Jim followed Warren on his route to check in on the various shops that he and his sister ‘watched over’, listening to Warren explain the finer points of hot-wiring a car with a sly grin on his face.

So when are you tellen' him? 

-I ask, getting tired of the charade.

Hold on.  Jim grinned.  Good things come to those who wait.

That’s a lie.

Just humor me.   Jim groaned.

“And that’s basically how it works.”  Warren finished, proudly.

“That a fact?”  Jim grinned.

“You doubten’ me, enay?”  Warren, turned, looming over us.

“Nah, nah,”  Jim said, coolly, dusting off his shoulder.  “Just thinken’, since you’re all that, won’t be a problem, proven’ it, anyway.”

Warren grinned at the challenge.  “Anytime, anywhere.”

“Alright.”  Jim grinned, smugly jabbing his thumb across the street.  “How bout right now, that truck right ‘cross the way.”

Warren turned slowly, following where Jim was pointing.  “That truck there?” Warren choked out, slightly unsure.

“‘Less that’s a problem.”

Warren coughed before straightening his back, and brazenly walking towards the truck.

An’ you thought today was gonna be a wash.  Jim smiled, happily following behind Warren.

Warren sheepishly looked down both ends of the street, before trying the door, almost sighing with relief when it didn’t open.  “Too bad, eh? ‘S locked.”

“Don’t worry, bout it, Warren!”  Jim said, helpfully, pulling out a tire iron from the back of his pants.  “Gotcha covered.”

“You’re a real pal, Jim!”  Warren growled, swiping the iron from him harshly.

Warren slammed the tire iron into the front corner of the driver side window, causing the window to shatter into small, cube-like pieces as Jim and I made our way around to the other side.

Didn’t even check to see if it had an alarm. 

I shake my head disapprovingly.

Right?  Jim laughed.  Sure is jammy we checked for him, huh?

Didn’t matter.  We’d’ve ditched him if it went off, anyway..

For sure.  Jim agreed, watching Warren through the driver side door open from the passenger window.  “Gonna let us in?” he asked.

“Just keep your gob shut.”  he said, unlocking the door for us.  “Don’t break my concentration.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”  Jim said, getting into the passenger seat and putting his feet on the dash.

We watched in silence as Warren grumbled to himself, head under the steering wheel.  Give him a hint.  We’ll be at this all day, otherwise.

Jim considered it, thoughtfully, before shrugging.  “Hey, Warren, don’t mean ta interrupt or anythen’, what with you haven this handled and all, but wouldn’t it help to use that tire iron ta open up the underside an’ expose the wires?  Just wonderen’, I ain’t ever done this before, anyway.”

Warren huffed, before reaching for the tire iron.  “Yeah obviously.  I was just testin’ you.”

“‘Course.”  Jim grinned, trying to stifle a laugh.

I noticed a familiar vehicle drive past us from the corner of my eye and looked closer as it pulled up and parked in front of us.  A tall, blonde man got out of the vehicle and walked to the back, sitting on the tailgate of his rusted old truck, staring at us patiently, arms crossed. 

Ahh shite. 

-I groan.

What’re you gonna bitch about now?  Jim whined, not looking up from Warren’s fumbling.

We’ve been had.

What?  Jim asked, looking up.  Cops?

We wish.

Jim turned to me, then followed my gaze in front of us.  Upon making eye contact, Carl, Blitz’s dad, our legal guardian and the man who saved us from Them so many years ago, waved at us with a mock salute.  Well fuck us then.

Carl calmly walked over to the passenger side door as Jim slowly rolled down the window, looking like he got his hand caught in the cookie jar before dinner.  Which, for Deadmen in this situation, would be an accurate description.  Carl leaned in at the opening and smiled.  “What’re you boys up to?”  he asked cheerfully.

Warren, startled, slammed his head against the steering wheel, and following a steady stream of curses, looked up, face draining of color upon seeing Carl. “Well fuck us.”  Warren whispered.  Jim and I nodded.

“Ah, sorry Warren, but you kids just aren’t my type.”  He half smiled, patiently. “But I do noticed none of you have answered my question.  So let’s have it, kids.  And Jim, lecture rules count for this one, so tell me what the voice is saying too.”

I didn’t do anythen’.  

-I mumble.

“Shoulda' stopped them.  You’re the responsible one, you should know better.”  He said, following Jim telling on me.

“Warren was just showen’ us how ta’ hotwire a car, is all.”  Jim said, finally.

