There were some people on the street corner talking about a troll being in the subway. The fantastical creature was causing damage at the junction two blocks down the street, apparently. Luckner paid the crazies and the sirens screeching in the distance little mind while he reached into his stuffed box.

He took out the teddy bear his ex gave him last Valentine’s. He turned it over and looked at it wistfully.

He remembered how he worked overtime at a warehouse to save up and afford quality fake I.D.’s. Just so he could take her to a five-star restaurant. He remembered the joy in their laughter, the excitement in having wine they had never heard of, and the thrill of spending more of his money than they should’ve. The teddy bear commemorated that moment.

He threw the stuffed toy in the dumpster.

If the troll came around this way, the monster could have it. But Luckner doubted such a creature existed.

The most he could feel toward such a fancy was⁠—HUNT⁠—in the small back corner of his mind. But he believed that was some weird nonsense inside of him derived from the delusions of others. Everyone seemed to be deluding themselves with monster talk while Luckner had to deal with the illusions of love.

Dozens of photos⁠—especially the ones encased in embroidered frames with lines about love, togetherness, and other cheesy bullshit⁠—followed the teddy bear. He and his ex had hung them up on their apartment unit’s walls when they first moved in together. It was now his apartment unit with a bill that was his responsibility.

So, yeah, he threw the picture frames in the dumpster with a little extra vigor.

He planned to lay in his bed later and delete the thousands of pics of her and him together. He would probably do so with a tub of ice cream and some Jack and Coke.

Actually, no coke.

Just ice cream and Jack.

But first, he had a lot of physical stuff to throw out. It would’ve been easier to drop it altogether, but he couldn’t make himself do that. He needed to see each piece of traitorous love disposed of in sequence.

It was midday, and the alley behind his apartment complex smelled of piss and barf like usual. It wasn’t long ago that he hated coming near here. The foul scent would ruin any blissful mood he was feeling while with his ex.

And at night, the weird fantastical stuff people gossiped about seemed to come alive. Then and there, he could almost envision mischievous goblins were lurking in the shadows. Green, warty, ugly monsters would wait in ambush for an unsuspecting young couple in love.

Now, he found the horrid odor and state of disarray⁠—while lacking physical goblin manifestations—to be incredibly appropriate. He could come here later when he got drunk enough and throw a Molotov into the dumpster. Then he could barf and cry and piss himself unconscious.

Yeah, the breakup was really fucking him up.

“Ugh! Did she have to tell me she cheated this whole time?”

Luckner missed a toss and shattered a frame against the wall. He missed again and smashed the next one. Then he recorrected his aim and sunk the captured memories into the dumpster. One. By. One.

Five years. Five years of trying to be the best boyfriend ever, devoting his all to her needs and whims. Five years, from the start of high school to now, he worked shit jobs to support her⁠—she had promised to help him after she graduated college. Five years of Luckner being a faithful sucker while she sneaked around with the former best friend.

Luckner now knew he had ignored the signs. He realized he was the idiot of their former power trio. His idiocy left him alone in an alley, his eyes all red, puffy, and cried-out. The two people he had trusted the most were somewhere else across Legends City. They had left him behind to clean up in the wake of their destruction.

“Take my heart and eat it while you’re at it,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Maybe one of those monsters the crazy people were yammering about on the news would show the betrayers a taste of their own medicine. But Luckner doubted that would happen. The news was desperate for stories, and people yacking about fantasy monsters was the latest buzz. He could hear someone’s TV talking about it right now through the wall.

Luckner sighed and leaned back next to the dumpster. He slid into a seat against the wall and stared at the discarded trash piled in front of him.

He almost felt willing to stack himself on top of that refuse. Maybe that was the real meaning behind his circumstance and the pain jack-knifing his chest.

“Damn it all,” Luckner mumbled. “I should throw myself away like trash.”

“I beg to differ,” said a light, feminine voice to his immediate left. “That’s a waste of a good heart.”

Luckner nearly fell over. He placed down a hand and caught himself. He stood, quickly wiped his palm on his jeans, and faced the source of the voice. Standing next to him was a girlish woman a few inches above five feet despite her over-the-knee black boots.

Her lithe, petite frame suggested she was a child. Her mascara and blush, the burgundy overcoat she wore, and her perfume said otherwise. A sniff of her fragrance nearly staggered him. The sweet scent was heady, intense, and cloying; it was lilac, he recognized.

Luckner shook his head, freeing himself of the aroma’s allure. “How did you get there?”

“By walking on two feet.” She strutted from the wall and back, her heels clacking. “Though, sometimes I don’t need to.”

“So when you say sometimes you don’t need to… did you just drop in?” Luckner looked up. There was no fire escape. No open windows from the second floor. Even if there were, she would’ve made a sound from the landing. “What are you, a little ninja in tall boots?”

Her perky pink lips spread and revealed shiny whites. “Greater than that, child.”

Luckner frowned. The little woman had baby-smooth brown skin. Her soft face would get her carded at the front door of any bar. She had no business calling him a child.

Besides, Luckner, at 19 years, was a few inches taller than six feet. He could pass for old enough when he grew out his beard. Like now. So, seriously, she had no business calling him a child. In fact, she had no business with him anyhow.

“Well, have a wonderful, monster-free day,” he muttered, “which shouldn’t be hard.”

He turned to go. She abruptly appeared beside him. He didn’t even see her move to get there. Luckner blinked at her shimmering fuchsia eyes above a widening smile. Whoever made her colored contacts did a fabulous job—added to her alluring-but-eerie factor.

