The Werewolves Crew

Matt is an ordinary boy with a horrible family. One day he leaves for school and his life is thrown upside down when he encounters not only the police but notorious criminals The Werewolves Crew. As he's been chased through the streets for crimes he didn't commit, one of the Werewolves, a girl named Scar comes to his aid and makes him a member, Mutt.

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2. Caged

  Scar woke up with half her body dangling off the couch. Confused she pulled herself back up with a grunt and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with the backs of her hands. She stretched her arms out above her head and did her best not to think about the stress of the raid last night. And worse what that meant for today.

  She stood up stretching her legs, folded the sofa bed back into the couch with some effort and held her sleeping bag around at her waist as she jumped over to the mirror. The mirror was surrounded by cheesy Hollywood dressing room light bulbs, that hadn’t actually worked in years. The desk underneath was a bombsite of make-up, powders and perfume bottles. She grabbed a comb amongst the wreckage and roughly brushed her light brown hair, not caring if she didn’t think she looked that great.  

  Scar kicked off her sleeping bag and then found new clothes in a pile in the corner of the room. Not that there was a lack of items strewn all over the floor, indistinguishable from each other. Scar dressed quickly and sprayed enough deodorant to cover any existing smells.

  She rounded the corner into the small bathroom and ran a flannel under the tap. It took longer than it should have for the water to turn warm. Scar splashed some water on her face and quickly rubbed at her skin, not feeling anymore refreshed. She brushed her teeth distractedly before heading out in to the hallway.

  A few doors down there was a storeroom that would put Costco to shame. Scar grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water, she had no idea what time it was but she headed out through to the stage anyway.

  The first time she’d seen this place she was amazed. The red velvet drapes, the plush red carpets, the vast stage and huge atrium. But now she saw the cracks in the fantasy. The cobwebs in every corner, the stains and holes in the carpet, the stage was a mess of blankets and empty food containers much like most of the seats, the walls once white were now yellow and aged. It was like the place had morphed to fit the state of its inhabitants.

  Scar climbed the stairs past the endless rows of chairs, the same familiarly tedious routine commencing again for what must have been the millionth time. Comet and the other girls were sitting around on three couches that were shaped in a semi-circle in the middle of the stands. Christened The Girl’s Corner where dozens of theatre chairs had been ripped out. There were mountains of pillows and blankets all around as well as sleeping bags. It looked like the morning after a sleep over, except it always looked like that in the abandoned theatre that had become their home.

  “Hey,” Scar said in way of greeting and dropped on to one of the old couches. It was a surprise to her that a mushroom cloud of dust didn’t erupt from the cushions as she landed on it. Or that a spring didn’t impale her backside.

  “Morning,” Comet welcomed, cheerful as usual. She was looking around at the guys crashed out all around the theatre, craning her neck to see the stage.

  “What?” Scar attempted to follow her gaze to no avail.

  “Wondering who’s going to get picked.”

  “Oh,” Scar was unimpressed and sunk back down into the cushions. There’d been a raid last night and there was going to be another mission today. Basically to see if there were any police close enough to be a problem for the runaway band of misfits.

  The routine had become boring long ago. “I think Statz, Jumper, Razor and Boxer.” Scar lifted a shoulder in a shrug, playing along for Comet’s sake. After running away as a child, Comet had never really grown up. She was mature in the way that she’d been through more than some adults had but she still had a childlike sense of humor and way of thinking. But what could you expect from someone who’d never even stepped foot inside of a high school?  

  Scar looked around at the sleeping figures strewn across the stands or curled up on stage.

  “Statz and Razor definitely but I’m not too sure about Jumper,” Viper said. She was dangling upside down on the couch opposite with one headphone in. Scar could hear the music but couldn’t tell what song was playing. Viper and her twin Venom were originally from China but had only known Britain. After their parents died in a car crash they had ended up in foster care, since no one could get in touch with any Chinese relatives and they had no idea how far back their roots went. They ran away from a foster home after they’d been told they were being sent to different fosters families.  