Carl looked at Jim, eyebrow raised.  “Warren was showing you how to hotwire a car?  Is that a fact?”  he snorted at the thought, before turning to Warren.  “Interested in how the inside of cars work then, Warren?”

“Yes, sir.”  He mumbled.

Carl nodded, thinking to himself.  “Well alright then.  Jim quit fucking around. Get this truck started, and follow behind me.  Got that?”

“Yes, sir.” Jim responded.

“Good.”  he said, leaving the window, and walking back to his car.

Jim leaned over Warren to the mirror fold, and pulled down.  A pair of spare keys fell, hitting Warren in the head, and landing in his hands.  He stared at the key, than up at Jim.  “You were havin' a laugh with me all mornin’, then?”

Jim shrugged, with a smug half smile.

“Ha!  You’re a riot, you are.” Warren grinned, starting the truck.  “How do you get out of park?”

Please shoot me.

Warren and Jim followed Carl’s truck to the mechanic shop he ‘worked’ at, pulling into a garage, and being met by good natured snickers by the ‘mechanics’ on shift that day, as the two boys stepped out of the truck, looking like their lives were over.

“Well fuck, Jim,” Said a man in a beat cop uniform, arms covered in a tattoo sleeve that looked like a surrealist drug trip, about twenty years old.  “What you get into now?”

“We weren’t doen’ nothen’, Uncle Mike.”  Jim said, indignantly.  This young man was Carl's best friend, and Blitz and our godfather.

“So someone just went and gave your friend there that truck for free?”

“May as well have.”  Jim smiled.  “It didn’t even have an alarm in it.”  This caused the garage full of men to chuckle, and Mike grinned proudly.

“Alright, enough of that.”  Carl said walking in, and the men attempted, though not very hard, to cover up their laughter and return to what they were doing.  “Come on boys. You too, Mike.”

“Fuck for?”  Mike asked, eyebrow raised at the older man.  “I ain’t their mom. Not my job to slap their dicks every time they do something stupid.”

“Just come on, you ass.”  Carl sighed, leading Warren and Jim into a side office, with the doorway marked ‘Management’, with Mike following along, despite himself, rolling his eyes as he went.

They entered to see a giant of a man with a balding hairline of white, wispy hair, a long white beard, spectacles on the edge of his nose, and covered head to toe in tattoos, as he typed carefully on a keyboard at one of five desks.  He looked up as the group was ushered into the room, the two boys standing awkwardly in front of Carl, and Uncle Mike walking over to a desk in the corner, flopping into the chair, kicking off his shoes, to show bare feet with the same sort of tattoos as his sleeves, and putting them on his desk, lighting a blunt.

The man took off his spectacles and reclined in his chair upon seeing Jim. “Mr. McAllister.  I can only guess at why your guardian has brought you to my office today.  You do know I’m not running a chop shop, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”  Jim mumbled.

“Seems he's rubbing off on young Warren.”  Carl said, hands firmly on both boys shoulders.  “Caught my boys here elbows deep into the guts of a Dodge.”

The old man sighed, looking up at the ceiling.  “Christ above, just what I need.  Two budding mechanics.”  he looked at Carl, expectantly.  “So what’s the plan there, Carl?”

“Think I have an idea.”  He said, leading them over to his desk, which was right across from Uncle Mikes.  “Sit” He told the boy, as he sat behind his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  The two sat awkwardly, fidgeting in anticipation.  “Why’d you try to steal that truck just out of the blue?  You didn’t have a proper lookout, didn’t give Mike the proper shout out, nothing.  I taught you better than that, Jim.  So why’d you think that was a good idea?”

It was a stupid dare.  Jim was tryen’ to prove a point.  Have a laugh.  I said, and Jim repeated.

“Well that was very dumb, boys.  Stupid shit like that can get you killed out here.  Even for Shattered.  Especially for Shattered.  You kids aren’t immortal, no matter what you can do.  The faster you get that through your thick skulls, the better your chance of living long enough to make something of yourselves.”

“We’re sorry, sir.” we all chimed.

“Hmm.”  He grunted.  “Well obviously, I can’t let you out of my sight until I’m absolutely positive you have the proper skills to go out on the streets with all those temptations on the road.  So I’m giving you both a part time job at the shop.”

The boys looked at each other excitedly, before Uncle Mike laughed at them. “Damn you kids are slow.”  He grinned, hazy eyed, when they just looked at him blankly.  “It was a setup.  A test.”

Carl smiled, placing two black, steel toe work boots on his desk in front of the boys.  “And I couldn’t be prouder.”