend world! Specs is so cute and attentive and-"

"... Suddenly not a homophobe?" David interrupted to ask. He couldn't help but frown as he remembered everything Specs had put him through. "What happened?"

Dutchy shrugged at him, not dropping his smile. "Hit my head, dude. I hope I hit it hard enough to stay here forever because this is the greatest imaginary place I've ever been to!" he announced, twirling in mid-walk.

David shared a look with Jack before focusing back on Dutchy. "Right, but what happened?" he tried again. "I mean, what-?"

Jack put a hand on David's shoulder and shook his head at him. "Just give it up, Davey. He's not going to change his answer. Guy's kind of slow, in case you haven't noticed."

"He is not," David snapped back, frowning at him. "He just has a different way of looking at things, that's all."

Dutchy smiled at him and laid his head on David's shoulder. "God damn it, but I have missed you. You're my second favorite thing in my coma world."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Huge pussy," he muttered to himself.

"Who the fuck made Jack in charge anyway?" Itey asked as he sat in a cab with Hunter heading into the Bronx. "The guy clearly sucks at it. What's with the teams? Leaving Skittery and Sarah alone together? What the hell is he thinking?"

Hunter rolled his eyes. "They aren't alone. They've got that other kid with them. So it's not like they're going to fuck or whatever."

Itey pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I know that, thank you so very much. I'm worried about them fighting, not fucking. Jesus. Sarah would never do that. She's not that type of person."

"Well, who the fuck cares about some stupid high school fight. Fuck, that sort of shit happens all the time," Hunter replied with a shrug. "You're being really high stress right now, and I'm going to need you to take it down a couple notches. Or, like, twenty-ish."

"It's not going to be some stupid high school fight," Itey snapped. "It's going to be Skittery berating her until something horrible happens. And then he might berate her after, too, because Skittery isn't really the type of guy to pull punches."

Hunter nodded from the seat beside him. "Ah, real douchebag, huh? I know the type. And this is what? Your boyfriend?"

Itey cringed. "I wouldn't call him my boyfriend, per say. I mean, things are kind of complicated right now. Skittery … he's … well, okay, so what happened was-"

"I'm going to go ahead and stop you right there," Hunter interrupted, putting a hand in front of Itey's face. "Cause I really don't give a fuck. I was trying to be nice, but I don't think you'll be able to find anyone who'd willingly listen to whatever headache you've gotten yourself into." He frowned for a few seconds while Itey glared at him. "A therapist might," he said before nodding. "Yeah, a therapist would." He raised an eyebrow as he smirked at Itey. "There's a reason they're paid so much, you know it?"

"You might be more of a douchebag than Skittery," Itey replied with a frown. "Why'd I have to get stuck with you anyway? All the other groups had three people."

Hunter shrugged. "Probably didn't want us to get slowed down by some Manhattan pussy that didn't know what he was doing," he reasoned. "So what can you do? Shoot? Punch? Lay it on me."

Itey shot a look at the driver before squinting at Hunter. "Um, none of those things," he admitted. "I've only shot a gun a few times, and the last time I was in a real fight was a couple years ago."

Hunter smacked himself in the forehead. "Jesus, what the hell am I supposed to do with you then? No wonder Spot didn't want any of you assholes coming along."

"How are my fighting skills even relevant?" Itey snapped. "This is supposed to be reconnaissance only."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's what it always starts out as, but Spot always screws it up. Then we're all running around, bullets are flying everywhere, people are getting kidnapped and threatened, Spot's flying off the handle (like always), and we gotta bash some heads in real fast before the police come. It's this whole thing, and, trust me, it happens every god damn time."

"Why weren't we told that before we volunteered for this?" Itey growled between clenched teeth. "Skittery isn't going to last if he gets kidnapped; he'll start berating everyone!"

Hunter gave a loud sigh. "Listen, champ, ya really gotta dial down that worrying thing you got going. I'm sure your fake boyfriend or whatever will be fine."

Itey crossed his arms as he faced ahead of him. "If anyone's getting kidnapped it's going to be Skittery," he muttered to himself. "Guy couldn't stay quiet for more than ten minutes if you paid him."

Skittery couldn't have been happier with the way things were progressing. Itey hadn't had one second alone with Sarah, and, now, thanks to Jack's team pairing, Skittery was all alone with the homewrecker.

"You know that we're heading away from the Bronx, right?" Swifty asked from a few steps behind him. "Also, it's kind of a far walk. I don't understand why we aren't just taking the subway."

Skittery glared at him. Okay, so he was kind of alone with Sarah. He would be alone once he got rid of Swifty. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot, are you team leader?"

Swifty rolled his eyes. "No, Skittery, you're team leader."

"Oh, I am, huh?" Skittery replied with a smirk. "Well, maybe it'd be a good idea if you started acting like it then, huh?"

"It'd also be a good idea if you acted competently," Swifty muttered. Sarah snorted from ahead of him, causing Swifty to break out into a smile.

"You aren't funny," Skittery pouted and crossed his arms. "And you, Sarah, you're way too happy for a girl who just lost her boyfriend to a man, of all things. That must be pretty humiliating for you."

Sarah's single faltered step was the only indication that statement took her by surprise. "What's humiliating is that it's you," she corrected. "If you don't learn to treat him better we're going to have a repeat of this in less than a month."

"I treat Itey fine," Skittery defended. "You're the only reason we fell on hard times to begin with. If you hadn't been such a homewrecker-"

"Homewrecker?" Sarah burst out, stopping her walk to whirl around and face Skittery. "Excuse me? You and Itey were broken up before I came into the picture, or don't you remember that part? It was around the time you were being a complete ass."

"Guys, we really don't have time for this right now," Swifty said, looking back and forth between Sarah and Skittery who were now facing each other down.

"Oh, wait a minute," Sarah continued, ignoring Swifty, "you're a complete ass all the time, so I guess that doesn't give you a good time frame, does it?"

Swifty tried again. "You guys do remember that we're supposed to be out here to find Racetrack, right?"

"Better an ass than a homewrecker," Skittery snapped back. "The Bible only promises that one of the two are going to hell."

Swifty frowned as both of his companions completely ignored him. "I guess it doesn't really matter, since we were going in the wrong direction anyway."

"The Bible?" Sarah asked as she glared Skittery down. "Since when the fuck do you follow the Bible?"

Swifty sighed. "I really hope Sean can find him," he confessed, if only to himself. "Still, I can't think that even if Spot does find him he can rescue him without any backup at all."

"The entire world follows the Bible, Sarah!"

"That is not even close to being true, Skittery Christianity is hardly the only religion on the entire planet."

"You don't know that!"

"Of course I know that!" Sarah snapped back. "You should, too! You're just being argumentative because you're trying to piss me off."

"No, I'm not!"

"Guys," Swifty said, coming to stand between them this time. "Is it really the time for this? We have no idea where Racetrack is, and Sean went off to deal with it without any type of backup whatsoever, and you two are arguing over religion."

"Spot'll be fine," Skittery replied, rolling his eyes. "You should hear some of the stories! They're gruesome. It's no wonder half of New York pisses their pants when they hear his name."

"Oh, I wouldn't say I'm exactly pissing my pants," a voice said from above them.

The three teens looked up to see six boys surrounding them on the rooftops. The first boy addressed the others. "Think we found us some Brooklyn boys," he announced, his smirk growing. "Boss'll be happy when we take 'em in."

"Well, fuck," Skittery muttered, crossing his arms. "Had to be three-on-six, huh? That's way unfair."

"We didn't even make it to the Bronx," Swifty said, glaring at the other two.

Sarah glared up at the boy who had given the order. "Brooklyn boys? Hello?" she said, pointing at her chest. "So not a boy."

