Young Blood didn’t comprehend what he was looking at. Before him was a chalkboard filled with random math equations he couldn’t understand. He squinted his eyes, leaning forward in his stool. He was in Iron’s room which had been turned into a classroom of a sort, if bringing in a single stool and a blackboard counted as a classroom. Iron was next to the board, amused by the boy’s confusion.

“You confused Young Blood?” he questioned.

“Ugh….yeah. This is what school’s like? You just sit uncomfortably and be confused?”

“Pretty much from what I can tell. I think you’re allowed to ask questions if you get really confused.”

“Oh then I got a question. What do the numbers mean?”

“I dunno. I just wrote down what I found in this book.”

Iron held up a giant green volume. On the front were the words Multivariable Calculus 5th edition.

“I borrowed this from Rockafella. Apparently math is pretty important in school”

He opened the book to a random page, looking just as confused as Young Blood.

“How is this math? Where are the numbers?” he grumbled to himself. “It’s ok Young Blood, no one understands this shit. This is why you shouldn’t worry about school. Once the Outliers are the number one outfit in Vim, we’ll be making more coin than anyone who went to school.”

A knock was heard at Iron’s door.

“Hey War Chief, can I come in?” the voice from outside asked.

“Come in Rockafella.”

The gang’s Chief Lieutenant strolled into the room, noticing the set up.

“What are you two up to?”

“Young Blood wanted to see what school’s like.”

“Iron, I thought you weren’t going to tell anyone” the boy said angrily.

“Eh it’s fine, Rockafella’s the only one who won’t make fun of you.”

Rockafella stared at the blackboard, reading the math equations.

“Wait so when you asked for my book, it was for this? I thought you were finally going to learn cost-benefit analysis.”

“Ugh no. Actually maybe you should be teaching Young Blood, you’re actually smart” Iron remarked.

“Maybe I should because you’re bad at this. What the fuck is this? This is just random shit you wrote down. Like here you got a system of equations and over here you got a triple integral.”

“Did you go to school Rockafella?” Young Blood interjected.

“Me? Do you think my family could afford school? Nah all my shit is self taught. Found all my books in dumpsters behind that meretricious school nearby. You actually want to learn Young Blood?”

“Is it like whenever you start talking about how to make money?”

“For the most part.”

The boy’s face started to scrunch up at the thought of listening to Rockafella prate for hours on end. School became a lot less attractive for the boy.

“I think I’m good.”

“Suit yourself. I wouldn’t mind making one of us have an IQ higher than that of a potato so let me know if you change your mind.”

Young Blood nodded his head, knowing full well he wasn’t going to take up the offer.

“So what brings you here Rockafella?” Iron asked, sitting down on his bed.

“Tonight’s the night of the parlee. I don’t think we should go.”

“And why’s that?”

“Have a bad feeling about it. We’ll be all the way out in the 1st ward, as far from our turf as possible. If shit goes down, we’ll be in enemy territory with no weapons.”

“Hmmm.” Iron leaned forward, hands on his knees. “You’re right. But we’ve been summoned by LS-95. That means we’re in the big leagues now. This is what happens once you start making a name for yourself.”

“Maybe popularity isn’t worth it. The more our rep goes up, the more attention we get. Both from the hogs and from other outfits. We already got the former sniffing around our turf.”

“I want attention. I want to reach the top. I want everyone to know about the Outliers. Drawing attention is inevitable as we expand and grow. Besides, if LS-95 wanted to fight us, they wouldn’t make us go to them, they’d come to us. We know they have real heavy hitters. They wouldn't need to set a trap.”

Rockafella leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. He couldn’t tell if it was worth arguing anymore given the look of determination on his leader’s face. He sighed.

“Fine. I can’t stop you, War Chief. So they said 7 representatives right? Who’s going?”

“You, me, Young Blood, Lunkhead, Feral, West, and Axe.”

“Axe? Why him? He’s so fucking lazy. He even slept through the rumble with the Seraphs.``

“I know but he’s a bopper too, when he’s actually awake. If shit does go down like you fear, we’ll need him. Actually Young Blood, go wake Axe up and let him know he’s going. After that get some rest, we’ll be leaving at midnight, don’t want you to be tired.”

