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rhysharam · 11 days ago

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Tales from the Neon District | S1; Chap. 2

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Chapter synopsis: Flash forward eight years; a new city, new people. And a certain mercenary can't get a night off to save her life.

Word count: 4.8k

Chapter tw: Fighting and strong language

Notes: Okay, now we're getting into the meat of the story, haha. I hope you reading this enjoy!

beginning | previous chapter | next chapter

#—2058—#

Sadie had one goal in mind.

It was her night off, and dammit, she was going to celebrate.

The skyline of the Neon District was alight with bright blues, pinks and purples of neon reflecting off of every structure around, lighting the place up as bright as day despite the late hour. Light pollution swallowed the stars above, and smog turned the sky into a thick, rolling blanket of black and gray.

She stepped over a tweeking homeless man, not even sparing him so much as a glance as she bobbed her head along to the music thrumming in her earbuds, her hands jammed into the pockets of her pants.

Her boots splashed in an oil-slicked puddle that became a holographic rain of water droplets sticking to the hem of her pants.

Home sweet hellhole.

She finally reached her destination, pulling open the door to the Midnight All-Night, a bar that had become her favorite place to frequent since she had moved into VirtuCity almost three years ago.

A thick and stale cloud of smoke hung in the air as she stepped inside, not even paying attention to the small clusters of people having a night out with their friends or the business suits drowning their sorrows in amber-colored glasses of ale.

She made a b-line for her favorite spot at the bar, flopping down with a tired sigh as she signaled to Alessio, the bartender and owner, for her usual neat double shot.

The Italian man’s face would light up as his eyes met hers. As the owner of the bar, he became acquainted with all of his regulars, and Sadie was one he found great joy in whenever she wandered her way inside. He cleaned the glass in his hand, and he would check it over for water spots and stains before he placed it down in front of her. He would then turn his attention to the massive backlit display of bottles behind him, reaching for her favorite peach whiskey to pour her a drink.

“Bella ragazza,” his voice was warm and compassionate as he spoke to her, his palm resting flat against the bartop as the whiskey sloshed into the glass below. “My favorite mercenary. How is life in the streets, mi amore?”

She rolled her eyes, picking up her glass of liquor and tossing it back in one go.

“Oh, y’know, rough and rowdy as always.” She waved a dismissive hand as she set the empty glass down and watched as he refilled it for her, the caramel-colored liquid splashing over the rim as he rewarded her with another heavy pour.

He always knew just what his customers needed. And that's why she liked him.

“Vincent and Nikoli are in a tizzy over the old Viper. Jaquin’s always causin’ trouble, y’know?” She continued, her eyes glimmering with a mischievous light that always seemed to reside within those tired hazel irises.

Alessio would chuckle at this as he shook his head before clicking his tongue in a disapproving manner. “Those two, Jesus Christo. They should focus on their own men and stop worrying so much about that snake.”

Once Sadie finished off her next drink and covered her glass with her hand to signal she was done, the bartender plucked up the vessel, washing it out in a nearby sink tucked away beneath the counter and setting back to work drying the glass with the rag he produced from a belt loop.

“Although… Word on the street says he is causing trouble again.”

“Tch, Jaquin always has his panties in a twist.” She ran her fingertips idly over the bar, letting the pads of her fingers graze over the chipped and scarred wood. “Greedy bastard doesn’t know when to quit. Only thing keeping the Latinos above water is Vincent and Nikoli have enough sense to not upset him and cause out all out war… Again.”

“The old man is too hotheaded, thinks he runs everything. Just because he managed to get a leg up on them once doesn’t mean he’s untouchable.”

Alessio would set the rag down as he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. Just because his bar was considered a 'peaceful middle ground' between the three crime families didn’t mean that he didn’t have opinions on the matter of the politics that seemed to plague the life of a few of his regulars, and he knew Sadie would keep his opinions about the matters to herself. “He’s too arrogant. Doesn’t know when to give in and far too prideful for his own good.”

He would pause for a moment in his words, stepping to the side to top off the drink of a nearby business suit on his fifth beer of the night, the man’s cheeks flushed and the stench of booze clinging to him like a second skin.

He’d need to be cut off soon, he thought to himself, noting the man was displaying signs of inebriation. He’d have his barback call him a cab in a moment.

Once finishing up with that customer, he would turn his attention back to Sadie, opening his mouth to speak, only to pause as the front door opened again and three large, rather boisterous men stepped into the bar, already causing a fuss the moment they walked in the door.

