"Congratulations, Coke!" someone screamed through the crowd. It was probably Diego, the little punk. Coke smiled. That crazy boy was probably the only one who hated the Sabers more than Coke himself.
"Diego!" Coke yelled back, straining to catch a glimpse of the twenty-three-year-old Hispanic boy. "Where are ya?"
Suddenly, a massive grin stepped into his line of sight, framed by a shaggy brown mullet and ears riddled with piercings.
"Hey, Cola," Diego smirked. "How's it feel to replace ol' Jules?"
Coke glanced over his shoulder at the cape, the tattered tails dragging on the ground.
"Like a comic book villain, not gonna lie," he grinned. "This cape is almost as extra as you."
Diego faked a pout. "I'm a gangster, Cola. I'm supposed to be extra!"
Coke rolled his eyes as Diego reached out and tweaked his ear. "'Sides, little brother, with all your no-nonsense 'Oh, I'm Coke, I'm so scary,'-ness, one of us has to be a little extra."
When Coke, fifteen at the time, had joined the Mott Havens Murderers, Diego had quickly taken him under his wing. The sixteen-year-old's hair was cropped short, and his neck was bandaged tightly, the Murderers' signature black smoke tattoo fresh on his skin, but his personality hadn't changed a bit.
Coke snorted. "You know what else is extra? All the crap in your room. How many nights worth of pizza boxes are in there?"
"Well-"
"And those solo cups! Did you host a frat party or something in there?"
Diego smirked. "You wish you knew as many girls as I did." He faked a gasp. "No offense to Nikita, of course. I forgot you two were... involved."
Coke smacked Diego's shoulder. "We aren't a thing, you idiot."
"'It's so hard to get good help these days, Coke,'" Diego simpered, his voice screeching in a falsetto impression of Nikita.
Coke scrambled to clap a hand over his best friend's mouth. "Shh!!! She might hear you! I didn't know you were listening!!!"
Diego howled against Coke's hand as the younger boy wrestled him to the ground.
"I swear, if she heard you, I'm gonna have Carlos rip your throat out."
"Whose throat are we ripping out?" a voice asked, the pleasant pitch in stark contrast with the steel-toed, black combat boots filling the floor-bound boys' vision.
"Hey, Nikita," Coke murmured sheepishly, taking the proffered hand. The redhead pulled him to his feet, while Diego stood up beside him.
"You're making a great impression within the first five minutes," Nikita smirked. "Several of the members who profited under West are already calling for your replacement."
Coke shook his head. "How'd I end up in this position, anyways?"
"Well," Diego started, "you killed eight Sabers, you planned the 'Starry Night' heist, and you've singlehandedly made the Murderers the richest gang in NYC," he listed, ticking the items off on his fingers. "You were the only person Jules would let replace him."
"But there are so many other members-"
"Aw, no way, bro," Diego responded, waving his finger at Coke. "You really think Jules was gonna let me replace him? Last I checked, I'm still blacklisted from bank jobs."
"And don't think I'm gonna let you back in on them now that I'm Boss," Coke retorted.
Nikita planted a hand on her hips, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two boys. "Are you guys sure you aren't related?"
"'Kita, I'm Hispanic, and Cola here is as white as a sheet of paper," Diego smirked. "Ain't no way we're related."
"And I suppose adoption doesn't count," Coke sighed.
"Nope!" The older boy grinned. "Now, I don't know about you, but all this fanfare has got me starving. Let's hit the snack bar, shall we?"
"Why not," Coke agreed, rolling his eyes and flashing a smile at Nikita. She shook her head, suppressing a slight grin of her own as she followed the two boys out of the room.
***
"Look, kid, if you're going to make it with the Sabers, you're going to have to stop pissing off the higher-ups," Cobalt reprimanded the Burning Sabers' newest recruit.
The young boy huffed. "It's not like I wanted to join you guys. And I have a name, you know. It's Captain."
Azael raised an eyebrow. "Captain, huh? Where on Earth'd you get a name like that?"
Captain grinned devilishly. "Go down to the station in East Village, ask them."
Azael flopped onto the ancient mattress she and Cobalt shared in the warehouse's back rooms. "Well, then, Captain, what's your plan to make it with us? You need a talent of some sort."
"What do you mean?"
"Well," Azael paused, glancing at the small boy. "Coby and I are in the poisons department, cause we're good with chemistry. We've got men on the street looking for some richies to shoot up, cause they're good shots and can take the sight of a gutter full of blood." She smirked. "What are you good at?"
Captain pondered this for a while, then spoke up. "I'm manipulative. When I'm out on the street, everyone wants to help the 'poor orphan boy'," he simpered, clasping his hands together mockingly.
"Boss'll probably put you on the street team, then," Cobalt concluded. "That's where he likes to put the kids. Keeps 'em out of harm's way."
Captain nodded. "Sounds good. I can do that. I don't exactly want to kill someone, you know what I'm saying?"
Azael smiled. "Sure, Cap." She lay back on the mattress, kicking her boots off as she flopped down. "Coby, wanna grab the kid a mattress? He can stay in here with us until he earns his own room."
Cobalt nodded. "Sure thing, Az. Captain," he added, leveling his gaze on the boy, "wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes. Listen to Azael."
Captain smirked. "No problem, Cobes."
Cobalt rolled his eyes and strolled out of the room. Azael glared at Captain.
"When he told you to stop pissing off the higher-ups, that included us, you know."
Captain shrugged. "Sorry. Can't help it. I'm not too good with authority," he admitted. "Not used to it. Not used to people."
Azael groaned. "God, I know how that is. I was convinced I was gonna go crazy when I first joined up. Takin' orders and all that," she grimaced. "But then Coby swooped in and showed me a few ropes. That helped me out quite a bit."
Captain sat down on the floor, shaking his jacket out and laying it on the ground beside him. "Is that what you and Cobalt are doing for me? Helping me out, I mean."
Azael hummed. "Well, I guess it is. You know, everybody needs a bit of help now and then."
Captain stomped to his feet. "Well, not me. I don't need help from nobody! I can take care of myself!"
Azael's jaw dropped as the young boy stormed out of the room.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
