Amson, 18, "The Silent Hour of Distraught Watchmen"

Deuce and I circled around the pit, watching as the crowd roared. The echoing sound reverberated throughout my body, shaking me viciously as I saw Ty in the pit, in his very own element.

The guy was a prodigy when it came to boards; he knew them inside and out. And his itch to go in the pit was something I never fully understood, seeing as he was here almost everyday, even on the dead days. It showed, though, and he'd grabbed hold of the respect of most anyone in the pit, save for the assholes you'd typically find also orbiting about.

"Hmm.." I mouthed.

I brought my attention back to Deuce, following more intently. We were in a beeline for a group of guys along the opposite fence from where I was sitting, one sitting down while two stood in front of him, speaking. The guy who was sitting held a laptop along his knees, his hand above the top as if ready to close it.

"Is the guy we're looking for one of them?" I asked, pointing.

He looked with a troubled stare, bothered by whatever.

"One of them." He said, ushering me forward. "Lets get moving."

We approached until the sounds of their voices could be heard beyond the noise around the pit, and quickly, it seemed like a much different situation. The guy on the bench, holding his laptop firmly with both hands, held a glare toward the people before him, a subtle look of pissed-off that I felt only I picked up on. He smiled as if they were his friends, yet the laughs he received in return were anything but friendly.

As we approached, he took a glance, then a double take, in my direction.

The cackling of the standing duo was demeaning, hyena-like howls that egged on the already precarious situation. It became evident that they weren't there for anything other to cause shit.

Deuce suddenly stopped me, and we stood there, eavesdropping just outside of their render distance.

"You gonna let me borrow it or what?" One of the standing guys nudged him, dark skin and no shirt on. "I'm not here to loaf around the pit like you, pussy-ass white boy."

"I've already given my answer." He responded patronizingly. "I'm not interested in helping you, so you'll either leave me alone or do what you planned to do since approaching me."

The shirtless guy's pale friend came to his rescue, his eyes blood red and veins visible on his skin. I could smell the scent of marijuana from where we stood, oozing out of the man's every pore.

"Don't play fucking smart with us, bitch!" He hooted as if rehearsed.

"If this is playing smart, then fuck..." He laughed, only pissing them off more.

The first guy grabbed him tightly by the collar, forcing his grip on his laptop to loosen. I saw as his lackey noticed his change in integrity, a subtle glance that was all too obvious. They'd wanted that laptop for themselves, petty thieves that didn't care that they were surrounded by eyes.

It felt wrong just watching, but by how Deuce stood, so confident and indifferent, I was almost forced to follow suit.

"Say another word, bitch." The big guy threatened, nearly spitting in his face.

His friend inched toward the laptop, yet the guy continued laughing, burrowing his attacker's face in with the reckless disrespect.

"I simplified it, dumbfuck!" He spat, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

Within a second, he was thrust back into the bench, slammed against the wood, and his laptop was yanked from what little grasp he had left of it, zooming in my direction. The crash he made against the bench echoed throughout the pit, and gradually, the attention aimed at the pit was redirected toward the fence, housing these two buffoons and us.

A crescendo of chatter immerged, growing nearly as loud as they were paying attention to the pit. Tyriq brought his board toward us as we stood, struggling to keep over the sound of talking.

"Fuck's going on?!" He asked, weaving through traffic.

The white guy with the laptop ran toward me, but with minimal effort, the effort of one resting leg's worth, he toppled to the ground, the small nudge destroying all semblance of balance. I smiled as he hit the ground, absorbing the impact as he curled himself around the laptop.

Ty took a step toward him, but the guy quickly gave up, leaving the laptop and his "friend" behind in the mayhem. He grabbed the laptop and cupped it under his arm, a disinterested look on his face; he looked peeved.

"These motherfuckers, man..." He exclaimed. "Ruining my fuckin' fun..."

"You should look at this shit, man." Deuce pointed toward the bench. "Fucker doesn't even know what he's in for."

At the bench, the smaller guy was getting kicked and slammed against the fence, and everyone watched, their noise slowly turning to silence.

Tyriq walked by my side, sighing.

"Hmph..." He mouthed. "Fuckbelt..."

I couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Fuckbelt?" I scoffed.

"You see blondey-- the one who looks like he's getting his shit kicked in? That's Fuckbelt." Tyriq reaffirmed.

"Bet that one's got a history." I folded my arms. "Never seen the guy around, myself."

Deuce butt in.

"That's cuz the dude's only been in the pit once." He said. "He just spends his time around the pit, doing homework by himself. Just about everyone leaves the dude be."

"You mind your own business outside the pit." I quoted. "Fucking with one's fucking with the pit."

Everyone around the fight was motionless, watching like drones without a single phone drawn. Everyone there was another witness and nothing more, but something still didn't sit well with me. It wasn't typical procedure to allow someone to get his shit clocked, especially since the big guy was clearly a weenie without a second's worth in the pit.

Weenies aren't allowed regular access, unless they are assessed through their first pit run, and if they break even the unspoken rules, the member affected's business is treated like everyone's.

"Exactly." Deuce said. "Guy's done the bare minimum for us to let him stay inside Dame Coccinelle, but he's got respect, for others and from others. No one ought to do a damn thing against him."

"No one's helping him out, though." I questioned. "Normally, someone butts in... right now it just seems..."

Tyriq looked at me, and I stood there, paused. It wasn't that I couldn't find the word, more that I knew the response I'd receive, given that all three of us know damn well the unspoken rules of Dame Coccinelle. Since no one was stepping in to help, there was a good reason in doing so, meaning it was either a request made by the guy getting little room to even breathe on the ground or a member's own business.

"Seems like what?" Ty raised an eyebrow.

I sighed.

"Cruel's what I mean." I mustered.

Seeing the guy get battered like that was getting me a little sick to my stomach, but I knew I wouldn't do anything, as the will of the pit was settled. Everyone watched as Fuckbelt was relentlessly attacked, slammed and shoved against the fence with those pussy punches. For one thing, the guy seemed unfazed, looking the fuckhead in the eyes for the entire duration of the beatdown.

I couldn't help but have respect for the guy as well.

"I get what you mean, man, but just look." Deuce fixed his stance, a smile growing on his face. "This ain't shit you'll see every day."