RED SKY AT MORNING (JOHNNY)

[kevin]

5:58 AM

For some reason Kevin felt restless and couldn't get a good night's sleep in his own home. Perhaps it was because of yesterday's event when somebody had slashed the tires of his Corvette. That was the only thing that was damaged and nothing was stolen. Instead of reporting this act of vandalism to the authorities, Kevin went on personal vendetta to find the nearest Greaser and get as much information related to the crime. Kev had a group of 4 or 5 Socs along with him and they were smart enough not to laugh or make fun of their friend's predicament. The Greaser, dragged to the scene against his will, was berated and yelled at to give meaningful answers. But the oily haired prick didn't know what was going on and apologized, telling Kevin and his posse that he isn't looking for trouble. The blond knew that his car could have suffered a more drastic fate, such as dents in the chassis or the paint job being ruined.

There wasn't any evidence that linked a Greaser to be involved in the first place and that didn't sit well with him. There was no hate letter left behind, there was nothing to prove. Sure, he was rich and he could easily have the damages repaired with no detriment to his high financial status, but someone needed to pay. He didn't believe that this was a random exploit of chance. He had many enemies which were, ironically enough, Greasers. So if anyone had to pay, it would be the kid he and his gang managed to snatch off the streets. Dragged into an alleyway, the lone Greaser was beaten up and kicked, each brutish slog far greater in intensity than the next. If money or an apology wasn't going to be given from the perpetrator, then innocent blood had to be drawn. Somebody always had to pay; in war there are many reports of collateral damage and friendly fire - and this was a prime example of that.

The Greaser, now badly bruised and unable to stand up was left in the alleyway bleeding. Kevin and his team had enough and hours later his Corvette sported a fresh set of wheels. Maybe it was his subconscious mind nagging him with moral waves of regret that was the cause of his insomnia, but he didn't want to be convinced he was getting soft for one Greaser. They hated the Socials and vice versa. It was a mutual hate from both sides. Whatever the case may be, Kevin had got out of bed early the next day, his mansion devoid of souls and not a sound could be heard save for his own breathing. Like any other day, his morning procedure was the same: he went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, shaved and washed his face, then he'd get dressed in a clean white tshirt and the bluest jeans he could find. After a few minutes devoted to styling his sloppy hair, he was out the door wearing his royal blue varsity letterman jacket with the shiniest leather low cut boots he could find.

In his precious shining Corvette, he sped out his cobblestone paved driveway and went back to the same place where he and his gang had jumped the Greaser. It was nearing six o'clock in the morning and the sun was creating a reddish-orange tint in the sky. Kev didn't pay much attention to it though, whenever he came to a halt at a red light, he'd look around and see scarce numbers of people up this early going about their business. Occasionally, he found himself looking at the sky because the fiery color reminded him of the blood of the Greaser. No, he was not going soft on anyone or anything. He was just curious if the kid was found by his other raccoon faced buddies and taken to a hospital or if he died on the spot. Dozing off in his imaginary world, he realized the light was already green and thankfully enough there was no one behind him getting all pissy.

Minutes later, he parked on the same block where his car's tires were slashed and got out. Not wanting to waste any time, he briskly walked over to the mouth of the alleyway, where he saw nothing but dim murky darkness. No one was there and he continued to stare before he decided that the Greaser most likely had survived the ordeal. "Looks like the bitch is still alive." He muttered to himself, hands briefly curling up into fists. Moving back to his Corvette, he leaned against the side and pulled out a small snuffbox out of his varsity jacket. He could use a moment to get high, he just didn't want to think about that dirty bastard again. So, he snorted the sugar and felt an instant urge of ecstasy sooth his brain. The feeling soon mellowed out and kept his physical body at ease, right now, as the he stood alone at the sidewalk, he savored each passing second.

tag - Johnny
words - 845
clothes - Explained, but click for reference
notes - Hello there =]
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]

[indiansfan01]

Johnny had gone home last night hoping beyond all hope that he would actually be able to spend the night in his own bed. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been able to do that. But standing outside of the front of his house and seeing the silhouettes of his parents fighting in the window and hearing them screaming at each other made Johnny realize that tonight wasn’t going to be that night. Why couldn’t his parents just get along or why couldn’t they just leave him out of their petty little arguments? Johnny thought about going back to the Curtis brother’s house—the place he had just left—but they were already too kind to him, taking him in and becoming the family that he had never had. He felt that if he went back there, begging to be allowed to stay the night, he’d be taking advantage of their hospitality. Johnny knew that sleeping outside was never a smart thing to do but it hadn’t gotten him into any trouble yet.

