Hello My Name Is Nothing

There is no permanent destination for me. I am a murder-without-hesitation hotwire expert. This is the story of how I finally may have found a home.


4. Ch. 4 WOOHOO!


                I woke up on the floor of the alleyway, a pain in my back. I felt a heavy weight on my chest and looked to see Paul sprawled on top of me with France and Denver on top of each other at my feet. I shoved Paul off my body and immediately felt pain shoot through my back. Memories of what had happened with the girl flooded my mind. I remembered her flipping me over onto the concrete then me blacking out. I had never met a girl who had enough courage to attempt at flipping us over. Even if they tried, they would usually fail and be left with huge embarrassment on their face. I put pressure on my back and pain shot through me again. That was going to leave one hell of a bruise!

                I bent down in front of Paul and kicked him in the abdomen lightly. He grunted slightly and got up from the ground. He winced in pain and his hands flew to his groin. I laughed at the idea of him getting hit right where it hurts. He peered up at me and grinned, letting out a small chuckle. Paul went over to wake up Francis, and I woke up the leader of our gang, Denver. He was the leader of our entire gang, and we were the next main people in the gang. Of course, we had other members, but only the leader and main gang member, being me, Paul, and Francis, got to stay in the gang house. Other gang members lived in their own homes and led their own lives. Sometimes if someone helped us, we told them they were part of the gang now, which basically meant no one would hurt them.

                There were three main categories of members in our gang: 1, the main members, 2, sidekick fighters, used for our bigger battles, and 3, protected civilians, people who were under our protection and didn’t need to help us in any way. This was our gang. It was huge and connected, even though the main people everyone knew were us, the four main members. Denver was 21 and the leader, Francis was 21 as well and was Denver’s wingman, I’m 19 and people think of me as the weakest link even though I serve as one of our top snipers in our attacks on people that forget to pay us back, and lastly is Paul-he’s 20-who is practically the strongest. I seriously do not understand why he uses weapons when he could probably kill someone with his bare hands.

                We all had a past. I never went to college and ended up getting drunk and high every other night. Then I got in jail and that’s when I met Denver and Francis. They claimed they were forming a gang and heard I was a sharp-shooter. I told them I’d join if they bailed me out then I demonstrated my ability and became the third member. We found Paul while we were at a concert. He was working as security guard making sure fans didn’t climb onto the stage. After the concert we found him in a fistfight with a guy who called him weak, which was odd considering he was full of muscle and taller than the guy calling him weak. He got fired and as he exited to his car, we approached him and offered the fourth spot in our gang.

                Our gang grew gradually and we gained reputation over time. We entered bars for girls and gave money to people who needed a boost. However, if they didn’t pay, we would pay a visit to their house and usually the door would be opened by our target’s pregnant wife and three other children. This was every day. Women cowered at us, men begged us for money then regretted it when payback came and they didn’t have money. But this girl, whatever her name was, seemed to have no problem shooting us and beating us up easily.

                I shook Denver and he groaned, clutching his crotch as Paul had done. I looked over at Paul who had finally woken up Francis. Francis had a cut along his cheek but no other damage. Once everyone was gathered we searched for our motorcycles and found to our disappointment that she had slashed the tires and taken off with her motorcycle. I looked at Denver who kicked the wall of the alleyway in frustration.

                “Well, I guess we’ll just have to walk to Motel 6.” Denver said through gritted teeth. He was clearly enraged that she had ruined our bikes and beat us up.

                “Denver, what do you mean?”  I said, “Why do you want to go back to her? Do we have to try and beat her up again?” I didn’t want my private area hurt as well anytime soon.

“No, I don’t want to beat her up. I want to make a proposition.” Denver said, walking out of the alley, motioning us to grab the bike too. We grabbed the bikes and went to the nearest gas station. The guy at the station handed us the tires without even asking for money and flipped off the neon sign reading: ‘WE’RE OPEN!’ Once the tires were placed on we rode off to the Motel 6, where the sign had been lit back up again. We walked into the place and as soon as the lady saw us she stiffened up and took a mini step away from the desk.

“Hello, welcome to Motel 6, how may I-“she said before Francis interrupted her.

“We’re looking for a girl with pixie hair, leather jacket, drives a motorcycle.” Francis said quickly.

“Well, I’m not sure who it is but-“


“Room 107!!!” the woman replied before breaking into tears. We went to go find the room and then found it on the first floor. Denver walked up and knocked on the door but no one answered. He knocked once again and there was no answer. Groaning reluctantly, he stomped back towards the front desk where light sobbing could be heard. Two minutes later he arrived with a key to the room. Denver inserted the key and unlocked the room. Laying under some fluffy covers was the girl who had beat us all up.

“Jackson, go get keys to the desk lady’s car so we can throw her in the back of that and drive her to the house.” Denver instructed. “Francis, pack all her stuff in that backpack of hers. Paul help me wrap her up.”

“Okay-wait, why are we taking her to the house?”  I asked suspiciously.

“Stop asking questions and follow my orders!” Denver replied harshly. I shrugged and jogged back to the front desk.

“We need the keys to your car.” I said, holding out my hand expectantly.

“W-why d-do you n-n-need m-m-m-m-my key?” she said, stuttering horribly.

“How about you give me them or I sniper your mother from a rooftop building.” She bit back a sob and handed me her keys, shaking furiously. I smiled politely and thanked her as I jogged back to the room. When I returned, Francis was holding her backpack in one hand and her weapons in the other.  Paul and Denver had wrapped the girl in the comforter so that she was in a cocoon-like blanket wrap. Denver through her over his shoulder and we exited the building. When the woman at the front desk saw what Denver was carrying she stifled a scream. We found the woman’s car, laid the girl across the backseat, and placed our weapons along with her weapons and belongings in the trunk. Denver explained we would pick up the bikes in the morning.

When we got back to the house I wondered why Denver was bringing her here to our house when she had beaten us up and been extremely rude.


                The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that the bed I was in was a lot more comfortable than any Motel 6 bed should be. I also realized I was wrapped up in a cocoon of comforter. I untangled myself from it and saw I was in a giant bedroom. I checked to make sure my clothes were on then with my eyes searched frantically for my weapons which I discovered were sitting on a chair. Still in the bed, I was just beginning to take in where I was and how to get out when the door opened.

                And into the room I was in came the four members of the Runaways I had beaten up last night.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...