Signs Misleading to Nowhere

Everybody that had gathered around us, heard me, and went quiet. The silence was unerving, and tense. Everyone started to back away, looking from Sherif and then to me. Their were scared, and so was I. It was completely understandable though, consider who Razor was, and where he came from.

My gaze went back to Sherif, as she shifted, ever so slightly. Her mouth tightened into a thin line, her eyes narrowing, and her whole body tensing, like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. And that prey was me. "Razor? Are you talking about the same one that I'm thinking about, or is this a different Razor?" I'd only heard her like this once before, calm-sounding, not trace of her accent at all. I was extremely scared now, to the point of actually shaking. I was going to die.

My voice was small and squeaky when it came out, "It's the same Razor..."

She sighed deeply, "And tell me, why exactly you're talking to one of them?" She was steadily getting angrier, and she was showing it. Her voice was leaking venom, her posture even tenser then before, one of her hands clenched tightly in a fist, the other twitching towards the knife I knew she kept hidden in a special sewn-in sheath in the waist-band of her pants. I was screwed seven ways to Sunday if I didn't explain quickly.

I gathered what little courage I had left, and opened my mouth to speak, "Sherif, just give my two freaking minute to explain! Okay? Please, you know me, I would never talk to one of them without a good reason!"

She stared at me for what felt like hours, until she relaxed a bit, and made a small gestured at something behind me. I turned slightly to see what it was, and lept forward, twisting so both Sherif and Boneyard, who had been the thing behind me, were in my sights. Boneyard was aiming his Beretta at, me, most likely preparing to shoot me whenever Sherif had given him the signal. Fucking bitch. I loved her like an older sister, but seriously, what the fuck? I voice my thoughts out loud, "What the fuckin' hell Sherif? You gonna have Boneyard shoot me? Real fuckin' nice. Totally seems like you're goin' to listen to me!"

"I was tellin' him to back off, Haushinka, 'kay? Now calm the fuck down, and explain why the hell you're talking to a Unknown Angel? You know how much I fuckin' hate them, how much we ALL hate them."

"I know, I hate them too, just the same as the rest of you, but Razor's different. I've know him since I was little, he's my brother! How can you expect me to hate my own brother, Sherif? Him, and Paul, they've been all I had 'til I met you and was introduce into this life! I begged, pleaded, cried and screamed with and at him when he told me he was joining the Unknown Angels. I did everything I could in my power to convince him otherwise, but he was resilient in his decision. But you've got to understand, he had nothing to do with what happened that day. He was at my house, someone else framed him for what happened, but he still almost died that day because he was blamed, you know what they do to people, Sherif, you've gotta believe me! He's innocent, he hardly did anything in the gang, he was just a grunt, do errand or small-time jobs for the higher-ups. He only joined to get away from his family, please...just please believe me..." By the time my rant was over, the energy that had come with it was gone, and I had dropped down onto my knees, crying pathetically into my hands.

Suddenly, I heard a shout, and then pounding feet. "What fuck did you do to her?" then, familiar and comforting arms were around me, and I was crying into Razors' chest. "Hey, don't cry, shhh, where's the tough and bitchy RT that I know? Cause this crying, whimpering mess clinging to me is not the RT I know, and bitch at." The last part made me laugh, cause I knew that was his way of saying 'i love you', because he was about as cuddly as a porcupine curled up in a ball.

Eventually I stopped crying, then sniffling, and pulled back to look at his face. His messy in-between short and long black hair hung in his sharp, pale, aristocratic face, partially covering his beautiful brown eyes. His pale-pink, thin lips were smiling (read: smirking) down at me, giving me comfort. "Hey, Raz, what are you doing here?" I question softly.

"Looking after and comforting you pathetic ass, that's what," he told me, chuckling. Way to ruin the moment, fucktard. He saw what I was thinking, and just gave me an even bigger smirk. I pushed him, and he fell onto his back. I sat on top of him so he couldn't get up.

"Take it back, asswipe, or else!"

"Or else what? I doubt you're goin' to do anythin', I mean, not two seconds ago, you were cryin' like a baby in my arms!"

I glared and thought for a second, before a metaphorical light bulb went off in my head. I grinned down a him. "Oh yeah?"

"Totally."

"Well, if you don't I'll do worse to your precious "collection" then last time, and that was an accident!" Now I was the one smirking.

His eyes widened, and he started thrashing, "Don'tyoudarefuckingtouchthemyoubitch!" His words mashed together, he was talking so fast. He finally got enough space to free his arms, and we started wrestling like kids, throwing curses and insults at each other, like we were actually fighting, instead of rough-housing.

Someone cleared their throat, but it was ignored. The did it a few more time, progressively getting louder with each, but they were still ignored.

"Excuse me." Ignored.

"Excuse me," a little louder, but again, ignored.

"Excuse me!" Yelling now, but we still payed no attention to whomever it was, continuing to wrestle on the ground, neither of us getting the upper hand.

"That's it! Do it."

BANG! BANG! BANG! That made us freeze, and look over to where the gunshots came from.

Sherif and Boneyard, and a few others, stood about five or six yards away from us, Boneyard lowering the smoking gun from the air.

"Remember us? Yeah, we're gunna have a nice, long chat inside."

Well, we're fucked.