“Billy, where's Mikey?” he sat with them.
“He ran home after the kid left. You shulda' seen him, bawling and such. An' he wasn't even hurt or anythin'. Jus' look at my fukin' leg man..” he pulled up his pants slowly and showed a bloody shin.
“Freakin' nomads. Shoulda hang 'em all... burn them at the stake.”
“Yea. But, Billy lad, you shulda' been there when Danny caught the kid. The girly boy was so scared he didn' even move. We got him good. Real good,” the bald boy smirked, a makeshift stick on his shoulder.
“Haha, you guys are the ones missin' out. Danny got slapped by the barmen! A-ha-ha-ha-ha.”
The tall boy took the knife and stabbed it too close to his friend's hand. “You think that's funny Billy boy?!” he closed in on the other teen's face.
“Hey, relax man. Gosh... why'd we had to go after the damn kids anyway? Just look at the poor leg o' mine...”
“Why? Because of this,” he pointed with his thumb.
“Some damn good rods,” the fourth teen touched the fishing rod's bamboo.
“I kno' right? You an' Mikey wouldn't even notice if it weren't for me,” he frowned at Billy.
“Well, let's split,” the hurt boy replied.
“You wanna' split? Did I get that right?, Danny stood up, “After Mikey escaped like a chicken and you fell after one kick from a kid, you're tellin' me you wanna split?!”
“N-no, man. No... I meant like, let's split, like, you kno', head home...”
“Ah. Alright then. Man, don't piss me off,” he picked up the whole lot.
“Hey, what about the two of us? We helped you beat him, an' almost got caught,” the quiet boy asked.
“Shuddup... you were in it for kicks anyway. You came without knowing about any reward, emma' right?”
“Heh... yea'. We'll let it pass this time. I hate fishin' anyway,” he gave up.
“Except fisshin' for ladies right?” the bald fellow nudged his mate's ribs slightly.
They all laughed and after that split up, each heading to his own house, except for the two boys with the sticks. They had to either wash or hide the sticks because there was blood on them.
“Stupid Danny, always orderin' us around. And for what? Just 'cuz his father is the chief's brother.”
“Shuddup fool! If you hafta' say somethin' like that, then wait 'till we further away man.”
“Right..” the boy returned to being quiet.
After a few alleys, they stopped at a water source, a public pipe used during the day for washing dishes or laundry, made for the local residents.
The quiet fellow stood guard, making sure nobody saw them and the other one started pumping the water into a bucket. After a moment or two, a blunt 'thud' was heard and the pumping stopped.
“Hey, what's wro-!” he turned around and saw his friend on the ground, blood pouring from his bald head and next to him, a stone.
He looked around frantically and after confirming no one is near, he crouched next to the unconscious boy to check on him.
“Oi, you ok? Hey!!” he shook him, but to no avail.
“How does it feel?”
“Huh? Who's there? Show yourself!” he frantically looked around.
“To see your friend get hit by a rock?”
“I know yo're 'ere somwhere, an' when I find you!”
“Yes? You will do what?” from the darkness of the alley emerged a shadow, a silhouette.
As he stepped into the moonlight, it was apparent that it was just a kid and the teen let out a sigh of relief, because for a moment there, it seemed to him that he heard the voice coming from his own head.
“I'll show you, that's what! Yo'll regret this,” he took one of the sticks and charged at the kid.
The boy stood still until the last possible moment and then ducked beneath a swing, punishing the near miss with a swipe of his leg and the lad fell on his butt.
“Ouch! You miserable—”
He got a kick in the face and dropped on his back.
The boy looked at him from above, his stare full of contempt.
Walking slowly to the bald unconscious boy he checked his pulse.
He then took the other makeshift stick and turned to face the teen, who somehow managed to get up and take his own.
There was a significant difference in their stance and the way they held their weapon.
One held it up straight in front of him with both arms, while his legs were wide apart for balance but on toes, ready to move at any time. The other had his stick in one hand, down by his knee, still a bit shaken from the fall.
“Come,” said the boy calmly.
“I will you nomad brat!” He spat on the ground. “I'll come back with enough backup, your cheatin' won't mean a thing!”
“So you knew who you're dealing with and yet decided to proceed anyway?” He stood still, not breaking eye contact.
“Monster!” the lad charged again, this time going for a lower swing, but the boy swung faster and the attacker was forced to defend.
To his surprise, the stick in hand was cut in half, as if it was hit by a sword. But that was not the only problem he had.
“W-wha..” he tried the side of his neck and felt a warm liquid on his fingers. After a second, a pain in the neck became real and he fell to his knees confused.
“Help.” he tried reaching at the boy with his hand, but fell short and hit the ground with his face, blood spilling on the dust.
Feeling the boy touch his forehead, where are your friends? a voice was echoing in his head.
He couldn't resist thinking of the answer, the brain reacting faster than will. It was the last thing he thought of.
* * *
Billy was limping, his leg hurting like hell. He was almost home. Curse you Danny; you cheap twat. He turned around the corner of one of the houses and saw the stairs. Damn, gotta' take it slow.
Grabbing his swollen leg on each step, he had to lean onto the wall for help.
Somewhere halfway down, he got kicked in the back.
“Aaaah!” he fell down, hurting all over. “W-What the fuck man!”
The one who kicked him was descending the stairs, a wooden plank in his hand. “Put your arms in front of your face,” he said in a low voice.
“Wha...?” he was wondering, but after the boy lifted the plank up high, he instinctively crossed his arms in front of his face.
Yet the pain didn't come as expected, instead, he felt the plank breaking over his already bloody shin.
