C6 Hooligans

"Vincent, number thirty-two. Focus."

Four years ago, Vincent gazed upon the mosaic pattern on the glass of his father's office door. The head maid sat beside him, pointing to a question in his mangled algebra book. Lucille had been by his side for years—perhaps the only help in the house that had lasted more than a few months. She was strict, firm and tired of trying to coax out the good student in Vincent.

"If you can't pass this test, you won't graduate to your junior year." She seemed dissatisfied, the lines on her face growing as her thin lips slacked into a frown. "A tenth-grade dropout! You can do better, Vincent."

"Why does it matter? Even if I fail the test, it won't change shit," he grumbled, leaning back in his chair.

"Your education should be the most important thing in your life right now," she lectured. "Your priority is this test, and you won't move until you've finished every problem on this page. I had to work twice as hard when I was your age. I didn't have daddy to toss money into college; I had to struggle between school and a job."

"Is that how you ended up working for my dad?" Vincent snorted, a sly grin swallowing his face. "You studied for six hours a night, just to clean toilets?"

The maid looked to him with scorn, and with a quick shove, she sent his head smacking against the table.

"Ow, fuck!" he hissed, grasping at his nose.

"Watch your mouth," she replied, slapping his book closed and shoving it into his arms. "Go study in your room, clearly having your father home is too distracting for you."

Vincent was used to the woman's lashings, but that night there was something different about their quarrels. Lucille frowned, a look full of sympathy as she gathered mugs from the table and brushed the polished wood clean. Usually she had more to say—more griping about just how spoiled he was. About how a silver spoon had been placed in his lap yet chose to eat with his hands. But she seemed to be giving him slack, and it wasn't a question as to why. Everyone in the house was more tense than usual, and there were one too many eyes on Vincent.

It was because of his father.

Perhaps twice a year, he'd come home to do business in his office. He was strict about being left alone though, and it was all the more difficult for Vincent. It was easy to be ignored when he was halfway across the states. But even with the man in a four foot proximity, Vincent still felt transparent. It was agonizing, knowing he had the opportunity for closure with his father. He was just behind that door, signing papers, making phone calls. Even a short conversation would be better than nothing, but he never had the time. So, instead, Vincent would give him an excuse to brush away his existence. He'd disappear, like he always did.

He went to his room as Lucille ordered, but studying was a long shot. Instead, he tossed his books aside and flicked through his phone, sending Kailan a short text. Nothing more than a heads up to let him know Vincent would be coming over. Anything was better than sticking around the place, drowning in his own wishful thinking.

Sneaking out without Lucille catching sight of him was a bit difficult, but Vincent had made a habit of escaping via the large cherry tree beside his window. He planted a firm foot on the branches, and hoisted himself down until he was low enough to hit the ground without breaking a leg.

The walk to Kailan's house wasn't far. They lived in the same neighborhood, though their homes were nothing alike. Vincent lived on a gated hilltop in a small multi-million dollar mansion designed and constructed by his father. The land itself wasn't predominantly wealthy, but the location was what set the focal point for Johnathan Alexander's dream home. It was almost like he was throwing his money in the faces of the middle-class families that surrounded the acre or so of land. Kailan, however, lived in an all too average residence: a two-bedroom bungalow only a few blocks away.

Vincent always took the shortcut, sneaking over two sets of fences and traversing through strangers' yards to get to Kailan's home. Though, the second he stepped foot on the lawn, he regretted arriving so soon. From outside, he could hear the muffled shouts—the bickering and bantering of Kailan's parents. The fighting was as common as dirt, and there was no question that Kailan was tucked away in his room, trying to ignore it all.

Instead of stumbling into a domestic dispute, Vincent counted the windows on the side of the house, and when he spotted Kailan's room, he wasted no time venturing over and shoving the window open with a single upward push.

Climbing inside, he sat upon the window sill, taking in the quiet darkness of the room.

"Fighting again?" he asked, squinting to make out more than just a simple silhouette.

As a small light flickered on, he found Kailan sitting cross-legged on his bed. "Oh, you know, like always." He grimaced as he heard his mother raise her voice, pursing his lips together in a thin line. Kailan looked down to the furry arachnid that was resting on his knee. Gizmo, as the Mexican Redknee was named, was Kailan's pet tarantula.

The thing was docile, never hurt Kailan, but the kid knew Vincent had a fear of spiders. And surely, one that large did him no favors.

Kai didn't move, instead looking up over at Vincent with a small sneer. "Want me to put him in his tank?"

He didn't give Vinny much time to respond as he herded the thing onto his hand and got to his feet. Slowly and gently, he placed it in its tank.

"So what's up?" he asked as he gave the lid a tug, sure to secure it to its base. After all, the damned thing had a knack for escaping.

