1 Noah Crimson

Hey everyone! It's A.H Writhers here! I know I am on a totally different account, but that's because I accidentally logged onto this account and I have no idea how to log off. So, my works I reread last night (and wrote this but it deleted) and they were a peice of crap. So, I'm rewritting tem, starting with this one, Changing Me into Me. Here we go!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I've never had an easy life, I'll admit that, but murder? I would never."

"What do you mean by 'not easy'." The officer growled, as I sighed, straightened up my posture, and cleared my throat.

"I, Noah Crimson, am a survivor of the SCDR fight."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I walked through the metal doors of the bar and look through. Around 40 people stood either laughing with friends, or trying to suduce people. You get used to the sight after a while.

I walked over to the next chair, particularly a stool, and sat in it. The list of drinks was always the same, so I just ordered my regular.

"One round of Coke please!" The bartender nodded and quickly scurried away. A coke in a bar, you may ask. Well, I am only 16, and before you ask why 16 in a bar!? I own it.

This bar is... special. It holds a local gang, a gang everyone in the local town of Syracuse is afraid of, but oh well. Wait, before you say, Run! Run! Sorry, can't do that, because I am the leader of the Skull Crushers. I am a sixteen year old leader of a gang. Wait, scratch that. I am a badass sixteen year old leader of an awesome gang.

Well now I'm just sounding immature. I sigh and laugh and the bartender quickly passes me my drinks.

"Thank you." He nervously smiles.

"You welcome sir." He quickly runs to take another order.

I sigh again. I can't be that scary honestly. I'm only sixteen! I quickly take a tiny sip of my drink and it burns my throat. I look at it with disgust. I quickly stand up and look around.

"Who put Jack Daniels in my Coke?" Everyone laughs and points to a bushy brunette in the middle of the room.

He has dirt covering his tan skin and is wearing he same leather as everyone else. Now that is my assistant, Screach. (Also Known As Tom Hankle.) He helps me run this place, helps me out with doing some of the taxes.

He walks over to me and everyone else continues to talk.

"We keep on trying for you but you won't budge. An ounce of Jack here and their will never hurt you." He slurs. I sigh dramatically.

"Yeah, I'll just turn up like you." I smile and he laughs, clearly drunken.

"Boss, the big boss has something to tell you." I sigh. You see, I am the leader of Skull Crushers, but their is always my dad who used to run it, and he passed it down to me. So he still has control over a bunch of the members.

"Of course he does." I get up from my oh so comfortable stool and hop onto the ground. My dad isn't the best, but he isn't the worst either. We don't have a... strong... relationship.

He's not the role model dad, maybe you can tell. Well, I can't seem to rid him, likewise, I have to deal with him.

I arrive at the office door (that lays on the right side of the stairs,) and quickly knock on it.

"Come in." A slurry voice welcomes me as I walk in.

My father, standing at 6'5", is baled with a brunette colored bushy beard and a muscular, buff type of build. Where as I stand at 6'0" with honey blonde hair and brunette natural highlights, a smooth face and a skinny, lean type of build. Don't let that fool you though, my uppercuts are wicked.

"Father, how could I assist?" I ask, nervously. Whenever father calls me, (which is only usually once a year,) It's not for a good cause. Either he needs to get his anger out by beating me, or he needs money.

"Noah. The Dream Raiders took another member." Father exclaimed as my face paled.

Okay I admit, our gang isn't nice. We're pretty mean to stuck up high livers, but they deserve it... okay some don't but, who cares.

The Dream Raiders are the other gang of the area. They are pretty much the same as us, but we're in a war. A gang war for who gets to live in Syracuse. Nope, not good.

So, you may ask, why not just both share one place? Well, we are one bad gang right? Multiply that by two, the city would not be safe.

I sigh as I run my hand through my hair. "Do we have a plan?" I simultaneously ask.

Father evily smirks as he nods. "I want you to go to Syracuse High."