This made the bartender narrow his eyes, clicking his tongue again as he grumbled strings of curses in Italian under his breath.

Sadie took a glance over her shoulder at the three men as she followed Alessio’s gaze, her eyes narrowing as she watched them. These guys were clearly trouble, their loud voices and obnoxious attitudes already annoying the absolute hell out of her.

Their manner of dress, their accents, the array of tattoos on their thick, muscular arms...

“Mh… Nikoli’s men?” She would inquire as she turned her attention back to the bartender, noting how Becca– the young barback and Alessio’s helper– scampered out from behind the bar almost reluctantly from her place of restocking bottles of liquor to take the men’s orders as they took a high-rise table in a back corner of the bar.

Becca looked nervous, and Sadie would soon come to see why; the brutes whistled at and cat-called the poor young woman, getting a bit too handsy with her for the young mercenary’s liking, leaving her to ball her fists against the bar top tightly as she rolled her knuckles beneath the bandages wrapped around her hands.

Alessio sighed, watching on with irritation as his body stiffened, clearly not liking the sight of them harassing his poor employee, but unable to do anything about it. “Yes, they are his men… Always causing trouble, just like their boss. Bastardi, he is. Breeding these no good pigs.”

“No, Nikoli is a good man, contrary to popular belief.” She watched as a very flustered Becca returned to the bar, clutching her notepad close to her chest, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide. “He’d hate them actin’ like this, ‘specially the grab assin’.”

As the barback prepared to take the drinks to the group, Sadie would catch her arm, shooting her a small smile. “Ah ah, I got’em, beautiful. You stay right here with Alessio, okay?”

Becca almost looked relieved as the mercenary did this, a small smile gracing her youthful but weary face. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Alessio, meanwhile, would watch as Sadie stood and made her way towards the men with their drinks in hand, a smirk finding it’s way to his lips as he leaned his hip against the bar. “That girl is going to get herself killed one of these days,” he muttered, moreso to himself than towards anyone in particular around him. “Always picking fights.”

Sadie would approach the men with their drinks, humming happily to herself as she did so, a bit of a bounce in her step that she knew accentuated the sharp curves of her body. She ignored their leering gazes as they eyed her up and down, beginning to set their drinks down in front of them, starting with the smallest of the three and moving counter-clockwise until she reached the largest man, who she assumed was the ‘leader’ of this little cluster of douchebags.

“Sorry for the wait, fellas, y’know how it is... Everyone always gossipin’ behind the bar.”

Her eyes then landed on the leader, resting her hand on the top of his glass as she leaned her weight against it, propping her free arm up on the table as she held his alcohol just out of reach from him. “You three are the old Bear’s men, right? How is he?”

The man across from her leaned back in his chair, taking her in appreciatively with a cocky smirk on his face. “You’ve got a good eye, devochka. And he is just fine, as usual. Don’t know why you’re asking.”

His eyes then swept over her body, his smirk twisting into an almost predatory grin. She was a little thing; it wouldn’t take much to overpower her in the slightest based on her stature alone. He found that quite cute, considering how she carried herself with such confidence.

“What’s a sweet little thing like you doing in a place like this?”

“Y’know, just tryin’ to enjoy a peaceful evening.”

The mercenary would nod her head towards the other patrons in the bar, noting how they were shooting mean side-eyes and enraged glances at the little group, some of them probably considering intervening, not knowing that such an action wouldn’t end too well for them; they didn’t have any weight to throw around like Sadie did.

“And we can’t really do that if some boneheaded jackasses are ruining that for us, hm?”

She would watch with satisfaction as the men stiffened and their wolfish grins turned into angry scowls and sour glares. “Awh, what’s wrong? M’just askin’ for a little peace and quiet. That can’t be too hard, can it?”

“Watch yourself, malen’kaya devochka,” The group’s leader warned as he leaned towards her, far too close for any sane person’s comfort. “You don’t wish to start something here.”

One of the other men crammed in the middle of the gaggle, who was shorter and less intimidating but just as brutish in appearance, barked out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, litso kukly, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.” He clapped his friend roughly on the shoulder, talking the man up. “Demitri here could fuck you up good.”

Sadie looked quite unamused at this. These three were clearly new; they thought that just because they were protected by their criminal output that they could act like they ran this part of the city.

“I feel the same goes for you, despite how you’re throwin’ your weight around because you think papa Nikoli is gonna protect you.” She would wave a dismissive hand as she spoke, an air of nonchalance reflected in the gesture, “See, m’no one important, unless the name Wraith rings any bells for you?”

