Divergent Parody: Avirgent

by Maurice Hill

  Al nodded, smirking. “Yeah, or a sadist and your friendly neighborhood psychopath. Either way, he's most likely the one. Of course, there's even rumors that Avirgents don't show any of the signs at all. Sometimes they could be the people you least...”

  His words came in one ear and out of the other.

  I felt like I were watching him in slow motion speak to me and Christine as he explained what he knew about Avirgents. I felt like I was listening in on a doctor talking to my Mom about me. Or my parents discussing my behavior. I felt like a fly on the wall, the outside looking in...things like that.

  “...so yeah, either way, they're pretty freakin' dangerous. One, just one Avirgent getting a high position of power in a faction, can mean the end of our society and the start of their own.”

  Christine shrugged. “Maybe that's a good thing. They could put this little experiment of Jeanine's to rest. This faction stuff all feels like some sick science project made by some spoiled rich kid.”

  “She looks like that actress from a century ago. You know, Kate Winslet,” said Hailey.

  Al laughed. “You know, I never thought of that. She kind of does.”

  He put his hands together as I twirled my hair around. “Well Christine, it could be a good thing, and a bad one. The one Avirgent who usurps Jeanine's throne, could be worse than her. If you ask me, that's not a risk I'm willing to take. If Limp is the Avirgent, at least we won't have to worry about him. God, just imagine the world we'd live in with him in charge?”

  Christine chuckled. “It'd be like Nazi Germany. Except he'd probably commit genocide on the men and keep the women alive as sex slaves.”

  “Nah, that's something TB4 would do. I could imagine Limp torturing people for his own amusement. He looks like that type of sick freak.” Al finished his second carton of milk and smashed it down. “That's what I'd do to an Avirgent if I knew one.” He sighed and looked at both of us and chuckled. “But of course, I doubt any of you are. Limp, definitely and it's as my friend Joey Two-Tone would say in his most stereotypical gangster voice possible: 'We gonna whack him, and he gon' be sleepin with the fishes.' Heh, heh.”

  Al continued to laugh and held his arm around Hailey's waist. Christine went to throw out her lunch, and I looked at her do so, imagining myself as the trash.

  Would Al kill me if he found out I was Avirgent? I didn't want to know, and never wanted to find out.

  So I just went back to worrying about what I did when I was home, my weight, my health, boys...boys...oh God, TB4 is too hot. I don't think I can control myself around him. I don't care what he did or is involved in. I just want him dammit.

  ---

  “I love it when a plan comes together,” said Al, checking out the camera free zone Hailey found for us. It was a hallway on the opposite side of the entrance doors.

  Al walked around, careful not to get caught by the camera on the other side of the room.

  “I love this, I love this Hailey you little sneak.”

  “I don't know,” said Christine. “Aren't they going to ask Mika what happened to Limp? Wouldn't she be the last one to see him? And what about us Al? Won't the cameras see us sneaking into the room anyway, blindspot or not?”

  Al put up a hand. “Yeah, they'll see us coming, but they won't know it's us. I got some ski-masks. And besides, once you're in the blindspot, it doesn't matter what happened. Mika can come out walking away as if nothing happened and Big Brother over there can't prove shit, 'cause it wasn't seen on camera.

  My boy Joey Two-tone was able to dodge a life sentence over a blindspot. He and his hit, an informant...you know? A rat. He and this guy were leaving a restaurant together and walked into a dark alley away from the camera. That's when Joey whacked him. Joey walked back into the camera, and went home. The other guy didn't follow him. Joey's lawyer made this big scene in court, saying that anything could have happened. That, the rat could have been smoking in the alley and was whacked by someone else.”

  Christine nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, at least more sense than our society. It speaks volumes of our justice system too.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  He patted Hailey on the back. “Good job sis.”

  “Oh, anytime Al!” She giggled and walked back to the hallway entrance to our living quarters. Al walked over to me. “So tumbleweed-”

  “Catchphrase infringement,” snapped Christine.”

  Al sighed. “Okay, okay. Um, sweety? Okay, sweety. Mika, are you ready? Because I want this to go down tonight!” He checked his watch. “It's 3:00 P.M now. They make us take a sleep at 8:00. TB4 should be finished looking at his porn by an hour or two later. So in the night, you wake up, get Limp a little excited and...you know the rest?”

