Author's note: This is isn't the best writing, I can do better but I really needed to write something and this was it. Enjoy ^^ (Minor bits of swearing)
"Come on ya dick'eds he's getting' away!" The distinct sharp metal clinking from the speed of a bicycle chain, spinning. The figure of a young boy his hood slid over his face shooting down the road escaping the grasps of yet another gang of kids. He was quicker, agile and knew the roads of the neighbourhood, from memory. A smirk slid across his face as he swerved his bike around and planted his foot down onto the road. His gaze focused strongly on the kids who had just stopped at the top of a hill, he laughed once scornfully, as if he was being merciful. Like a walking god amongst men. The gang left their prey as slips of rain started to fall from the heavens, they gave up, a mistake on their behalf.
Sliding his hood back, he walked slow and solid, his footsteps unique, silent and full of confidence, all the time dragging his bike along as if it was a burden. The old metal of the thing being dragged on the ragged concrete could have made sparks but the noise attracted attention. One more corner and he would be home safe, but he unfortunately was complacent and found himself turning a corner to face a second gang.
Immediately pulling his hood back up, he tossed his bike to the side, strangely with little effort, it crashed to the side of a derelict building the bricks crumbling at the touch of the metal. The group of kids feeling quite intimidated by this, huddled slightly some even jumped from shock, but nevertheless drew their baseball bats and makeshift weapons out of panic. Another smile full of malice and cold steel spread across this mysterious kid's face. He was capable of murder and so much more.
An hour later, he's walking away, walking away from a rugby pile of shredded metal and a gang of kids rolling on the floor in pain. Shaded by his hood and his expression barely readable he breaks off into a sprint leaving his bike and the kids to the wailing of sirens. I couldn't even tell if he was proud of himself.
"Bunch of a-holes…" he slides his house key into the front door of his house, pushing the old thing open, creaking on its hinges. Tossing the keys to the side, finding no 'clink' from his keys, he turns round to find uniformed men standing in his lounge, most of them armed with military guns. All of them proudly wearing the red and white logo of Umbrella on their uniforms. One was holding down his mother onto her knees, who seemed to have been drugged asleep and battered by the men, possibly for answers or to pressure the kid.
Her hair hung limply by her face, which was plastered in cuts and bruises already. Somehow her clothes were torn and some of the soldiers appeared to be eyeing up her breasts which were partially concealed by the shirt she was wearing. She was at peace in ways, she has always said that she wanted to die in her sleep. But not this way… not this way.
Another took a step next to her and cocked back his handgun swinging it round to the right temple of her head, followed by a smooth click from the gun.
Sliding his hands into his pockets the kid, glanced at his mother and gave a simple, casual shrug. Not seeming to be disturbed in any way he walks towards the stairs up to his bedroom, only to find himself stepping into the nozzle of a machine gun. The soldier sweats beneath his mask finding it difficult to not stammer. He'd heard the stories of this kid and he knew he was dangerous.
"Kneel down… and put your hands on your head." Sounding muffled and a little shaky but still having a certain tone of authority.
There was silence and the kid looked disinterested.
"I said, kneel down and put… your hands…on your head." He repeated to the kid louder, not wanting to hurt him.
The kid looks up at the soldier's mask, where the eyes would supposedly be, slowly raising his hand pushing his gun to the side, as a threatening gesture. The soldier immediately brings the gun round violently whacking the side of his face and aims it back at the kid's forehead. Slowly, the kid turns his head back around, still confident and not scared. A line etched across his cheek grows red and starts to ooze blood.
"Shoot the parent… now." he demanded his team, a forceful command, still aiming steadily at the child. The kid opens his mouth to speak and taking a slow considered breath, while the solider raises a palm to halt the team's procedures.
"What… do you guys want…?" The first words quiet and collected from the kid, if he was even worried he wasn't showing it for anyone.
"Come with us, and you and your mother will not get hurt. Ok?"
There was a long pause.
A gunshot rings out from the house, followed by a heavy thud.
The kid suddenly wakes up again with a start, gasping and sweating but held down, restrained.
"Ahh you're awake. Good."
"You what…what's going on? Where the hell am I? Fuckers let me go!"
"Language boy…" This guy was tutting damn guy was tutting at me. I can't even move to get this guy, this isn't right, where's mum? What am I doing here?
A man who looked as though he was in his mid-twenties sat in the corner, one leg bent resting on his knee, his elbows bent at the arm rests , each finger touching the opposite and adjacent one. Everything about this man spoke perfection and power. He sat there, observing the kid from a distance occasionally jotting something down, casually smirking.
"Fuck sakes…" Exasperated and, for the first time in his life, genuinely worried, slumping his head back, the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead falling from his face. realised that this might be the end of him, rings of metal held him down on the arms, legs and across his chest. The kid struggled again, the metal creaking under the strength, he felt some of the metal by his hands give way but not by much. He was immobile, and in the eyes on the shady man, human and weak.
The man in the corner stayed still and silent, his dark sunglasses shading the red demon behind. Impressed as he was, he didn't show it. His lips slowly pricked into a cold smile, watching the kid give up was something he didn't expect, certainly not after hearing what happened when they captured his mother. He'd heard a lot about this talented boy, having some sort of blood-thirst for violence and being caught in gang wars. He's not worth gang wars…he needs something more.
The poor kid blacked out, out of exhaustion and the overwhelming fact that he was trapped, this kid wasn't used to this kind of treatment, and he owned the streets and normally received very little resistance. He was out for a while, and the observer grew tired, leaving him alone with silence.
The kid's mother burst through the smooth ebony door and wrapping her arms around him, totally bewildered and confused, the kid stood stiff not returning the love and compassion. More importantly, he couldn't seem to move. Her bloodshot eyes were brimming with tears, finding that her own son would not hug her, the kid was tormented, the image of her stood there in front of him. She backed off, and placed both hands to cover her mouth in horror. The kid waited for her to say his name, he needed to hear it and he needed the love. He strained his neck trying to move the rest of his body.
"Mum… please… help me." He whispered, tears brimming from his own eyes as well, as another masked, uniformed man strutted out a handgun spinning wildly on his finger, and then holding the grip right by his mother's temple again. He clicked the gun back and the last thing the kid heard was the trigger slowly moving back, the slow creak of the metal and the spring.
"NO!" The kid woke with a start, pulling a muscle within his neck he retreated back down, finding the cause of why he couldn't move. He was still restrained and he had just hurt himself. Save your strength I have a feeling you'll need it. His chest rising up and down quickly, his breath now ragged and inconsistent he slowly calmed himself. Fuck me…come on mate you can do this. There's a certain space between rage and tranquillity and the kid had just found it, he'd reached the peak of his abilities all of a sudden. The metal restraints started slowly to pull apart, he pushed on the metal somehow pulling it awry, with inhumane strength. He resisted the urge to howl in success and instead focused on his surroundings, even though his legs and chest were still restrained, his hand were free. He was bleeding from the sharp metal twisted apart which had dug into his skin a little.
He already felt exhausted after all, he was just human.