Damn bad reputation

"I don't give a damn about my bad reputation." The circumstances involving forced enrollment at Divinity School came at the hands of juvenile probation officers. They comprised, one Missus Beasley, and a Mister Hornet. Both concurred getting put in the clinker complicit resulting from a "sting" operation, would much more manageable, feasible, and amenable for me (a delinquent middle schooler).
I never nobody no harm, nor did any animals (code word for other gang members) get injured or killed in the making of a video (our lingo for done deal). A decoy police officer (one named Sergeant Smart) pretended to be a drug dealer. Turf wars made clear the domain each mini kingpin oversaw.
Our base, (which included drop outs, whose parents did not give a fig whether their son lived or died drove motive to act truant or commit a serious violation warranting expulsion) generated a buzzing business for social services field attending minors.
Thus here we were at our "den", when this officer (dressed in plain clothes) wanted some (even just a dab) smack.
One bad ass dude of this pack nicknamed "Hen Owes" usually tried to "sniff" out any trickery when a new bro showed up out of nowhere. Me and the boys could “feel vibes”, and sense an infiltrator, sleuth, or simply traitor, (which last mentioned a real impish whinny ninny), when we immediately see him.
Between ourselves, we exchanged specific non verbal signals if someone ratted on us. Thar haint nuttin worse getting duped.
A posse member (if found out got axed for revenge)!
Usually the beans already spilled with a caper on our tail, but the ragamuffin who tattled would pay with his life as would other members of his birth family.
We knew from the get go this pencil necked geeky looking officer donning tortoiseshell 'specs would rope us and try to induce a squeal if our crib not fully stocked. Tactics to make apply pressure included: i. being told full immunity would be given from incarceration; ii. enrollment at one of the half dozen "reform" schools would avoid jail. And iii. "fake" reports that other chums already locked up, and provided real identification as evidence.
As a last resort, a select slow torture (an example would be solitary confinement for an unspecified length of time) got trotted out.
At this instance, I felt trapped!
No doubt the groupthink and figurative cohesiveness exhibited obvious signs of defeat. Once no escape in the cards, each "coyote" barked, howled, and jabbered like any other teenage punk when outsmarted by authority figure.
A hair brained simultaneous idea lit up all our brains too kill this menacing enforcer of the law.
As if on cue, the beefiest beastie boy sucker punched, and pistol whipped, and kicked in the groin this pisser who lied thru his teeth. They all did! We knew that.
The unmarked car with the mutilated body mortally wounded with a couple/few token gunshots for good measure got stuffed in the trunk of the vehicle.
Already headquarters triggered the slain global positioning satellite to track location of this rookie.
We subsequently found out, he attended the same hell hole high school some years before we plotted to planned to bomb the damn building to kingdom come!
Since the moniker "bad company" linkedin to every fuck'n trouble maker and threat to other students in general and homicidal maniacal reputation in particular, thus gave us bragging (cachet damn reputation) rights in this underground world wide web of blood lust and violence. Live mean and die, or a nasty, short and brutish life found most every day a shooting gallery. A temporary bond meant nothing, (or only meeting the barrel of a gun) if a turncoat wielded a loose silky tongue spoiling opportunities to mow down another body.
Speaking of which, we needed to hightail our asses outta this precinct.
That just hindered, prolonged, and stalled the inevitable.
Since inadequate seating and dare devil riding self assigned to "Brutus" by ex post de facto default steering wheel helm (with absolutely no regard to traffic laws), I gracefully bowed out, and sought safety and protection at the local pub despite appearing underage.
The bouncer knew me criminal backround, and hence willingly offered safe cover. Free food and board for however long necessary. If blue coats questioned said hefty, meaty, and scary (think Hulk Hogan on steroids), a few Bens given as hush puppy money.