"I can't believe you fucked your best friend, dude," Specs said, ignorant of the woman who had been frowning at him ever since he had sat next to her on the subway.

Mush immediately colored. He tried to catch the woman's eye in order to offer her some sort of apology, but she was just as good at ignoring him as Specs was at ignoring her.

"I mean, being gay's bad enough, but coming on to your best friend's just a whole other level of bad," Specs continued.

"Shut your mouth," Bam demanded from a few seats up where he was lying across three seats, much to the annoyance of the older man standing next to him. "Keep talking that shit, and I'll rip your fucking tongue out," he threatened, making the man that had been frowning down at him move a few steps farther away.

Specs immediately sucked in his lips, cutting himself off from whatever he was going to say next.

Mush frowned over at Bam. "You don't have to make threats to get your point across, you know. Sometimes, if you just explain the situation to people-"

"Little fag's a hypocrite anyway," Bam interrupted, jerking his head in Specs' direction. "I saw him all over that retarded kid when we were in the kitchen."

"Dutchy's not retarded," Mush replied at the same time as Specs said, "Just because I was all over him doesn't make me gay."

"I think they're both retarded," Bam replied to Mush.

Mush's frown deepened. "I don't think 'retard' is the word you should be using. I'm pretty sure it's an offensive term. Maybe we can call them mentally-capable?"

"Mentally-capable?" Specs asked. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Mush shrugged at him. "It's like handi-capable, except, you know, mentally."

Bam rolled his eyes. "You know what's really mentally-capable?" he asked. "Arguing about being PC when we're about to go shoot some people's brains in."

"What? No we aren't," Mush immediately replied, his eyes wide as he looked at Bam.

Bam cocked an eyebrow and glanced between them. "How the hell else do you think we're going to save Racetrack?" he asked, content to ignore the fact that half the subway car was now staring at him with wide eyes. "You think if we ask nice enough they'll just hand him over?"

"I-I've never shot a gun," Specs said quietly.

"Of course you haven't," Bam replied, rubbing at his temple. "Why the hell pair me up with competent people?" he asked. "I would've made such a better second than Stealth," he muttered to himself.

"Th-th-they were keeping him at this abandoned warehouse last I heard!" a boy screamed as his nose gushed blood.

"Been there. Done that," Spot answered, standing over the boy. "He wasn't there. You can imagine how upset that made me" He crouched down beside the boy and smirked as he grabbed a hold of his shirt. "I can give you a demonstration if you'd like."

"I-I don't know where he is! I swear!" the boy cried, holding his hands in front of his face. "I don't really know anything about it! Honest!"

Spot slammed the boy's head into the ground. "Now, see, I find that hard to believe. Everyone told me that you'd be the one to talk to about the goings on of the Bronx. And, as everyone has also told me, that's where my boy is. So why is it, exactly, that you wouldn't know where he is?"

"I used to know everything that happened in the Bronx," the boy corrected, cradling his head. "About a month ago Boss started acting …"

"Started acting what?" Spot hissed when the other boy trailed off. "Give me a fucking answer before I give you a fucking concussion," he demanded as he yanked the boy up by the shirt collar.

"I-I-I don't know!" the boy wailed. "He started acting shady. Secretive. He started to not tell me things. Like, he'd tell me things about the gang, but then there'd be some days he'd just disappear, and he wouldn't tell me anything about it no matter how much I asked. Honestly, I don't know anything! Please, just let me go."

"Now, why the fuck would I do that when it's so apparent exactly how much this boss of yours likes you?" Spot asked before grabbing him under the armpit and hoisting him onto his shoulder. "Bleed on my shirt, and I'll fucking rip your head off," he threatened before taking off towards the next roof. "You at least know where I can find your boss, you worthless sack of shit?"

"He-he had a deal … he had to … conduct a deal today, he was-ARGH!" the boy shouted as Spot jumped and his broken nose smashed into his kidnapper's back.

"You better hope that wasn't your god damn fucking nose," Spot snapped immediately. "I had to go through thirty of your pussy ass soldiers before I could get to you, and I managed it without getting a drop of blood on me. If you fucking ruined it-"

"Anytime Boss wants to hide anything for a short amount of time he stashes it in an unmarked semi truck!" the boy quickly replied. "He has a couple of them, but I know the license plate numbers we use. I can pick it out for you!"

Spot released his hold, dropping the other boy to the ground before crouching down beside him. "Well, see now you aren't being so worthless, are you, Sack of Shit?" he asked, his smile growing by the second. "So where exactly can I find these semis?"

"Look, man, honestly, all I want is a fucking bucket or something," Racetrack said. He was handcuffed to a metal circle bracket mounted to the wall of what looked to be a moving truck, if Race had to guess. And he was very badly needing to use the god damn bathroom. "I'm going to fucking piss myself soon, and then this whole place is going to smell like it."

"Smell like it if you pissed in a bucket, too," the old man that had taken him from his first cell pointed out. "I don't much care either way. I'm a smoker; my sense of smell ain't so good as it is."

"You're a huge fucking asshole, you know that?" Racetrack snapped before he could stop himself.

"Ain't never been accused of being a saint, kid," the older man answered before sharing a smirk with the toothless man from earlier. "Which is all fine for me, you understand. Doubt many saints could make as much money on this excursion as I can."

"Bet saints live much longer lives though," Racetrack muttered to himself, glancing away from the other man.

The older man immediately advanced on him, putting his face just inches from Racetrack's. "Was that a threat, pipsqueak?"

Racetrack's response was to bite his nose.

"You fucking bitch!" the man exclaimed, slapping Racetrack across the face. He was about to do more damage before the entire truck turned on its side, leaving Racetrack, yet again, with his hands fastened above his head.

"Fuck!" the older man cussed, drawing his gun. "Get out there," he demanded to the other man. "See what we're dealing with."

The back door to the bed was kicked open and the toothless man shot dead before either could make a move. The older man shot at the entrance, but just ended up shooting their driver in the chest. Spot shoved the now lifeless body towards the older man before shooting him in the right shoulder, sending him to the ground.

"What up, boys?" Spot greeted with a smirk, aiming a pistol at the older man on the ground as he walked over the driver's body. "I do hope I'm not too presumptuous in assuming this is an open invitation party?"

"Oh, thank fucking god," Racetrack said, his hands trapped above his head. "Get me down from here," he demanded. "I need to piss so fucking bad."

Spot turned to glare at him. "You know what doesn't help my intimidation factor? You talking about urinating. Can you shut the fuck up and let me work?" he asked, gesturing with his gun to the older man that was currently holding his shoulder and bleeding all over the truck bed.

"I don't give a fuck about how intimidating you are!" Racetrack snapped. "I'm about to piss my fucking pants. Let me down!" he demanded.

"You're being too damn annoying to be a damsel in distress," Spot snapped back, now diverting all his attention to Racetrack. "Can't you shut up for one second and let me do my job?"

"You're supposed to save damsels, you jerk," Racetrack pointed out, glaring right back at Spot. "And I'm not counting myself as saved if I fucking piss all over myself. You're a gangster, right? Come pick these locks or something, you bastard."

"I can rip your bladder out so it's not a problem anymore," Spot offered as he advanced on Racetrack.

"The bladder stores urine; it doesn't make it, moron," Racetrack snapped as Spot started to pick the locks of the cuffs holding him in place. "If you tear out my bladder I'll just have to urinate even more frequently, dumbass."

"I am going to wreck you," Spot promised as the handcuffs fell free, "just as soon as I wreck this guy." He whirled back to the corner that was housing the older man to see nothing more than a blood stain on the wall. He quickly turned back onto Racetrack. "You see what you fucking made me do?" He accused, glaring at the other boy.