The Wraith– A creature from Scottish folklore, a ghostly apparition appearing to be an omen of death and reflected by the belief that they held unfinished business amongst the living. It was her pit name, one given to her in the circles where she reigned champion as their most prized fighter. She was quite a favorite of Nikoli’s, mostly because the girl could not only draw in quite a profit for him, but because she also put on quite a show.

The other two men’s eyes widened at the mention of that name, their confident expressions faltering somewhat. The leader, however, would straighten. He looked skeptical, clearly not believing her. This scrappy little kid didn’t look like she’d been in a proper fight in her life; how the hell was he supposed to take her word at face value?

“Not a chance,” He would scoff incredulously. “I could fuck you up with one hand tied behind my back.”

“Oh ho ho, is that so?” Sadie’s voice dripped with condescension now, and she took note of how the other two men began to reach for the guns strapped to their hips, having taken stock of the pulse pistols when they walked in.

Thwack.

From the shadows of her bomber flew a knife, the blade sinking into the wall behind the two men to her left, knicking the cheek of one of them as it whizzed by, sending a clear message:

She had missed on purpose.

The men all tensed at the sudden display of violence, their eyes wide and their gusto wavering. The leader of the pack– Demetri, she assumed– would glare her down as his face flushed red with frustration, while the man with the injured cheek would raise his hand, his fingers grazing over the cut as thin beads of crimson slipped down his skin, getting caught in his stubble and dripping onto the table top below him.

“Now now, fellas, no need to get itchy with those trigger fingers,” she would chide, keeping her eyes on the biggest man in front of her while she remained vigilant of the two in her peripheral. She would hear Demetri snarl as his lip curled back, knowing she was pushing his buttons as he bared his teeth at her.

Treating the man in front of her like an animal, she knew this response was born from a slight fear of being cornered, even if he refused to show it.

“See, maybe you could beat me up, sure. You’re a big, strong man,” She continued, just egging them on further. “But I don’t think your boss would appreciate his ring profits taking a hit if I could no longer show up, would he? He’s quite… Protective of his businesses, da?”

“You crazy little bitch,” The larger man growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“She’s a nutjob!” The injured man’s voice would quiver a bit as he spoke, wiping his blood on his pants as he gave Demetri a nudge with his elbow. “You can’t take her shit, boss!”

Slam!

As soon as the big man in front of her moved to stand, Sadie hooked her foot on the leg of his barstool, yanking it out from underneath him and sending it skittering into the wall, knocking him on his ass. Before the other two could respond, her duel pistols were in hand, one pointed at the goons, the other pointed at their ‘boss’.

“Ah ah ah, sit and be good,” The mercenary ordered before crouching in front of Demetri, tilting her head to the side as she pushed the muzzle of the gun to the center of his forehead. “Now, I suggest you lot behave before your boss finds out how you’re actin’ and all three of you end up at the bottom of the canal with broken legs and a nice new pair of concrete shoes, capeche?”

Demetri stared up at her, his jaw clenched as he seethed with anger.

How dare this little punk speak to him like that, throwing her weight around like she owned this damn place or held any power over him?!

“Cyka blyat. You think you can just threaten us? You little–”

One of the men beside him, the one with the cut on his cheek, was quick to cut his boss off, shaking his head as he damn near trembled in his boots. In all honesty, while Sadie was a loose cannon who probably could land a few good shots on them, he was more terrified of the thought of their boss learning about this whole squabble. “We’ll be good, kukla, we’ll be good! Just keep the big man out of this, okay?”

There was a glint of satisfaction in her eyes as Sadie looked down her nose at Demetri. “Seems like one of you has some damn sense.”

She would retract her pistols as Demetri continued to watch her, his ego clearly wounded and his frustration mounting at the fact that his buddies were now chickening out on him.

Cowards, the lot of them.

Sadie then snatched up Demetri’s drink and tossed it back, ignoring the burn of the cheap alcohol that stung her tongue before spitting the drink back into his face, drenching his hair, skin and clothing. The man looked quite pathetic, stunned to silence and dripping in cheap booze and spit.

“And tip your fuckin’ server,” She would conclude as she slammed the rocks glass back down onto the table top, wiping her lips with the heel of her hand as she backstepped away from them. “Anything less than at least half your bill and you’ll be the first to learn I don’t make empty threats.”