The boy nodded his head, getting off the stool and exiting the room. He traversed among the sheet hallways, nodding past his fellow Outliers until he encountered the entrance he was looking for. It was an old wooden door that appeared like it could fall off its hinges at any moment. Young Blood entered the room, knowing that knocking would be nugatory. Inside he found what could be described as the only room with a truly comfortable looking bed. It had about a king’s size mattress that filled up half the space. In fact the room was devoid of anything else. On top of it was an Outlier flying the standard colors with dark grey pants. His head was covered with disheveled short blonde hair. His loud snores permeated the small room.

Young Blood went up to him, poked him on the shoulder.

“Hey Axe, wake up.” he said.

The snoring continued. He’d have to try a different tact. The boy grabbed the Outlier by the legs, dragging him out the bed.

“Huh? What’s happening? Bed, where did you go?” the laying Outlier sputtered.

Axe looked around, noticing he was on the ground. His eyes eventually settled on Young Blood.

“Oh hi Young Blood.”

“Hey Axe. Iron wanted you to know you’re going to the parlee tonight.”

“Really? Are you sure? Can I not?”

“Ugh no. You gotta go, War Chief’s orders.”

“Oh no. Please change his mind. If I go, I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Nope. Why do you sleep so much anyway? You miss out on everything.”

“Sleep is the best thing the Gods and Goddesses ever created Young Blood. It allows you to enter a bliss state. You’ll appreciate sleep more once you become my age.”

“Aren’t you only 16? I thought sleeping all day was for old people.”

“I’m wiser beyond my years.”

“Well ok. You’re still going.”

“God damn it. Can I at least sleep until then?”

The boy nodded.

“Good. Good night Young Blood.” Axe said, getting back into bed.

The boy stared, hearing Axe already start to snore once more. He shrugged, and left the room. The boy decided he’d do as told and get some sleep as well. After traversing through the hallways, he found his room. He entered to see a familiar sight. His room consisted of undocrated walls, a small mattress, and miscellaneous items. They were mostly comics he borrowed from Rockafella strewn across the floor and in the corner was the ball he had taken from the Seraphs the night of the rumble. He laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Young Blood wondered why Rockafella would be so wary of attending the parlee. Shouldn’t he be ecstatic? They had received recognition from the most powerful gang in Vim, a sign that all their work was paying off. Besides, they had Iron. Even though the name wasn’t literal, it may as well have been given how strong he was. He was the strongest person the boy had ever seen, surely such a leader wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them. Rockafella was being paranoid, like always.

Without knowing it, Young Blood has fallen asleep. Hours passed by, the sun setting on the large metropolis of Vim. The busy streets of the day soon became desolate as people retreated into their abodes. The normal law abiding citizens just trying to get by were soon replaced by those who haunted the night. Society’s undesirables were coming out and in force. Tonight was special. Tonight was the night of the parlee. All acros Vim’s 15 wards, representatives of the city’s gangs were roaming the night. They traipsed through territory that on any other night, would start a gang war. An exodus was occurring as the temporary truce instituted by LS-95 came into effect. It was about 12 am when Young Blood was woken up. He rubbed his eyes, settling them on the person in front of him.

“Is it time to go Iron?” he questioned, still trying to adjust his eyes given that it was now quite dark.

“Yep. Come on, everyone’s waiting.”

The two left the room, walking their way to the front of the winery. It was quiet, the other Outliers staying in their rooms or out in the streets doing whatever they wanted. 5 Outliers awaited them near the winery’s front entrance. There was Rockafella ahead of them leaning against the wall, reading a comic book. Lunkhead was to their left, using the punching bag. The sound of his hits echoed throughout the space. To their right was West snapping his fingers in Axe’s face.

“Axe you awake!?” he yelled.

“Yeah….yeah I’m good” Axe replied.

Axe appeared to be very drowsy because his legs wobbled a bit.

Finally there was Feral, who was just laying on the ground, looking at the ceiling for some reason.

“Oh this is great for my back” he remarked to no one in particular.

“Alright round up.” Iron told them.

They regrouped with him, forming a circle.

“Ok people, we’re taking the cable car to the 1st ward to get to the old arena. We’re gonna see a lot of different outfits.. Lunkhead, I don’t want you starting shit.``

“Hey it’s all on them. If they start shit, I’m bopping them.”

“Alright but just so we’re clear, them looking at you doesn’t count as them starting shit.”

“Why not?”

Iron sighed and said “Rockafella, keep him in check.”

“Got it, War Chief.”