  “What about Princess?” Comet wondered. Scar didn’t listen to Viper’s reply.

  It was always the same when there was a mission, everyone trying to guess who Rickie would choose. Everyone went on missions, Rickie being the leader, chose different people every time to keep it fair. And depending on what mission it was. Last night it had been a raid, so all guys had gone, which had been met with plenty of sexist complaints from the girls. With there being only six girls and the rest guys, it happened more often than not. Rickie and Paintz, who was the graffiti artist, went on every raid. Chip, Underdog and Ca$h had gone this time too.

  Five people to a raid, not too many, none too few. They sometimes split up to prevent getting caught but not very often. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

  Most of the guys were still asleep anyway, Rickie included, so nothing would be decided for a while.

  Scar yawned still groggy from sleep and picked up the book she’d been reading way into the night. She could hardly ever sleep when there was a raid. She always imagined waking up to red and blue lights blinking in her face.

  Princess who was sitting next to Comet on the couch opposite drawled, “Oh and of course you.”

  Scar slipped her bookmark back into the page. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She sat up straighter.

  “Whatever, you get to go whenever you like.” Razor joined in, throwing her arms in the air overdramatically, nearly taking Comet’s head off. “Talk about showing favoritism.” She was only jealous, Scar knew.

  She did her best to fake nonchalance and opened her book again. “Well I don’t give a crap about him anymore.”

  “We’ll see.” Razor crossed her arms coolly. Scar and Razor had never really gotten on. That was an understatement, she rolled her eyes. After being what Scar could only imagine as the queen bee of the school, complete American head cheerleader stereotype, Razor had been noticed for all the wrong reasons. Only daughter to a single distant and alcoholic dad, it wasn’t like she had anyone to tell her no. Razor had left a party completely inappropriately underdressed and far too drunk for her age so when she’d got back home, her dad hardly recognized her, she’d told them. He’d barely had a hand on her when she grabbed a kitchen knife and he backed off realizing his mistake. Scar remembered the raid when they’d found her and shuddered. Not that her dress was any excuse but it didn’t help that it left next to nothing to the imagination. They found her wandering the streets with her dress ripped and one shoe on. The other was in her hand after she’d almost taken Rickie’s eye out with the heel. She still had the knife so he counted himself lucky.

  Still none of that stopped her from being an eternal pain in Scar’s arse. Razor had always been jealous of her friendship with the guys, since she didn’t know how to just be friends with the opposite sex. Any attention she got from them was purely because unlike Scar and Comet who were the only other girls at the time, she was a few years older and actually had need of a bra.

  Scar had had a connection with Rickie long before Razor had joined and so had always been able to convince him to let her go on missions, and that was the biggest thorn in Razor’s side. It was history to Scar, though she would never be able to convince the other girls any different so she didn’t bother trying anymore. Rickie had become brazen enough to stop picking Scar for missions in the hope she would try to change his mind. If he picked her fairly then she wouldn’t have any reason to complain. Maybe it was time to stand up for herself a bit more. She’d love to see the look on Razor’s face then.

  Fawn, who had been sleeping in the corner between two of the couches finally stretched and woke up. She sat up in her sleeping bag and ran her fingers through her auburn hair, doing nothing to amend the feral bedhead she had.

  “Morning,” she yawned, half asleep. “How was the raid last night?” She leant back propping herself up, her elbows resting on a pillow stretched out behind her.

  Comet was the first to answer, ever eager. “Really good, the back door was open so we technically didn’t even break in.”

  “What?” Fawn blinked like she was wondering if she was still asleep. “Seriously?” The girl’s all nodded and Fawn rubbed her eyes. “Woah, people are so fucking stupid these days,” she chided. “Are they winding me up?” Fawn asked, turning to face Scar.

  “No, it’s true,” she told her. “They got lucky.” 