Racetrack glared right back. "You see that you got me fucking kidnapped?" he snapped. He walked over to the first man Spot had shot and starting peeing on his shoes. "Fuck that guy anyway. I'm sure he left a blood trail or some shit."

"First, you got your dumbass self kidnapped; I had nothing to do with it," Spot argued. "And now I have to fucking follow this douchebag so I find out who the fuck did this!" Spot pointed out. "If you would have just shut up I could have skipped that fucking step."

"Or, I don't know, you could just fucking ask me who did it," Racetrack pointed out. "How does that not occur to you? Jesus, you're bad at this."

"You too," Spot snapped back, pointing the pistol at Racetrack now. "So shut up and tell me who the fuck did it," he demanded.

Racetrack pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you kidding me with this shit?" he muttered before looking back up at Spot. "I'm surprised you don't already know. It was one of your guys. Fucking Slingshot or whatever," he said, glaring at Spot. "So, tell me again how this isn't your fault?"

"What the fuck do you mean it's fucking Slingshot?" Spot asked angrily before deflating. "There's no fucking way," he said quietly, his gun now pointing towards the floor.

"It was," Racetrack replied quietly. "He told me himself. I think … I think he was planning on trying to take over your hotel while you were gone."

Spot shook his head as he started pacing in front of Racetrack. "Good fucking luck with that," he muttered. "All my boys are over there; he can't take on all of them."

"Man," Hunter said as he walked up to the truck with Itey. "First ones here and still late." He glared down at Itey. "Which is probably a good thing since this guy doesn't even know how to handle a god damn gun."

"I didn't say I didn't know how," Itey snarled at him. "I said it'd been awhile since I'd shot one."

"Why would I give a fuck about the last time you shot a gun?" Spot asked, looking between them. "And why the fuck did you even come here? Didn't you fucking hear me say I didn't want anyone coming after me?"

"We thought you might need some backup," Hunter explained. "It was a group decision, so don't go blaming me."

"Who exactly is 'we'?" Spot asked soft, slow, and deadly.

"Boss!" Bam greeted, running over. "Man, glad to see you're alright," he said as Mush made a mad dash for Racetrack.

Spot glanced between Bam and Hunter, his eyes narrowed. "Please fucking tell me you left Speed at home."

"Race!" Blink yelled as he approached the crate and ran for his best friend.

"Boss," Speed greeted with a smile as he followed behind Blink at a slower pace.

"Why the fuck are you all here? Who the fuck is watching my hotel?"

Bam blinked at him. "Well, Slingshot's over there …"

Spot clenched his teeth. "You guys want me to have a god damn fucking heart attack," he accused. "It's Slingshot, you fucking idiots. And you just left it to him completely un-fucking-guarded! Get the fuck back to the house and defend that shit like you were supposed to be doing in the first place!"

"What's going on?" Jack asked, having just come in the middle of Spot's rant.

Hunter grabbed his arm as he started steering him back to the hotel. "Explain later," he said in hushed tones.

"Where's Skittery?" Itey asked as he walked around. "Sarah? Swifty? Has anyone seen them?"

Spot turned to glare at him. "Are you fucking kidding me? I gotta go save someone else?" He picked up the gun that he had let fall to the floor. "You're all fucking dipshits," he accused. "Get back fucking home. I can handle this," he said before taking off.

"Let's go," Bam said, looking at the group of them. "The faster we get back home the better. We have everybody?"

"Racetrack?" Mush called out, quickly checking out the crate before climbing back out. "Where's Racetrack? He was right here! I turned my back for one second."

"Calm your ass down!" Hunter demanded, turning to glare at him. "He's right over-" He turned towards the crate before freezing and looking around. "Huh. Where the fuck did he go?"

"Where are the rest of you?" Slingshot asked, glaring between Skittery, Swifty, and Sarah who were all handcuffed to a vent. "I knew something was up when I couldn't find Bam." He shoved a pistol to Skittery's head. "So? Where were you headed?"

"Well, see, Sarah over here wanted some ice cream," Skittery replied, jerking his head towards Sarah. "It's her time of the month, it you know what I mean, so you can imagine how much she was whining about it."

"Fuck you, Skittery," Sarah snapped before turning to Slingshot. "It's not my time of the month," she explained.

"There goes the plan to escape when you asked to change your tampon," Skittery muttered, giving her a dark look.

"Oh, how the fuck is that a plan?" Sarah asked, matching his look.

Slingshot hit Skittery in the head with the barrel of his pistol. "No plans," he growled out, glaring at all of them one by one.

"Why are you doing this? We're cousins! I thought … you were so excited about it when we first found out," Swifty said quietly. "Why are you doing this? These are my friends. I thought Spot was yours."

"That is a question with an answer well above your head," Slingshot snapped as he turned to glare at him. "And it most certainly doesn't concern you." He sighed before running a hand through his hair while the other hand safely pointed the pistol at the ground. "I'm sorry. I was excited. … am excited. But Spot was never my friend, and you're the one who willingly put yourself in the middle of this. Look, I'm going to be honest with you, Spot hates every single fucking one of you. I know because the stupid little shit hates everyone." He started to pace in front of the three high schoolers. "You're needlessly putting yourselves in harm's way for a guy that would throw you under the bus for a god damn sandwich!"

"We aren't here because of Spot," Swifty replied, looking at his cousin with a frown on his face. "We never were. This is about Racetrack. You involved me when you involved him. You kidnapped him, and we want him back."

"Yeah," Skittery added. "If you're the person behind Racetrack going missing then you're the person we got a beef with!"

"Also, Spot's never handcuffed me to a god damn radiator vent before," Sarah pointed out, frowning at her cuffed hand.

"Another good point!" Skittery proclaimed loudly. "Those are three pretty solid reasons to hate you," he pointed out as he nodded.

Slingshot leaned forward to glare at him. "Those are two fucking reasons, you utter fucking moron!"

"I got another one for you," Spot broke in, swinging down from the rafters above them, gun already drawn and focused on the person who used to be his second.

Slingshot only smirked at him. "Spotty! How nice of you to join us," he greeted as he turned to face him. "Reason three? I coerced you into sleeping with the enemy?" he asked, his smirk only growing.

Spot shrugged at him. "I was going to say you were a shitty lay, but it's all basically the same thing, right?" He jerked his head towards the three people that were fastened to the radiator. "Let these idiots go; this is a private conversation."

"I don't know how this escaped your grasp, but you aren't exactly calling the shots anymore," Slingshot replied, glaring at him. "Guess I should've turned in my letter of resignation sooner," he added with a shrug.

Spot took a step towards the hostages as he loosened the grip on his gun. "Fine, you're right, you're the one in charge of this situation," he replied. "If you want me to shoot you dead before you go off on some rant about how unfair everything is then that's completely your choice," he allowed.

"Fuck you," Slingshot snapped, showing his teeth as his jaw clenched. "What the fuck would you know about it anyway?"

"I know you'd rather not air your dirty laundry in front of some fucking strangers," Spot replied, successfully putting himself between Slingshot and Skittery. "And we both know they aren't going to be able to do anything even if you do release them."

Slingshot rolled his eyes. "Please. How stupid do you think I am? I'm just going to release these guys so they can run off and tell people exactly where we are? I don't fucking think so, Spot."

Spot released the safety on his gun as he pointed it at Slingshot's head. "You just forget that I'm the one with the fucking gun?" he asked. "And, honestly, I don't give a fuck why the fuck you're doing this, so it's no fucking trouble to shoot you dead right here."

Slingshot smirked at him. "Spot, we both know that isn't true. You know I never bought that whole I-don't-care bullshit act. For example, I know if I tell you that if there's a detonator underneath that radiator that I can blow at any time, and the explosion is more than enough to kill the three people right next to it … If I told you that I know that you'd basically do everything and anything I want to ensure everyone's safety. I also know that if I told you there's an order on Racetrack's life if my demands aren't met within twenty-four hours … I know if I told you that then all my demands would be met, wouldn't they? You and your stupid crush."

