The Robin Hood Gang 2: Service from Spain

Max

Oh yes, a crappy game of chess. That was the most exciting thing here. This was pathetic. I was back in the US, back in the one place I felt happy before the whole hell thing. This country was fantastic. The US underground was a network. So many crowds and gangs, as apposed to the main big baddies in Spain and a few homeless guys.

Playing concerts in bad clubs, gettin' high, not something I'd do now. I was a killer at this point, not a musician. Nonetheless, I was also a US citizen once again. I didn't want to stay cooped up in this mansion. It wasn't too bad, but there was so much more I wanted to do.

I walked on outside to the garage and unlocked my car. I thought I'd head out, have a few drinks at the first club he could find, and go for a little walk along the streets. We were surprisingly seperate from any city. The drive felt really long.

I wasn't even in the city yet when my phone started ringing.

"Where the hell did you go?", asked the voice on the other line, calmly. I didn't know who it was.

"Is anything going on back there?"

"Just get back here"

"Unless you guys are getting killed, I don't see why I can't go where I want. Call me back if there's any news". I hung up the phone after that. I couldn't help but realize that I had no idea who just called me. I think it might have been that guy who was playing chess when I left. Or it could just be one of the other Wolves. I listened to the words, not the voice.

I drove along and turned up the music playing on the car, opening the windows to let some air in. Back in the US with my music rushing around me. Life was good. Well, as good as it gets, anyways.

Ace

Riley. Seems nice, I thought to myself upon shaking her hand. I hoped I was right; there was a certain other person I'd once thought seemed nice. Before everything went down the drain. Patience, Ace. I had to learn that not everyone was like that. Precious few, actually.

I didn't care what room I got. A room is a room, right? So I let everyone else choose before I took a plainly-decorated one; it had good shades on the windows--there could be no spying on me that way. I didn't need anyone trying to look for me now that I was back in the U.S. It hurt knowing that I couldn't tell anyone, but when you're running from someone...there are things you just can't do.

Freezing, I shrugged into a plain hoodie before I began to unpack. Everything I'd ever had was in that suitcase. I took things out, regarding them as if they were ancient relics rather than articles of clothing.

And then I noticed someone in my room.

"Maitea," I said softly, smiling. She started to pick things out of my luggage; I normally would have yelled at someone for that, but she meant no harm. She'd always been very sweet, and I couldn't fathom losing my temper with her. "You don't have to do this...thank you."

I stopped to finger a pin--well, not just any pin. My mother's. I remembered when I was little, and I'd stolen her airborne wings. And here it was, now fitting in the palm of my hand. I put the collar device in my pocket. Maybe one day, I could see her again.

I saw Maitea turn to me, smiling. She was trying to make me feel better, I thought, so I returned the smile and followed her down to a sort of common room. No matter what I did, though, or where I went, or how many people were there that I knew wouldn't let harm come to me, I couldn't stop shaking. Being back in America was nerve-wracking for me.

Reg Carter

It had only been a short time and already one of them had hit the road. This was a bunch of amateurs. I knew we needed more people, but I also knew that staying alive was doubly important than the job. It always had been. And these guys weren't about to muck that up.

I got up from the chess board and made my way into the dully lit kitchen, grasping a can of baked beans and taking them towards the stove. I watched them as they began to heat, ever so calmly, and naturally listened to the voices from the lounge. Bree being her social self -- a flirt. And then Riles, making sure everyone knew she was boss; something I admired her for.

I poured the baked beans into a bowl and took a fork from the kitchen work top. As I walked into the lounge, eating the beans by mouthful, I noticed the room was looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"Beans? It's still early, Reg," said Riles.

"Early 'tis, Riles," I agreed, "But, by Jeez am I hungry."

I sat on the chair opposite Riles & Maitea, peering at them. Watching them ever so closely and quietly. Gentily admiring how normal it all was.

"Riles," I began.

The room went quieter again.

"I said Riles. Not the lot'a ya!" I yelled.

The room went back to nervous conversation. I'd obviously made some kind of impression on them. They'd somehow judged me as a threat, but I was only a threat if they were a threat to me.

"Now that we don't need Jack, would you mind if I paid the dear fellow a visit?" My grin spanned wide across my face. Riles gave no answer, but thought about it.

Riley

Had Reg seriously just asked to kill Jack? Jack was my ex-boyfriend and the leader of the gang I used to be in when I was in mexico. But the idea was tempting, nevertheless.

"We already have the American goverment after us, we don't need Jack's group out to get us too." I said sharply.

"Please?" He asked.

"Please?" Bree said. She hated Jack as much as as Reg did.

