Battery City Boys

-December 18, 2017-

It starts with the loss of their identities. It doesn't hurt much, using another name that's not your own. Adrian never knew his real last name, or his parents, for that matter. He had only ever known the Ieros. He was perfect for their little family. Frank was only a year older than him, and they looked similar, both short, with natural brown hair and brownish-hazel eyes, his a greener shade than Adrian's own whiskey-chocolate.

What he did know, was that he belonged in the Iero family.

On a small church step in Virginia, he had been abandoned by his biological parents. He never knew them, nor did he care if he ever saw them again. A young couple had already gone to several adoption agencies when they saw the small bundle of joy. A very small, but bubbling baby boy, they brought him home, after a few months of paperwork and social workers. Frank didn't like him at first, but then again, what older sibling likes the new baby? After only a year, Frank and Adrian were practically inseperable. And his past life was forgotten.

He only needed Frank, after all.

Adrian awoke with a start. Cold sweat becoming even colder on his face, as he looked up to the New York skies. He and Frank had decided to head north, in hopes of finding survivors. They couldn't stay in Jersey. Too many bad memories and sad thoughts lingered there. Adrian had suggested the city, having had internet friends living there in college, and Frank agreed almost immediately.

They were scavenging a small cornerstore when they heard it.

A motor.

Quiet, at first, the louder. Soon, the sound was thunderous to their young ears.

Adrian, who was at the back of the store, ran up to the front window, in hopes of seeing who it was. Frank quickly pulled him back.

"Addie, are you trying to get yourself killed?! Stay away from the windows."

The younger of the two listened to his older brother, and backed away from the window. They hid in the shadows, and watched from the side as an old trans am pulled onto the curb. Three tall figures stepped out of the car, and were talking as they walked towards the building.

Frank, panicking, shoved Adrian behind the counter, and hid behind a vending machine as they walked in.

"C'mon, Poison. You gotta know by now that Pony doesn't lose at poker," spoke the man with an afro. He had on a T%T jacket, and a pair of shades. On his back was an American Flag with a spider on it. Frank saw it when he had his back turned to him.

"Well, Jet, he doesn't lose unless it's to me."

"Shut up, Kobra. In fact, both of you, shut up." This man, well, this man was strange. His hair was firetruck red, and he had on a Dead Pegasus jacket, blue, with several patches on it. He was talking to who Frank was guessing was called Kobra. Kobra had blonde-brown hair, cut short on the sides, same as his brother. It was slicked back on top, in contrast with his brother's being messy. Kobra had on a red motorcross jacket, with a 03 patch on the right shoulder.

Good descriptions to remember for later.

Adrian was interested in this particular conversation. Having no skills at poker himself, he was always interested in learning how to play. He poked his head above the counter, to see who it was that was talking, and had just caught a glimpse of a yellow tank top. Said owner of the top caught Adrian's eye with his own. The teen squeaked, and tried to hide under the counter, but was stopped by a gloved hand quickly pulling him up by the back of his ragged hoodie.

"Who the hell is this?"

Before anyone could answer, a mop of dyed hair had collided into the blonde, shoving his arm off.

"Run, Addie!"

Adrian wanted to listen to his brother, he really did. Of course, knowing his brother and his knack for getting into fights he can't get out of, Adrian didn't listen.

Running over to his bag before the others could grab him, he pulled out his old baseball bat, and raised it over his head to swing.

Before he could land a blow on the dirty blonde, the click of a gun echoed throughtout the haunted establishment.

"Drop the bat, kid."

Frank, who had finally stopped struggling, looked to see where his brother was. When his eye landed on him, he pushed Kobra off with strength he didn't know he possessed.

The gun quickly turned on Frank.

"Na-uh, pretty boy. One step closer, and the kid gets it."

Kobra stepped over to the redhead, clutching his bloody nose that Frank had so kindly given him. He placed his hand on the man's arm.

"C'mon, Poison. I don't like the looks of it, either, but I did kinda grab the kid. Put down your gun."

The dyed-ginger listened to the taller boy, and holstered his weapon.

"Okay, okay. Fine, whatever. But before we hold hands and ride off into the sunset, I wanna know who the fuck these guys are."

Kobra rolled his eyes. Turning to the homeless brothers, he offered a hand to Frank.

"Well, you heard the guy. Mind telling us who you two are, and why you happen to be lurking in New York?"

Frank walked over to his brother's side, picking up their bags, and grabbing the cigarettes he'd found on the counters. Turning to the three strange men, he started their story from the beginning.

Notes

Being back in action has been really good for me. Not only am I procrastinating on an English paper I need to have done this Friday, I am also getting ideas for said paper.

Anyways, didja like this chapter, kiddos?

Question of the day/night:
What exists in the light, but you can never touch, smell, taste, or hear it? It exists strictly to follow you, but you can never grasp it.

Seems like an easy question to me, but hey, I came up with the damn thing.

I'll see you (hopefully tomorrow) with a new update, but until we meet again.

Sweet Horrors And Terrible Nightmares
XOXO
Screaming Tears
<4