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Rembrandt
I sat on my old mattress, wondering what Django would think now. We'd been brothers a long time now. We'd often tag together, we were like a two-man crew. Now, I was going to leave so much of my life behind I didn't know if I'd see him again. I grabbed my sketchbook and a canvas bag and a couple of colours I hadn't used the night I got busted, and left the room, out the window again, heading for Django's place.
“Moonrunners?”
Sure, I'd heard of The Moonrunners. I'd seen their pieces about the place every once in a while and sometimes a guy in a silver jacket would turn up at a disco, kick out a few headspins before starting a fight with someone. I didn't know much about them though. The night before I was so distraught I didn't even stop and think whether those guys in the alley were gang members. I knew so little about the life. But when I told Django he was shocked about what I was getting involved with.
“Moonrunners? Are you crazy, Rembrandt?”
“What? I don't see the problem, man.”
“Rem, these are not guys you wanna get involved with.”
“Look, I spent the whole night with Bullet, he's a great guy and he's pretty high up the ranks.”
Django sighed, he knew he couldn't change my mind. He was angry but I guess, thinking back, he was worried for me.
“You shouldn't do it man. Just don't.” I was pissed at him for talking to me like I didn't know what I was doing, but I guess he was right. What happened with The Moonrunners didn't turn out nice for either of us, in the end.
“Listen, Django, you may be happy, living like a toy, but this is all small time. I told you before, we need to be part of crew to make something for ourselves.”
“You don't Rembrandt. You've got enough talent in that right hand of yours to get out of this place without getting involved with criminals like The Moonrunners.”
“We're all criminals, Django...” I had to get away, “I don't need this man, I'm going.” I headed off, my temper getting the best of me, again. After last night, I thought the drama was over, and now I'd lost a friend as well.
“Rembrandt!” he hollered, but it was too late. I was gone, and he knew there was nothing he could do.
It was about 6pm, the sun was beginning to set. I sat on a bench that overlooked an apartment block turned to rubble. This was my canvas and also my inspiration. I put pencil to paper, my black sketchbook, each page another style another idea. I could spend hours doing this, completely focussed.
I closed the book as the streetlights came on and the whole scene changed. I knew it was time to see Bullet again, and The Moonrunners. I was edgy still, but I knew this could be my big break. I should've known.
Bullet said he would meet me there and sure enough as I followed the electro-pop music blaring from the old building, he was leaning on the wall outside smoking a cigarette. He saw me approach and dropped it, stubbing it under his sneakers.
“Hey, Rem.”
“Bullet.” I was glad to see him, the only friendly face in a whole twenty-four hours of madness.
“How's it going kid?”
“Tough, to be honest with you. I'm leaving a lot behind for this chance, man.”
“Hey,” he said warmly, “Don't worry about it, your gonna be with us. We're gonna be your family now.”
We entered the hangout and the music blasted. There was about 30, 35 Moonrunners in here and there was a real party happening. Two guys in the corner were spinning the records while everyone else drank and breaked. It was a wild place, once you been here you'd never go to a disco again, that's for sure.
“Come on, man.” Bullet called. We moved up to a bunch of leatherette sofas. Each sofa had just one guy on it, these were the leaders of the pack.
“Wait here.” he said. I waited, watching everything that was happening around me. Bullet went over to the middle sofa where a guy sat drinking a beer. He had sharp features and a cold expression, framed with jet black, wavy hair. He had those same bands on his jackets sleeves, only his were black. He was the warlord of the Moonrunners. Bullet talked to him, he gestured to me and the man turned his head. Bullet came back over.
“Okay, go talk to him now. He's Psychs, our leader. Don't worry, Rem.” He patted me on the back and pushed me ahead. I was worried, he looked like dangerous.
“Rembrandt.” he said, emotionlessly. I wasn't sure how I should react. What was he going to do? Had Bullet set me up?
“Hi, yeah... that's me.” I forced out something, anything I could say to not seem weak in front of him.
“So you wanna be a Moonrunner?” he drawled and turned to look me in the eye.
“Yeah. I do.” I said strongly, I was determined, and I wanted him to know.
Psychs gave a nod to the DJ and the record stopped with a sharp scratch, I was so edgy it made me jump. Every turned to look at the scene. Psychs grinned and held his hands up, and shrugged.
“Well,” He grabbed a spray can from a littered table and pitched it to me, hard. I caught it above my head with a sharp grip, “You gotta prove it to us then, man.”
The Moonrunners cheered and leaped up to me pushing me.
“Lets do this!” he announced.
“Bullet, whats going on?” I shouted over the noise.
“Don't worry man, it's just a test!”
I trusted him but I didn't know what were going on, were they gonna wreck me?
“Theres a few things you gotta do to be a Moonrunner. Show me your worth us keeping you around.” They'd taken me outside. Bullet stood behind me dutifully as Psychs walked up to me and placed his hand on my shoulder.
“Show me you can write, man. Moonrunners. Nice and big. You've got time till I finish these beers.”
I narrowed my eyes, rattled the can and approached the wall. I began, their pieces logo was all over these walls, their hangout and of course on the back of their jackets, a moon with a sword stabbing through itself into a star. I knew I couldn't get exactly like them so I decided to do the best I could to show off my skills.
I threw up the base quick, a sky, blues and blacks. It began to piece together in my mind, a scene, something that made sense to me. Next the moon, bright yellow - the Moonrunners cheered and shouted as I sprayed my take on their vicious mascot. I couldn't worry about what they thought now.
Suddenly a beer bottle smashed on the wall a few inches from me shattering, I flinched as shards flew past my face. “Okay, kid, half time.” said Psychs as the huge group of gang members behind me laughed – but I couldn't afford to lose focus. I started to outline a city-scape; destroyed buildings rubble and urban decay, what we lived in, below the sky. Then the detail, grabbing cans, shaking and spraying at top speed. And in a smooth flow – MOONRUNNERS - in a sharp style across the middle of the piece, yellow letters arching across the moon.
The final bottle smashed against the work as I stepped away, now seeing the final image having been so close, so into it. It was good. I looked in the crowd of wild Moonrunners for Bullet. He saw me.
“Rem, that's incredible!” Then Psychs broke the scene.
“Okay Moonrunners! What do we think of this here artists work?” he boomed to the crowd.
They liked it. I breathed heavily, relieved.
“Looks like you did well kid, you got good style.” He turned to the others, “He's a talented kid ain't he?”
Bullet smiled at me, he too was relieved.
“Come here, Rembrandt.” Psychs lured me close.
“Do I get a jacket now, then?” I said, full of adrenaline. He laughed warmly.
In a flash of agony, my head was throw back by a lightning punch, and Psychs threw me into the corner of the walls, in the trash. I raised my head, I could barely see them coming closer.
“If you wanna be a Moonrunner,” he laughed and dropped his tone, “You gotta rumble, kid...”
