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“You’re joking.”
“Of course not Bubba. I think Johnny will do well with us.” Toecutter said with a smile, watching as Mudguts and Diabando sized up the new recruit.
Mudguts was holding the boy’s face in his hands, inspecting him, pulling at his hair and yanking on his brow to look into his eye; while standing behind Johnny was Diabando, who poked and prodded him, asking him question after question.
“Where ya from?”
“‘round Canberra.” Johnny squeaked out, overwhelmed by the treatment.
“Long way from home.”
“Haven’t been there in years.”
Diabando grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, yanking him away from Mudguts.
“What ya doin’ here?”
Johnny let out an indignant squawk.
“B-been hitchhiking,” Johnny stammered out. “Cities are mad. Thought I’d go rural to get away from it all.”
Diabando just hummed, letting him go. Johnny scrambled for footing, brushing down his front and puffing his chest up.
Bubba glared at him from across the road, standing near where their bikes were parked up.
The kid was lanky. Fresh faced. His hair was scruffy, curled, and he wore a cotton scarf and a tank top. Bubba didn't think he’d survive five minutes with their outfit. But if what he said was true, that he made it all the way out here by hitchhiking… Maybe there was something. Bubba doubted it though, he’d seen boys like Johnny before. They’d never managed to impress him.
“Where’d you find him?” Bubba asked after a few moments.
“He was getting thrown out of the pub. Watched him fight and scream the whole way out.” Toecutter grinned, almost proud of himself. “He’s got fire, Bubba. A kind of energy we need.”
Bubba just scoffed. “He’s just a boy.”
“Perhaps.” Toecutter laughed, turning to clap Bubba on the shoulder. “But we’ll teach him.”
“ Oi ! Give it back.” Johnny squawked, trying to snatch something out of Mudguts’ hands. Mudguts just let out a high pitch giggle and jumped out of the way, taking off onto the street.
Johnny sprinted after him, jumping over the railing of the shopfront and slipping on the dirt as he landed.
Mutguts just laughed even louder as he sprinted down the street.
Cheering and shouting started up as the gang drew their attention to watch the chaos, men stopping their conversations to watch the new guy chase around Toecutter’s most spritely lieutenant.
The two ducked and weaved around parked cars, Johnny yelling out indecencies at every chance he got. Eventually Johnny managed to fake out Mudguts, pretending to chase one way and then changing direction, catching Mudguts’ around the waist and sending them both tumbling.
Red dirt kicked up as they both scrambled, Johnny desperately trying to wrestle something out of Mudguts’ hands. The rest of the gang gathered around them, cheering and laughing. Bubba could barely see through the sea of bodies but he caught sight of Johnny climbing on top of Mudguts, drawing his arm back to punch the man under him. Mudguts’ slumped, arms coming up to clutch at his face- dropping whatever it was he had of Johnny’s.
Johnny got up with a stumble, taking back what was his and dusting himself off. Whatever it was—some kind of necklace—was quickly draped over Johnny’s neck, and Bubba saw him visibly relax. Strange . Someone wrapped an arm around Johnny’s shoulder, laughing and pulling him away, some of the crowd following him, while some stayed behind to get Mudguts up. Starbuck dragged Mudguts to his feet, clapping him on the back and laughing as Mudguts pulled his hand away from his face, grinning through the bloody nose he seemed to have gotten from the punch.
“Rowdy little shit, ain’t ya?” Starbuck called out to Johnny, who looked quite ruffled, “‘bout time someone showed Mudguts what for.”
Mudguts shoved Starbuck away from him, swearing and stomping off to the rest of the group, though he was smiling the whole time. All in good fun.
Bubba saw handfuls of notes exchanging hands. Mudguts was handed something too. So it was all just a game then? Not unlike the men to create their own fun.
“You see, Bubba? Don’t tell me you’re not intrigued.” Bubba’s attention was suddenly drawn back to Toecutter as he spoke. His eyes were watchful, staring over to where Johnny was now laughing with a group of men.
“Fine.” Bubba huffed, turning away. “But don’t expect me to do anything for him.” He knows he sounded childish, bitter, even. But he didn’t care. He didn’t like Johnny.
“You’ll come around, Bubba.” Toecutter said, a smile clear in his voice. Bubba ignored him as he walked away.