Vincent found it difficult to take his eyes off of the spider, but he ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the wooden sill with a sigh. "Johnathan's home. I can't be there." He was silent only long enough to hear another muffled shout from a few rooms over, before he spoke up again: "But by the sound of things, I can't be here, either." Still, Kailan was the first person he came to at times like these. Going home knowing his father was there—it wasn't an option for Vincent. "Let's get out of here." He nodded toward the window. "They're probably not gonna shut up for a few hours anyway."

"Sounds like a fucking plan to me," Kailan muttered, quick to put on his shoes before turning off the lamp beside his bed.

Engulfed in black, he made his way over to the window. Though, not without a few curses from colliding with the sharp edge of his desk. "It's a blessing that they forget I exist when they're fighting," he said with a quiet laugh, squeezing past Vinny to exit through the window.

Relief rushed over them both as the shouting faded the farther they walked. It was already dark out, well past their designated curfews, but that never stopped them before. And frankly, a mugging at gunpoint sounded like a more pleasant experience than going home.

It was refreshing anyway, the quiet bustle of the night.

Turning on his heels, Kailan looked over at Vincent, teeth flashing white in a grin. "So where to, Cap'n?"

"What the hell else is there to do on a Tuesday night?" Vinny laughed, giving Kailan a shove as he caught up to his side. He quickly reeled him in though, hooking an arm around his neck. "Drink, of course."

He always had the option of sneaking off with other friends. He could crash at a cute girl's place, or rent his own goddamn hotel room if he wanted. But this was his preference. Walking the dark, chilly streets with Kailan at his side.

He wasn't quite sure how he'd get his hands on any alcohol. He never depended on a fake I.D.; he always just paid others to get the stuff for him. Unlikely that any of his connections were up so late on a weekday, he left his phone snug in his jean pocket. Even if they had to go home sober, at least they'd return to dead houses, and—in Kailan's case—peace and quiet.

But as they neared an abandoned parking lot of a convenience store, Vinny paused. He'd been there before, seen the walls of hard liquor and the fridges filled with beer. It was as good a place as any.

"You still good at picking locks?" he called over his shoulder, making his way to the front of the building. The lights inside were dead, and not a single car sat in the lot. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd broken into a place, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"You doubt me?" Kailan scoffed, but he wore a grin. He met Vinny at his side, fished a small tool out of his wallet and crouched. "Just make sure no one comes around while I work on this," he ordered Vincent, who seemed all the more lax about the situation, leaning back against the wall with a smirk.

Kailan was a smart kid; intuitive. His parents constantly reminded him of his wasted potential. He jiggled the pick a bit before hearing a subtle click. Picking locks was as simple as solving a children's puzzle, and he was able to grant them access inside in only a minute or so. With a smirk, he stood up and opened the door.

"Aaaand, we're in." He gave the door a gentle kick. It protested with a squeak, but swung in anyway and welcomed them to the dark contents of the store.

As expected from a small establishment, there were no alarms. The place was nothing more than a convenient little corner-store in a primp and polished neighborhood—which meant no fancy motion-sensor lights, either. Instead, Vincent wandered inside, and searched the walls for a panel of light switches. He only flicked one on, but the dim fluorescent were enough to light every aisle comfortably.

As he strolled past the register, he snatched a children's ball from a shelf nearby, bouncing it in Kailan's direction with a grin. "Where'd you learn that shit, anyway?"

"Right before mother dearest adopted me, I had some foster parents who always had these parties...." Kailan snickered and caught the ball, bouncing it off the ground as he mused over his own thoughts. "And since I was such a troubling child, they would lock me in this room while catering to their guests." He tossed the ball back over to Vincent, who caught it without much effort. "So, I got my hands on some books about lock picking and taught myself. Crashed their party out of spite." With a shrug, he turned down one of the aisles, eyeing the selections of candy and gum.

"We weren't exactly the picks of the litter." Vincent laughed, tossing the ball aside and shoving his hands in his pockets. Foster care wasn't kind to either of them. The system was flawed, and indifferent, but somehow they'd both landed in the same place at the same time. They'd been lucky enough to meet, forced together by the hands of their adoptive parents. They were misfits, but Vincent could hardly complain.

As he gazed around the dusty place, he caught sight of a glistening reminder of just why they had broken in to begin with.

He found his way to the back of the store and snatched a bottle of liquor from its wire shelf, not once bothering to check the label or the price as he popped the lid off and returned to Kailan, lifting himself up onto an empty space of shelving. "I don't remember much before I met you, but I'm sure I was an aneurism waiting to happen."

Kailan pulled himself up next to Vinny, snorting offhandedly at his joke. "I remember when I first met you, I found you to be an obnoxious pain in the ass." His face lit up with a smile, leaning a bit away from Vincent as he suppressed a laugh.

"It's called character. And at least I had any." Vinny grunted, taking a brief drink from the bottle. He hadn't expected the harsh taste. At sixteen, he was still a bit new to the game. He forced it down and set the bottle between the two of them, letting out a tickled laugh. "When I first met you, I thought you were a fuckin' alien. You just glared, like you were possessed or something. Freaked me out, honestly."