But the night was still young and as he wandered the streets alone he happened to come upon a group of Greasers—men he didn’t know all that well, for Johnny had yet to stray too far from his small group of friends. Seeing a fellow Greaser being stupid by walking alone at night, they had asked him to join them for the night. Johnny readily agreed, and the lot of them began walking up and down the alleyways, looking for any kind of trouble they could find. It wasn’t long though before they came upon another Greaser, lying in one of the alleyways just about bleeding to death. They rushed him to the hospital, all thoughts of gallivanting around the city and raising hell far from their minds now. Johnny stayed at the hospital with them because Greasers didn’t just abandon another Greaser when he most needed his fellow gang members around. They all spent the night in the hospital, while their friend was in surgery, sleeping as comfortably on the hospital chairs as they could—hey, it was better than spending the night outside, wasn’t it?

They were all awakened a little before five in the morning by the doctor, telling them that the kid was going to be just fine but that he’d be needing to spend a few more days in the hospital and that the kid wanted to talk to one of them. Without a word needing to be spoken, Johnny was nominated to be that person. He had gone into the room, whitewashed wall, whitewashed ceiling, and white tiled floor. How he hated hospitals. He didn’t recognize the kid’s face. How could he with all of the bandages all over the place on him? And in the short conversation they had with each other all Johnny managed to get out of it was that the kid had had a picture of his family in his pocket that was now missing—that he thought it was still in the alleyway and that it would mean so much if someone could go back there and retrieve it for him.

Needless to say, Johnny had been silently nominated for that task too. He wasn’t going to complain about it though; it would be a blessing to be able to get out of this hospital for a couple of hours. Not having any means of transportation, Johnny had to walk back. He took his time, savoring the peace before people started to wake up and get ready for work. Johnny finally arrived ten minutes before the clock would strike six in the morning. He made his way into the general area where they had found the kid and began groping around for the picture. It sure would have helped if he could see what he was doing. A few minutes later, he finally did feel a piece of paper. He picked it up and stepped out of the alleyway and back into the light. It was a cute picture—a mother, a father, a son, and two younger daughters. It couldn’t have been taken more than a few years ago. But then Johnny heard a car coming along. He instinctively looked up and saw what could only be a Soc behind the wheel. Johnny put the picture safely away in his own jeans pocket and retreated back into the alley, thinking that once this Soc drove by he could make his way back to the hospital.

But the Soc didn’t drive by…The car stopped. The Soc got out and stood at the foot of the alley. Johnny moved farther back, now thankful that nothing could be seen back here. After what felt like forever, the Soc left his position. But was he leaving the scene? Johnny listened and listened but he never heard the car start back up again. After a minute of contemplation, Johnny decided he’d have to risk trying to leave. After all, the other Greasers at the hospital were probably worried that something had happened to him. He had been gone far longer than he should have been. Besides, if the Soc saw him that didn’t mean he would automatically assume Johnny knew anything about the kid who had gotten beaten up here last night, did it? Johnny could have easily been spending the night in the alley and not know a damn thing about any acts of violence against Greasers that occurred last night. Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly and began to approach the mouth of the alley.

Johnny took a cautious peek around the corner and saw the Soc to his left snorting something. Good, maybe Johnny could get away unnoticed. He stuffed his hands into his jacket’s two pockets and put his head down. The first step out of the alley was the hardest but once that was done, Johnny made a quick turn to his right and began walking down the street at a brisk pace, hoping he had gotten out unnoticed.

tag -Kevin
words – 1,011
clothes – Click!
notes -=) And I just realized I picked out the same thread template as you...Funny! hahaha
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]

[kevin]

The air around him hung silent, it caused an eerie feeling in his gut. He was by himself without the safety of having his other Soc friends present. For all he knew, a mob of Greasers could be lurking in the darkness and ambush him for being the one responsible of yesterday's event. The blond doubted the badly bruised up kid would spill the beans that could prove an alibi against him. A guy like Killer-Kev wasn't one to mess around with, if he wanted someone to suffer - they almost always did. Unless, of course, they were smarter than him, but Greasers weren't one to think. They were inferior in almost every single way, but the only thing which managed to stand out was their bond. Messing with one was starting a world war with all of them and that's what worried the lone youth. Socials weren't that close with each other, they didn't consider another individual family, and Kevin was proof of that.

