Free Romeo of the Streets by Taylor Hill

Wild Cats a beginner’s lesson in the law of the streets.
     
     
    The guys were tough alright, seasoned football players with the strength to match, but when it came to the art of free-for-all fighting they were rookies at best. Ferret threw his Irish fist at one six foot seven goliath and the guy dropped like a bundle of bricks, smashing through the glass coffee table and splitting the long clay bong that had lain on it right in two beneath him.
    “Oof,” the beast moaned, as he crumpled in a heap amongst the broken glass.
    Eyeball placed his lips to Lou’s ear and whispered: “we’re looking for Pete, right? That’s the guy?”
    “Yeah,” Lou nodded.
    “Where the fuck is Pete?” Eyeball shouted as two more big football players lunged towards him at once.
    Lou punched one in the side of the head and then kneed him in the stomach as he buckled over, while Romeo shot his hand out almost Karate-style and felled the other with a single blow to the throat. Impressed, Eyeball raised an eyebrow in his direction and Romeo shrugged.
    “I’ll ask you again,” Eyeball said, “where the fuck is Pete?”
    At that moment a restroom door burst open and a tall, muscular blonde guy stepped forward from inside, pulling up his pants. On her knees in front of him, a sorority girl wiped her mouth and protested: “Pete! You promised we wouldn’t be disturbed!”
    Ferret and Lou sniggered as the Wild Cats leader said, “Shut up Cindy, ok?” and then: “I’m Pete, who’s asking?” He looked at the carnage around him, his uneasy gaze settling on the four tough guys in the middle of the room, apparently unfazed by the whole commotion.
    “You Pete?” Eyeball asked.
    “That’s what I said, didn’t I? Now who the fuck are you?”
    “We’re your retirement package,” Eyeball said, taking a pair of pliers from his inside coat pocket. “Ferret, bring him to me.”
     
     
    Even through all the noise of the party, someone downstairs must have heard the screams because minutes after Eyeball felt satisfied that Sal’s message to the Wild Cats had been adequately received, a siren sounded outside and the alarming sight of flashing red and blue lights appeared in the window.
    “Looks like the party’s over fellas,” Eyeball said and then he smiled down at Pete, who sat hunched beneath him, gently moaning and clutching his bloodied right hand with the other. “That’s our ride Pete, but we want to stay out a little later tonight so we better disappear before they make us take it. Now you boys remember what we told you, ok?”
    He turned to leave, before pausing one last time as he looked around the room. “Hey,” he said, “don’t get me wrong—I get the motivation here. You guys are clearly used to the finer things in life. Listen, how about this: if you and your boys still want work after this then you come to me, ok? We’ll see that you’re making more hard cash than whatever little chump change you were earning before. A’capice ?”
    Pete nodded his understanding but could only groan in answer.
    “Good,” Eyeball said, “ok, fellas, let’s split.”
    With that they released their hostages and hurried out of the room.
    The house was still packed downstairs and an unruly mob of frat-boys—liquored up and outraged that someone had had the nerve to even attempt putting an end to their fun—had taken over the kitchen, where they were chanting: “Party on! Party on! Party on!”
    Leading the way downstairs, Eyeball winked up at the others as they watched two campus cops push their way through the front door and towards the madness in the kitchen beneath them. Excellent—they’d done what was natural and gone straight to the most violent-sounding place in the building, as all the while the real criminals were slipping by undetected in the hallway. They stepped off the stairs and pushed towards the door when a girl’s voice called out: “Lou? Hey Lou, what are you doing here?”
    They turned back to see two