  I nodded. “Yes. Just...please don't be late. I don't want him putting his dirty fingers up my vagina.”

  He chuckled. “Heh, it's not like you'd feel it anyway considering how wide you are down there! Ha!”

  Christine put her head back and said, “You know that's not right. Hah.”

  I shook my head. “Oh God, you're an asshole.”

  Al shrugged. “You think I'm one? You should see Joey Two-Tone. He'd have you, your Mom and even Christine within a three day period. He'd skip town and leave you with the child support yourself. Of course, I have more of a conscience. So when we get to together...”

  He patted my shoulder. He was handsome, but my heart, and soul belonged to TB4. I didn't even know him, but I knew we were soul mates.

  “...I promise to take care of you? Good?”

  I smirked. “Right.” I put my hair back. “So-”

  “What are you three doing here?”

  TB4 showed up along with the rest of the Initiates, and Limp Ussy stood behind him like an ominous shadow. We jumped at his image.

  Al composed himself quick and said, “Um-um-um, enjoying the fresh air sir.”

  “We're in-doors,” said TB4, putting his arms together, clutching a shirt. He put the blue shirt on with disdain and frowned. “But I get what you mean. Come on, I have some shit to do in the district.

  Since I can't leave you all alone, I figure, why not get your first tattoos done? I could kill two birds with a stone this way.”

  He walked in front of us, leading the pack and to the doors. “Tattoos?” I asked.

  He turned. “Yeah, Mika. Tattoos. You know, permanent marks on your skin.”

  “How come you don't have one?” I said, with a slight smirk. I really wanted to make sure he knew I was flirting with him. That way, we can at least have some rapport before we sleep together.

  He smiled and his dimples were like huge wide holes in his cheeks. Soooo cuuuute.

  “I have my reasons.”

  “That doesn't make sense,” said Christine, screwing up my flirt yet again. “How the Hell don't you have a tattoo? That's mandatory for all initiates.”

  “I wasn't an initiate. I was here since almost the beginning. I'd say the second year of the factions.” He shrugged. “They just accepted me. That was before this whole tattoo nonsense. When bravery meant standing up for your fellow man and taking a bullet. Not jumping off of a fucking roof.”

  Christine pushed her lips in, probably thinking of what to say next, but shook her head, and looked back at us. She mouthed to Al, “Answer for everything.”

  Al gave a slight smirk and nodded. “Well sir, we're waiting for you, and the big guy over there! Hey, how you doing my little psychopath?!”

  Limp Ussy spit at the floor. “Just fine. I feel like I just got a blow-job from the hottest bitch in the room. Christine for example. I've always loved black chicks. Especially Bi-racial blacks like her.”

  “I'm not Bi-racial, and the fact that you're attracted to me isn't flattering.”

  Limp giggled like a school girl, and slapped his knees. “Oh boy, I'll give you a bye in our fight, and take you as my wife bitch. Then I'll snap that little wops' ass!”

  “Hey!” shouted Steven. He flicked his
hair out of his eyes and looked up at Limp.

  “Did you really just say that? Wop? I'm Italian too! Want to call me that?!”

  TB4 gulped. “Steven, I don't suggest-”

  “Shut up! Dammit! I've had enough! Enough! Everyone ignores me, and, and...umm...dammit, what the Hell's your name?”

  He looked at the girl that was always with them.

  She sighed and said, “Lisa. My name's Lisa and you don't see me making a big deal about being ignored. Hell, I'm just grateful to be here. Now get your puffed up chest away from him before that psycho knocks you out.”

  “No! He killed Max! That guy was cool, he was gonna let me screw his hot sister back home and post it all over GET-A-Face-LIFE-Book, but no...thanks to this...this...”

  He looked back up at Limp and poked his chest. Limp giggled with each poke, as if Steven was tickling him.

  Al shook his head, hugging Hailey tight. “Oh shit, this isn't gonna be good. Hey Hailey, go get a mop and a bucket. We're gonna need it.”

