HE WAS COMING. Fang's first target.
Fang pressed his back against the brick wall, sinking deep into the shadows. For hours he'd been waiting for the gang to disperse, for his guy to head off alone. The group had been shooting hoops, playing dice, smoking and drinking. Fang had heard bottles break and angry disputes dissolve into laughter.
It was late, a bit past midnight. The air was cold. Fang crouched against the wall of the abandoned building, its windows broken and burned out. The deserted lot was full of stuff people probably didn't know how to get rid of: a stripped car, its side still blotched with red Bondo; an old mattress; naked box springs; half a baby's crib, smashed and spray painted.
Fang had been waiting here, still and silent, for most of the night. This was what he'd left the flock to do. This is what Max would not have understood.
He could hear footsteps approaching him. It was his guy, no doubt. An empty glass bottle struck the wall and shattered with a force that seemed unnaturally loud.
Three, two, one…
With precise timing, Fang sprang out from the darkness.
But there was no one there. What the?
Before Fang knew what was happening, the guy had shoved him against the wall, a knife at his throat.
"No one sneaks up on me, friend," the hooded figure whispered into Fang's ear. "Been looking for you"—his eyes flashed as he leaned in closer—"and from what I hear, you've been looking for me too."
Fang always kept cool, but he couldn't help letting a smile come to his lips. This guy was good. He was quick and strong and scary. Fang was going to need someone with those qualities on his team. But he wouldn't let himself be subdued so easily, and certainly not by a mere candidate. And his first one at that. Fang would be the leader, and he needed to let this guy know who was boss.
With an almost imperceptible flick of his arm, Fang grabbed the hand holding the knife and twisted it behind the guy's back, pinning him. In the same instant Fang's, other hand clapped over the guy's mouth.
"Don't say a word, Ratchet. Your friends can't know I'm here."
Ratchet squinted at Fang in the dark, as if to confirm that this was the same person he'd seen on the blog. Ratchet nodded tentatively, indicating that he was going to cooperate. For now, anyway.
"You make one misstep when I let you speak, man," Fang said, "and you lose your teeth." It felt weird to Fang to be threatening another kid, but he couldn't risk being the underdog right now. Fang waited. He had his mission, one he knew he'd been destined for.
Ratchet made a muffled response behind Fang's powerful hand, then Fang released his grip.
"What's the word?" Fang quizzed.
"Maximum," Ratchet said, uttering the password they'd agreed on.
Fang let him go, and Ratchet put on his sunglasses, trying to recoup his swagger. "A'ight, dude. S'long as there're no capes and tights anywhere in your game."
And so it began. This guy made it into Fang's new flock—of one.
