Outsiders Greasers Novels & Stories

I followed Reaper's gaze. Idling at the very edge of the jungle treeline, acting as a heavily armed escort for the weary scavengers behind them, was a pack of about fifty outlaw bikers. They didn't ride sleek hover-tech. They rode massive, ear-splitting combustion choppers, rusted and spiked for wasteland warfare. Even from the top of the wall, I could see the patches on their heavy leather cuts. They bore a single, jagged word stitched in crimson: Revers. At the head of the column sat their leader on a monstrous, elongated chopper. Across his rusted gas tank, a brutal, unforgiving motto had been spray-painted in thick white letters: Blood on the asphalt.

If they already saw me as an outsider, why was I still trying so hard to belong? I scoffed, "I don't want anything. I wish you and your family a lifetime of happiness." With that, I turned and went to the bedroom to pack my things. Sophie followed me into the room and slapped me across the face. "It's New Year's! What kind of attitude is that? It's just an apple. Do you have to turn the whole house upside down over something so small? Julius already feels awkward in this family. After your little scene, just how embarrassed do you think he is?

Grease angrily turned around and stomped toward the lady. "We are sons of the dark roads! We are hell riders we are not fucking businessmen! We don't collect! We take!" He yelled at her in a drunken rage-filled voice. The remaining three bikers shook their head in a tired embarrassed way. It seemed like they were also fed up with the bullshit and drama Grease brought to the gang. I understood that a gang had to have some sort of sacred creed but what is the point of a creed if everyone everyone? The way I saw it Grease had to go.

So either they’re trapped between two rocks, or trapped between a rock and my suffocating gas. “Easy,” I say, turning to walk away. However, as I’m walking, an explosive from behind knocks me down. Rubbing my head as I push myself up, I look behind to see the foam rock destroyed. Back on my feet, I shake my head and run over to the sizzling remains. As I approach the smoking foam rock, I see the four OutCasts. They’re all laying still on the ground, and their bodies are bruised. “What was your plan,” I ask, looking at the OutCasts.

They were Scrapper tech. "Now!" a voice roared from the shadows. A wall of "Frequency-Fire"—the illegal, dirty energy of the slums—blasted the Apostle, pushing her back. From the ruins of the tenements, the people of the slums emerged. They weren't Alphas. They weren't "Vessels." They were the Scrappers, the forgotten, the ones who had seen the "Dormant" files on their screens and realized they were being farmed like cattle.

His eyes widened at the sight of Zed gripping the head of the ax with his bare hands in a prayer position. ''Zed!'' Ryder stood up and kicked the old man without hesitation with full knowledge that the old man was just a citizen. The ax dropped and Zed winced in pain, holding his hands together to try to slow down the bleeding. People started to gather around and one of them helped the old man stand while he was yelling at them, revealing that Ryder and Zed were actually outsiders. The men responded to his call and formed a ring around them, ready to pulverize them.

My bones nearly cracked from the impact as it slammed against the hard floor. I glared at the crowd of people who'd been my family for the first 20 years of my life, now threatening and beating me up all for the sake of an outsider, and felt my heart turn to stone. I wiped the blood from the corner of my lips and glared daggers at them. "I'm going to call the police! Not a single one of you is getting out alive!" Isaac was even more enraged by this. He kicked me hard in the back and thundered, "The police! To hell with that, you stubborn old bitch! I'm going to fucking beat you black and blue!"

Everyone knew our family spoiled her. Even Pico, the family's pet rat, had a dedicated bodyguard watching over it around the clock. I was the only invisible person in the family, the one with no presence whatsoever. Last weekend, my family held a party at our own club. Francesca was in a booth chatting with Greta Grasso, a daughter from a family we do business with. Greta was brimming with curiosity and admiration for everything about my family and kept pressing Francesca for details about our household.

The Outsiders' Leader's Perspective "How much further are we from our final destination?" I couldn't help but ask, feeling tense after sitting for more than 24 hours. "We're still a few hours away, boss," Stone replied, making me sigh in relief. Why isn't there an airport near the Black Mist gang? They're terrible at travel arrangements and always boast about being the best in the world. Luckily, I'm in a good mood. I hope to find my love there, if not, I'll let my friends have some fun for a while.

He punctuated his words by slapping Stephanie’s backside, causing her to yelp. David burst into laughter, his amusement echoing through the room. “Oh, I’ve got everything I need right here. Also, I see Stephanie's got her karma,” he said, his tone filled with a confidence that made Alex’s smirk falter. James clapped his hands, cutting through the tension. “Alright, enough of that. The cars are waiting, and so are the people at headquarters.” They moved outside to the SUVs lined up in the driveway. David climbed into the first car, while Emma and James got into the one behind him, and Alex and Stephanie took the third. The convoy was flanked by security vehicles at the front and rear as they