“I sensed your heartache,” she said. “It sings a tragic song.”

Luckner retreated against the dumpster without touching it. “What gave it away? The teddy bear meeting its end in a dump or how I whimpered when I threw the picture frames?”

“Deeper than that. Much deeper.” The girlish woman crossed her legs and balanced on the edges of her heels. “Do you wish to have the girl returned to you? Or do you wish to exact revenge? Tell me your desire, and I’ll see it done.”

“Okay, hello, I don’t know you. Most people start by introducing themselves before giving out creepy offers.”

“I’m not⁠—what you say⁠—most people.”

“Uh-huh.” Luckner looked around swiftly to see if there were any cameras. When he saw none, he checked for any big muscular men who would nab him for some reason. He failed to see that as well, but he continued to mouth off what sounded reasonable.

“Even if I wanted any of that, I’m not going to have someone else interfere with my life.”

“I’m not interfering. I’m intervening.”

“Big whoop of a difference.”

“It matters, child.” She edged closer. His back touched the dumpster. “Because it is either you take action against your pain, or your pain smothers you. I hate to see you waste your heart, especially one with your potential.”

Luckner squinted. He could not see through a fault in her words. He was hurting. A lot. A lot, a lot. He also believed he did have the potential to do great things. But he had put so much of his energy into a broken relationship.

All he had to look forward to was ice cream and Jack right now. He was not going to return to his gas station job. He hadn’t been there in a week, and they stopped calling him, anyway. He had enough for next month’s rent and utilities. He would probably be evicted in the following months, though, if he didn’t find a new job.

He could see himself sleeping in an alley like this since he had no real family to fall back on. No friends, either.

She who shall not be named and the backstabbing bastard took his secondary friend group along with the scalps of his heart. They all made it seem it was better to ditch him than get tangled in the drama. Man, if he had the power to return the favor.

Luckner grimaced. He glanced furtively at the little woman’s devious smile. The more he looked at her, the more he felt drawn by the allure of her offer. And the charm surrounding herself.

“What do you say?” she asked.

“Who are you?”

“That doesn’t matter compared to what I can do for you?”

“Then I’ll have to ask why you want to do for me?” He raised his head.

“It’s a cliche. And I don’t wish to be mocked by you right now.”

“Try me.”

She dipped her head. “I can feel that you’re… special… to me.”

Luckner tried not to snort. He tried not to laugh. He failed at both attempts and let loose a bellyful of laughter. It was surprisingly great to laugh again.

“Oh, I knew you would mock me.” A real blush crept up her neck and darkened her cheeks.

“I’m totally not mocking you. This is a serious situation. I’ll have to call the cliche police.”

“That’s more mockery.” She gasped. “I’ll… I’ll use the Boop of Death on you for your insolence!”

“What the fuck is the Boop of Death?” Luckner laughed harder. He had to keep ribbing her for being so silly. Who knew when he would have the opportunity to smile again. Once she was gone, all that waited from him were blank walls, tissue papers, ice cream, and Jack.

So, he laughed his heart out.

Meanwhile, the little woman lifted her finger. Then she dropped it. She grumbled to herself and shook her head.

Furrowing her brow with determination, she lifted her finger again. She raised it like a mighty weapon she was preparing to deliver a killing stroke.

She thrust her finger at his chest.

She halted an inch away from poking him, her arm trembling. Then she dropped it again, and this time it stayed down.

“Please, stop, I should not be mocked so earnestly,” she whined, “especially by you.”

She pouted at him, looking absolutely childish now. It was kind of cute in an impish way. She almost made him feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been… a lot. A lot, a lot. Thanks to you, I was getting it out of me.”

“I believe I understand.”

“Yeah?”

“Perhaps I’ve been acting a tad too audacious.” She rested a hand on his arm. Her touch sent an intense tingle and had him covered in goosebumps.

“Y-you think?” he asked, backing away. Great, now he was on the receiving end of her forwardness again. Damn, he should’ve kept joking on her. “Look, I’m good. Seriously. I don’t have any money to pay for your services, anyway. You look expensive.”

She snorted. “Come along, child. There’s a nice cafe around the corner. It’ll be on me.”

“I said I’m good.”

The woman, Boots he would call her for now, strutted to the corner exiting the alley. She stopped with her legs crossed, and her torso twisted his way.

There was a shadow over her face. It seemed to make her eyes glow like neon signs that marked his favorite drinking joints.

The scent of lilac lingered in the air.

This, Luckner realized, was one of those moments where if he were in a book, turning away would be the smarter option. The hair on the back of his neck was standing, and he believed that was a precognitive warning of trouble to come if he stepped after Boots. He should return to his lonely, depressive cove and stay there where it was sadly safe.

He would find a way to work through his issues on his own. He would find a way not to drown in them. Or let them kill him. Anything was manageable with sugary desserts and alcohol. That was how new adults handled things.

He also imagined if he gave in to this strange whimsy of following Boots, he would be asking for life to find another way to hurt him. His heart was too ravaged right now to be vulnerable again to anything… new.

See, there were plenty of reasons not to follow through with something that was irrefutably illogical. He should do the perfectly logical thing and go back to his measly existence and familiar sorrow.

That was his intention, a firm intention until Boots started singing, “Let it be.” Her pitch was slightly off, and she sang with a mysterious accent he couldn’t place, but he felt how earnest she was in her rendition.

He felt it in his heart.

Fuck.

(Hey, y'all. Welcome to my new story. The posting rate is slower, but the quality and depth of the chapters are greater. Updates Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

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