  Hailey saluted. “Right on, brother!” She ran to wherever the cleaning closet was and Al put both of his arms around Christine and I. “I've seen this all the time. Guy thinks he's under-appreciated, he goes after the biggest cat, thinking he's freakin' Indiana Jones or some shit. Difference with him and Jones, Jones had hands. This kid...” He shook his head.

  Christine looked at him. “Doesn't have hands?”

  “Nope. Not at all. I can tell. When he and Limp were roughing me up-well mostly Limp-it was like feeling a slice of Virginia Ham slap against my face. He was like a windmill this kid, but a floppy, flaccid wind mill. Not erect and-”

  Christine sighed. “We get it Al. You love to use innuendos.”

  Al smirked. “Well, whatever to make the ladies laugh and have a good time.”

  I wasn't having a good time. Especially knowing that I was going to witness a murder yet again...just a few hours away from witnessing a murder I'd be an accomplice to.

  Steven poked him hard and Limp burst into laughter, holding his sides.

  “Listen here, bucko! I'm not going to let you go around doing whatever you want! I'm a man too! I've taken boxing lessons!”

  “By who? Your little sister?” said Lisa.

  We all chuckled, and that made Steven's face a big balloon of red. He looked back down at Lisa and pointed in her face. “What the Hell's wrong with you? Aren't you on my side? I thought we were friends. I shared you my world!”

  Lisa nodded dully. “Yeah I know, and your world is boring. Your Mom, your Dad, your retarded Dog, and your porn obsession. You got nothing going for you, so you decided to rig the results and join Tricker to make your boring Honest faction proud. Oh boo, hoo, hoo! Enjoy getting your teeth knocked out ya cry-baby!”

  “Oooh! Violation!” yelled Al. That got Christine to LOL. I didn't know what violation meant...but I knew at least that word must be bad.

  TB4 looked between them confusingly. “Is this true? You had the results rigged?”

  Steven looked around at all of us, and at the floor.

  “Look into my face you little shit,” said TB4, more menacingly. “Did you have the results rigged?!”

  Steven shook, and shivered as if he were in the middle of a storm, and he might as well had been. He was in the middle of two huge storms. One named Limp and the other TB4.

  “I-I-I....I mean Dammit! Does it matter? You let this freakin monster kill my friend!”

  He started tearing up, and I felt about one percent sorry for him. I didn't get to know him, so I didn't really care.

  TB4 said, “Hey, I get it. Your friend died, but there's nothing I can do. Once the kids are in, they're in. I can't do anything about it.”

  “Bullshit!” he yelled. “You just don't want to you selfish asshole! Do you have to be such an atypical douchnozzle?!” He balled his fists up. “But I don't blame you. The only one to blame is Limp Ussy.” He raised his fists, and Limp laughed louder.

  TB4 tried to reason with him. “Back down kid. Just back down. In the fights, I can stop it. Here, you're on your own. Think about this-”

  Steven flew a fist into Limp's face, but it didn't hurt Limp, it hurt Steven, who threw his hands back and massaged them.

  “Ow, ow, ow. What are you man, the Termi-”

  Limp punched Steven in the face repeatedly. Left, right,left as TB4 backed away and we all stood there watching the massacre before our eyes. Limp delivered one last punch and raised his blood-soaked fists in the air.

  “Yeeeeaaah!”

  He walked through the entrance doors and into the dawn.

  Steven's face looked like nothing but chewed up meat. It was like he didn't have a face anymore. Oh well, he didn't look very good anyway. He had inferior genes.

  Hailey came just in the nick of time. “I have the mop!”

  “Good, clean this up, and we'll be on our way,” said TB4. He sighed and crossed his arms.

  Al took his arms away and looked down at Steven and back at us. “Yup. It always looks like this when the big Cat teaches the small rat a lesson. Well, teaches us one considering the guy never comes back.” He sighed. “This one ain't either.”

  Al nodded at TB4, and walked out along with Lisa. There was six of us now. Me, Limp, Lisa, Christine, Hailey and Al. It was as if everyone was dropping like flies and hopefully Limp would go down as well.

  I was never a huge believer in God, but when I saw Christine putting her hands in prayer, making the holy trinity, I imagined myself doing the same.