He saw his friends more like pawns to use in his own personal board of chess, he didn't really care for anyone but himself. He was also certain that the other guys carried a similar philosophy, showing care for another was weakness. But if a Greaser was threatening the image of a Soc, then something had to be done to put them back in their place. Oh well, he didn't want to think much about the dichotomy of rich and poor for it would kill the stimulating rush as the cocaine absorbed into his nostrils. Besides, if a group of Greaser punks wanted to start something, Kevin ironically carried an M1A1 Thompson submachine gun in the trunk of his car. Hell, if he was charged for murdering a bunch of lowlives, he didn't care. He'd just be granted parole within a few months and he'd be back to doing the same thing. Laughing to himself, he snapped the snuffbox closed and slipped it back into his jacket pocket before he got off leaning on the side of his car.

Sniffing his nose and wiping the area above his lip with the side of an index finger, he casually walked to the trunk of his Corvette and opened it. He just wanted to have the peace of mind knowing that he had some way to protect himself in case he was in trouble. Pleased with what he saw, he made sure he had ammunition to spare; there was no point in even carrying a gun if there was no bullets to feed it. After he close the trunk, he whistled a tune of 'When The Saints Go Marching In' and walked back to the passenger side door of his car. There really was no point in driving down here, but he could always find a payphone and call up one of his drug suppliers to meet him here to make a deal. It wasn't like he had any plans for today and he didn't feel like going back to bed now that he had crack in his system. Still whistling that same song, he looked around the general vicinity for a payphone but his ears caught the sound of receding footsteps.

Turning to face the origin of the sound, his eyes caught the sight of a denim wearing youngster walking away. There was no doubt in his mind, judging by the place he was in, that the boy was affiliated with the Greasers or he was one himself. The Soc was in no mood for a fight, but getting some clues on the person who caused the damage to his Corvette sufficed as an alternative. "Hey, kid!" He raised his voice loud enough for the stranger to hear him. Hopefully the guy would turn around, any person with common sense would do so. If he didn't, then that would alert the man into telling him that this Greaser knew something he didn't. "Stop right there, Greaser. I just wanna talk to ya." He added, promptly jogging over to the boy's location. Once he got close enough, he put an arm around the wanderer's shoulder and tried to get a good look at his face for future reference. "I'm not going to hurt you, so relax. I just need you to help me out with something."

[/color] Like any other clean and tidy noble aristocrat, it was almost sickening to his stomach to be so close to a dirty scoundrel. But he had to set aside the differences for a few minutes just to see how things would go. Already, he was a bit wary as to why such a young kid was out this early in the morning. He was definitely up to no good and since he was traipsing around the alleyway, Kevin assumed, then he had some details to leak.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]

tag - Johnny
words - 806
clothes - Explained, but click for reference
notes - Lmao nice, you got good tastes in layouts :3
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]

[indiansfan01]

The gang mentality was a hard thing to overcome. Just because someone belonged to a certain gang it didn’t mean they could be stereotyped as being like everyone else in the gang. Take Johnny, for example. The way he dressed had Greaser written all over him but he didn’t think like the other Greasers did. He carried a switchblade but that would only be used in self-defense and then only if he had no other options. Johnny didn’t know if someone who didn’t condone violence could even be considered belonging to any gang. He really was the Greaser’s pet. The Greasers felt that by taking care of him they could justify their violent ways. ‘Oh, we only took that Soc out because that’s one less Soc out on the street to hurt our Johnny.’ Sometimes Johnny wondered what his life would be like today if he hadn’t decided to affiliate himself with them.