Spot shot him in the leg. "Guess we both underestimated each other," he said as Slingshot fell to the floor.

"I totally called that," Skittery muttered to Sarah and Swifty. "Dude's got a monster crush."

Sarah leaned closer to Skittery. "Who does? Sean or Slingshot?"

"Well, they both do," Skittery clarified, leaning closer to Sarah. "Slingshot's got a massive crush on Spot and Spot has a massive crush on Racetrack. Clearly Spot's handling his crush a little bit better."

"We can fucking hear you!" Slingshot snapped, drawing out his own gun as Spot pounced on him.

Shots were fired, the group around the radiator ducking as best they could.

"For the record, gang members with bullet holes in them are pretty useless," Skittery yelled above the commotion, his head tucked into his chest.

"Yeah, that's kind of the fucking point, isn't it?" Spot answered back as another shot went off and Slingshot stopped moving. Spot froze, looking down at the man for several seconds before shooting him once more in the chest. "Can never be too careful," he explained as he got up and walked over to the hostages.

"Where's Racetrack?" Swifty asked as soon as Spot started messing with the locks attaching them to the radiator.

"You don't think he was serious …?" Sarah started to ask, trying to look under the radiator. "About the bomb?"

Spot rolled his eyes. "Slingshot's god awful at bombs; that's Bam's department," he explained. "And your friend is fine, so you can stop bothering me about it," he muttered as he released Skittery first before moving on to Sarah. "Can't believe you managed to get caught by fucking Bronx guys," he said, sending a glare to Skittery. "Way to make us look fucking bad."

"Yeah, I make us look bad, says the guy that just shot his best friend," Skittery replied, crossing his arms.

Spot's scowled at him as Sarah was released, and he moved on to Swifty. "He wasn't a fucking friend; he was a fucking soldier. And soldiers are only as good as the orders they follow." He glanced up from the lock he was picking. "I'd fucking remember that one, if I were you."

"My boss is a fucking psychopath," Skittery muttered.

Swifty was released soon after, taking rather large steps away from Spot as he massaged his sore wrist and stared down at Slingshot with wide eyes.

Spot looked them over. "Get back home. Skittery, run a perimeter check before you take our guests inside. Make sure we aren't housing any vermin," he demanded before turning away. "I have some things I have to take care of."

He kept his back turned as the sound of footsteps vanished. He waited another half a minute before shooting Slingshot in the chest one more time. "You god damn fucking idiot," he cussed, kicking his lifeless body before sinking to his knees. "Fuck."

"God fucking damn it, where is Spot?" Hunter asked as he punched another home invader in the face. "You know all these assholes are going to fucking leave as soon as he shows up."

"I hope to god they stay," Jack answered as he kicked another Bronx gang member to the ground. "His second's the one behind this? He's going to be pissed as fucking hell. If he doesn't have a way to use that energy he's going to go ballistic on all of us."

"I hope to god he found Skittery and Sarah," Itey replied from beside Jack. He dodged a punch before dealing out a right hook.

"Don't forget Swifty's with them," Jack said, sidestepping a body that someone had flung towards him.

"I didn't forget, I'm just more concerned with Skittery and Sarah killing each other before fucking Slingshot can or whatever," Itey snapped before dodging someone that had been trying to rush him. He kicked out with his foot, managing to land it on the assailants back and send him to the ground.

"Guys! Guys! Have you seen Dutchy? Do you know where he is?" Specs asked. He ran past, effectively dodging everything that was coming at him, but not dealing a single punch. "I gotta find him! It's not safe for him here!"

"Does someone want to explain to me just what the fuck is going on there?" Jack asked, turning his attention towards Specs and narrowly avoiding a punch to the stomach.

"If it involves Dutchy it's better to just leave it alone," Itey replied. "He'll be fine anyway; Dutchy knows how to fight, I'm pretty sure."

It wasn't a full minute later that they heard Dutchy's voice through the chaos. "Specs! Get off me! I'm fine! I took karate in elementary school, god damn it! I know what I'm doing!"

"Told you he's fine," Itey said to Jack.

"Does anyone know if Mush and Blink are back with Racetrack yet?" Bumlets asked as he approached the other boys. He was standing back to back with Bam and moving freely among the mob. "I don't want them getting involved in this."

"Ain't no fucking way Racetrack got kidnapped and isn't going to join in the fray to get even," Jack replied. "I know he hasn't changed that much. We used to get into fights together all the time when we were kids."

"And if Racetrack's in it you won't be able to talk Mush and Blink into backing off," Itey said, swinging on a person who had been running past him.

"Pretty sure that was friendly fire," Bam said, looking at the boy who was now lying on the floor. "This would be so much easier if we had decided beforehand who was going to be shirts and who was going to be skins."

"Has anyone seen Slingshot yet?" Jack interrupted, trying his best to look through the chaos going on around him. "Or Speed?"

"Speed is still looking for Gadget," Hunter answered, narrowly avoiding a kick that had been aimed at his stomach. "No way we're seeing any sign of him until he finds him."

"No sign of Slingshot," Bam continued. "Though, honestly, not sure what I could do even if I did see the little bastard. I still can't decide if I'm sad or unbelievably pissed off."

"Slingshot's not here," Stealth said, running past them and shooting out the window.

Bam and Hunter shared a look. "If Stealth defaults I call next in line to be second!" they shouted at the same time.

Bumlets turned around to smack Bam lightly in the back of the head. "Remember what you're doing, moron."

Suddenly Jack's eyes widened. "Fuck, where's David?" he asked, turning to Bumlets.

Bumlets matched his look. "You go up; I'll go down," he said before running down the closest steps.

"See ya, Hunt," Bam grinned before taking off after Bumlets. "Gotta make sure no one's laying hands on my caveman but me," he explained with a wink.

"Ugh, god, that's so gross," Hunter replied, scrunching up his face. "Let's go, Jackie-Boy. I'll cover you."

"Don't call me 'Jackie-Boy'," Jack said with an eye roll as he took off up the stairs.

Spot tensed as soon as he heard someone drop behind him. He quickly spun around so he was on one knee with his gun pointing directly at … Racetrack. Spot let his head fall back. "I forgot you were fucking following me."

"Forgot? More like I'm so sneaky you had no idea," Race corrected, giving a small smirk before crouching down beside Slingshot. "I'm really sorry, Sean," he said quietly. "I didn't realize you two were so close."

Spot palmed Racetrack's face, pushing him backwards. "We weren't close," he denied, his face blank as he stood up. "I gotta get back home. No one from the Bronx is going to leave until they know he's dead."

Racetrack scrambled to get up so he could follow him out the door. "Spot, it's completely normal to be upset about this. You don't have to act like it doesn't bother you," he said, walking fast in order to match Spot's pace.

"I'm acting like it doesn't bother me because it doesn't," Spot answered, speeding up his walking.

"Sean, I heard what Skittery said, about him being your best friend-"

"Skittery was talking out of his ass," Spot snapped. He hopped onto a dumpster and swung himself onto the fire escape, frowning when Racetrack followed him, albeit a lot more clumsily. "He wasn't my fucking friend," he declared hotly before muttering, "He was my second."

"And of course that would be important!" Racetrack said, flinging his arms out both for balance and in exasperation. "You can't just bury stuff like that!"

"'Course I can," Spot replied, jumping onto the next balcony of the fire escape before climbing onto the roof.

Racetrack opted to take the fire escape stairs instead. "Maybe Slingshot did all this 'cause you wouldn't talk about your feelings. Have you thought about that?"

