Today was not a good day. But when was it ever a good day? Never in their case. Watch duty fell on them again so that they hardly had any sleep last night. That only became a minor setback as one of the town's gangs found the hideout, and everyone had to scatter. They managed to get away and hide till dawn before their hunger forced them out. Scavenging for food was no easy task, especially when one was alone without a partner to distract the food tender.

Being chased out the market place was not fun. It also didn't help that they had a run-in with one person that belong to one of the gangs in town and had to run away from them. Though that didn't mean they got away without injury.

It was a bad gash across their right arm, blood oozing out and staining their shirt's sleeve. It would certainly leave a scar once it healed. If it ever healed. They sighed, hitting their head against the wall. "Today bad day." They mumbled, tearing some of their shirt and binding their wound.

A groan escaped them as their stomach turned, growling in hunger. "Черт побери!" They growled, wishing the pain of hunger would go away. They took a couple gulps of air, waiting the pain out till it finally subsided away. They needed food soon. The harbor was nearby right? They could swipe a fish or two if they ran fast enough.

Peeking out the alleyway, they gazed around, finding everything clear and stepped out and headed for the harbor.

X

Being out on the street meant that you had to learn a thing or two on how to survive, including the fastest route to get around the place. Being out on the street for some years now, they had a laid out map in their mind, knowing which way to go to get to places quickly. So it was no surprise they managed to get to the harbor in less than a few minutes time.

They pulled the cap down, concealing their face as they walked along the docks. Fishermen were tough to steal from. They had strong muscles built from the years of hulling creates, catching fish and fighting among themselves. One punch would leave a bruise for ages. Past experience taught them that. They couldn't fight fishermen, but they could swipe a fish or two if they were quick enough.

Looking around, they spotted a few crates that were left ungraded and filled with plenty of fish to take. Though they didn't feel that it would just be simple since they were close to the dock edge where fishermen hung out the most. No, the only true score to take from was a crate that was left alone from a far distance from its ship. The lid was partially open, and they could see herring inside.

Perfect.

Acting normal was easy as they approached their prize casually, keeping their head low and their hands in their pockets, stopping by the crate and, after making sure no one was looking, reached in and grabbed two herrings out of the box and stuffed them inside their pockets. Satisfied, they turned, ready to leave and enjoy their prize, when they ran into something. They stumbled back a bit, bumping into the crate before getting their senses together and looked up.

A pair of green eyes look back at them, eyes that instantly set alarms in their brain. They quickly turned and ran as fast as they could, dodging around people and items alike. They kept running even when they reached the inside of the city and didn't stop till they were far far away from the harbor and deep into the city.

They ducked into an alleyway, stopping to catch their breath. Never had they ran so much in their lives, not even when they ran from gangs before. Taking a moment to collect themselves, they peeked out, looking around for any sign of… well, the owner of those eyes. But that was a problem. They only managed to look at their eyes and nothing else.

They didn't have the chance to get a good look at them before they ran, and that itself was a major problem. What if they saw them again and didn't recognize them till it was too late? What if they hid their eyes and manage to get close to them before they sprung their attack?

They shook their head. There was no way to know if they were part of a gang… but their eyes. Something about them just… made them feel so uneasy. Enough to make them run away…

Whatever. They had food now. They could worry later about that person. Their stomach needed tending to first.

X

Green eyes.

No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't get those eye out of their head. They though it was only hunger that clouded their mind, blocking them from thinking straight. But that wasn't the case. They ate the herring hours ago. Not the most satisfying meal but sufficed their hunger. But not enough to stop them for thinking about those green eyes.

Something about those eyes had scared them enough to run. What it was they did not know. They only caught a glimpse of those eyes before they ran away. Green. They have heard of people having this color in their eyes, but had never seen it before. Most said that it was rare. Only about 2% of the world's population had it.

Maybe that was what spooked them? No. Not something as simple as that. They had seen weirder things and horrors in their life. There was no way they ran because of a simple color. They've seen green before. It was not scary. There was no way that a simple color could cause them to run away in fear.

So… what was the cause then?

X

The thoughts of those green eyes kept plaguing their mind. Long into the hours, as the sky turned to darkness and the moon rose high, those green eyes were all they could think about. And it was frustrating.

Never in their life have then had this frustration before. Surely there was something they could do to take their mind off of those green eyes. Maybe the boys back at the hideout could clear their mind. Hopefully they wouldn't elect them as watch for tonight, and they could get some sleep.

Sleep. That sounded like a good idea. Maybe there was a nice spot they could find and get some rest. And they could finally stop thinking about those green eyes.

They stopped. There was a noise behind them. They turned their head, looking behind their shoulder. Nothing was there except for a can rolling out on the street.

A can.

Rolling.

They stared for a moment before moving again, taking longer strides in their steps. Their steps were soft and quiet, making it easy for them to move around unnoticed. And to hear footsteps falling in step with theirs.

They were being followed.

They took off, hearing someone cursing behind them in their mother tongue. They didn't need to look back to know they were being chased. They knew never to look back.

They had to lose their chaser, needing somewhere to hide then make it back safely to the hideout. It was easier said than done since their chaser was a fast one. Their heavy footfalls were closing in behind them. Too close.