Johnny wasn’t one to believe that everything happened for a reason. What reason could there be for him having abusive parents? What reason could there be for his best friend’s, Pony, parents to die and leave him in care of his older brother? But now that Johnny was a Greaser, he had to be careful where he tread at night alone. He was always looking over his shoulder if he should hear footsteps behind him. Every time a car drove by he had to keep his head down, hoping that if a Soc was behind the wheel they would be too busy to bother harassing one lone Greaser. Was there a plus to any of this? Well, Johnny supposed it was a good thing that he was a Greaser because now the Greasers had someone who did try his hardest to keep the peace and who was a level-headed person who always tried to think before acting.

But none of those deep thoughts were on his mind as he walked down the sidewalk. The only thing he could think about was getting out of there unseen and back to the hospital before the other Greasers sent out a search party to go looking for their lost pet. It seemed like luck might be with him for once in his life. But then he heard the two words shouted out at what could only be him, seeing as there was no one in the near vicinity besides the two of them. He only briefly thought about running away but quickly dispelled that thought, for running away would only make things worse. And unfortunately there were no shops open yet, not that ducking into one of them would have done much good anyways. So, Johnny did the only thing he could think of to do. He stopped dead in his tracks. He didn’t turn around, though, fearing what he might see. He didn’t know what this Soc’s intentions were but Johnny had no real choice but to stick around and find out.

‘I just wanna talk to ya.’

[/i] Those words were never good ones to hear, even if the Soc really meant them. Johnny could feel his heartbeat pick up its pace as he heard the Soc getting closer and closer to him. He took deep breath after deep breath, letting them out slowly. Getting all nervous now wasn’t going to help him. He had to keep a clear mind and be ready to act on whatever course of action was best for him. But that calming exercise was all for naught when the Soc put his arm around Johnny’s shoulders. Johnny literally did jump at that and forcibly swept the man’s arm off of his shoulders as he finally did turn around to face him. “Well, that’s too bad because I’m not gonna help ya,”[/b] he said, looking up at the taller man defiantly. Johnny just wanted to get this picture back to the hospital. Was that too much to ask whatever God might be out there? But that eye contact with the other man didn’t last very long. Johnny was soon looking down at the ground, silently praying that this guy would just leave but knowing that the chances of that happening were slim to none.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

tag -Kevin
words – 699
clothes – Click!
notes –lol…I guess so!
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]

[kevin]

Unfortunately for him, the euphoric feeling rushing through his cold veins would only last a good half hour or so before he started to experienced the dreaded withdrawal symptoms. For about a year he had been a cocaine addict as well as an alcoholic, but society never knew that part of him and they didn't have to. The fact that he went to the best schools, he wore first class clothes, and he helped contribute in keeping those Greaser hoodlums in check was enough to make him somewhat of a vigilante. He just couldn't fathom why such degenerates had to live with them. Granted, there were parts of town that favored one side over the other, but why can't these dirty rats find another place to infest? Again, his mind drifted over to the thought of the kid who he and his Soc friends had beaten up so bad his face moderately resembled the color of a raisin.

He had no qualms for what happened though and if the situation was reversed, he would have accepted it. As a matter of fact, he recalled one event a couple years back when a Greaser managed to stab him in the abdomen with a large piece of glass. The sting was a bitch to succumb to, but it was the fact he couldn't move or twist his upper body that made everyday life tedious. He loved football, basketball, and running, but when that Greaser tried to kill him, Kevin remembered the raging hatred in his eyes, like a forest fire blazing out of control. He was mad that he didn't see it coming and it shaped him to be more aware of his surroundings. Even that short emaciated adolescent Kevin saw walking away could have the inner strength of a lion. He really had to be careful, as the months passed, it wasn't just the Socials who were evolving. By calling out to the distant stranger, the Soc expected some boldness from someone who was 'vertically challenged'.

The little fellow failed to turn around, which ascertained the truth that he was indeed hiding something. Or perhaps he was just unsure and that Kevin meant to holler at someone else on the sidewalk. That wasn't the case as it was just the two of them this early in the morning and the stores weren't even open for business just yet. The blond took his sweet ass time walking up behind the young man, committing his physical stature to memory. It was all benign in manner to rest an arm around his shoulder and Kev didn't foresee the other to be so edgy considering he had been spooked by the close contact. Raising his brows at the awkward circumstance, his icy blue eyes soaked the flawlessness in the boy's facial features. To think of a filthy Greaser to appear robust as this particular person was bizarre. Then again, he had to remind himself he was straight as a yardstick and the abysmal age difference wouldn't allow that to happen.