"No!" I said. Then Marcello walked in the door.

"Riley! How are you? And who does Reg want to kill now?" he said.

"I am great, and Reg wants to go take care of Jack." I say.

"And you aren't letting him?" He clarified.

"Nope." I said, he patted my shoulder. Marcello then left the room. He came and went as he pleased. It didn't really concern me.

"Our next big endevor is tomorrow." I said.

"Tommorow!" Bree yelled.

Bree

I think Riley had lost it completely. She had no idea what any of my gangs skills were, how they fought, or if they had any disabilites.

"You're insane!" Reg said, taking my side, as allways.

"No, I am not. It is a small job. I will only need about two people not including myself." Riley looks at the people in the room.

"Whats your skill?" She says to Maitea.

"I am a fighter." She replied. Riley doubted it, the doubt was evident on her face. Maitea apeared to have no muscle, but she was a excellent fighter, maybe even better than Riley.

Riley stands up, "Try and pin me down." She says. This is going to be funny. Maitea walks slowly up to Riley.

"Maybe we should do this outside, I really don't want to break the furniture." Maitea said. Riley sighs in doubt.

Maitea

I honesty didn't want to break the furniture. I had done it before. It was obvious Riley underestimated my ability. most people did. We stepped outside to a grassy area near the lake. I had my plan set out, if she was the type of fighter I usually fought. If she had been taught in the south, she probably was.

Most of the rest of the gang had already gathered to watch. This was going to be interesting.

I was fast and agile, but not strong. Riley would rely on her strength, I could tell. We both lunge at once. I jump to the side, and she falls to the ground. I jump off the tree in front of me to land on her, but she rolls out of the way. I jump up to the first branch on the tree. I plan to spring on her.

She turns to face me, and I spring. I push her to the ground, but she pushes me off her. Then it comes down to both of us fighting on the ground. My best bet was to try and attack her from the back, so I put all my efforts into getting behind her. If I could just push her in the water.

She can't quite seems to get her hand on me, I am simply too fast. But not strong, no, not strong.

Eventually I get myself where I can grab her arm, flip her over, and when she is lying on the ground get one hand around her neck and the other in a position where I could knock her out cold if I wanted to. She looks terrified. I doubted her skill was matched often. I stand up, grinning profoundly. It was almost easy, almost.

"I gotta hand it to you, your tough kid." Riley says. Reg is in complete shock. Bree looks amused. I was glad I made her proud. Ace was clapping quietly.

"Oh, she's am not strong at all, just fast and agile." Bree said. I nod my agreement.

"Impossible," Riley said. This obviously went against what she had been taught.

"Watch." I say. I sit on a chair, and put my hand in arm wrestling position. She gets my drift, and it takes less than five seconds and my arm is to the table.

"Your just like most southern fighters." I say, then walk back into the house.

Bree

I watched Riley fight Maitea. Maitea was my best fighter, because the people we were fighting never could really catch her. She knew how to take people's skills and use them against them. It was funny to watch. Then, to prove her lack of strength, Maitea arm-wresteled Riley. Riley won, of course. I trot back inside with Reg after Maitea. I quickly congartualte her, then turn to Reg.

"How was that for a new look at ways to fight." I ask him.

"That was just sort of wierd." He said. I knew he had watched so many fighters fall to Riley's hand, and then to watch Maitea throw her around like a rag doll... It was tough for him to comprehend.

"Yeah, she does that to people. She is my best fighter, you know." I said.

"Have you two ever faced off?" Reg asked.

"Many times."

"Who won?"

"Her."

"I wonder if she would ever consider fighting me?" Reg asked.

"She'd win, your fighting stlye is too predictable." I commented.

"Is not!"

"Yes, Reg, it is."

"Ah, I'd just get my hands around her little neck and..."

"You know, its okay if there is a person on this planet who might be a better fighter than you." I said, putting my arms around him. He pushed me off on impulse. Then looking for a minute into my eyes, he pulled me back and gave me a quick kiss.

"No its not." He whispered.

Max

Two or three bottles of beer down. I felt generally relaxed. It wasn't a crap day yet, anyways.

Of course, it began to become one. Who else would walk into the bar I went into other than one of the few other friends I had back in the US; Eric. Eric was the drummer for the old band. I moved from that life, and my appearance was generally different. I had a tattoo or two more, more hair on my face, I didn't think he'd recognize me.

"Maxy?", Eric asked from across the room. Crap. He came right over and sat beside me. He usually dressed casually, but since the last time I saw him, he changed his wardrobe. He was in a leather jacket and pants, had giant aviator sunglasses on, and a disgusting amount of hair gel in his head.