They tired taking sharp turns and jumping over objects, hoping it would give them the advantage in distance and slipping their chaser up, but it was in vain as a strong grip came down on their arm, stopping them in their tracks. "Вас понял!" Their chaser hissed as they struggled in their grip. The chaser had grabbed their wounded arm, opening it anew.

"Hrn? Vaeet meenute." The chaser grabbed their face roughly, forcing their head to look at them. "Проклятия! You not brat boy!" Their chaser growled, their fangs glistening under the light of the lamp they were under. They recognized their chaser immediately. It was the Pitbull Boss, one of the city's gang leader. His gang had been hunting their group for a long time, longer before they ever joined.

They glared at their chaser, pulling back one leg and swinging it with great force, kicking them straight to where they knew it would hurt the most. Their chaser let out a howl of pain, letting their arm go and bending over in pain. Free, they spun their body around, gaining momentum before swinging their leg out and hitting the dog across his face.

The dog stumbled back, but they weren't done yet. They rushed at him, sending a fury of kicks and punches. They may look weak, but they were far from it. Back alley training and countless nights of fighting to survive had given them a strong body. One that they used to their advantage in many fights.

With one final kick, they sent the gang leader sprawling back, their body hitting the wall before dropping to the ground. They panted, their legs throbbing as the feeling the strain from their attacks was coming back at them. While they were strong, they didn't have enough stamina to keep going forever. Still, they knew they were in the safe now. The gang leader was out cold, and there wasn't any backup to gang up on them.

Now was a prefect chance to get away before anyone came upon them… but first. They smiled, walking over to the dog and started looking around their pockets. A bit of money couldn't hurt to have if the owner wasn't conscious to protest to it. They smiled triumphantly as they pulled out the wallet, stuffing it into their pocket and searched for anything else that was worth taking for the keep.

They pulled out a gun, throwing it over their shoulder after taking out the ammo. A knife, a good use for many things but not to their taste. A lighter, useful for burning things so they kept that. A deck of cards, they didn't know how to play anything with them except go fish but found it decent enough so they pocketed that. And… a rolled up piece of paper?

They blinked. Slowly, they grabbed the parchment, holding it carefully in their hands as the examined it. It didn't look anything to special, but for some reason they found themselves wanting to be careful when they handled it.

With gentle ease, they unraveled the paper. The bold red word of SOUL CONTRACT met their eyes, and they found themselves completely shocked that such simple words on this paper were enough to shake them to the core for some reason. But before they could unravel it any further, their fingers started to tingle, growing warm before it escalated to burning, making them yelp and drop the paper.

They waved their hands, blowing on them to cool them down, when the sound of laughter reached their ears. A distinct, cold, mockery laughter that they could tell belong to someone who had a low view on moral standers. Slowly, they looked to the left. A few feet away stood a tall figure in the dark. They couldn't see their full figure, but could tell that his posture was straight with sharp looking clothes that labeled him as someone for a high status in society.

Just by looking at them they could tell he was a man of lies and untrustworthiness. But was he a gang leader? That was the question. Gang leaders did have the tendency to be bad luck. And the way that he was laughing, they could tell he was laughing at them.

After a few moments the man stopped laughing, clearing their throat a bit. "So sorry there. But it's been a long time since I've seen someone try ta take a soul contract who wasn't a collector."

They looked down at the paper. It sat next to the dogs legs, rolled up and innocent looking that could fool anyone. They pointed at the paper, looking at the man for conformation.

"Yeah, that's it alright. Normally I don't like it when others steal my job, but seein' ya fight like that, I jus' had to enjoy the show." The man started walking towards them, stepping into the light of the lamp. Now that they could see him better, the first thing they saw was the color of his suit. They found it both odd and appealing that he wore an all purple clothing, but what got their attention was his head which was a dice.

The city didn't have many with objects for heads, but his was certainly eye catching. He looked young, probably past his mid-twenties or so with the beginnings of a mustache growing under the dot in the center of his face. His mouth was in a smile, other it didn't feel friendly or welcoming at all. What was even odder was that they felt like they seen him somewhere before, but couldn't place where they've seen him.

The man's grin started to falter suddenly, bringing his head closer to them as his eyes scrunched a bit. "Hold the phone. I think I've seen ya before." They tilted back, not liking the closeness this man was at. "A-ha! You're that fella that I bumped into at the docks earlier!"

Their eyes widened. It couldn't be. They looked at the man carefully, looking at their eyes closely. They didn't notice before from a distance, but now they could faintly see the man's eyes had a faint color of green around them.

They shot back, scooting away from the man. The man threw back his head, laughing. "It is you! I knew I recognized ya! That long nose of yer's is a dead give away!"

Their face flushed a bit, not liking that this man was insulting them. "Oh Shut Up You Heegh Class сноб!"

Their hands flew to their mouth.

But it was too late.

The man stopped laughing.

He stared at them, eyes wide and surprised.

"… yer… Yer a… a gal?"

Her face heated up. The one thing she tried so hard to keep secret was her true gender. It wasn't safe for woman out on the streets, but hiding herself as a man had work in her favor many times. Before the man could do anything, she took off.