  They hadn’t been planning on raiding that store last night but when they passed and it was open, they’d decided it was a far too good of an opportunity to pass up.

  “The stuff ain’t so good though,” Scar wrinkled her nose.

  “Never is.” Viper shrugged turning round the right way on the couch. Clearly deciding her head would explode if she hung upside down any longer.

  Princess flicked a switch on her radio on the coffee table and music started playing quietly. She always waited for everyone to be awake before she turned it on. They would listen to music for a bit but mostly listen out for any news reports after a raid.

  “Uh, Princess, it’s too early.” Fawn pulled the sleeping bag over her head.

  “It’s nearly noon,” she argued.

  “Uhhgg!” Fawn groaned louder, the sound muffled by the fabric.

  Razor looked up from her magazine. “I can’t believe you two are sisters,” she marveled, not for the first time.

  “Me neither,” they said in unison.

  They were twins but looked nothing alike, fraternal twins Fawn had told them. Princess had long blond hair, dazzlingly blue eyes and perfect makeup. Whereas Fawn had shorter auburn hair, hazel eyes, caramel skin and a major tom-boy personality. There were some similarities in their features making them look like sisters at least. They both were pretty, smart and strong. Like most people in the gang they’d been through a lot and in their case, together.

  Fawn had always been the one who looked out for Princess, one night after another beating from a foster home worker Fawn had made her pack her bags. Fawn had snuck back into the kitchen after getting caught and stuffed her backpack with as much as she could. They had climbed out of the window, Princess nearly breaking her ankle from the jump.   

  None of the Werewolves had a particularly nice back story. But that was to be expected from a gang of runaway teenagers. The stories ranged from wrong place wrong time and troubled teens falling in with the wrong crowd and foster kids with terrible parents to really abusive parents or siblings and some pretty bad crimes stories. Scar sometimes looked around the theatre at all of them and wondered if every runaway in town was there.

  It’s not like they put up a sign looking for more Werewolves, they seemed to attract people in need. Everyone had made themselves home in the theatre but Scar knew this wasn’t life, almost eighteen and nothing to show for it. She wandered anxiously what the future held for the Werewolves Crew.  

 

  As more and more of the guys woke up it got louder in the abandoned theatre and Rickie announced in his usual self-righteous egotistic way they’d be leaving at one o’clock for the follow up mission. Scar didn’t even look up from her book when he called them from the stage. He was fooling no one that was still a credible leader of the crew. Basically no one was bothered to argue with him and it wouldn’t change anything anyway. With the Werewolves Crew at nearly twenty members, the best thing they could do to keep their secret was to quit while they were behind. Too many more Werewolves and they wouldn’t be able to cope.

  It would only take one person to decide they have something better outside and leave for it all to be over. The police would have them all locked away or back in care homes before they could do anything. 

  When he finally woke up, probably after Jumper or Underdog kicked him, Statz came over and joined them in the Girl’s Corner. Statz was one of the oldest members of The Werewolves Crew, as well as Scar. They’d been part of the so called founders. He was tall with crazy blond hair that stuck out in every direction on his head, he wasn’t bad looking, considering they’d got used to the fact he looked like he’d stuck his finger in an electric socket. Princess especially thought so.  

  After being given up at birth, or left at a fire station he would have them believe, he hated his foster parents, and from what he told them the feeling was mutual. There wasn’t a Werewolves Crew to find them when he and Scar ran way. They found each other instead. Statz was sleeping in a park overnight when Rickie found him and they stuck together. Scar found them a few weeks later and they couldn’t let a young girl like she was wander around alone. Really she didn’t know what else to do but stick with them. And when they gave her food, water and a blanket she thought she couldn’t live without them. 

  Scar swallowed a hard lump that had formed in her throat. “Hey, girls,” Statz sat down next to Princess and her radio. “Morning beautiful,” he said jokingly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She wore an expression that told everyone he’d just made her day. Possibly even her life, Scar thought rolling her eyes, a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Well morning-ish,” he added noticing the time. It was becoming habit for him to hang out with the girl’s now.