Spot immediately took out his gun and spun around, pointing it at Racetrack. "You are a god awful therapist, first of all. Second, I don't give a good god damn why he did it; I just care that he did. He betrayed me; now he's dead. Case closed. There isn't anything else to think about."

"Right, because being betrayed by your best friend has absolutely zero emotional repercussions," Racetrack replied, rolling his eyes.

"What the fuck is it with all these fucking feelings lately?" Spot snapped, glaring at Racetrack. "And why the fuck do you not have enough common sense to shut the fuck up when there's a gun pointed at your head?"

Racetrack smirked at him. "There's no way you took all that time to save me just to blow my brains out."

Spot sighed through clenched teeth before putting his gun away. "I'm getting fucking soft," he muttered to himself. "Of course I fucking care about fucking Slingshot," he told Racetrack, breathing heavily. "That fucking bastard was my brother. And he just-fuck!" he cussed, drawing his gun and firing a shot into the air.

"I don't think that's entirely safe," Racetrack muttered, glancing at the sky before looking back at Spot. "Slingshot was your brother? Weren't you sleeping with him? That's kind of …"

"It's a figure of speech," Spot snapped as he put his gun away again and glared at Racetrack.

"The sex thing is a figure of speech? Or the brother thing is?"

"The brother thing, you stupid fucking retard!" Spot answered. "And shut the fuck up about the sex stuff, too, while you're fucking at it. It wasn't anything personal."

Racetrack rose an eyebrow at him. "The sex wasn't anything personal?"

"It was just part of the job he signed on for," Spot explained. He turned around and started heading back towards headquarters.

Racetrack didn't follow. "You just have sex with whoever the fuck your second-in-command happens to be?"

"Yes," Spot answered, whipping back around to glare at Racetrack again. "And just because that bastard is the only one to have ever had that position doesn't fucking mean anything."

"Spot," Racetrack replied. "You can't act like this doesn't have some sort of impact on you," he said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder.

"It does have an impact on me," Spot answered, dodging Racetrack's hand. "It makes me fucking pissed. So let's fucking go," he demanded, heading back towards the hotel. "I'm sure I can relieve my aggressions when we get home."

"Again, not really the healthy way to do it," Racetrack replied with a frown even as he followed after him.

"What up, sugar?" Skittery greeted with a smile as soon as he found Itey. He punched the guy that had been about to attack Itey on his right side. "You miss me? Worried?"

"Skittery! Where the fuck is Sarah?" Itey replied, glaring at his friend. "And where the hell were you?"

"And where's Swifty?" Jack asked from beside Itey.

"And where the fucking hell is Spot?" Hunter asked from behind Skittery. "We kind of fucking need him to be here."

"Swifty and Sarah are around here somewhere," Skittery replied with a shrug, punching someone that was running at them in the gut. "Man, you guys are having some fun, huh?" he asked, giving a quick smile before turning to Itey and frowning. "Why the hell do you even care about Sarah? You were supposed to be over her when you chose me!"

"Because this is a dangerous situation and Sarah's a girl, you fucking moron," Itey snapped. "It's not safe for her here! She needs to be where someone can protect her!"

"That is a sexist statement," Sarah snapped, doing a backflip past them in order to kick someone in the chin and send them to the ground. As soon as she was right side up again she whirled to face Itey, pointing a finger at him. "I'll have you know I've been taking gymnastics since I was five, and self-defense classes once a month since I developed these," she said, pointing to her chest. "I'm hardly a damsel in distress."

"That's true," Swifty said, appearing beside her. He dodged a punch just for Sarah to kick the assailant in the stomach. "Chick's badass," he complimented with a smile.

Sarah smiled right back. "Ah, thanks, Swift." Then she turned back around to glare at Itey. "And you! Couldn't even break up with me properly before fucking your old boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Itey replied immediately. "And I never meant-"

"Yes, we are," Skittery interrupted, pulling Itey to him just to force them both to the right as someone came running past them. "Boyfriends, I mean. Right?" he asked, looking at Itey.

Itey blinked at him. "We … we are?"

"As long as that means you aren't going to run off with any other tramps," Skittery bargained. "I'm a gangster now; we don't take kindly to the betrayal of our boyfriends. Just ask Spot. Dude shot his last one."

"Spot shot Slingshot?" Hunter guessed, punching someone in the chest and sending him to the ground. "Good, means Spot's coming back soon," he muttered to himself before shouting across the room, "Hey, Bam! Spot's on his way!"

"Don't yell it, moron!" Bam shouted back, suddenly becoming visible as a quarter of the room ran for the streets. "All the pussy ass ones are going to run away! You know how Spot gets when he expects a fight and doesn't get one!"

"You still alright, Davey?" Jack asked as soon as he saw him sandwiched between Bumlets and Bam.

"Oh, he's fine," Sarah replied. "He took all the same self-defense classes I did, you know."

"What, when his tits developed?" Skittery asked with a laugh just to get smacked in the back of the head by Jack.

"I told you: I'm invincible in this dream! I can't get hurt, Specs, see?" Dutchy yelled loudly, spinning around and hitting someone in the back of the head.

Bam winced from his place beside Bumlets. "I think that was one of ours!" he called out to Dutchy.

"Definitely was," Hunter agreed, kicking one of the stranglers that was trying to crawl away. "I played poker with that guy last week."

"And lost all Slingshot's money," Bam reminded him, still in a defensive position despite the fact that no one was coming after him anymore.

"Yeah, serves the bastard right," Hunter replied, tapping on his forehead. "It's called forethought, brainiac. You're welcome."

"What the hell would I have to be thankful for?" Bam snapped back. "Exactly what about losing $50 of Slingshot's money would have made him less of a threat, you idiot? If anything it'd just piss him off more."

Hunter opened his mouth only to snap it closed when they heard a crash from the kitchen.

"Think we've got some stranglers," Jack announced before dashing off down the stairs. Bam, Hunter, Bumlets, Skittery, and Itey all followed behind him.

"Doesn't make a whole lot of sense," Bam admitted as they raced down the several flights of stairs that would eventually lead to their kitchen and pantry. "We don't keep anything important in our pantry. … Unless the kids that attacked us are homeless?" He shared a frown with Hunter.

"They didn't fight like they were homeless," Skittery pointed out from behind them. "Plus, being homeless comes with a distinct smell, and none of the people I came close to smelled like it."

Jack nodded. "That's true," he replied, looking towards Bam and Hunter. "It's pretty pungent, too. You can always tell when someone's been on the streets for awhile."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Jack, dude, we're gang members, remember? And we became gang members back when this gang didn't have anything to its name but a semi-working stove and a run down shack."

"Well, I was a gang member during that time," Bam replied. "Hunter pretty much just forced his way on and whined the entire time. And before that you were living in a fucking hotel," he said, glaring Hunter even as they all raced down the stairs.

"Are you really arguing about who had the worst childhood?" Skittery asked, clutching Itey's hand to ensure his boyfriend was close beside him. "Because I would totally win that one."

"Please," Jack snapped, looking behind him so Skittery could see him rolling his eyes. "On what planet do you think I've had an easier time than you? At least you had parents."

"It wasn't like you were grown in a glass tube, Jack," Skittery snapped, scowling at the other man. "You act like you never had parents ever."

"Oh, yeah, I had parents," Jack answered, too busy glaring at Skittery to realize they had stopped moving. "They just abandoned me!"

"They didn't abandon you, Jack, they just-"

"Will you two shut up and explain to me what the fuck I'm seeing?" Bam asked, causing everyone in attendance to crowd around the kitchen door.

Stealth was knelt down with his head bowed, and Spot stood above him, glaring down as he pressed his pistol to his longest member's forehead.

"Did you think I would die or were you hoping for it?" Spot asked with a growl. "You certainly didn't seem too concerned when I told you Slingshot was dead."