“Everyone else, be cool. We’re going to be in territory we’ve never been in before, surrounded by a bunch of outfits. Remember to keep your cool. We’re just gonna hear what LS-95 has to say, then head back. “ Iron continued.

“Can we tag?” West asked with a grin.

“Hell yeah we’re gonna tag. We may not be getting into any rumbles, but I want the Outliers to leave their mark.”

Iron left the circle, heading to the front door. He put his hand on the door, ready to pull it open.

“Alright Outliers, it’s time to soldier!” he yelled.

“Yes War Chief” they yelled back.

They left the winery into the all too familiar rough streets of the 7th ward. They traipsed their way to the nearest cable car turnabout, getting on without fanfare. They stood side by side, the only other rider on the cable car being a drunk old man, passed out in the back. The cable car began to roll its way through the 7th ward. The scenery outside of the window was mostly blackness, it being hard to see much besides the streets lit up by light posts. But once the cable car entered the 6th ward, the view outside became a lot more interesting. Thugs were walking the streets, their colors flying. If one was ignorant of what was happening tonight, one would’ve assumed a festival was occurring.

“Wassup Outlier!? You better enjoy being on 8th street, tonight’s the only night that shit’s allowed!” one of them hollered.

And just like that they were out of earshot.

“Don’t worry, those guys are all talk. Don’t even know how half of them got invited to the parley.” Rockafella told Young Blood.

“I’m not scared.” the boy replied.

“Good. Can’t have ya getting cold feet from a buncha wimps.” Lunkhead added.

“Hey guys remember, we’re not going to fight. This thing sounds more like a rally than anything. Maybe it’ll be festive?” West proposed.

“Ooh that sounds cool. If the thing’s a giant ass party then I’m gonna drink myself into a stupor.” Feral commented.

“If that happens can we leave him? I don’t wanna drag his ass.”

“No one gets left behind, you know that” Rockafella reminded them. “That’s the one thing the Outliers never do.”

Iron nodded his head in agreement.

Young Blood continued to stare out the window, trying to see everything. They must’ve been in the 1st ward by now. Things looked different from what he could see. The buildings were still in poor condition, being made out of concrete frames, covered with drywall. The roads were paved, though crudely. He had heard some wards were better off than others but this was the first time he got to see it for himself. Despite this, it was still clear they were in the ghetto. This was the nicer part of Vim for sure, but a polished piece of trash was still trash at the end of the day.

“Ok we’re about to be on the right street, everyone get ready to jump off” Iron told everyone, interrupting Young Blood’s train of thought.

The seven of them lined up, jumped off the cable car. They were presently on some unknown street but fortunately for them, Iron began to lead the way. Young Blood decided to walk alongside him, as did Rockafella.

“You sure you know where you’re going? None of us have been in the 1st ward before” Rockafella remarked.

“You guys haven’t, I have, a long time ago. My folks used to take my bro and I to the arena before it closed down. We used to watch the gladiator games every weekend.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Yeah...yeah it was.”

They continued to walk in silence until the Outliers began to realize they were joining a crowd. Multiple outfits were congregated together, forming a concourse. Although Young Blood’s sight was being blocked by the people surrounding them, the Outliers saw they were approaching a massive arena. It was a huge white structure, but was partially decayed for it missed chunks. It stood by itself, being surrounded by a massive empty lot that surrounded the arena from all sides. When the arena was used, when the structure wasn’t a shadow of its former self, it must've been quite a site. Young Blood looked down, realizing that he was a bit lost. Everyone was walking in the same general direction towards the arena’s entrance but the boy had gotten himself lost in the crowd, he couldn’t find any other Outlier. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. He calmly turned around, assuming it was Iron or one of the others. It wasn’t. It was a woman wearing a black vest and blue jeans. She had long curly black hair which dropped to her waist. She smiled at him but instead of giving him a feeling of comfort, it made him worry. Her smile seemed vicious, it being too wide, like she was forcing herself.

“Are ya lost kiddo?” she questioned. “Kids shouldn’t be out at this time of night.”

“I’m not a kid.” Young Blood retorted.

“Heh I see, my bad. You're actually here for the parlee huh? What outfit are you from?”

Young Blood didn’t answer, instead flicking his eyes, trying to find a fellow Outlier.

“Kid’s an Outlier” said a voice from behind.