“You little bitch–” Demetri was clambering to his feet as she stepped away, only for him to be grabbed by his goons and held back by his arms, sputtering and snarling. Meanwhile, the one with the injured cheek was quickly shoving his free hand into his pocket, slapping a bundle of scratch onto the bartop with enough to leave a hefty tip. He was then quickly yanking the other two men out of the bar behind him, running with his tail tucked between his legs without so much as sparing the young woman another glance.

Alessio was thoroughly amused at the display.

He was neither crazy nor ballsy enough to stand up for himself, considering the issues that would cause him for sticking his nose in family business by messing with the Russian’s men, but he garnered quite a bit of satisfaction as Sadie stood up for not only Becca, but himself and his patrons as well.

“You certainly know how to handle yourself, mi amore,” The Italian would praise as Sadie returned to her former spot at the bar, his voice holding his approval as he complimented her handiwork, “Tell me, are you actually going to tattle on them to their boss?”

“I dunno,” Sadie would shrug as she leaned her elbows against the bartop, not even shaken by the close call interaction. Even if the three men had been able to overpower her, she still would have gone down fighting; nothing would change this fact, no matter who the men were or who they belonged to. “Might not be a bad idea, though. Teach those bastards a lesson.”

She was silent as she watched Alessio retreat back to the wall display of booze, reaching for the top shelf alcohols and sliding her a double of the most expensive whiskey he offered. The mercenary would raise a brow at this, hesitating a moment. “You know I don’t pay more than five or six bucks for my shots, Alessio.”

“For you, tereso, it is free.” He would nudge the glass closer to her. “Consider it a thank you for dealing with that group of testa di cavalos, si?”

“You’re too good to me.” She egerly took the offered alcohol without another thought, the rich liquid sweet and smokey and all things good. A soft buzz filled her body as her third drink filled every nerve ending within her, warming her from the slight chill of the air conditioning in the bar. “Squisito~”

She would then see Becca returning from the back storage room with an armful of beer pints and signal her over, reaching into her pocket and slipping a bundle of scratch into the young woman’s apron pocket. “Here. For havin’ to deal with those bastards. Sorry about the mess, beautiful.”

Becca’s eyes widened quite comically as the wad of currancy landed in her pocket, the weight of it almost heavy in comparision to the measly few bucks she had picked up here and there over the span of the evening. “W-Wait! You don’t have to do that, really, I–”

“Simply be grateful, mi amore,” Alessio would chide as he cast her a long sided glance, a smile still presant on his lips. "Sadie will not be disuaded now."

“Thank you so much.” The poor girl honestly looked like she was about to cry, and Sadie could only imagine the hellish evening she must have been having with the other patrons before those idiots to elicit such a reaction.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it–” Sadie would pause as she turned to Alessio, the chirping of her phone cutting her off and instantly souring the happy buzz she had just been experiancing a moment ago.

She dramatically flopped against the bar as the device continued to ring, burying her head in her arms. “Goddammmittttt….”

Alessio found some humor in this display, cocking a brow as he took her empty glass from her. “Something wrong, bella?”

“It was supposed to be my night off.”

She was a whining mess right now, and the bartender was quite surprised she wasn’t throwing a tantrum on the floor from how exasperated and frustrated she seemed to be.

“Go then. I will cover your tab for the evening.” He then waggled the bar towel at her, lightly slapping her arm with the damp fabric. “Do not get used to it, however. I do need to make money somehow.”

Sadie shot him a grateful and weak smile as she stood, nodding to show she understood. “Mhm, thanks, Alessio. G’night.”

With that, she was gone, taking some of the swirling gray clouds of smoke and the strong scent of booze with her.

#writer #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #original story #original characters #ocs #my ocs #long form content #cyberpunk #dystopian #futuristic #tftnd

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rhysharam · 17 days ago

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Tales from the Neon District | S1 ; Chap. 1

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Chapter synopsis: The beginning of our sorted tale, a look eight years into the past before our universe's present.

One thing to know? It's fight or die in a world like this.

Word count: 3.8k

Chapter tw: Depictions of violence and child abuse, strong language, blood and injury

Notes: Hello hello! I'm super duper excited to share this story with you all; I have been working on this universe and these characters for over a decade now (back from my little baby tumblr days) and this story means a lot to me, as do these characters.

I plan on not only writing this story, but sharing art as well. I'm still a little nervous about sharing this as an actual webcomic as of right now (mostly because I don't know what I'm doing ^^;), but I hope in the future to illustrate and maybe even animate this story.

For now, I offer to you the actual writing that's gone into this. I hope you enjoy :)

beginning | previous chapter | next chapter

#—2050—#

Cold.

God, it was so damn cold.