Kailan laughed, the noise echoing in the vacant store, "Oh, really?" He narrowed his eyes and put on a sly grin. "Who knows, maybe I was." He grabbed the bottle, downing some of the liquor with a small grimace.

It had been about five or so years since they had first met, when Kailan's parents became associates of Johnathan Alexander. They'd both changed since then; in some ways subtly, in others drastically.

"At least I'm not a glaring alien now, huh?" Kailan smirked, scratching at the back of his neck.

"You don't glare so much, but I still wonder if you're an alien." Vinny leaned back, watching one of the lights flicker ominously on the ceiling above. "But I have a feeling if you were going to probe me, you would have done it by now."

Kailan's lips rose in a grin, "Oh, I'm sure aliens have standards. I doubt you'd make the cut."

Vinny dropped his jaw, aghast, giving Kailan a rough shove and nearly pushing him right off of the shelf. "I am the cut, asswipe. I could fuck any alien—no. You know what?" He interrupted himself, tipping back another drink of the ghastly liquid and pointing a finger in Kailan's direction. "I could fuck all the aliens."

Kailan couldn't help his laughter, "We're talking about aliens, Vinny." He sneered, raising an eyebrow as he gave Vincent a look. "Are you saying you want to fuck small green men?"

"I never said I wanted to. I said I could." Vinny shrugged, screwing the cap on and setting the bottle aside. "At least I'll be prepared when the war of the worlds comes crashing down on our asses." He gave off a charming grin, but it quickly faded as the sound of sirens neared in the distance. He descended from the shelf to take a gander out of the large glass windows. It was dark out, and difficult to see much, but the sirens were definitely growing louder. "Do you think someone saw us?"

"No?" Kailan hopped down beside him, brow furrowing in concern. "Even if it's not for us, I don't really want to wait and find out." Kai would be utterly screwed if his parents had caught wind about the little break-in. He grabbed the bottle, knowing it would be foolish to leave it behind. "Let's get out of here."

Just as they began to make their way to the door, flashing lights neared in the distance. In only seconds, they were bathing the store in red and blue.

"Back door." Vincent turned abruptly on his heels, walking with pace to the back of the store.

A small hallway beside the cold section homed a door, reading 'employees only'. Maybe it was a fire-exit, and if that was the case, it could do them more harm than good. But it was their only way out.

As Vincent shoved his weight against the door, it hardly budged. He could unlatch it and give it a jolt, but padlocked chains on the outside restricted the door from opening more than an inch.

"Shit," he hissed, the sirens blaring now. The lights blinded him, but he could make out the silhouette of police cruisers pulling into the empty parking lot.

It was no big deal if Vincent were to get caught. Money could buy his way out of almost anything, and at most he'd receive a flimsy slap on the wrist and evade juvy for probably the hundredth time. Kailan would not be so lucky. Vincent knew all too well how his parents reacted to these things, and it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. So he did the only thing he could: he yanked open the adjacent door, which revealed a cooler room, freshly stocked with walls upon walls of milk and butter. There was more than enough space to hide behind the pallets, and the police would never bother to check it if Vincent had claimed he was alone. So he swiped the bottle of booze, gave Kailan a hard shove inside and slammed the door closed.

Kailan stumbled in with a scowl, crouching down behind the pallets with a huff. He knew why Vincent was doing it, but it still irked him. "You fucking idiot," he muttered, rubbing at his arms, out of sight and out of mind as far as the police were aware. "How did they find us?" He spoke quietly, as if the walls were paper thin. He couldn't really do much, or even see for the boxes of items in front of him. Still, he was tense with the dread that they might still find him.

Vinny was not so concerned. He strolled carelessly along the aisle, the bottle of booze in hand. He could see the police rushing to the door, but there was nowhere to run. So he hopped up atop the checkout stand, guzzling down as much of the horrid liquid as he could manage. If they thought he had just been some drunk kid who strayed from home, he may get off a little easier. Still, he was relieved that from where he stood, Kailan was out of sight.

As the officers rushed in, one recognized him immediately. "O'Connor, you've gotta be shitting me," he scorned, easing his stance and signaling for the others to do the same. "It's just a kid, relax," he called out, before his narrow glare met Vincent again. "Just a stupid, sorry kid."

"Is this harassment, officer? I wonder just which of us is actually above the law. You, or me?" Vinny chortled, taking another gulp before the bottle was ripped clean from his hands.

"Hands behind your back." He was yanked from the counter, and cold metal slid across his wrists, locking them in an uncomfortable position behind him. "Was there anyone else with you?"

"What the fuck does it look like to you?" Vinny snorted, his speech a bit drawled from the alcohol.

The officer pursed his lips for a short while, before he nodded toward the door. "Get a move-on."

"You don't want us to take a look around, sir?"

Vinny tensed as the question was raised.

"Nah," the officer replied, giving Vincent a rough shove out of the building. "Johnny's back in town. Kid always gets this way."