—
Later that night the gang had taken up residence in the local pub. The beer was flowing and the music was booming, and the gang was as rowdy as ever. Toecutter sat in a booth, nestled away in the corner where he could keep a steady eye on things, while Nightrider sat next to him, a local girl in his lap who giggled and squirmed every time Nightrider whispered to her. Nightrider has seemed unphased by Johnny joining them, neither impressed nor displeased, like Bubba had been. But Nightrider had always been carefree (or careless, as Bubba claimed.), something Toecutter admired him for. The two had known each other for years, much longer than anyone else in the gang, and Nightrider had a good grasp of Toecutter’s tendencies by now. So he didn’t make a fuss when Toecutter had come back with the kid on his trail, figuring things would work themselves out on their own.
Toecutter had a drink in his hand, though he was more interested in watching the celebration unfold. It wasn't every night the gang got to spend the evening at a pub like this. Toecutter’s eyes scanned the bar, his smile tilting up with amusement. Mudguts was standing on one of the tables, seemingly serenading Cudalini, who sat back in his chair with his hand clutched over his heart, dramatically wiping a tear from his eye as the song reached its peak. Starbuck and a few others, Sticks, Buzz, and Clunk, all sat around playing cards. Behind Clunk stood Jackie, who was making gestures to the others, snitching on the cards Clunk held, making the others giggle at his bewilderment when his bluff was once again called. Every time Clunk turned around to accuse him, Jackie would be leaning against the wall peacefully, the brim of his hat over his eyes and a cigarette hanging from his lips—which only served to confuse Clunk further. Bubba was nowhere to be seen, but Toecutter saw him slip outside a little while ago and wasn't too worried.
Diabando stood at the bar, reaching over to the taps to fill up his own drink, laughing as the man behind the bar made an exasperated noise, telling him to at least be careful with the glass. Toecutter had lost count of the amount of broken glasses they’d already had that night. At least the meek bartender had stopped trying to get money out of them hours ago, realising it was futile. The locals that still hung around didn't seem too impressed, they only seemed to stay out of principle, not wanting to abandon their usual watering hole to a bunch of ruthless nomads. They sat in their usual spots, glaring and talking amongst themselves.
Johnny was at the bar too, demanding a drink from the bartender, who was still reeling over Diabando’s actions. Johnny’s voice cracked as it went up in pitch, something Toecutter had noticed whenever Johnny got overwhelmed or frustrated. Someone else noticed too, a man, small in stature with a smug look on his face. “Ain’t that the twerp from the other night?’ He said to his friend, who shrugged. He wore leather, but didn’t have any colours on him. He leaned over to Johnny, speaking loud enough that he could hear.
“Oi, doubt you're even old enough to be on the piss, mate.” The man laughed. His friend joined in too, and even the bartender couldn't help a smile.
“Yeah Johnny, how old are ya?” Someone shouted from the back.
“Johnny eh? Johnny the Boy, I’d say.” The man added. There was a chorus of laughs around the bar. Johnny only scowled.
Suddenly Johnny, quick as a bullet, had the man pulled out of his stool and slammed against the bar, Johnny’s hands balled up in his shirt. The smug man didn't even have time to react as Johnny headbutted him, the man staggering and nearly dropping. There was shouting as the others gathered around and watched the fight, amazed and intrigued by this new recruit who was so quick to anger. There had been a bigger bloke with the smug man, a friend, who jumped to his feet to intervene, but he was quickly restrained by Starbuck and Cundalini, who had come over to watch the fight. The friend swore and struggled as Johnny quickly kneed the smug man in the stomach, watching as he doubled over.
The smug man managed to land a punch as he straightened up, but was once again sent to the ground by Johnny. The men around them cheered. Johnny punched him again, a splatter of blood being thrown against the bar. The two only went at it for another few moments before the smug man slumped to the floor in defeat, his nose bleeding sluggishly and his face tender with soon-to-be bruises. Johnny’s eye looked a little tender, but other than that he seemed unscathed, breathing heavily as he stood over the man, a little quirk to his lips that made him look unhinged. There was blood on his shirt, his face, and his fists clenched at his sides as his eye twitched, considering if he should kick the prick for good measure.
“Looks like yer new pet’s got some teeth.” Nightrider sneered, who had been ignoring his girl to watch the fight unfold. Toecutter already knew this of course, Johnny’s aggression being the thing that drew him to the kid in the first place. Toecutter seemed quite pleased with himself, though he knew he would eventually have to reel in Johnny. His aggression was good, but it could cause problems for them in the future. He needed to be taught to redirect it, to be used when Toecutter required it. But he was getting ahead of himself. Johnny hadn’t even been initiated yet.
Toecutter got up from his seat and made his way over to Johnny, the crowd parting easily to let him through. He clapped a hand on Johnny’s shoulder once he reached him, a smile playing at his lips.
“Didn’t I tell you he has fire?” Toecutter shouted, bringing an arm up in a gesture, the crowd cheering.