“AAAAAAAARGH! Ah.. *gasp* A-Aaaaaaaa..” he rolled on the ground, holding his leg with both hands and screaming from unimaginable pain. “AAArgh! A-a-ah... P-please..”
“Yes? Please what?”
“Please... stop. H-hey, I-I'm sorry....”
“You're sorry? For what?”
“I'm sorry...for…” he thought hard.
He wasn't stupid and knew what was going on. This boy had obviously come for revenge but needed one extra reason to go through with it. There's no way he could fight back at this state.
And also, he actually did feel bad for what happened today. It was the first time he was in a part of that kind of thing.
“I'm s-sorry for what I did... and.... f-for being an idiot. I'm an idiot, for hangin' aroun' with other idiots, ... instead listenin' to my dad and helping him out with his work. P-please, gimme' a chance will'ya?”
The boy looked at him right in the eyes. He knew that plea was no lie. Crouching next to him, he grabbed his hand, turned his palm down, and then started to draw with a finger over the hand's back.
The lad felt pain as the finger moved about drawing strange circles, but he was too scared to move.
After it was finished, he explained; “If you harm another ever again, you will go to the 'Pako', a hell where nomads torture your kind. Is this mark a curse or a blessing is up to you.”
He then
stood up and after confirming in the teen's frightened gaze that the message
went through, he continued on, to his next prey.
A guard came running, to check what all the fuss is about; “Hey kid. You ok
there? What happened?”
“N-nothing 'appened. I- I just f-f-fell down the stairs. C-could you please help me get home, s-sir?”
* * *
Someone knocked and a few moments later a nicely decorated door opened on a big house.
“Where were you? Didn't I tell you to come home before dinner?”
“Shut your trap, woman!” he hung his jacket on a hanger.
“Danny, you can't talk to your mother like that,” a growly voice could be heard from the kitchen upstairs.
“Oh, but you can?” Danny was smart.
“Don't talk back to me, boy. I'm the head of this house. I do things for a reason. You don't. So stop with your stubbornness and sit down,” the man of the house was a tall man with slick back hair. He took a sip of wine, before continuing; “Martha, get another glass.”
“Look what I bought dad,” he put a bag on an expensive-looking chair.
“...fishing? I don't have time for that,” the tall man sipped more of the red liquid. The glass came in the meantime. “Here,” he poured some wine into it and put it in front of his son. “Let's see if you are a real man yet,” he put his glass up and Danny grabbed the other one.
“Bottoms up!” they clinked the glasses.
The tall teen dropped his glass hard on the table, “Pour me some more!”
His mother held the bottle close, reluctant to give him more alcohol, but as she saw her husband looking at her with squint eyes, she opened the cork.
After drinking another glass and another Danny started waving a bit. His vision got blurry.
“See? That's what I'm talking about. If you were a man, this wouldn't happen after three half-empty glasses,” he stood up and went around the table, “And since you're obviously not a man, you can't speak to your mother like that!” he grabbed his boy by the hair, “UNDERSTOOD?”
“Leave him alone!” she tried to pull him, but the man turned around and slapped the small woman across her face.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” he said in a quiet, threatening voice and then walked away, probably to the study.
*sniff, sob*, she cried, holding her face.
“Ha-ha... what irony... I got slapped today too...ha-ha-ha...*hic*”, the alcohol already got hold of Danny almost completely and he went to his room, falling through the hallway.
He closed the door, leaving his mother crying in the kitchen.
After taking off some of his clothes, he pulled a knife from the trousers pocket and put it into a drawer of his night cabinet, then turned off the lantern that Martha prepared for him hours ago and fell into the bed like a brick.
The night was in a state of deep sleep already and almost nothing could be heard except the sound of wind and an owl.
The boy's footsteps became one with the rain on the roofs as it started to fall down suddenly.
He came to the big house by sea, no, a villa some would call it. There was no way inside through the main entrance; he had to find another way.
Sneaking around from the side, he jumped across the metal fence and fell into the crafty decorated row of bushes that softened his fall.
Stealthily as he could, he looked around while ducking beneath windows, to find something to climb on. Luckily, there was a water outlet from the roof into the ground and so he tried climbing it. He was thankful for the rain that muffled the noise he was making while grabbing the metal thing.
It wasn't easy, but it was doable.
After reaching a balcony, he jumped over to it from the drain, as quietly as he could. He peeked through a couple of decorative flowers to check the situation inside and noticed it's a huge study with a tall man who was sitting on a sofa in the middle of the room, staring at a fireplace. Glass on the windows? Rich people sure had it easy.
This was not the way to enter.
He decided to continue climbing all the way to the roof. From there, it was easy to check the state of things. Everything was shut, probably due to rain and wind that started to pick up. There was thunder now as well. He had to hurry.
The boy quietly climbed down in front of a window that he thought was best. Standing on the edge and holding himself with one hand by the roof, he started to draw a circle on the glass with his finger.
After he was done, he froze his fingers to the glass and pulled the shape of the drawn circle out with his palm.
He went in through the window while the storm was brewing outside.
Danny was snoring hard.
In the meantime, the infiltrator looked around. He found the fishing equipment, but would it be wise to take it back with him? No, that was in contrast with his plan. There are other ways to compensate for the loss. He searched a bit more and found a stash of silvers. That's better.
Someone's coming!
The room door opened and someone came in. Slowly and quietly, she came close to the bed.
“I'm so sorry Danny... If only your father was still around..” she reminisced for a minute and then kissed the boy on the forehead, leaving the room as quietly as she came.
The intruder opened the closet door and slowly came out.
Checking the night cabinet gave good results.
He climbed onto the bed and put the knife on the teen's throat.
No… killing you isn’t justice. Letting you live your miserable life is.
I am just going to make it really hard for you to live it the way you did until now.
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