"Dude, we hadn't seen you since Joan was taken off", he said.

"Well, I went after her", I told him.

"Really? Good goin', man. Wish I had someone like that for my life. For now, it's a new someone a night", he said, grinning and laughing to himself. He seemed to be a success now, or so I was to assume. Who would've thought? He wasn't the worst person in the world, but the next words that came out of his mouth made him so.

"Sucks that she died, huh? Shot to the head. Killer must've been one cold S.O.B., right?"

So, I was an S.O.B., and he can casually say that the first and only person I loved got murdered. If you were in my shoes, in my level of temper, you'd do the same thing I did.

I flipped out my gun and shot him in the face. I won't deny it, I've got a bit of a temper. But at least I have the guts to do something about it. Or it could partially be the booze.

The bar was pretty empty, aside from some obviously lesbian couple and the bartender. They were pretty stunned, but they didn't move. I just ignored them and carried Eric's corpse into the trunk of my car out back.

I guessed that the bartender called the police after I walked out and started driving back. So much for a low profile coming back to the states. As I drove with the bleeding body in my trunk, I couldn't help but realized that I may have screwed over everybody in the gang. No worries. I had a plan.

I parked in the middle of the woods. No cars were chasing after me. There weren't any on the road, even. I kept a few cans of spray paint in the back of the car for just this emergency. I also had a few extra license plates. My General-Lee look-a-like car now had no flag on the roof, or number on the side, and it was blue instead of orange now.

Last thing on my mind was the body. I had a yard back in Spain that I called "The Graveyard". Anybody I killed and had to keep the body in my car, they got buried there. I needed a new graveyard.

I got in the front seat and pulled out my cell phone and selected Bree's number.

"Hey, Bree, I need a new graveyard", I said. She knew what I meant.

Bree

"How did you mention to kill someone allready? Nevermind.." I said, slightly annoyed. How had he killed someone in one day. People like him amazed me.

"Who killed who?" Reg said, coming up. I put the phone away from my mouth.

"A hot tempered member of my gang." I said. I pick the phone back up.

"I heard that!" Max said.

"And for the graveyard, why don't you make it at the far edge of the lake, past that bended oak tree." I say.

"Okay." he says, than the line disconnects.

"Sometimes.." I say, unable to finish my sentence. I didn't even know anymore. I sit down, Reg sits beside me.

"Being a leader is a lot of stress." He said, "Thats why I could never do it."

I never got to respond. He pulled me into a kiss that seemed to last forever.

Ace

I stood watching the fight, intrigued; she was always tough. We'd sparred before, for practice or for fun, but I didn't win. I was best at making use of my small build to sneak around, or putting my techno-geek skills to the test to do some hacking. (I'd once managed to slip small amounts of money out of someone's bank account over time before, using only my laptop.)

Sure, I could fight decently well if I had to. I'd been pushed around enough in the past few years to pick up a bit of self-defense skills and turn the tables... And then if all else failed, there was always my handgun. I didn't want to use it often, though, as those things could be traced fairly easily.

I put one of the ear buds to my mp3 player in and ran my hand through my hair as I listened to what was going on through my other ear. I wondered vaguely what the job was and who would be going--it seemed like Maitea was a candidate--and whether or not we were too jet-lagged to do anything. I surely wasn't, but then again, thanks in part to having a jet pilot for a mother, I could sleep on a plane like it was nobody's business.

My ear perked as I overheard that someone, most likely Max, who'd disappeared almost upon arrival, had offed someone already. I paused my song, hoping to surreptitiously hear more. No, no; I shouldn't be eavesdropping, I thought. It was rude of me, and I turned my music back on. If they wanted me to know anything, they would have told me. But...Jeez. First day here.

I turned instead to Maitea, and then Riley. "Good show," I complimented them both.

Reg Carter

I'd overheard what had happened, and naturally Bree was in stress about it. I may only appear to be a fighter to everyone else, but Bree and Riles knew I was more than that. They knew I'd keep the gang in order. Keep them safe.

I walked outside of the house and was just about to get in the 4x4 when Riles stopped me.

"Reg, where you off to?" She asked.

"See a fella called Max," I replied. "Be back before you know it."

"Go easy with 'im, Reg. He's got a temper," said Bree walking out and standing next to Riles.

"He won't hurt me, don't worry," I said.

"It's not you I'm worried about," said Bree.

Riles raised an eyebrow and went back inside. I nodded at Bree and then started up the 4x4. She watched me as I drove off and out into the forests. I had Bree's cell phone, now I needed to find Max.