Freezing wet winds pushed through the air, whistling through the foliage of the thick and dense woods, the sound shrill and almost excruciating to the ears.

Training exercises were never a favorite amongst the trainees who were pushed until their bodies and minds broke, shattering beneath the strain and abuse.

The boot prints stamped into the snow were the only indicator of where her target had gone—Marcel, the leader of the Vespers, a cruel and sadistic man who reveled in the pain and suffering he inflicted on others, finding joy in the power he could so freely wield over those who were terrified of him.

If only this damn rifle was real…

Sadie gritted her teeth, narrowing her eyes.

Fuck. This. Bastard.

From sunrise to now, almost dusk, they had been playing this stupid cat-and-mouse game. She was exhausted, her small body slogging through the thick and heavy snow that covered the ground in an icy blanket, the crunching of her boots shockingly loud to her in the otherwise muffled silence around her as the winds died down. The snow stuck to her pants and boots, soaking into the fabric, and she could have sworn her toes had gone numb at this point.

She gripped the paintball rifle tighter, her fingertips stained red from the lack of warmth and bloodflow.

Where was that bastard now?

She let her eyes track the bootprints, her hazel gaze narrowing sharply as she observed the trail with a practiced eye.

There.

A dark shape shifted behind a snowbank, their rifle strapped to their back. It was him, she was almost sure of it. He was probably watching her, laughing about her incompetence, mocking her perceived stupidity.

She crouched in a nearby snowbank, pulling the rifle sight to her eye, lifting her hand to adjust the scope on her target.

She had always had a pretty decent aim with rifles; it was the only weapon she could use to her advantage, considering others were too big and too awkward, and pistols never allowed her to keep her distance. She was thirteen, after all. There was no instance where she could go toe-to-toe with a fully grown adult and win in that situation.

Sadie loosed a breath, puffing out a white cloud of condensation as she let her finger rest on the trigger—

The teen heard a twig snap nearby, and before she could even muster a turn of her head, she was jackbooted right in the side, leaving her to cry out as she was slammed into the snow by her assailant, one of Marcel’s upper guards.

Motherfucker.

The man, Simon, was a loyal dog to Marcel, one who easily bent to his will and wants with no objection or complaint. It was rare to see one without the other, the large, bulking man acting as a human meat shield to his beloved boss.

He pinned her down easily, his knee planted directly in her back, one massive paw of a hand pulling her rifle-handling arm up her spine towards her opposite shoulder blade while the other yanked at her long, messy mop of hair, forcing her neck to crane back at a torturous angle.

Simon was an emotionless and stony wall as he gazed down at her, nothing but a quirked brow revealing his agitation towards the little brat in his grasp. “Sloppy,” he hissed through his teeth as his jaw worked slowly, giving her arm another yank, practically able to see the muscles and shoulder blades straining beneath her jacket.

“Let. Me. Go!” Sadie would order him, thrashing and flailing on the snowy ground in an attempt to buck him off of her, only making things worse for her as thin tendons and malnourished muscles protested against the inflicted suffering she was experiencing.

“My arm! Dammit, let go, you–!” With a wet and visceral pop, the arm would be dislocated, leaving her throat to go dry as she screamed in agony.

Simon wouldn’t listen. Of course he wouldn’t. How could she have been stupid enough to expect him to listen to her groveling?

“Shut up,” he spat, giving her hair another yank as his knee dug into her spine, earning him another shrill little cry as a reward. “Do you think your enemy will listen to you if you’re in pain? Hm?”

Stars danced before Sadie’s eyes as he continued speaking. “You either fight, or you die. That’s how this world works, brat.”

Fight or die.

Those words knocked around in the teen’s brain as the sadistic treatment continued without an ounce of pity from the man above her. “Simon—!”

“Yes? I can’t hear you when you’re whimpering on the ground.” He gave her hair yet another pull, the roots straining under his palm as he puppeted her head upwards, his face now looming above hers, so close she could smell the acrid scent of cigarettes and stale liquor on his breath. “Speak up, will you? If you have something useful to say—”

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and she was released as Simon lumbered to his feet, tucking his hands behind his back as Marcel approached, stalking out of the shadows with his eyes set on the girl in front of him.

Sadie would manage to roll onto her back, almost relieved at the releasing of her body until the butt of her boss’ rifle slammed into her chest, causing her to choke from the impact on her sternum, her back arching off the freezing ground. Marcel towered over the little girl, looking rather unimpressed with her, completely apathetic to her struggles. He would lean over her slightly, the rifle now loosely grasped in his hand, the end of it nearly touching her shoulder.

