Brothers of Chaos (The Unstoppable Titans Book 1) Read Free

take you to master this game?” Les asked.
    “This
is my first time playing,” said the redhead, still looking at him.
    Les
didn’t believe that for a second, though his stomach started to turn with
jealousy. This was the hardest game in the whole arcade and Les was a
self-proclaimed gaming genius. It required an incredible amount of skill. There
was no way some kid could just come in and master it on his first try. Les
looked this new guy up and down. He was tall and appeared to be at least
seventeen, shoulder-length red hair, pale skin with freckles, and rather
sickly-looking, like he was just getting over a bug. Les had a whole year on
him, age-wise. That extra time meant more experience, in life and in
videogames. Or so Les believed.
    “You’re
telling me,” Les said, “you beat this whole game on your first try?”
    “Yep,”
the redhead replied simply.
    “Nobody’s
that good.”
    “It
helps if you have a killer instinct.”
    Les
didn’t know what to say to that. He just stared at the stranger for a moment.
He looked harmless. I’m sure I could
probably take him in a fight, Les thought to himself. “Do you have a killer
instinct?”
    The
stranger didn’t answer. He had a curious look on his face, as if he were thinking
hard about the question. Then, he said, “No.”
    “That’s
good. Killing isn’t cool, man.”
    “My
dad used to say it was okay to kill. Some people deserve it.”
    “Is
your dad the devil or something?” Les asked with a snort.
    The
stranger didn’t answer. He just smiled and turned back to the game.
    “Don’t
tell me you’re playing again,” Les protested. “I was hoping to play.”
    The
stranger stepped away from the game. “Do you have a killer instinct?” he asked.
    “I
thought it wasn’t required to play.”
    “I’m
not talking about the game,” the stranger said. He was looking past him,
though, toward the entrance of the arcade. Les turned around and saw three guys
walking toward them. One of them was African American and well built, and his
name was Curtis Merriman. The other two guys were David Hernandez and Marco
Garcia. They were all wearing videogame-related shirts—geeks, but still
intimidating.
    “Hey,
Les,” said Curtis.
    Les
smiled back but didn’t say anything. He was not racist by any stretch of the
imagination, but he had this annoying reputation for being one. He was fairly
certain where it all started: a joke gone awry.
    “Hey,
Curtis. How are things?” Les asked nervously.
    “Good,”
said Curtis. He noticed the redhead. “Uh-oh, it looks like someone’s hoggin ’ your game.”
    “Oh,
no, I’m letting him play. It’s not a big deal.”
    “What’s
your name?” Curtis asked the redhead, offering his hand to shake.
    The
stranger took Curtis’s hand and said, “Michael.”
    “ Ol ’ Les here is really defensive about his game. Won’t let
anybody play it when he’s in the house. Ain’t that
right, Les?”
    Curtis
patted Les on his considerable belly.
    “It
depends on the person,” Les said.
    Curtis’s
left eye twitched. Les noticed this and became more nervous. “I mean, if the
person sucks at it, then yeah, I have a problem. But this guy just beat it on
his first try.”
    “Is
that right?” Curtis asked Michael.
    “Have
you ever known Les to lie?” Michael asked.
    “No,
but I’ve known him to do other things.”
    Les
knew this moment would come. There was no way he would ever live that joke down.
Ever.
    “You
must be a regular videogame ninja, huh?” David asked. Les had forgotten about
the other two guys with Curtis.
    “I’ve
never played a videogame before today,” Michael replied.
    Curtis
and his friends laughed. They were responding the way Les would have if he
hadn’t been overtaken by a jealous rage first. Anger was almost always Les’s first response. Curtis and his pals suddenly became
antsy, and Les was determined to leave and let the stranger deal with them.
Most of all, he was willing to leave his