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This was very bad.
“Hello, boys,” Tommy laughed nervously. He took a step backwards. “How are you doing on this fine evening.”
“Quit the small talk,” one of the gang members growled. Her grip tightened on the axe she was holding, and Tommy eyed it warily.
“I’m sure we can figure this out,” Tommy said. He took another step, and his back hit the wall. Fuck . The alley was closed off. “Doesn’t, uh. Doesn’t the Syndicate have a no-civilian rule?” he tried, carefully sliding his hands over his pockets. No weapons. Shit .
The second gang member, a dude with blonde hair and a fucking crossbow, laughed harshly. “Even the Syndicate’s got its flaws,” he said, holding up the crossbow causally, like it was just a toy and not literally pointed at Tommy’s head. “Besides, nobody needs to know about this little party here.”
Fuck. This was very, very bad. Like, astronomical levels of bad. For fuck’s sake, he had a cat! Who was going to feed Clementine if he was beaten to death by some rookie gang members? Tommy clenched his fists tighter. He wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Aww, the little boy thinks he can fight,” Axe Girl cooed. “Isn’t that sweet.”
“You guys—you guys’ll get in trouble,” Tommy said quickly, desperately. “Someone—the Blade will hear. He’ll kill you.”
Crossbow Boy snorted. “That pig bitch? He’s too easy on L’manberg. The Syndicate deserves to run the city, but his stupid ‘no civilian’ rule prevents it. He’s a fucking coward, is what he is.”
That, Tommy realized later, was his fatal mistake.
But now, none of them noticed the way the shadows in the alley darkened, retreating slightly as if to share important news. None of them noticed, because Axe Girl took a swing at Tommy.
Tommy yelped. Okay, fuck. They were doing this now. He dodged and managed to land a kick in Axe Girl’s stomach, but as she was stumbling back, Crossbow Boy, seeming to realize that his weapon was useless in short range, instead pulling out the arrow. He brandished it like a dagger and threw it towards Tommy. Tommy ducked again, but the sharp point of it skimmed his shoulder, leaving an angry red gash exposed by the torn material of his sleeve. He snarled, ignoring the pain in favor of punching Crossbow Boy in the face, sending him staggering back.
But he had forgotten about Axe Girl, and was kicked to the ground. He groaned, and Axe Girl appeared above him, grinning.
“Not bad,” she said. “Not bad at all. But goodbye.” She lifted her axe, high, and Tommy screwed his eyes shut in preparation.
Two seconds passed, and then suddenly there was a horrible squelching sound, a gurgling noise, and Crossbow Boy screamed.
Tommy’s eyes flew open just as Axe Girl crumpled to the ground, bloody sword sticking through her chest, revealing a huge figure looming behind her.
“Blade,” Crossbow Boy choked, stumbling back. The Blade had a cruel, cold glint in his eyes. “What—“
“My shadows had interestin’ news,” the Blade interrupted, and his voice was low and angry. Crossbow Boy’s face paled. “About two Syndicate members pickin’ on a civilian.” The Blade pulled the axe from the hand of Axe Girl’s corpse, inspecting it idly. He tossed it aside carelessly, and a whimper slipped out of Crossbow Boy’s lips. Tommy watched from his position on the ground, not even daring to move with the legendary Blade towering in front of him. “That’s funny, because harmin’ civilians is the one thing we never,” the Blade stepped closer to Crossbow Boy, who was frozen in fear, “ever, ever , do.”
“I-I—“ Crossbow Boy stuttered, but the Blade ignored him.
“Then they told me something even more interestin’.” His voice dropped to a low, deadly whisper, and he bent down to look at the boy condescendingly. “They told me that one of said Syndicate members had called me a coward. A pig bitch .”
The Blade straightened, and Crossbow Boy was shaking so hard he looked like he was about to fall over.
“That’s not very nice,” the Blade said quietly. His infamous red eyes were gleaming.
Crossbow Boy broke. “My deepest apologies,” he blabbered. “So sorry, Blade, you know I—“
Without another word, the Blade grabbed Crossbow Boy’s head with one giant hand and smashed it once, twice, three times against the wall. On the fourth time Tommy squeezed his eyes shut just before the sickening crunch of a skull breaking, and the dull thud of a body being dropped on the ground.
There was silence.
“Kid?”
Tommy opened his eyes. The Blade was crouched in front of him, every trace of cold cruelty in his eyes replaced by genuine concern. Tommy swallowed, mouth dry. He had just witnessed—heard—the deaths of two people. His eyes wandered over to Crossbow Boy’s body, but the Blade shook his head.
“Look at me,” he said gently, far too gently for someone who had just done what he did. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
“My—my shoulder,” Tommy whispered. He didn’t think the Blade would kill him, especially after all the opportunity he had, but again—it was the Blade. The Blade, the legend, who started as a pit fighter and rose above the ranks to lead the Syndicate gang to be the deadliest in all of L’manberg. The Blade, who violently murdered every single opponent who dared to challenge him.
The Blade, who was carefully (gently) turning Tommy’s arm to hiss sympathetically at the bleeding wound. One of the shadows against the wall crept over the Blade, and he frowned.
“He threw an arrow at you?” he said incredulously, eyes glinting dangerously.
“Uh… yes,” Tommy replied. His hands were shaking, just slightly, from the adrenaline and the pain and the fear.
“Stupid fucks,” the Blade muttered, pulling a small glass bottle from under his cape. It was filled with a swirling, pink liquid. “You ever had a regeneration potion before?”
Tommy blinked. “Those are like, more expensive than an entire apartment,” he blurted, and he immediately widened his eyes. He did not mean to say that out loud.
To his surprise, the Blade snickered. “Yes, they are. You ever had one before?”
“Uh, no,” Tommy said uncertainly, and the Blade offered the bottle to him. Tommy stared at it. “The fuck?”
“It’s not poison,” the Blade pointed out helpfully. “I’d give you a pain one too, but I don’t have any on me.”
“These are fucking expensive,” Tommy repeated, taking the potion gingerly. He could pay six month’s worth of rent with this.
Something in the Blade’s sharp gaze softened. “I have plenty, it’s fine.”
Tommy hesitated one last second before uncorking the top.
“Wait, don’t drink it—“
Tommy downed the whole bottle.
“—all in one go,” the Blade winced as Tommy started coughing. The potion fucking burned, and it felt like every bit of blood in his body was replaced by a bubbling, fizzing thing that eventually settled around the wound on his shoulder, magically closing up the gash and leaving his skin with a faint pink glow.
“You weren’t supposed to take it all at once,” the Blade said slowly, and Tommy couldn’t help himself.
“I told you I’d never had it before, bitch,” he muttered, and then he clapped a hand over his mouth.
The Blade didn’t seem to notice, and he snorted. “Fair.” He straightened, brushing dirt off his pants. “You know your way back to your home, or what?”
Tommy blinked up at him. “Um. Yes?”
“Good.” Then the Blade paused. “You won’t run into any more trouble. Not if I can help it.” The shadows around them seemed to shiver and lurch, like they were sending a bunch of messages simultaneously.
“Thank you for the potion,” Tommy mumbled. “And for killing those people, I guess.”
The Blade laughed. Like, an actual laugh, not the high, insane ones he let out during gang battles or when he was blowing up government establishments.
“You’re welcome,” he said, and then he slipped into the shadows and disappeared, leaving Tommy on the ground wondering what the hell his life had come to.