  Steven's eye and bashed in nose twitched, and so did his legs, as if he were some dead bug laying on the floor. I hoped to God I wouldn't end up like that.

  But of course, all it took were staring into TB4's deep blue eyes to swell my emotions back into a happy place. He was so mysterious and so calm. I needed to know more about him.

  CHAPTER 5: PLEDGE

  The district looked like Hell to me. There were hundreds of dirty working class people with sullen faces pushing shopping carts and trying to keep their kids from stealing things from the lit up stores. I saw prostitutes constantly walking up to Limp, Al and my future husband TB4. Damn those whores. TB4 actually took their number. I felt sad, and

  Christine let out a “Mhm. See?”

  I looked up at Al and he shrugged. “Told you. Guy's a dog.”

  I shook my head. “I don't care. I can change him. Watch, you'll see.”

  Al shrugged again and whispered, “Yeah, you probably can. Then again, that's what OJ Simpson's wife said before she got her brain's bashed in like a melon. That guy is as much, if not a worse psycho than Limp. Do yourself a favor and go out with me. At least you won't be walking on eggshells then. You'll be walking on scarlet carpets.”

  I grimaced. “Scarlet carpets? Stained with your mob money? No thanks, I don't want to face the FBI.”

  Al frowned. “Hey, it's my friend Joey Two-Tone that's in the game. Not me. Just because I'm Italian doesn't mean I'm in the mob. I find that racist.”

  I scoffed. “Please, whatever.” I walked to the front of the line and tapped TB4's shoulder.

  “Hi!” I said excitedly, putting my hand on my mouth, barely able to contain my excitement. TB4 looked up and down, and threw his head back chuckling. I heard Al a few steps away trying to flirt with Lisa.

  TB4 said, “Hi!” mocking my small voice.

  “Hey! You don't need to do that.”

  He nudged my shoulder. “I should. You're always making such a fool of yourself. Seriously, what compelled you to dress so tacky?”

  “This isn't tacky it's-”

  “It's tacky. Let me tell you what, the girl I know at the tattoo shop is good at the latest Tricker biker wear. Her and the other Asians know their stuff.”

  He smiled. “They know everything. Math, English, chopsticks...” He imitated holding a pair of chopsticks and using them to pick up some food. “No, no, no. I kid, I kid.”

  He made me chuckle with that joke.

  “I love them, I do.
They're good people, and you'll see. The best Trickers around if you ask me.”

  I gulped. “Is one of the Asians a girl who speaks as if she's bored all the time and smokes even though she coughs too much?”

  “Yup. She's real cool. I wish I could have screwed her once though, but she's too uptight. She'd rather suck on that cancer-stick than suck on my...well, you get it, right?”

  I nodded lightly. “Yeah, I get it.” I imagined what his you know what looked like. I wondered if it was as veiny and vascular as his arms. I got hot just thinking about it.

  “So...” I said, thinking of something just as we passed a 'McGreasys' restaurant.

  “What do you like to do TB4? Dance around your room with your theme music?”

  He notched a brow. “Yeah.”

  “Really? I was just joking.”

  “No, I really do. It's a wonderful experience, that doesn't come cheap by the way. I pay a band at least $1,000 to perform that live every time. And every time they never disappoint. Next time, they'll be in person, but for now, loud speakers it is. It costs money, but that's no problem I have money.”

  “I have money too!”

  “Cool. You better win this, or you'll end up like them.” He pointed at a disheveled woman laying on a sidewalk with a sign that said, “Please feed me. I couldn't join a faction and Jeanine left me here to rot on my ass.”

  He shrugged. “Or you can just be some footballer's wife. That's not too bad. Just make sure to never cheat on him and you'll be good.”

  He burped and pointed up at a sign above. “We're here!”

  I looked up as we stopped in front of the store. The sign at the top was shaped as a giant tattoo needle and said,

  “Chink in the Armor Tats! Get yours today so you two can be loved long time by a nice illegal immigrant!”

  I shared a look with TB4. He said, “Yeah, they have one sick sense of of humor. Then again, all of us do in Trickers. Get used to it Mika.”

  “I've already been used to it. My Dad says racial jokes all the time. They're so funny.”