Diabando was there, drink seemingly forgotten as he crouched down to the unconscious man, pulling off the leather jacket he’d been wearing. He held it up in triumph, before draping it over Johnny’s shoulders. He scruffed up Johnny’s hair, before shouting; “Johnny the Boy!”
The crowd copied him, chanting the name as they leaned in to pat Johnny on the back or scruff his hair, but Johnny seemed almost in a daze. Toecutter led him out of the crowd, the chanting eventually dying down as the others returned to what they were doing. Starbuck and Cundalini finally let go of the friend, who scrambled to pick up the man on the ground, leaving the bar with him draped over him. A few of the other locals choose then to leave as well, tisking and grumbling on the way out. The bartender looked pale where he stood, eyes wide as he stared at the small splatter of blood across the bartop.
Toecutter took Johnny outside where it was quiet, sitting him down at one of the outdoor seats, draping his arm over him. Johnny still seemed out of it, letting himself be maneuvered.
“You're not one to be trifled with, are you, Johnny?” Toecutter said softly, patting the boy’s shoulder before leaning back in his seat. He retrieved his tin of cigarettes, putting one between his lips before offering the tin to Johnny. Johnny finally seemed to come to, his hand almost shaking as it reached for a cigarette. Toecutter smiled at him, tucking the tin away.
Before Toecutter could offer Johnny a match, the boy had reached for the strange necklace that hung around his neck. It was some kind of boot, which Toecuter now realised housed a lighter. Johnny used it to light the cigarette, letting the flame linger for a moment, almost lost in thought. Toecutter watched him, the way the fire lit up his face —showing the tender red of the skin around his eye, which threatened to turn dark with bruising. Toecutter watched the small, uncertain drag Johnny took from the cigarette, and the way he coughed slightly as he exhaled, trying to suppress the action.
Still a boy, Toecutter noted, not for the first time.
Tocutter lit up his own cigarette, letting it sit between his lips. Johnny had his in his hand now, letting it burn down while he flicked the lighter on idly. He’d let it burn for a moment, before letting it go out. Again and again. A habit. Toecutter could see in the low lighting that Johnny’s knuckles were red and raw, and every time the lighter flicked on—sometimes it took more than once for it to catch— the flecks of blood still on his hands could be seen in the low light of the flame.
“I was always weak, you know,” Johnny spoke so softly, Toecutter nearly missed it. “Sick, I was. ‘In the head’, they said. But it was my body too. Always somethin’ wrong with lil’ Johnny.” Johnny was letting the flame linger now, running his fingertips over where Toecutter knew it was hot. “Doctors never let up. It… Hurt . So much.” Johnny’s voice wavered.
Toecutter breathed out a cloud of smoke.
“B-but I’m not weak. Not anymore.” Johnny squared his jaw, teeth grinding. It sounded more like he was convincing himself.
Toecutter was needy. He knew that. It’s why he surrounded himself with those dedicated to him and his cause. Johnny was needy too, Toecutter could see that clear as day, but it was different. Johnny needed to be needed . He was desperate for recognition. For leadership and appreciation . This was part of the reason Toecutter was drawn to him. That bright look in his eyes when they’d first met. The flush of his cheeks when Toecutter said he was impressed. Johnny was an agent of chaos, he reveled in it. But what he really needed was a guiding hand. A strong presence to lead him. Johnny wanted to do good. And Toecutter wanted to make sure he was there to mold him into what he needed.
Toecutter reached a hand out to Johnny, cupping the side of his face and making the boy look up at him. He leaned forward, Johnny’s eyes widening in question.
“With us, you’ll never be weak again,” Toecutter spoke firmly, calmly. “You’ll never have to hurt again, Johnny. Together we’re strong. We’re proud.”
Johnny breathed out a relieved sigh, like he’d been holding his breath. He smiled shakily, nodding his head. Toecutter ran his hand through the boy’s hair, a smile forming on his face as he leaned back in his seat. Johnny seemed more vibrant as he brought his forgotten cigarette up, tapping off the ash before bringing it to his lips.
—
Across the street, Bubba stood in the shadows, leaning against a post near where his bike was parked up. He watched them. Toecutter and his new pet project. Bubba’s eyes were keen as he saw Toecutter lean close, no doubt filling the boy’s heads with promises of freedom and triumph. Bubba couldn't help but scowl, a pang of jealousy shooting through his chest. He remembers when he first met Toecutter. He believed in him, believed in his thoughts and ideals, and chose to follow him. He didn't need convincing or consoling.
Johnny was nothing but a child. Toecutter would see that soon and be done with him. Bubba would make sure of it.