“Stand up.”

His voice was a harsh command, leaving no room for argument or protest from the girl beneath him. Sadie let out another sob as she forced herself to her feet, using a nearby snowbank and her own gun as a crutch when her knees threatened to buckle and give out from underneath her. Her chest and shoulders heaved as she breathed through her nose sharply, and yet, despite it all, she forced herself to meet his eyes.

Marcel looked down the bridge of his nose at her, eyeing her much like a hawk watching its injured prey, waiting for a proper moment to strike. The girl had potential, that was for sure; there was a fight within her that refused to break, no matter what he did to her.

But…

“You’re weak,” he finally spoke, his words dripping with animosity. “Pathetic, even.”

He raised his leg, slamming his boot directly into the center of her chest, sending her spiraling back onto the ground as she gave a pathetic whimper, sounding more akin to a kicked dog than a human being. He followed, crouching over her. “No one is here to save you. I’m the only one here. I could end you right now, and you can’t even put up a fight to stop me, can you?”

He pressed the end of his rifle to the center of the girl’s forehead, his finger hovering over the trigger as he tilted his head and observed her for a moment longer, watching as she bit back a frightened noise of panic at the gesture.

“Give me one good reason, brat. One good reason why I shouldn’t pull the trigger right now.”

There was nothing but silence and cold air between them, the tension so thick and tangible one could cut it with a knife. “Because you need someone to bully who can’t fight back,” She finally snapped back once she found her voice, her throat bobbing as she swallowed heavily. “And I’m your favorite punching bag for some goddamn reason.”

Marcel was almost taken aback by her response, his nostrils flaring as his eyes widened slightly and he stared at her. She had spunk, a fire and drive that made no sense to him. Sadie wasn’t much just from looking her over, nothing more than some scrawny, starving little toothpick of a young girl with her head held up by his rifle to keep it from falling forward.

And yet she was defiant, even with a gun to her head.

He let his smirk return to his face after a moment, a cruel and sadistic look in his eyes.

“You never learn, do you?”

With that, he flipped his rifle and slammed the butt of it into her face, cracking her nose and standing as he ignored her blood dripping into the crisp, white snow beneath his boots. He watched as she twitched and cried, gripping her bleeding nose, her face wet and stained red, snow and ice clinging to her damp hair, which fanned across the ground in long, stringy tendrils.

“I hate you!” She screamed, her voice muffled into her palms as she glared up at him. “I fucking hate you!”

She was still fighting.

She was still resisting.

It pissed him off to no end, enough so that he slammed his boot into her ribcage to just shut her up. He didn’t understand how something so damn small could be so full of fire, anger, and spite, enough so that she still pushed back against him, no matter how hard he attempted to break her down.

“Shut up,” he ordered her before looking at Simon, snapping his fingers like he was commanding a dog. “Take her back to her room. I’m bored with her.”

Simon simply nodded, not saying a word as he approached the girl, grabbing her by the front of her jacket and tossing her over his shoulder like she was nothing more than a sack of flour. Sadie glared over the larger man’s shoulder as she was carried away, her nails digging into the rough canvas of Simon’s jacket, her eyes still locked on Marcel.

“I hate you!” She screeched again, tears welling in her eyes as she set her lips in a little snarl, her eyes burning holes through her boss’ very being. “I’ll kill you one day, I swear to God!”

Marcel watched them go with a cocked brow and a smirk on his face, listening to her curses and threats, finding great humor in what he saw as empty promises. She was a brat, as Simon had called her on many occasions, but one with a will that seemed unbreakable.

That made him chuckle.

He could twist that to his own demented ideals; he just had to be patient, he told himself as he watched the two figures disappear into one of the three large compounds the criminal syndicate owned.

Stepping into her room, Simon threw Sadie down onto the cold floor, the door slamming shut behind him as he left the poor girl swimming in her own agony and hatred.

And the young teen cried, her sorrows ripped from her as her arms wrapped tightly around herself and she curled into a small ball.

There was nothing else she could do, after all. This room was a prison to her, a bare space with no creature comforts of any kind, simply fitted with a bed, an on-suit and almost sterile bathroom, and a small wardrobe that held very plain and almost militant outfits.

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, everything becoming a blur. This room didn’t possess a clock of any kind, after all, nor did she have a window.

What would cause her to stir was the door opening and shutting again some time later, heavy bootfalls thumping against the cold concrete floor of her “room”. She whined as a pair of large, muscular arms wrapped around her and picked her up, her head falling to rest on the person’s shoulder as she was carried yet again.