The golden haired Soc furrowed his brows a little when the sprout spoke back to him in a rather bitter tone; in addition to that, his demeanor needed immediate reworking and Kevin would happily fix that. "Boo-fucking-hoo, you don't have the right to choose." He spat sharply and attempted to grab the collar of the kid's denim jacket. Kev had the advantage of his physical caliber to tow his sorry ass towards his Corvette. Once there, Kevin used his other hand which gripped the Greaser's meager chin to make him look at his cherry red sports car. "See that beauty? That's something you're never gonna own in your lifetime. Now somebody ruined my precious ride yesterday and I made one of your friends suffer. I just want a name of who slashed the tires. Okay, hotshot?" He leaned in close to the side of the teen's face that he could almost see the pores of skin in the dim light blanketed by the shadows. His vice grip was tight, but he didn't want to ruin a fairly pretty face if the kid wasn't going to cooperate. Intermittently, a car would pass by and he hoped one wasn't police. He needed to do this quick before things went sour soon. He would have played nice, but he could already predict that this boy wasn't going to give him that luxury. Typical.

tag - Johnny
words - 735
clothes - Explained, but click for reference
notes - Kevin thinks Johnny's cute by the way ; )
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]

[indiansfan01]

Johnny didn’t even bother to try to fight back when the Soc grabbed the collar of his jacket and dragged him over to his car. What was the point? Johnny knew full well that he was short and very small for his age. It wasn’t his fault that his parents had apparently not taken very good care of him when he was growing up. And, speaking of age, Johnny wondered how old this Soc was. Nineteen…Twenty maybe. Why couldn’t the Socs learn to pick on people their own age and, better yet, their own size? If this became physical, which Johnny would do everything in his power to prevent, this would be an unfair fight. His switchblade wasn’t going to do much of anything for him in a situation like this. Why did the other Greasers have to make him the errand boy today? Anyone else at the hospital would have been able to handle this situation without a problem.

Of course Johnny saw the car. Kevin wasn’t giving him much of a choice but to look at it. Johnny didn’t think much of the car. He was so used to living the simple lifestyle that he’d been living his whole life that he could care less about the fact that he was never going to be able to own such a flashy sports car in his lifetime. Besides, Johnny much preferred walking over riding in car. And then Kevin went on to explain everything to Johnny. Really? That was all this was about? A few slashed tires? Why was this Soc complaining? The car was fixed, and the money spent on the new wheels probably didn’t make even the slightest dent in his checkbook. If he had had the guts, Johnny would have gladly kicked the side of the car as hard as he could with a good ‘Fuck you’ added in for measure. But he had the strange feeling that doing something like that would be a death sentence, and Johnny was way too young to die. So, he kept his feet planted firmly on the ground…for the time being.

“I don’t know who slashed the tires,” he said truthfully. If any group of Greasers had gone out looking for trouble last night—besides the group he had been with—Johnny had no idea. The Greasers were all really close to each other though so Johnny was sure that if someone had done this job on Kevin’s car Johnny would have heard about it by now. And that meant that chances were the dirty deed had been done by some other group of rowdy teenagers—teenagers that weren’t affiliated with the Socs or the Greasers. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren’t the only teens inhabiting this neighborhood. “And even if I did know,” he added, “I wouldn’t tell ya.”

[/b] He had to try and keep up the appearance of not being scared to death right now. He had to keep on thinking on the bright side. If this Soc decided to beat him up, it wasn’t going to be long before that search party of Greasers would be coming along.

Johnny closed his eyes tightly shut, waiting for that first punch or kick to come but when it didn’t after a second or two he opened up his eyes again to say, “I just came here to get somethin’ that my friend lost in the alleyway last night. I should’ve been back at the hospital hours ago. They’ll be out lookin’ for me soon, so you should just leave right now while ya still can.”[/b] It was actually quite comical how he was trying to scare Kevin away while it was clear that Kevin was the one in complete control right now. But it never hurt to try and strike some fear in your enemy in whatever way you could.

