A young boy ran through the darkness one halloween night. He wore no costume as he raced through the town. As to why he was running through town, he didn't quite know himself, it just felt right (better than thinking anyway). He supposed the best thing to do now was to find somewhere to hide, if he was caught he would be in trouble. His tiny legs propelled him forward as he looked left and right. suddenly he stubbed his toe on the pavement causing him to trip and fall. His small digits quickly pushed himself backup.
The boy continued to limp forward being careful not to put too much pressure on his toe. It hurt but he didn't feel like going back yet. He continued to move forward for about 20 minutes as weariness engulfed him. His walking turned into a monotone drawl. He turned the corner into an alleyway. He yawned. In his daze he failed to notice two men in rough clothing as he blindly bumped into them.
Both of them looked at him angrily, although he did not realise it, he had just caught them doing something very illegal. Their eyes were like daggers. The boy was becoming very scared. A single word escaped his lips.
"Um…"
"Raurgh!" one of the men replied before giving him a swift fist to the gut.
The boy clenched his gut as he coughed. His eyes watered, that really hurt! He was about to give another punch when the other man acted as a voice of reason, "Calm down Tony, we don't want any trouble with the locals" he paused for a moment before continuing "besides, I'm sure there's more than one way to keep a kid quiet."
The boy bawled out his next words, "I… I'm gonna call the cops on you, and… your gonna go to jail for a million years and have to clean your cell with a toothbrush every day for the rest of your lives!"
"Diego?" Tony said gravely
Diego's face was now twisted into a snarl. He grunted once before speaking, "Y'know kid, I was going to go easy on you, but I guess Lady Luck decided you weren't worth the effort. After we're done with you you're gonna wish for a million years in a cell."
They beat the boy into a bruised mess. He cried throughout the whole ordeal but did not speak in case it angered his attackers. When he tasted blood on his lip the men finally stopped. They tossed him into a nearby dumpster. Diego gave one final warning, "you don't speak about this to anyone and you don't mess with us, got it punk!?"
The boy nodded, tears finally stopping with a sniffle. They slammed the lid shut. Darkness engulfed his sight. The boy laid there for a few minutes. He heard them shuffling while doing their illicit activities. Eventually he heard one of them speak "Gah! another one, sack 'em Tony"
"..."
"ffffggggaaaaaaaaauuuugggghhhh!"
The boy was scared now but he lifted the dumpster lid slightly to see what happened. Outside a blond gentleman with a white tuxedo stood. The boy thought the man could be a model but then decided against it after seeing the arrogance on his face. Writhing on the ground were the two men. They were uninjured but their faces held a look of absolute horror as their bodies spasmed uncontrollably. The man in the white tuxedo glanced in his direction then went to lean against the wall. The boy lifted his injured form out of the dumpster. He looked once more at the men on the ground before turning to the man.
"Thank you" the boy told him.
"Hmm…" the man replied
"I was told whenever someone helped you you're supposed to thank them" the boy said "so, thank you."
"I wasn't trying to help you." the man retorted calmly.
"Then why did you do, uh… whatever you did, to those men?" the boy questioned.
"They annoyed me."
"They were going to hurt you?" the boy asked confused.
"They annoyed me." the man affirmed.
The boy gulped. Their began to be a silence. It would have been awkward but, the man's overwhelming presence made it hard for anything to be awkward. The man appeared content to continue ignoring the boy. The boy wanted to know more about the man. The boy mustered up a little resolve and, attempting to sound calm he asked the man a question.
"What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for an associate" the man replied disinterested.
"Do you know about Lady Luck?" the boy asked slowly
"..."
The boy continued "Those men said Lady Luck was the reason they had to beat me up."
"Luck is a concept mortals use to blame forces outside their control" The man explained.
"I wonder how lucky those men were" the boy wondered.
"Not very" the man noted.
"Y'know, you seem pretty smart. There's something that's been bothering me. My parents did something weird. I've tried asking others about this but I never get a straight answer. My parents dropped me off at the orphanage and left, which is strange because orphanages are for people without parents. yet mine just left me there. I haven't seen them for months. What do you think that means?"
"I suppose it means they are not your parents anymore." The man dully replied.
The boy then began to contemplate all the events he could remember in his short existence on this earth. percentage wise, a lot of bad things happened to him. At least that's what he thought at the moment.
"I wish I was lucky. I don't know how to do that." the boy contemplated.
"be in control"
"What?"
"If you don't have something, seize it. If you don't know something, find it out. Always be in control of the situation and never be caught unaware."
"What's that?"
"Just something I do well." The man finished
"I think I want to be like you when I grow up." the boy said.
The man paused. His next words felt like they emanated from him. "Heh heh heh. I haven't heard that in a while." His ominous tone scared the boy. Then the man looked to the side. "Mazikeen have you retrieved the object."
The boy, startled, looked to where the man was facing. Standing there was a woman in a blue cloak with a white mask covering half of her face. In reply to the man's question she simply nodded. The man and the woman then began to walk away. The boy said one last thing before they were gone.
"I like your costume Ms Mazikeen."
The boy then headed back to the orphanage, considering this misadventure over. On the way back the owner of the orphanage drove up to him in a car. She quickly scuttled out and asked him what happened in a very stern tone. He simply told her that he stubbed his toe. The orphanage owner, not believing this due to a lot more injuries than a stubbed toe, grounded him for a week.
As the boy grew older, the memory of this night faded into obscurity. But some part of it always remained, even if only a little. Were lives ruled by fate? choice? or could they be ruled by chance.