She recognized the scent of oaky cologne and cigarettes, a familiar smell that would bring her some modicum of comfort in a world of torment:

Bram— her adoptive brother.

The older teen carried her to the bathroom, carefully setting her down on the tub before turning and rummaging through his backpack he’d tossed down nearby, searching for his first aid kit. When he found the small, white box, he turned back to her, taking full stock of the extent of damage inflicted on her.

The white fluorescent light above their heads made Sadie’s skin almost look gray as he observed her, and she was in a pretty horrible state as she shivered, still dressed in her clothes that had been soaked through with ice and snow. The blood smeared across her face, the way her undereyes began to bruise… It made his heart ache for her.

He approached the girl slowly so he wouldn’t scare her, crouching in front of her as he rested a hand on her knee, shaking her leg gently. “Hey… You with me, sweetpea?”

There was no answer from her, no sign of acknowledgement or that she had even heard him. She continued to stare off into space, her eyes half-lidded and unfocused, clearly not in the present moment with him. Bram would sigh, his hand raising to carefully cradle her face, his fingertips warm against her skin, turning her head this way and that before reaching for the first aid kit, producing an alcohol wipe to clean her up. “It’s okay, I gotcha, darlin’.”

He began to carefully wipe at her face, his brows knit as his teeth sunk into the soft flesh of the inside of his cheek. The older boy was gentle with her; he always was when she came back from Marcel’s tests in states like this, though this was the worst he’d seen her.

“Mh… You almost got’em, huh?”

Marcel didn’t like to lose; the fact that he’d beaten the shit out of her like this proved just how damn close she’d really been to finally getting a leg up on the jackass.

The younger brunette finally looked up at him, her eyes glossy and her expression vacant. She had gone somewhere else, Bram knew, somewhere she could escape the pain if only for a few moments, her young mind trying to compartmentalize and push through the trauma that would surely cement itself into her very being for the rest of her life.

He knew this all too well from his own personal experience.

His hand moved from her chin to her shoulder, his thumb rubbing circles into her filthy jacket. “You spaced on me,” he informed her softly, a frown tugging at his lips. “Where’d ya go this time, hm?”

She let out a soft, shaky sigh from her chapped lips as he continued to clean her up, the cold alcohol of the cloth stinging her cuts and scrapes, the sensation burning her flesh. It was painful, and she was exhausted, but his presence was somewhat of a comfort. She tried to focus on his voice, on the familiar low timbre and the southern twang that accented his words when he spoke.

“S’cold,” She finally mustered, fresh tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks in tiny, glittering waterfalls, “And it hurts. I wanna go home.”

Home– Bram knew what that meant.

She was talking about something that didn’t exist for them anymore; their previous caretaker, an angry little spitfire of a French woman that had taken care of them for two years, and her home that resided in the peaceful countryside.

The boy sighed, his heart twisting painfully in his chest at her words and her soft, broken voice. He finished cleaning her up, his hand instead moving to cradle her cheek again. He used his fingers to brush her hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear.

“I know it hurts and I know it’s cold, but we can’t go home… Not anymore. Y’know that, sweetpea.”

He hated having to tell her that, having to force the words around the lump forming in his throat that made it almost impossible for him to breathe. He knew just how much she missed it. Hell, he missed it too, even when it had seemed that old bat had it out for him half the time.

“Hey, look at me.” His eyes would catch hers as she obeyed, her lips trembling against the sobs that he knew wanted to break free from her lips. “‘Member the bedtime story I used to tell you when you were just a lil' anklebiter? The one about the fox and the raven?”

She nodded almost automatically in response to his question, her mind immediately going back to the times when she was younger, barely coming up to Bram’s knee. She recalled how he used to hold her in his lap, cradling her against his chest as he told her the story to get her to fall asleep.

“I remember.” A weak smile found it’s way to her lips despite the tears in her eyes, and she raised her hand, wiping away her tears with the heel of her hand.

He was relieved to see her smile, even if her face told him how much pain she was truly in. He dabbed at a rather nasty cut on her lip. “It was a long, long time ago, huh? There was a clever fox who lived in his lil’ den and a raven who would watch him from the trees.”

Sadie hung onto every word, the familiar bedtime story lulling her into a strange, almost dazed state, back to a time where everything was simpler. His voice was soothing to her; it always had been, the words rolling off of his tongue easily despite the fact he’d come up with the story on the fly one night when he was desperate to get his gremlin of a little sister to finally go to bed. He continued to speak of the fictional animals and their adventures, the story and memories flowing out of him like a rushing tap.