[/blockquote][/blockquote]

tag -Kevin
words – 645
clothes – Click!
notes –Awww…I’m sure if Johnny wasn’t scared to death he’d think Kevin was cute. =)
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]

[kevin]

If there was any kind of physical resistance, the kid wouldn't stand a chance. In comparison, Kevin was much stronger, but if there was anything anyone could take advantage of - it would probably be his lack of an innate wittiness about himself. His greed and addiction proved to be his Achilles' Heel, but not many people knew that unless they were Socials. They dared not to speak about Kevin in that light, fearing that if they ever got on his bad side, it often resulted in something terrible. When he was never around, he remained a topic of gossip for a while, earning him his rigid title 'KA-BAR'. It was an unofficial name, but when any Soc heard of a legendary subtitle like that - they knew who one was referring to. For a moment, while he pulled the denim wearing kid to his car, he thought about why rebellious little punk bastards had to be this young. Was society turning worse and worse by the decade? Helping them wouldn't do any good, being an altruist and a philanthropist wasn't going to solve anything. Sure, maybe he'd feel like he accomplished something, but knowing Greasers - they'd spend the money on worthless things.

The blond never had a choice, it wasn't like he wanted to pick on little kids. Chance just had a sick sense of humor by bringing them to him. He also surmised that these slick haired hoodlums were recruiting youngsters to do their dirty work. All the tumblers were locking into place and a fine example was this beady eyed dude all alone playing the role of a recon scout. It was a disturbing thought, which only meant that there were definitely more Greasers in the area, maybe not in the nearest block or two, but he was certain by nabbing this teenager - he was stirring up a hornet's nest. While he forced the slimeball to look at his cherry red Corvette, he chuckled after seeing the revulsion in his eyes and leaned in close to whisper something into his ear, "You hate me, don't you? Well don't, because I'm just getting started." Truthfully, he wasn't a person to easily get over something in the past, but it continuously irked him when he didn't have answers to important questions. He was convinced that criminal act wasn't done by a rival Soc, and if a Greaser was involved - they were too smart to have planned it.

Still, he wanted a name, even if it was a lie, at least he would be able to sleep better at night knowing it wasn't an apparition traveling around town slashing someone's tires for no reason. Kevin had assumed by studying Greasers in their mannerisms and behaviors that since they were close, anything another person did was known amongst everyone in their group. Kev never took into account of any other plausible conclusions such as another minority gang, but he always jumped to conclusions thinking his first instincts were right when they really weren't. He didn't appreciate just how much this guy wasn't cooperating with him, but if he wanted to play a game that involved blood, sweat, and tears - Kev was down for that. "Listen, don't make this difficult for me. I just want a name and I'll be on my way. But if you want me to hurt you, I'll have no problem doing that too." He threatened, speaking lowly as he shook the kid for just a brief moment to shock him. The Soc anticipated some act of defense from the pint-sized Greaser, but there was always that M1A1 Thompson in the trunk of his Corvette. He didn't think he would be forced to use it on him though, unless a mob poured out of the word work screaming 'bloody murder'.

Kevin was always pleased with acts of violence, but putting a kid down in cold blood like what happened yesterday felt different. His conscience told him it was wrong, but justice never felt any sweeter. He wouldn't be able to get that defeated face out of his mind though, that same bloody sacrificial lamb-like face that just accepted its fate for the benefit of a common good. And as the older man scrutinized the kid he had under his hold, he knew there was no need to be brazen about it. So maybe things would conclude differently if he were to act nice. No, he wasn't going soft on anyone, if any of his sportsman buddies saw this happening - they'd probably want to stay away from Kevin. But since no one was around, it was worth a try - it didn't hurt. He listened to what the Greaser said though and it warranted a few chuckles because of how intrepid he was in his words. "I was the one who beat up your friend, okay? Just chill out, I'm not gonna bite." He finally let him go, patting him on the shoulder and sighed, knowing that this whole nice guy change started to make him sick to the stomach. "You got any money on ya?"