A man walked past Young Blood, wearing the same type of outfit as the girl, clearly indicating they were part of the same gang. The boy briefly saw the man’s back, showcasing the symbol of a burning skull. It didn’t mean anything to the boy, the only symbol that mattered was that of the Outliers. The man also had a hood covering his face, preventing Young Blood from seeing his features.

“He’s got their symbol on his back. I heard they had a young kid in their outfit, apparently he’s a bopper.” he continued.

The woman smiled, crouching down so that she was eye-level with Young Blood.

“An Outlier huh? That’s great. Wonderful even. You know you guys are the talk of town because of what y’all did to the Seraphs. Were you a part of that rumble?”

Once again Young Blood didn’t respond.

“You don’t talk much do ya kid? Kids these days are too socially awkward.”

“Think you might be scaring him.” the man proposed.

“Am I? Do I look scary to ya Lord?”

“Eh a bit.”

“Oh I am so deeply offended.”

Young Blood began to slowly back away, hoping to escape while they were in the midst of a conversation. However as soon as he took a step, their heads turned to him. They had greater awareness than he realized. The woman stepped forward, leaning over him.

“Don’t worry kid, we ain’t gonna hurt ya. You’re too on edge. Tonight’s gonna be a fun night. It’s gonna be one you’re never gonna forget” she claimed.

“Finally I found you Young Blood!” a familiar voice called out.

It was West making his way through the crowd, joining them.

“We were wondering where you went, almost gave me a heart attack. Now who the fuck are y’all?” he inquired with a point of a finger.

The woman chuckled and questioned back “You don’t recognize our colors?”

West narrowed his eyes, staring at the woman and her compatriot.

“Nope. No fucking clue. I do know you need to back away from Young Blood otherwise we’re gonna have some fucking problems”

“Aw why are you Outliers so serious? I’m not gonna hurt the little guy. He’s cute, his face reminds me of a dog.”

The woman attempted to pat Young Blood on the head but the boy slapped the hand with enough force to make her arm swing back. The kind demeanor she had briefly disappeared, replaced by the look of anger before it became friendly again.

“Oh you’re funny kid, real funny.” she remarked.

“Clockwork we need to go, we have to take our seats.” her ally interrupted.

“Yeah I guess you’re right. It’s gonna be a packed house afterall.”

They began to walk away from West and Young Blood. As they did so, the woman gave one last look at Young Blood, giving a wave before they disappeared into the crowd.

West got next to Young Blood and stated “Young Blood let’s get out of here. Place is full of fucking weirdos”

The boy nodded and together they continued their way to the arena. They made it to the front entrance, ignoring the comments other outfits made about them. They were the talk of the town, they were bound to draw attention. Inside the arena they found a packed house. Dozens upon dozens of outfits had staked out their own little territory in the crowd. Their colors contrasted starkly, making the audience look like an opened crayon box. Avoiding contact with the other outfits, West led Young Blood to their gang, which was seated in the third row, right next to the stairs. It was a precaution from Rockafella in case things went south. If they needed to egress, they had their means of escape. They sat down with them, with Young Blood sitting in between Iron and West.

“Young Blood, where were you? You get lost?” Iron inquired.

“Yeah.” Young Blood answered.

“No one messed with you right?”

“Had a run in with another outfit. Some weird girl and guy were talking to him. Couldn’t recognize which outfit they belonged to” West reported.

“What’d they look like?”

“Had some weird burning skull emblem.”

“Burnin’ skull huh? Could be Slaughterhouse Vandals.”

“Are they important?” Young Blood asked.

“Rumor is they killed an adventurer not too long ago.” Rockafella explained. “If it’s true I want nothing to do with them. They sound like psychopaths. This thing better start soon, I don’t like the looks we’re getting.”

“Pfft anybody can murder a damn adventurer. They sound like a bunch of pussies to me.” Lunkhead commented, leaning far back in his seat with his arms crossed.

“You know Lunkhead, I’m starting to think everyone is a pussy to you” Feral joked.

“Damn right.”

“Wait, even me?”

“Yup.”

“Hey that’s not fair, I bop, right Axe?”

Feral looked at Axe only to see that he had fallen asleep in his seat.

“Everyone, focus. Young Blood, don’t worry about them, we’re going to be fine.” Iron assured.

