Wogan's roar cracked through the scrapyard like a thunderclap.
The three figures rummaging below froze for half a heartbeat, then scrambled in panic, stuffing whatever they had found into their coats before scattering in different directions like startled animals.
The smallest of the three, quick and wiry, glanced back with a frown. Based on what he knew of Wogan's routine, the guy should have been home by now. The only reason they were ever caught before was because Maggie had coincidentally run into them and tattled to Wogan. If not for her uncanny sixth sense for trouble, they would have gotten away clean every time.
It almost felt like Maggie could detect them the moment they stepped into Wogan's territory.
But whatever the reason, none of that mattered now. As soon as Wogan spotted them, running became the only correct answer. And running was something they were very, very good at.
One look at their smooth, practiced escape routes made it obvious this was far from their first time sneaking onto Wogan's turf.
"You little bastards, get back here!"
Wogan's temper exploded as he sprinted after them, refusing to let the three little thieves escape under his nose.
"Wogan is coming!"
The boy missing a tooth yelled in panic. Even with that gap, he still had the face of a handsome troublemaker.
"Why does he have so much stamina today?"
The slim boy in front, Chrollo, sounded genuinely confused.
"This is not the time to think about that. I will block him!"
The tallest of the trio, Franklin, stopped running and planted his feet firmly on the ground. Broad-shouldered and steady like a big brother figure, he turned to face the charging Wogan head on.
"So it is you again, Franklin."
Wogan's eyes glinted with a fierce grin.
"Today, none of you are escaping. Whether it is you or Shalnark or Chrollo, all of you are staying right here!"
"In your dreams!"
Franklin shot back, refusing to yield.
He was used to being the one who stayed behind to hold Wogan off. Even though Wogan had more raw strength, Franklin was older, more developed, and experienced. Their clashes usually ended in stalemates that lasted quite a while, giving Chrollo and Shalnark enough time to slip away.
They had used this exact tactic many times.
This time, Franklin was prepared to do it again.
"Chrollo, go first. I will hold him."
But before Franklin could fully commit to the fight, a quiet voice came from behind him.
"Um… that might not work this time."
Shalnark's worried whisper made Franklin pause. He turned, and his stomach dropped.
A battered motorcycle blocked the only escape route. Sitting on the seat was a rough-looking teen with spiky hair and more patches on his clothes than original fabric. One hand rested casually in his pocket while he stared at Chrollo and Shalnark with a predator's grin.
"Yo, little Chrollo."
Finks lifted his eyelids with an exaggerated, smug motion.
"Looks like you picked up something good again."
He would have raised one eyebrow if he had any. Unfortunately, he did not.
"We are very friendly people, unlike Wogan."
Finks smiled warmly, except his smile looked more like a threat.
"Hand everything over. I promise I will return it. Eventually."
Behind him, perched on the back seat of the motorcycle, sat a short boy with messy hair, clutching a baseball bat taller than he was. Feitan's glare screamed I dare you to resist.
"Finks. Feitan."
Chrollo narrowed his eyes slightly.
"This is Wogan's territory. Usually, you do not come here."
"Ha."
Finks snorted.
"You think we are as stupid as that idiot Wogan? In Meteor Street, territory does not mean a damn thing. We go wherever we want."
He slapped the rusting motorcycle proudly.
"And with this beauty, we go everywhere."
Then his expression darkened.
"Wogan stole from us first. So of course we are here to steal it back."
Chrollo blinked, remembering that incident.
Wogan had indeed robbed them.