“The raven was a curious fella now, and he would always fly down to the ground to watch the fox, pesterin’ him and askin’ him all about what he was doin’.”

Bram moved to her side to fix up her shoulder, wincing slightly as his hand moved to slip the oversized coat off of her spindly little frame, noting the way her skin began to bruise and turn an ugly shade of mauve. “Now one day, that wildly ol’ fox decided to get into a chicken coop that belonged to a grumpy bastard of a farmer, and he got caught up in a trap the old man set–”

Crack.

A sickening snap filled the air as Bram reset Sadie’s shoulder, catching her small frame as she surged forward, one hand braced against the tub to hold himself up as the other tangled into the hair on the back of her head, holding her against his chest. The girl’s shrill scream was muffled into his shirt as her fingers gripped his arm to hold herself up, her jagged nails biting into his skin as her knuckles turned white. Bram couldn’t help but cringe as his muscles stiffened at her reaction, sympathetic to the hell she must have been going through in the moment.

“Shhh, I know, I know, sugar. I know it hurts,” he murmured into her hair, his eyes screwing shut as his jaw clenched tightly, “We’re almost done, okay? We’re almost done. Just keep bein’ good for me, yeah?”

His hands moved to her arms as he held her out in front of him, shaking her gently to force her to focus. “Hey, hey– ‘Member what that dumb fox said when the raven freed him? Can you tell me what he said?”

It was a clear distraction, a way for him to try and give her something else to focus on. They both knew this, and yet, they allowed themselves to get wrapped up in the moment, if only for a little while.

“He thanked him. He told him that he owed him, and that if he was ever in trouble, the fox would do anything to help him back.”

“That’s right. Atta, girl. Just hang in there a little while longer, sweetpea. Just keep bein’ my little trooper for a lil' longer.”

For a moment, the two were silent, with only the sound of self-adhering bandages being unwrapped filling the air. Bram then reached for Sadie’s arm, supporting her elbow as he began wrapping her up, creating a mock splint for her injured arm, soothing her as she winced and dug her nails further into his arm. “So, when winter came around, that crazy raven was stealin’ grain from the nearby village, wantin’ to make sure the other critters in the forest were taken care of. What happened then, hm?”

“The farmer caught the raven stealin’ his grain and he got hurt?”

The older boy nodded as he finally finished taking care of her wounds, scooping her up in his arms as he held her close to his chest, slowly rising to his feet. “That’s right. The raven got beat up pretty bad and his wing was broken. The fox came to his rescue, brought him into his den and stayed with him, just like he promised.”

He carried the girl back into her room, easing her onto the flat and uncomfortable mattress after helping her into the hoodie he had previously been wearing, wanting to warm her up and try to detour her from getting sick. He then sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing circles into her back as she shifted and attempted to get more comfortable. “And the fox and the raven became best friends, right?”

For a moment, Sadie’s brain lagged, a splintering migraine beginning to form right behind her eyes, akin to an icepick chipping into her skull and optical nerves. However, after a moment, she managed to nod, burrowing into the very lumpy and lackluster pillow. “Right… They helped each other out and stuck it out through everything.”

“Mhm. Just like us, huh? Ain’t that right, darlin’?” He pulled a thin blanket around her shoulders and tucked her in for the night, watching as her eyes finally slid shut. He then leaned down, pressing a kiss to her temple and letting it linger for a moment. “You’re my crafty lil' corvid, and m’the big, ol’ grumpy fox, right?”

Sadie couldn’t help the small, weary giggle that escaped her as she nodded, pulling the pillow closer to her as she burrowed into it. “Mhm.” It wasn’t long before she finally slipped into sleep, mumbling something akin to an almost unintelligible ‘I love you’ before her breathing evened out, her body rising and falling in time with her steady breaths.

Bram simply watched her for a moment.

She always looked peaceful in her sleep, her face no longer marred by stress or pain or fear. His fingers threaded through her hair, attempting to untangle the knots from the wild rat’s nest on her head. She was too damn skinny, and he didn’t like the fact he was able to see the outline of her ribs through her shirts on most days.

“Someday, Sades,” he muttered to no one in particular, his shoulders slumping in on themselves as his own exhaustion began to tug at the corners of his mind.

“Someday I’ll get us outta here. I promise."

#writing #original story #original characters #cyberpunk #dystopian #futuristic #writeblr #webcomic #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #tftnd

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