Young Blood took his leader’s word to heart, beginning to relax despite being surrounded by nothing but potential enemies. He took in deep breaths when loud caws disrupted his concentration. It was the sound of hundreds of crows, cawing through the night time sky. Everyone in the audience looked up, to see that the bright moon was covered by a gathering of the black birds, moving in unison as if they were one organism.

“Now that’s a lot of damn birds” Feral observed, his mouth agape at the sighting.

“LS-95 is here” Iron said aloud to himself.

The birds began to dive, heading towards the center of the arena like an artillery shell. They slammed into the ground, then began to fly back up, revealing they had dropped off a group of three figures. The first was an elderly woman with a long bird-like nose and long white hair that went down to her waist. She was adorned in black robes that covered her wrinkly figure. Her eyes stared at the crowd, putting the gang members on edge. Her eyes lacked pupils and it sent shivers down their spines. It was as if she was the mortal vessel of the grim reaper. The second figure didn’t elicit fear like the elderly woman. He wore a black and gold fur coat with black pants and just as black dress shoes. His hairline was receding a bit, showing a bald spot in the midst of his short black hair. His light brown eyes scanned the crowd and he smiled. The final person was much younger than the others. He even looked younger than Young Blood, no older than 11 years old. He had on an outfit Young Blood recognized, it was the school uniform he had seen the kids at that school wear. The young boy’s hair consisted of a black bull cut hair style, and had a small black backpack on. No one looked more out of place than the kid which only confused the audience, including the Outliers.

The man stepped forward, his eyes scanning the crowd, and cleared his throat.

“Can you count suckas!?” He bellowed, his arms above his head.

The crowd looked on in silence unsure of how to react.

“I say the future is ours! Look around, there are 4,000 boppers representing all the heaviest outfits in Vim; all in one place and is it not a miracle? You got the Red Dragons next to the Death Stalkers. There’s the Rolling 80’s with the Sewer Rats and nobody’s wasting anybody! Even right now, in Vim, there are 35,000 gang members walking about yet no one’s dead. Now I don’t know about you, but I think that’s a miracle.”

The audience slowly began to nod their heads, slowly starting to understand what the man was getting at.

“Who’s that?” Young Blood whispered to Iron.

With his eyes glued to the man, Iron answered “He’s Cyrus, the one and only. The leader of LS-95”

“Now how many police officers are there in Vim? I’ll tell you, there’s 15,000. Now imagine if all 35,000 outfits joined up? What would be able to achieve? Everything! Who can stop us? No one!” Cyrus continued.

The crowd began to cheer, knowing exactly what’s being proposed. Cyrus wanted the truce to be permanent, and in its place, the gangs of Vim would be the masters of the metropolis with LS-95 leading the way. Everyone began to rise, the raucous youths becoming louder and louder. Young Blood couldn’t hear anything but saw that the Outliers weren’t one of the few gangs not cheering. Iron continued to look on, unimpressed which made the others follow suit.

One of the other few gangs not cheering were the Slaughterhouse Vandals sitting three rows above the Outliers. Clockwork looked on, spat at the ground and smiled. To her right were the six other representatives of their gang. They varied in appearance, some covered in tattoos, others in piercings, one hooded, all crazy looking. She nodded their head which let them know the plan was to begin. One of them took out the contraband they snuck into the arena. It was an old, rusty revolver. They passed it among their compatriots discretely amidst the cheering until the weapon was in Clockwork’s hands. Clockwork smiled as she glared at the weapon.

“Are you ready for this Lord?” she asked the hooded man sitting next to her.

He stood, cracked his knuckles and said “Whenever you are.”

She grinned and cocked the revolver. She aimed it at Cyrus, the center of attention. In the middle of the applause, she pulled the trigger, its sound piercing through the cacophony of noise. Cyrus had his arms in the air, laughing with the crowd when he stopped, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down, seeing blood pouring down his stomach. The crowd looked on as Cyrus fell down with a thud in the middle of the arena. As soon as he did, Lord snapped his fingers, which made the revolver disappear from Clockwork’s hands.

Iron, like everyone else, had no idea what happened. Cyrus, in the midst of uniting all of the gangs of Vim, had been assassinated. He paused, the shock of the moment making him forget his surroundings, until he noticed his hand was holding something. He put his hand up, and saw that his hand was holding a revolver, the smoke still coming out of the barrel. His eyes widened in horror as the crowd diverted their attention to where they heard the shot come from. Clockwork watched from above, smiled and yelled “Hey the Outliers killed Cyrus!”