Stealth looked up at him,his face void of all emotion. "I told you it was an inside job," he reminded him. "When you told me Slingshot was dead I jumped to conclusions, King."

"Cut that shit out," Spot snapped, shoving the barrel of the gun towards him and forcing Stealth to lean backwards. "Don't fucking suck up to me."

"B-boss, what do you think you're doing?" Bam asked, finally pressing forward through the crowd and entering into the kitchen. "That's Stealth. He's been with you since the beginning. He would never-"

"But Slingshot would, is that right?" Spot asked, turning around and aiming the gun at him instead. "And what about you? What about my third? Where do your loyalties lie?"

"With you," Bam answered, instinctively taking half a step back before forcing himself to stand his ground. "Always with you. Ever since you saved me."

"And how am I supposed to trust that?" Spot growled, never lowering the gun. "Sling …" he face twisted, as if it physically hurt to say his name. "He always said the same thing," he finished, his voice steady despite the quick rise and fall of his chest.

"You either do or you don't." Stealth answered, still kneeling on the floor. "We are yours. We promised, so you can do with us what you will. You can trust us, and let us continue serving you, or you can distrust us and exterminate us from your life," he explained slowly and calmly. "The choice is all yours."

"What?" Bumlets asked, looking at Bam with wide eyes when he nodded his head in acceptance. "The hell it is!" he exclaimed before pushing through the crowd at the door so he could step into the kitchen. "You can't possibly be okay with him killing you because he's going through some psychotic break or whatever!"

"I'll show you a psychotic break," Spot snarled, now directing his gun to Bumlets. "You want to try and fucking test me?"

"Boss," Bam said calmly as he stepped in between Bumlets and Spot. "He doesn't understand. You can't shoot him for being an idiot."

"I've shot people for less," Spot pointed out, not moving his gun.

"You also haven't shot people for worse," Bam replied with a small smile.

"Yeah, because I've been getting fucking soft," he answered, cocking back the handle of his pistol. "And the entire reason this fucking happened is because I've gotten soft."

"Boss, you can't blame him just because he doesn't know how a gang operates," Bam pleaded. "He's not a gang member. He's not going to understand this stuff."

"I don't understand this stuff," Skittery whispered to Itey. Luckily, it remained ignored.

"Kill me if you don't trust me, but, please, leave Bumlets out of this," Bam continued. "He didn't do anything but tag along."

"Until I have to deal with some angry lover trying to kill me because I killed his boyfriend," Spot reasoned, keeping his gun steadily on Bam.

"He's kidding, right?" Skittery whispered to Itey. "He's gotta be kidding."

Hunter slapped him on the back of the head. "He's not kidding, and I'd shut the hell up if I were you," he hissed. "If he doesn't settle down we're about to be the next targets."

"Is Sean down here?" Racetrack asked as he came down the stairs to the kitchen and pushed past Skittery, Itey, and Hunter without waiting for an answer. "Hey, Sean, I met Blink and Mush upstairs, and-" He froze as he finally registered the full view of the kitchen. His gaze flicked from Sean to Stealth kneeling on the floor, to Bumlets standing behind Bam, and back to Sean. He frowned as he took a few steps closer. "Sean? What … what's going on?"

"I don't fucking know!" Spot exclaimed, throwing the gun across the room and grabbing his head as he fell to his knees.

Bam immediately grabbed Bumlets and forced him down, shielding him with his body as Hunter shoved both Skittery and Itey away from the door. Stealth didn't move, but only because the silence had told him the gun wouldn't go off. Racetrack flinched, but that was less because a loaded gun flew across the room and more because Sean was kneeling and trembling by his feet.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?" Spot asked the ground. "I don't fucking understand." He grabbed at his hair. "And Slingshot's fucking dead, and I don't even know why. If I don't know why then how the fuck am I supposed to make sure other people don't do it?"

Racetrack stooped down to the ground and embraced Spot, but he didn't seem to notice.

"I should have fucking found out his stupid fucking motives, but I was pissed," Spot continued. "I was fucking pissed and I thought, maybe he had a good fucking reason. And if he did then I wouldn't have been able to fucking kill him, and then what would have fucking happened? I can't fucking lose Brooklyn," he said, shaking his head into Racetrack's shoulder.

Skittery, Itey, Hunter, Bam, and Bumlets all stood watching, frozen and open mouthed as they watched the king of Brooklyn fall apart.

Stealth walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "You did the right thing," he said quietly. "Just because someone breaks your trust doesn't mean that you brought it upon yourself."

"It was obvious he was jealous," Skittery spoke up from the doorway. He blatantly ignored Itey's frown as he trudged on. "Spot got that crush on Race, and then Sling felt like his crush on Spot was being ignored. I can relate," he said with a nod of his head.

"Not something you should ever admit to relating to," Itey hissed, "Especially not now."

"Remind me to break your arm once I have the fucking energy to, Skitts," Spot mumbled from Racetrack's shoulder, hardly caring about anything other than the fact that Slingshot had died by his hand today. He had killed a lot of people, of course. He had to if he had wanted to claim his throne. And some he had known personally and some he had known for a long time, but he had never had to kill someone he had known so personally and for so long. It left him with a hollow chest and a head that seemed to be floating above his shoulders. He didn't know what to do about that either.

"It wasn't a jealousy thing," Stealth replied from Spot's side, his hand still on his shoulder as if he knew it gave Spot some kind of ground. "If it was just a jealousy thing he wouldn't have attacked our headquarters like he did. He was trying to take over, that much is certain."

"For the record," Hunter piped up from the doorway, raising his hand to call attention to himself. "I called Slingshot leading a mutiny years ago."

That finally got Spot to raise his head from Racetrack's shoulder, allowing everyone to see his tear-stained cheeks. He didn't even bother to hide them as he glared at Hunter. "This whole thing would have been a lot easier if I could have shot you instead."

Bam dropped to the floor as he cradled his head. "First Slingshot defaults, then Stealth's talking, now Spot's crying," he pointed out, looking over at Hunter. "Exactly what the fuck is going on here?"

"Sean! Sean!" David called pelting down the stairs and sliding into the kitchen. "We need you upstairs. Gadget's hurt and no one can find a member of the medical team, and-"

"Nothing good," Hunter answered Bam with a frown before both of them looked to Spot.

"Fuck," Spot cussed as he started to get up. "Get off me," he demanded to Racetrack. "And you smell god damn fucking awful. You got something against showers?" he said, standing up and striding towards the door.

"Yeah, funny thing about being kidnapped," Racetrack replied, walking with him as the others all followed behind. "Typically, if they don't let you pee they're also not going to let you shower."

"He's up on the third floor," David said, turning around to address Spot. "Speed said to tell you it's the hallway of the west wing."

"Right," Spot replied before running ahead. "Race, Stealth, and whoever the fuck you are," he said pointing at David, "with me. The rest of you find a fucking competent doctor that's willing to make a house call."

"Right away, Boss," Bam replied, grabbing hold of Bumlets's hand and shoving Hunter in the stomach when it seemed like he was about to say something.

"He's got a cut above his right eye, and-and his-his throat's cut," David explained as he followed him up the stairs. "He's also saying he can't move his leg, but I don't know whether that means it's broken or sprained or what."

Spot stopped moving as he came upon the door that would lead them to the hallway Gadget was probably going to die in. And all Spot could think about was that Speed was going to blame him for all of this, and he'd be the next one to betray him. Maybe it would take a few years before Speed festered enough hatred for him to go through with it, but it would happen. And Spot couldn't blame him in a way. He had been the one to drag Gadget into the gang despite all of Speed's numerous and loud protests. And, whether or not he lost that inevitable skirmish with future-betrayer-Speed, he'd hurt someone else in the meantime, and then they'd revolt and again and again and over and over until Spot was eventually killed by one of his generals. He could see it so clearly. He wondered if this was what talking to the silence felt like.

