Jake had never been the type to fear anything for too long. It was either that way or his way. It was how he had been taught to think from an early age. His brother was in charge now, and that meant more responsibilities for the 21-year-old who was supposed to find a way in life, outside the lulling security of his family. They were not just punks. They were The Outsiders. A name many feared. A name Jake and his brother took pride in. But Jake knew he could not stay, no matter how much he wanted to. The last thing he needed was to let anyone know about his ... peculiarity.
He snorted, mostly in self-deprecation. He was a strange one alright. He had never been like the others. This was a little something he only knew. When his brother and the others talked about some girl's boobs and ass, he could only think of strong arms pinning him down, sinewy legs forcing his own wide open and ... He shook his head. Now it wasn't a good time to play with the fantasies in his mind. He feared what the others would think. Hell, he could picture them yelling at him, "Fag!" and most probably many other names that he did not want to conjure in his mind at the moment. And the yelling would not be the worst thing. Probably he was going to get a real beating on top of everything else.
So, since it could not be his way, it had to be that way, which meant he had to go away and find something to do on his own, without his brother's protection.
He had to think of a reason, though. He could not flee, just like that. His brother would not understand. He was bound to say something, at least.
Kicking a rock with his foot, he watched it roll on the humid sidewalk, glowing faintly in the dim street lights.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A mutt straying too far away from home?" he heard a mocking voice, and he froze for a moment.
"What? Ain't anyone allowed to take a piss on no man's land now?" he shrugged, watching the owner of that voice coming out of the dark. If it was just one guy, it wasn't going to be a problem. Even two or three. After that, he didn't really know.
He felt his stomach clenching as five guys all dressed in white jumpsuits appeared in his line of sight. Maybe he could throw a punch and run away. He was known to be a good sprinter.
"No longer no man's land," one of them spoke, with an ugly smile on his face. "It's ours."
"Alright," he raised his hands in defeat. There was no point in playing the hero. "Sorry, didn't get the memo," he joked.
"The what?" another asked, earning a slap upside the head from the one who seemed to be their leader.
"Nothing, stupid mutt here thinks he owns the place and he's smart about it, too."
"I don't think that, really," Jake moved backward, his eyes darting in all directions for a fast exit.
The move almost took him by surprise. The first to talk swung a chain with the clear intention to wipe out his feet. He jumped just in time.
Damn, he was fucked. If he was going to get out of there with just a few broken bones, he was going to be lucky. Cold sweat was pooling on the small of his back. He took a defensive stance, scanning his opponents, searching for a weakness. His eyes darted to the left. The man on the extreme right was short, and he was nervously clasping a baseball bat.
He swung fast in that direction, pushing the little man against the one next to him and making both stumble and fall like two crash test dummies. He started running, with the other three after him, while the two were scrambling to get back on their feet. When the chain connected with his shoulder, he did not repress a loud yell. Apparently, he was not that great a sprinter.
He continued to run, ignoring the pain in his shoulder or at least trying to. He was not going to make it far, running like this. This was not a neighborhood he knew too well.
He took a wrong turn and reached a dead end. The walls right and left were too tall to climb. He was fucking doomed.
He turned with his hands above his head.
"Alright, no need to get freaky about it. If my brother finds out you beat me up ..."
"He will kick your ass for not being able to fend for yourself," the man who seemed the leader got closer, swinging his chain. Jake did not deny. Yes, that could be a possibility. The new head of The Outsiders was not known to be kind to losers, even if one of those losers was his baby brother.
He danced to the right when the man tried to hit him. He could not postpone the inevitable. He wasn't going to let them win without breaking a sweat, at least.
He dodged every time the man tried to hit him. The others were growing nervous, and soon enough, he was pushed with his back against the wall. One man pulled him by the jacket and threw him on the ground. He tensed and got up in one single graceful move. He could have been a gymnast; his PE teacher used to say that. At least, his agility was serving a purpose now. Not that it mattered. He was brought down again, and he fought against his assailants without yelling or begging.
"What is going on here?" a voice with a strange strong accent made everyone stop.
Jake's assailants turned to look at the intruder. "None of your goddamn business, Fritz," the leader hissed.
From the ground, Jake could not see the newcomer too well, the street light throwing a strange aura on his silhouette. The stranger looked much better dressed than the punks on the streets at that hour, and his blond hair was impeccable. At least, Jake thought it was blond, seeing how the light glowed and danced on it. There was not enough light to see the man's face, but he had fair hair, that was sure.
The man tsked in displeasure at the comment. "I believe you scumbags should address me more respectfully," he said in a bored tone. "My name is Klaus Metzger, and you should better remember it."
"That so?" the man with the chain ignored Jake to face the blond man.
Jake felt almost like laughing, as he watched how his attacker's arm was easily twisted to his back, making him drop the chain that fell on the pavement with a loud thump.
"I strongly suggest all of you take a hike," the man who said his name was Klaus continued in the same bored tone. "Unless you want me to entertain myself all night long breaking your bones."
"Get him! Get him!" the man with his arm twisted at his back bellowed, and the others approached, although hesitantly. The blond twisted the man's arm tighter. "Are you sure? Your friends don't seem that pleased to see me how I'm going to rip your arm off," he said calmly.
The man started to howl, as more pressure was applied to his shoulder. "Maybe you could all be a match against me," the blond continued in the same even tone as if he was not making any effort to keep the man in his grip like that. "But he will lose his arm," he added matter-of-factly.
He pushed the man down, at his feet, and kicked him once in the ribs for good measure. The others made a move forward, but the blond moved so fast and punched one of the assailants so hard in the face that Jake had to wince hearing the bones cracking. That was going to be one ugly nose, after painful months of healing.
The other three rushed to hit the man and Jake witnessed a rare demonstration of martial arts like he had never seen in his entire life. In less than three minutes, all the five guys were on the ground, whining like a bunch of dogs.
Apprehensively, Jake got to his feet, limping a little. He grimaced at the pain in his shoulder.