Max

I tossed Eric's body into the hole I dug. I looked at his bloody face before I started filling the hole. He wasn't a bad guy, so I'll admit that I felt a little bad for killing him. I didn't regret it though, he was being an asshole to me.

He dressed more rich and famously. I wouldn't be surprised if he actually started his own act. He always wanted control over the band. Well, maybe he was got lucky in hell and is snapping the whip at other poor unfortunate souls.

Yeah, he's deffinetely in hell. I'm going there too, no doubt. For god's sake, I've lost count of people I've killed out of my temper alone. I just like to do whatever I want until I get there. Life may suck, but my life still beats hell any day.

My phone rang as I was filling in the grave. I checked the ID; it was Bree. Wait, what? Why was Bree calling me? I answered the call.

"Max here. Whaddya want?", I said and asked. I stabbed the shovel into the ground.

Reg Carter

I grinned at the sound of the spaniard's voice and said nothing for a moment. Then, as I continued driving, I began to talk.

"'Tis is Reg," I snarled.

"Whaddya want?" He repeated.

"The poor sod you killed," I said. "What was his name?"

"Eric." He replied.

"Okay, take anything valuable off the lad and then meet me somewhere. Think you can manage that?"

"Whatever," He snapped.

"Good. Make sure he's good 'n' buried too."

"That was one of the first things on my mind."

I cut the line dead and began driving to a small open part of the woods. I flipped open Bree's phone once more and sent Max a text with my co-ordinates. I got out of the car and waited on the patchy green grass, a flask of whiskey at my side. I sipped a bit and then watched the wind hit the trees. It was like a dazed harmony.

Max

I finished filling up the hole and headed on my way down the road. The car still smelled like spraypaint. A little paint aroma wasn't going to make me want to go back to the original orange, though.

I saw the monstrous 4X4 pulled over, with Reg standing close by. I parked the car and checked my gun to make sure it was loaded. I wasn't planning to kill Reg, unless he really pissed me off, but he sounded pissed off on the phone. He could've been planning to kill me.

I stuffed my gun into my pocket and got out of the car. He looked like he was sniffing the air. Probably the paint. Figures.

"You repaint that thing every time you kill someone?", asked Reg.

"Every time someone catches me", I replied.

"I've heard you've done this before", he said.

I started counting my fingers. First time I repainted was killing some strangely pushy drug dealer...4 homeless guys...a hooker that tried to break into my car, with a homeless guy's body in it...got it.

"About forty or fifty times", I told him, "This being my first in the US".

I started thinking about why Reg wanted me over here. I wasn't much of one for subtltey, so I just came out with it.

"So", I started, "Do you want something from me?"

Riley

I hate a lot of things, puppies, beer, ferrets, but there is nothing I hate more than being in charge of a group that keeps secrets from me. That was just sad. I martch up to Bree.

"You will tell me what is going on, right now." I say it like an order.

"One of my gang members got out of control and killed someone, no big deal." she said. I debated in my mind wheter to argue the 'big deal' part of this. I decide against it.

"Okay, which one?" I ask.

"Max."

"Keep him under close watch for a while. At least until we know he can control himself."

"That won't be happening Riley. He is somewhat uncontrolable."

I make up my mind to have Reg keep a watch on Max. I know he would hate being a babysitter, but I had to. Marcello comes in.

"Riley, what has you troubled?" He asks.

"A physcopathic member of Bree's group." I shoot her a look.

"What'd he do?" <arcello asked.

"Kill someone."

Reg Carter

I grinned at Max's impatience and toyed with him a moment, walking along the patched grass in the direction of the woods. I turned back to face him and his face was puzzled with confusion. I admired the unsuality of it and paced back up to him. Thoughts, judgements, all swirling inside my brain. As I'm about half a foot from him, I grab his arm and push his face down on my 4x4's bonnet. He groans in agony. I rip the gun out of his pocket and emptied the magazine. I lobbed the gun into the forest and let go of him.

"Next time you kill someone, ditch the gun," I glared at him.

He nodded.

"Oh, and don't ever bring a loaded gun when you come and talk with me," I said, angrily.

He just growled under his breath and repeated, "Do you want something from me?"

"Yeah," I replied, "I want you to behave yourself. Otherwise, we're gon'a have cops on our heels and blood on our clothes every 5 damn minutes. I don't want that."

I paused and looked deep at him.

"I don't care how angry you were. Don't you do anythin' like that again. If it comes to the point they're annoying you -- by all means give 'em a good smack, but don't you dare put a bullet through their skull."

I grabbed him by his coat and threw him into the front of the 4x4. Then I opened up my boot and took out a small explosive. I gestured to his car and then looked at him suggestively.

"So, you doin' the honours? Or shall I?" I asked.