"Spot," Racetrack said, snapping Spot's attention away from his daydream and towards Race's smiling face. He had his hand on his arm, and once again Spot felt grounded. "You've got this," he assured him, his smile widening.

"Race, I don't know what kind of fucking super hero or whatever you think I am, but I am very far from getting this," Spot hissed, making sure they wouldn't be heard from the door. "I don't know what the fuck it is you're expecting me to do because I haven't so much as fixed a broken fucking hangnail."

"You fixed yourself up back when we were kids," Stealth reminded him. "And I remember you being pretty banged up most of the time."

"Yeah, I used these things called stubbornness and fucking super glue," Spot snapped.

Stealth shrugged at him. "So just use those again."

"I took anatomy last year," David volunteered, raising his hand. "I mean, blood makes me a little queasy, so I can't' assist in the physical fashion, but I can point out things and tell you about the arteries to look out for?"

Spot rolled his eyes. "I'm surrounded by fucking imbeciles and pussies. Fine, I've got this, since you guys clearly can't."

"Hey, don't-" Racetrack started only to be silenced when Stealth put a hand on his shoulder.

"That's just how he composes himself," Stealth leaned in and whispered with a smile. "He'll be fine now."

"Spot! Thank god!" Racetrack heard Speed say before he leaned forwards to see the hallway. There were blood and bodies everywhere. He didn't have time to identify which one was Gadget before he yanked himself away. He pulled David to him as he shook his head. "Don't go in there," he warned. "If Sean needs your help just shout it through the door. Trust me."

'"Get me some super glue," Spot demanded in a loud voice. "And probably a sewing kit. And, maybe, the next time Speed asks Gadget to keep away from the fighting he'll fucking listen."

'All Racetrack heard was some gurgling in response.

"Shut up," Sean replied, sounding bored. "No one knows what the fuck you're saying anyway."

"Spot?" Racetrack heard Speed ask with hesitation. "You … you weren't crying earlier, were you? Because you've got-"

"I'd shut the fuck up unless you want to end up like your cousin," Spot snapped back.

Stealth gently pushed past Racetrack to get through the door, needed supplies in hand. "It might take awhile, but I know King would really like it if you were here when he is done," he whispered before ducking in.

"Stealth," Racetrack heard Spot say after a half a minute. "Stay here. You'll probably need to help hold him down; Speed's a god damn pussy when it comes to his cousin. And stop with the fucking gurgling, Gadget. It's annoying."

David nervously walked towards the door but didn't open it. "If he keeps gurgling it might be because he's choking on all the blood."

"He'd be turning blue then, wouldn't he?" Spot asked back through the door, not bothering to wait for an answer. "Nah, he's fine. We got it. You two go downstairs and help clean up. You too, Race. I don't give a fuck what kind of pussy, sad sack story Stealth gave you; I want you doing something useful and not just standing the fuck around."

It took four hours before the lobby was kind of sort of cleaned of blood and bodies, and Gadget was declared no longer about to die. He still couldn't talk, but he wasn't gurgling anymore and Spot counted that as a win. And David seemed pretty confident that his voicebox wasn't cut, for whatever that was worth. Not the best day by any means, but at least now everyone was either accounted for or dead.

Spot looked around his lobby as his boys mingled with the Manhattan brats. He wondered if this was two gangs forming an alliance or his gang gaining a lot of new members that weren't complete pussies. He supposed he could be happy either way.

"Couldn't even wait to break up with me before you jumped back into your ex boyfriend's bed, huh?" Sarah asked as she finally came up to Itey. Her arms were crossed as she frowned at him.

Itey looked to Sarah, then the mess of red he was trying to clean off the wall, and then back to Sarah. "You decide to have this conversation as I'm trying to scrap someone's brains off the walls?" he asked with wide eyes.

Sarah cocked her head at him as the corner of her lip twitched. "Would you rather I wait for a more romantic settings so we can get Skittery nice and jealous? Is the sex better that way?"

Itey threw his sponge into the bucket filled with soapy red water as he whirled onto Sarah. "Look, I know it wasn't the wisest decision in the world, but I did make it, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't belittle it."

"I wasn't belittling it, Itey," Sarah replied, smiling at him. "I was teasing you. This is exactly what I told you would happen. If I didn't want it happening don't you think I would've tried harder to stop it? Plus," she added with a shrug, "I gave it some serious thought and decided I don't really want to date a gay man. Strap-ons aren't really my thing."

Itey beamed at her before scooping her up into a hug. "Sarah, you are the most brilliant girl I think that has ever been in existence."

"Itey," Sarah returned, "You are the only guy in existence to get human brains on my brand new shirt."

"Dutch," Skittery said from not too far away from the spinning Sarah and Itey, "I don't know how the fuck else to explain this to you, but you are not at all in a dream right now."

Dutchy shook his head. "You're not going to convince me of your false facts, Satan. I'm not falling for it." He crossed his arms and looked away.

Skittery rubbed at his forehead. "What the fuck makes me Satan?" he asked in exasperation.

"Dream-Skittery's always Satan," Dutchy explained with a shrug. "That's just the way it works."

"I'll show you Satan, you little bastard," Skittery declared before punching Dutchy in the side of the face.

"Jesus fucking Christ that hurt!" Dutchy yelled as he fell backwards and clutched at his cheek.

"Oh, that hurt, huh?" Skittery asked, glaring at him. "That's weird because things don't hurt when you're fucking dreaming do they, you stupid little retard?"

Dutchy's eyes widened as he realized the implications of that. "I gotta go find Specs!" he declared before scurrying off.

"Bit harsh, don't you think?" Itey asked, appearing beside Skittery and giving him a slight frown.

Skittery sniffed before crossing his arms. "Well, it's not exactly fair we got into a fight with one of the biggest gangs in New York against another one of the biggest gangs in New York and he didn't get so much as a scratch. Lucky idiot deserved it."

"I may see why you always turn in Satan in Dutchy's dreams," Itey replied with a smirk before leaning over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.

Skittery smirked back before swinging his arm around him. "Your Satan though."

David was only a few feet away, picking up the pieces of a vase that had just fallen over when Dutchy ran past it. "Trust Dutchy to destroy a vase a hundred different vicious gangsters didn't," he muttered to himself.

"Yeah, Dutchy's pretty good at doing the impossible" Specs agreed kneeling beside David and starting to help him pick up the glass.

David raised an eyebrow as he looked over at him. "You know he broke this racing past while looking for you, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I'll find him," Specs answered, staring fixedly at the glass he was picking up. "I kind of wanted to apologize to you first though. You know, for …"

"... Being a homophobic douche?" David asked before looking up and smirking.

Specs smirked back. "For being a homophobic douche," he agreed.

"Consider yourself forgiven," David announced before pinching his cheek. "You're way too cute to hold a grudge against, anyway."

"Alright, too far," Specs replied, leaning away as he rubbed at his cheek. "The term's 'handsome', anyway, if you're trying to compliment me," he continued haughtily.

"Alright, alright. I'll be sure to remember that," David said with a laugh. He squinted at his friend. "So, you and Dutchy are … what, exactly?"

Specs shrugged before sighing loudly. "Oh, man, I wish I knew. But I'll deal with it later. I've gotta go find Dutchy before he realizes that the gang fight wasn't a dream either."

"I'm having trouble believing that myself," David said as Specs walked away. He shook his head. "I'm having a hard time even believing I missed an entire school day and wasn't sick."

"I'm just glad we cut together this time," Sarah replied as she walked past David with Swifty. "Now Mom and Dad can't single me out." She winked before Swifty pulled her away.

