I guess I must be a daredevil {Nyte}

Teva "Trigger" Seraphim

Dusk rapidly faded to darkness, and the wolves emerged to howl. Those who lived a double life were born again in the shadow of the moon. Criminals, delinquents, the wild ones – the streets were their territory now, and there was not a white coat in sight to stop them. They were “white coats” to Teva Seraphim because their original name “Peacekeeper” was a load of horse shit. There was nothing peaceful about these soldier-like tyrants with guns and batons, and the only thing they could “keep” was the District’s hatred. Horrifying things were committed by their hands. Punishments worse than the crimes that warranted them were passed around like free samples. Teva hated the lot of them, but tonight they were not his problem. It was impossible, after all, to find the gang’s new private club unless by accident or invitation.

Guard dogs were posted outside, but tonight Teva Trigger wasn’t one of them. He was lounging inside with a fellow runt to his left, who was already drunk enough to sweat whiskey through his pits. Fucking nasty idiot.

”Yo, Trigger.”

The raven-haired mask of apathy perked up at the sound of his nickname. Bouncer was the name of his comrade. Ripred knows why he chose such a shit name. He had never bothered to ask. ”I need to get laid,” he continued, words strung into one pathetic-sounding slur of desperation and boredom. Teva knew if he rolled his eyes hard enough he could give himself a migraine and make an excuse to walk away and fetch a drink. His shot of whisky had already dissipated, which was disappointing but not unexpected. Its fuzzy after effects were making him feel lighter than a cloud, but Bouncer had a knack for ruining his vibe. ”That’s not my goddamn problem,” he drawled, settling for a casual response instead of anything cruder. He didn’t give two fucks about the dude’s sex life.

”How come I never see you talk to chicks?”

He didn’t like how talkative Bouncer was when he drowned himself in alcohol. Too many obnoxious questions. ”I like my privacy.”

”Come on, man,” Bouncer laughed. Come on, man, what? Was there supposed to be some suggestion behind that statement? He was too sober for this. ”I wanna see your moves.”

Well, that was disturbing. It was none of Bouncer’s goddamn business what his “moves” were. It was also none of his business that he didn’t have any moves, or any women of interest. Or any interest in women.

”How about that one? Look at her. She’s smokin’.” Bouncer pointed at some brunette in the corner. The only thing Teva noticed was how uncomfortable her shoes looked. ”Isn’t she famous? Like one of Colgate’s sisters or somethin’?” Now that he mentioned it, she did look rather familiar. Hammered as he was, Bouncer was probably right. The only famous people in their district were the O’Learys. ”I bet you fifty that you can’t get her to leave with you.”

”I’m not making a bet with you over a fucking girl,” he grumbled.

”Make that a hundred.”

”Piss off.”

”Want to make it one fifty? Come on, Trig! If you win, you get the girl and you get cash! If you lose, I get cash and then I get my shot with the girl. Whoever wins is gonna get double.” He was wearing a shit-eating grin that Teva couldn’t draw his eyes away from. What a shithead. He was trapped, to say the least. If he declined, he would lose respect, and respect in a gang was like money; if you don’t have enough, you end up alone on the streets. His mother hadn’t raised him to become a failure, and his brothers didn’t expect that of him either.

Trigger extended his hand for a shake. ”You’re on, asshole.”

Bouncer excitedly shook his hand and watched him saunter away. Upon closer inspection, he supposed that the girl was attractive by any human’s standards. She had the doe eyes, the dark hair, the shapely eyebrows, the slim body. Well, everybody in District Nine was slim, but he had to give her credit for being born in the blessed end of the gene pool. He didn’t feel the least bit interested in her, but all he had to do was leave with her. Then he could make up some excuse and go home. Wait, but then she might come back here and Bouncer will see her…

Fuck’s sake.

He didn’t even know what the hell to say. Mama had always taught them how to respect women instead of treating them like inferior objects, so he couldn’t go with one of the scumbag pick-up lines he had heard other gang runts use before. What was left? He couldn’t just walk up and say “Hi my name is Trigger.” That was fucking weird. He needed to see if she would actually care first. Maybe she wouldn’t, if he was lucky. He could deal with paying Bouncer a hundred bucks and listening to his stupid, drunk laughter. He would get the last laugh anyway, because no way would she want to fuck him either. Nobody wanted to fuck Bouncer.

He settled with a compliment instead. Simple, but not too inappropriate. ”So,” he slid in front of her, trying to sound as suave and not-fucking-lame as possible. ”I’m buying a drink for the prettiest girl in the room. What’ll it be?”

That probably sounded cheesy as hell, but it was better than sounding like a jackass.