Troublemaker

Chapter Three

- Felix's POV -

After escaping from the infirmary, I wandered out of school. There was only a few people hovering about, stupid nurse kept me in longer than I wanted. I didn't have a concussion nor feel dizzy but she still kept me there. I began my walk home which took around half an hour. I was breathing heavily as I approached the shitty apartment complex I lived in. It had 4 floors, 5 if you included the lobby, and was falling apart. I lived on floor 5, at the very end away from everyone. I pushed open the heavy door, seeing the old landlady smoking at the desk.

"Hey Hun" she crooked, tapping her ashes in the ashtray.

"Hello Miss Greens" I said, she crackled like a witch.

"Just call me Nikki" she had long grey hair and wrinkles but acted like she was a teenager. With 4 divorces up her sleeve, she still flirts with any older man. I called her the black widow of Greens Place, the name of the apartment. The outside once was painted with dark green paint but it was now peeling away showing the old brick. I gave her a nod,

"Okay Nikki"
Dashing up the stairs was always good exercise since the elevator hasn't been fixed since it broke down 5 years ago.
I unlocked the thin wooden door, it was a small apartment. The first room was the lounge room and kitchen separated with a bench, I had no need for a dining room table as the bar stools were good enough. One door lead to the bathroom while the other lead to my room.

I dumped my school bag on the bench, grabbing some left overs from dinner last night. I heated them up in the microwave as I changed out of the stuffy hoodie and jeans I usually wore. I just put on some sweat pants, grabbing the left over pizza and flicking on the TV. The only thing I wore at all times, even in my nerd get up, was a silver razor on a silver chain. If you looked closely enough, you can still see some deep red blood dried up. This necklace achieved me street fighter name Razor. I didn't care but this thing has not left my side since I was 7, 11 years ago. I flicked through the TV channels,

".... crime has risen in our backstreets" a familiar voice spoke through the speakers. It was a highly regarded police officer in our city, Mr Smith.

"Who do you think is responsible for this crime?" A reporter asked.

"Well, it's hard to pin point only one person. However, a reoccurring offended is a street fighter known as Razor. He is charged with multiple offences and needs to be off our streets at once!" I turned it off, not wanting to hear him bad mouth me even more. I put my plate in the sink, letting it soak which was my excuse off 'I'm too lazy to do it now'.

The sun had just set, I could feel the cool night breeze seeping through the windows. I replaced my sweat pants with some loose fitting jeans and a simple white shirt. I slipped on some black lace up combat boots rather then my usual beat up old sneakers.
I wore baggy clothes to hide my muscles, they weren't bulky but I wasn't a skinny and frail person. Slipping off my glasses, I rubbed my blurry eyes. Everything about my nerd persona is fake, except my glasses. I put in contacts, blinking once they got in as my brain registered what I saw.

I grabbed my motor bike keys, I only got this baby last year with the money I saved up. Locking the door behind me, unlikely it would stop a break in, I walked back downstairs. Nikki looking at me up and down,

"I always forgot you're a sexy bastard under the baggy nerd clothes" she admired, I cringed internally.

"I always forgot you're a slut who'd get wet even for Trump"
She sent me a playful wink,

"That 50-year-old retired Oompa -Loompa can join me anytime"
This time, I cringed fully as the image popped into my head.

"Ew!" I groaned,
"Gross! I'm leaving"