  “Morning,” Princess parroted, oblivious. She inched closer to him and her eye lashes fluttered across her blue eyes. Scar looked at Statz and pretended to gag but he just winked and mouthed jealous to her.

  Always she mouthed back with a smirk, Statz had always been able to get through to her when she was ‘being Scar’, Rickie used to say. Life had not been easy, being only girl in the crew for years.

  “Do you know who Rickie’s picked yet?” Scar asked him.

  “Why? You’ll get to go anyway.” His voice was casual, Statz wasn’t the insulting type.

  “Is that a yes or a no?” Scar was hardly in the mood now.

  “It’s a no.” Werewolf politics had always bored him. “But I’m guessing you, me, Fawn and Bullet.”

  “What time is it?”

  Viper looked at her watch. “Twenty to one.”  

  “Hurry up,” Scar muttered impatiently. She felt way too claustrophobic locked up in the theatre sometimes, almost like there wasn’t enough air for all of them. Scar hadn’t been outside in months.

  “So what were you girls talking about anyway?” Statz asked, hooking his arms over the back of the couch and leaning back lazily.

  “Not much,” Comet said. “Too bad.”

  “Isn’t there any gossip you want to tell me?” he teased.

  “You are so annoying Statz.” Razor was unable to hide her grin. “Why do you always want to know about girl talk?”

  Secretly they’d always thought of Statz as their gay best friend, not that anyone would tell him that. But Scar thought he would just laugh. They all knew he was just there to flirt with Princess, so clearly not gay.

  “In case there’s some about me.” He faked sounding hopeful. Princess turned a little pale.

  “None Statz,” Viper said, noticing Razor’s eagerness in betrayal and Princess mouthed thank you to her.

  “But Razor likes Jumper,” Comet said with a smirk. Comet was beyond innocent sometimes, and regrettably a bit ditzy too. She got away with most things but Scar could tell she’d meant it and had to stifle a laugh.   

  “Hey,” Razor snapped, hands on hips. Oh God … Scar thought. She had never been one for gossip.

  “Well it’s true.” Comet crossed her arms like a child. I was a surprise her bottom lip wasn’t sticking out in a pout too.

  “I thought you liked Ca$h?” Statz asked making a face at Razor.

  “Keep up Statz,” Scar put as much sarcasm as she could into her voice. “That was last week.”

  Scar and Comet were the closest to Statz, having been part of the Werewolves Crew for longer than most. It was nice having someone on their side against Razor. She’d changed the dynamic a lot when she’s arrived. After that Princess and Fawn came and things got easier. Scar knew Princess liked Statz now too, though the same could not be said when they first joined. Unlike Jumper, Ca$h, Underdog and some on the other guys, Statz fell into the big brother role. Now Comet was sure the two of them would be together soon. Hopefully, Scar didn’t think she could take much more of his constant hanging around, he needed a guy friend. He and Scar had both drifted away from Rickie in the last few years, but Scar was glad they still had each other. The Werewolves were the only family she had.

 

  Almost every day began to feel the same stuck in the theatre. Reminding herself again, Scar lay on the couch and blew out a breath. She desperately wanted to get out of there and on the mission.

  It felt like forever when Rickie finally stood up on the stage. Even though he was the leader he was still only nineteen. He looked tall standing alone of the stage and ran a hand through his brown hair. He had olive coloured skin that made him look like he always had a tan. The other girls had found countless empty adjectives to describe him over the years but Scar had learnt to look past the facade. Still, he was most of the girls’ biggest crush.

  On stage he was wearing his jeans low on his waist and a tight black t-shirt that had holes all over showing off his chest underneath. All Scar wanted to do was tell him to pull his pants up. 