[/b] Kev asked, smirking, making a move by checking the kid's jacket pockets, "Maybe if you fork over some dough, I'll let you scram outta here with your life." He said seriously, walking over to his car leaning against the side and crossed his arms while glancing at the youngster. He laughed, "I'm just fuckin' with ya. Relax." He was still upset that he didn't get an answer, but he was ready to turn tail and drive off now that it was nearing sunrise.
[/blockquote][/blockquote]

tag - Johnny
words - 936
clothes - Explained, but click for reference
notes - How sweet =P Kevin lightened up in this post haha
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]

[indiansfan01]

If Johnny had known that Kevin had such a fierce reputation even within the Socs’ circle, Johnny would have most definitely taken his chance in trying to run away from him. The last thing he needed was to end up in the hospital too. That would just be Johnny’s luck. He was trying to do a good deed here but if he told the Soc that, the Soc wouldn’t care. He’d just laugh in his face and still beat him up…if those were his intentions. Johnny didn’t know why he had to try and act so defiant when he was the least violent of the whole Greaser bunch. Couldn’t he just give the Soc a fake name and be done with it? Sure, once the Soc found out the name he had given him wasn’t real Johnny was dead but by then he could have told all of the Greasers in the area to be on the lookout for Kevin and as long as he had other Greasers around him twenty-four seven everything would be fine. Johnny was always going to be thankful for the Greasers taking him in and becoming his family but he could without all of this violence and bickering with the Socs.

Johnny swallowed the lump that was threatening to form in his throat. "You hate me, don't you? Well don't, because I'm just getting started." Those words reverberated in his ears. Johnny wanted to open his mouth and say words along the line of ‘I don’t hate you. I just hate the things that you do to us. Why can’t we all just get along with each other?’ But those wimpy words would just insure that he would really get beat up this morning. So, instead Johnny almost imperceptibly shook his head to indicate that, no, he didn’t hate Kevin. Hate was a strong word. Johnny couldn’t even say for sure that he hated the Soc with the rings who had given him the most severe beating of his life a few months ago. They were all just wrapped up in this gang mentality that there was nothing they could do about it. Johnny was sure that most of the Soc members would be decent people if they had never gotten entangled in the web of the gang. But things were as they were, and there was no point in pondering what most likely would never be. That was just the sad way of the world, and Johnny was caught in the middle of it all…all because his parents couldn’t get along with each other.

Now tears were threatening to spill out of his eyes as he was shook and threatened some more by the Soc. He used one hand to wipe them away before they could spill. The last thing he needed to do was to start to cry in front of this Soc. He could only imagine the stories that would spread like wildfire about the wimpy Greaser who had decided to cry instead of fight back. Even peaceful Johnny cared somewhat about his reputation on the streets. “I…I told you already. I don’t know who ruined your precious car!” Yelling at the Soc wasn’t going to solve anything but it sure felt good. “You’re gonna get no names from me so do whatever it is you fill like you gotta do.”

[/b] Was he offering himself up as some kind of sacrificial lamb? Kind of. Johnny figured that if Kevin took out all his anger on him Kevin would give up on his search for whoever the perpetrator was, which meant that all of the Greasers in the city would be safe from his wrath. Besides, Johnny was still sure that that search party would be out looking for him soon, which meant the only way he was going to die was if Kevin stayed around to make sure that he did die on the spot.

Johnny didn’t know what to make of this sudden change in Kevin. Was this some kind of trick he had up his sleeves? ‘Hey, let’s pretend to be nice to the Greaser and then when I do make my move he’ll be caught totally off guard.’ But it seemed that a little bit of that niceness had disappeared when he asked Johnny for money. Then again, it didn’t sound very threatening when he said it and even the move to check his pockets didn’t seem all that tough on Kevin’s part. But Kevin’s next words confirmed that he had just been kidding with him. And now that the Soc was now leaning against his car, Johnny felt that he could breathe easier. Now if he did want to run away he really could. But something kept his feet fixed firmly where they were. Kevin was a predator, and Johnny was the prey. A sudden movement on the part of the prey was likely to cause the predator to spring into action. Johnny was still standing there but he wasn’t sure what he should say. ‘Thanks for decidin’ you don’t want to beat me up?’ Now that he was safe from any immediate threat he could take a good look at Kevin. It was a shame he had gotten himself tied up with the Socs. He looked like he could have been a decent guy if he had chosen another path in life. “Why’d you do it?”[/b] he finally asked, purposely vague. Why did he beat up the Greaser last night…Why he decided to come back to the alley…Why did he let Johnny go…


[/blockquote][/blockquote]

tag -Kevin
words – 926
clothes – Click!
notes –And Johnny is very grateful!
credits - RawrDinosaur@caution.[/size]