"For the record, I really like the new and improved David," Jack said from behind him. He scratched the back of his head as soon as David turned around and they made eye contact. "Not that … I mean, you don't have to read anything into that. Like, I mean, I liked you before, too."

David raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm pretty sure until recently we were pretty blatant about our mutual hatred for one another."

"I meant before before," Jack replied with a shrug. "You know, back when we were kids. I really miss that David."

"I really miss that Jack," David said with a smile. He squinted at his friend. "But, lately, I haven't' been missing him as much, because I've been seeing a bit of him lately."

A smile bloomed on Jack's face, but Bam interrupted him before he could say anything.

"You know a perfect time to get sappy? After a gang war," he said, walking in between them with Bumlets following behind. "I feel like a stumbled in to some Lifetime movie."

"Please, like you weren't about to get sappy," Bumlets replied with a smirk.

Bam spun around to face him, wearing an identical smile. "I, sir, am allowed to be sappy. We've gotta be at least on level five by now, maybe level six. That calls for some sappiness."

"Is that so?" Bumlets asked, his eyebrows raised. "And when exactly did that happen? Because last time I checked we were only on level two."

"Well, yeah, but that was before I convinced everyone to accept your friends as members of the gang," Bam explained, taking a step towards Bumlets.

Bumlets took a step back. "I never realized being a part of the Brooklyn gang was such a huge honor."

"The biggest. And I went after Spot for you," he said, taking another step forward.

Bumlets took another step back. "I think going after Spot falls into the 'gang' territory, as opposed to the 'leveling up' territory."

"Don't see why it can't be both," Bam replied. "I protected you when the house was being overrun by bad guys." He took another step forward.

And Bumlets took another step back. "I don't remember needing your help."

"I protected you from that bullet in the kitchen," Bam said, taking yet another step forward.

"You mean from the gun that never went off?" Bumlets asked with a smirk, taking another step back and giving a start when his back hit the wall.

Bam took one more step forward so they were chest to chest. "It's the thought that counts," he replied, smiling as well. "You've gotta at least give me level three."

Bumlets rolled his eyes, still holding on to his smile. "Fine, I guess you've earned level three. And if I remember level three means-"

Bam's smile widened. "I get to kiss you," he declared before leaning in the rest of the way.

Hunter stopped staring at whatever parasite had taken over Bam's body in order to stare at Stealth instead. "I know it's really warm and emotional all over the place, and love is in the air, and all that other crap, but I absolutely refuse to make out with you."

Stealth just turned his head and stared back at him.

"Oh, we're back to the silence thing now, huh?" Hunter asked, rolling his eyes. "Great, that's always fun."

Speed walked past, carrying Gadget on his shoulders. "Holy hell, we've either gotta get you some crutches or you've gotta lay off the cake." He smirked when all he got in return was a kick to the side. "The no talking thing is certainly coming in handy. Least I don't have to worry about you swearing for the next couple of days."

"So, this wasn't a dream?" Dutchy asked Specs as Speed walked by them.

Specs shook his head. "No, Dutchy, it wasn't a dream."

"And we're still friends?" Dutchy asked, putting his head on Specs's shoulder.

"Of course."

"And we're not dead?"

Specs smiled down at Dutchy. "Alive and well," he assured him before pulling away. "Actually, Dutchy, there was something I wanted to-"

Dutchy put a finger to Specs's lips. "Sshhh, baby boy," he said, pulling Specs's arm around his shoulders and leaning into him. "Let's just stand here and appreciate the fact that I'm alive."

Meanwhile, Swifty had Sarah pressed into the opposite corner of the lobby from Bam and Bumlets, for similar reasons.

"I assume you and Itey are done?" Swifty asked. "Or do you plan on going after him?"

Sarah smiled as she shrugged. "I'm not interested in chasing after someone who's chasing after someone else. It's too much to keep track of." She shrugged again. "Not to mention it's not exactly a rewarding choice as far as relationships go."

"So, if I asked you for a coffee date sometime you would be open to it?"

Sarah smiled as she nodded. "I think I could fit that into my schedule."

Racetrack looked around the lobby at all the pairing couples. "Jesus," he muttered. "Talk about sappy, am I right, guys?" He turned around just to see his two best friends making out. "Holy hell!" he cried, causing Blink and Mush to jump away from each other.

They looked at each other before both giving Racetrack a guilty look.

"I guess with everything that happened we kind of forgot to mention it to you," Blink said, rubbing the back of his head. "But Mush and I are …"

"We're dating now," Mush finished, taking a step towards Blink. "It's still new, and I know it's probably not going to be the easiest thing to get used to, but-"

"Holy shit, how long was I kidnapped?" Racetrack asked with wide eyes. He shook his head. "I think it's great, you guys. It's just a little …" he waved his hand in the air, searching for the right word.

"... Unexpected," Blink finished for him before grabbing Mush's hand. "Yeah, it is for us, too. But it's good, and we're happy," he said, looking up at Mush and smiling when he received a confirmation nod.

"Well, if you guys are happy then I'm happy for you," Racetrack replied with a smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Everybody's happy," Spot answered, walking through the group of three and grabbing Racetrack's arm. "C'mon, I need to talk to you."

"Jesus, Sean, I was kind of having a moment over there," Racetrack complained as he was pulled along.

"No," Spot argued, "They were having a moment; you were making it awkward." He rolled his eyes. "And people say I'm bad at social cues." He finally stopped pulling Racetrack behind him when they reached the top of the stairs leading down to the lobby.

"I don't think you're bad at them. I think you just don't care about them," Racetrack admitted.

Spot just smirked at him.

Racetrack rolled his eyes when he didn't get a response. "And I'm up here why exactly?"

"I lost my second-in-command today," Spot said, his voice and face giving away no emotion.

Racetrack nodded. "Yeah, I know," he replied quietly. "I was there." He put a hand on Spot's shoulder. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Spot scowled at him as he aggressively rolled his shoulder, knocking Racetrack's hand off. "No,": he snapped, "I don't want to fucking talk about it. Haven't we fucking talked about it enough today? I'm saying I have a position that needs filled."

Racetrack blinked at him for several seconds. "And you want my advice on who you should give it to?" he guessed.

"Jesus, no," Spot snapped. "You're a moron. Why the hell would I ask you for advice about that? You don't know any of my men. I'm saying for you."

Racetrack blinked at him again, trying to put together exactly what it was that Spot was supposed to be saying. He squinted at him. "Are you asking me to become your second-in-command?"

Spot frowned at him. "Well, if I don't your dumb ass is just going to run off and get kidnapped again, and then you'll probably blame me all over again. Fucking idiot."

Racetrack smirked at him as he remembered what Stealth had said before Spot had gone to help Gadget. "If this you composing yourself?" he asked. Spot pointedly looked away, but Race could tell his face was redder than it had been before. His smiled widened. "I'd love to be your second."

Spot forced himself to look Racetrack in the eye even though he could feel his face heating up by the second. God damn fucking teenage hormones. "The position comes with … I mean, there are other duties …"

Racetrack's smile grew even wider. "Are you always+

this eloquent when you ask someone out?" he asked before leaning over and kissing him.

"Fucking finally!" Skittery shouted from the bottom of the steps. "What the hell did I tell you guys?" he asked, pumping his fist into the air. "Another power couple! I am on a fucking roll!" He pointed across the crowd to where Jack and David sat huddled in a corner. "Javid! You're next!

Jack visibly reddened as David hid his face.

End

In other news, now Itey is psychic, too.

So, this is the end. If you're reading on then expect seven more chapters for the longest epilogue ever written. If you're reading this on AO3 then expect the final and last section of the story arc.

It'll be coming. Eventually. But I'd like another break first. At least the cliffhanger's over, yeah?