  “Okay.” He clapped his hands together, trying to seem important. Scar just rolled her eyes. Her gaze swam from the stage back down to her book, she’d seen the show before. “Statz, Fawn, Comet and Jumper, get ready were leaving in five minutes,” his voice boomed eerily off the high walls. He walked off the stage and the four he’d picked got ready to join him at the back of the theatre. Scar felt her stomach tighten, like every time she didn’t hear her name called.

  “Here we go,” Razor muttered coldly at Scar, she crossed her legs and clenched her jaw.

  Scar simple put her book to the side, stood up and glared at her, sick of the sly comments. She turned away from Razor, she was already regretting it and she hadn’t even taken two steps yet.

  As she walked over to Rickie, she knew she couldn’t give Razor or anyone else the satisfaction.

  Rickie stopped in front of her near the bottom of the stairs, well out of ear shot of everyone.

  “Why can’t I go?” She asked. Her voice was a mix of innocence and annoyance.

  He tilted his head back and tried to look frustrated, then looked down at her and said, “Stay here, it’s too dangerous for you.” 

  “No it’s not, that’s rubbish,” she argued. “I can’t go on raids, I can’t go on missions? So when the hell can I go?”

  He hesitated before taking her by the shoulders and squeezing gently, to her dislike. “What if something happened to you?” There was concern in his voice but she knew his play.

  She shrugged his hands off her. “Nothing will and you know it. I’m not someone you can just lock up like in a Grimm’s story. I haven’t been outside in months.” Considering you never pick me. “I’ve been keeping track, I haven’t been on a mission longer than anyone else.”

  “Scar,” he sighed to fide his smirk, shaking his head.

  “What am I supposed to do? Never leave …?” Scar looked at him miserably, she hated being this close to him, and hated even more the position he put her in. She stood up on her tip-toes slightly, acting tall.

  “I hate it when you do this,” he murmured, fixing his eyes on her now they were the same height. They were dark brown and familiar. She knew that he only hated why she did it, nothing else.

  “Then why don’t you just pick me in the first place?” Scar snapped, already knowing the answer, because he wants this, he wants me to fight by flirting. “I won’t keep doing this Robin.” His face dropped slightly, he was hardly ever called by his Werewolf name for some reason, and Scar knew it got to him. She had to fight to keep the anger out of her voice.

  Taking hold of her wrists he trapped her hands tight in his.

  “Let me go.” Scar demanded, with a voice like ice. And thankfully he didn’t miss the double meaning. She was strongly tempted to bring her knee up to his crotch.

  “No, Scar I want you to stay here,” he insisted. Wrong answer.    

  Scar had had enough. Usually in this situation she would flirt her way onto the mission but looking at him today she just couldn’t.

  Rickie stepped forward and touched his lips to hers and he dropped her hands to slip his arms around her waist before Scar react.

  Scar jumped at his touch and felt her ears burned with both embarrassment and anger. “Ughh,” she pulled away revolted, it was all she could do to not slap him.

  “Scar, what -?” he opened and closed his mouth searching for words. He looked pathetic, like a child being told no for the first time.

  She cut him off quickly. “Not this time.” She took a step back away from him. “I’m going, like it or not.”  

  “Scar, no,” he said, catching her wrist, not letting her go far.

  “Robin.” Her voice went up a notch when he hooked his fingers around the belt hoops on her jeans, pulling her back down a step.

  “Don’t call me that,” he told her. Scar huffed, her anger heightening and she pushed him hard away from her and watched as he stumbled down a few steps.

  Scar looked at his goofy, stunned expression and wondered what she had ever seen in him. She swore this was the last time she would put herself through this. Scar turned and stormed off.

  “Scar, fine you can come.” He threw up his hands defeated, only echoing himself from every other time. He ran his fingers through his hair looking rattled.

  Scar was already half way up the stairs when she turned and shouted, “Like you had a choice.” She took off up the stairs towards the front door before he could think of a response.

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