Pinstripes and a fine hat heralded a man with a fat wallet. Ira's eyes flicked up and then down again, hardly looking at the man walking from the opposite direction with a buxom woman at his side. Her face was painted with what looked like a high quality lip-rouge and her dress was like the ones in the windows of downtown shops. A very fat wallet.
Ira kept his head low and moved with a pathetic little shuffle, his bare feet muddy from the damp street. The couple seemed to be talking about movie actors as they grew close to Ira. He glanced up at them through the fall of his hair, checking where they were looking before slipping his hand delicately into the man's coat pocket.
What his fingers touched was not a wallet.
His eyes widened and he froze as he felt a large hand cup his cheek and the man in the pinstripes stopped next to him. Ira's hand slid out of the pocket as the man crouched down to his eye-level, a wicked grin stretching his face. Ira had never seen a look quite that scary.
'Part of a matching set, kiddo,' the man said in a low voice. Ira could feel the woman standing next to them, could feel her eyes and feel the similarly horrible smile he was sure she wore. He didn't resist his head being tilted slightly to the side by a cold steal cylinder pressing up against the underside of his jaw. 'This here's its mate, see?' The man's grin defied logic by getting even wider.
'Now,' the man continued, laughter in his eyes, 'where did a dear little bunny like you take the notion to pick my pocket?'
Ira said nothing, his wide, blue eyes staring back at the man expressionlessly. Normally he would have put on a look of fear and desperation, something truly pathetic and heart-wrenching, but Ira was quite sure that such a show wouldn't be rewarded with pity from this man; perhaps the opposite even. So he just stared back, his face blank as a china-doll.
'... Shy, ain'tcha?' the man breathed, his eyes glittering maliciously. The hand on Ira's face shifted to a tight grip on his shoulder as the man straightened up. The gun disappearing without Ira ever having seen it. 'Poor little urchin, you must be hungry, that it? Why don't you come for a ride with Uncle Envy?'
Ira felt his face twitch slightly, though he tried to suppress any visible reaction, as he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He'd heard the name before. Of course he had. You don't grow up on the streets of New Central without hearing of Envy. Now he had to realize that he would not, after all, be eating a hot meal tonight. Or ever.
His feet moved along obediently as he was lead by the painful grip on his shoulder down the street and into a waiting car. He was sat on the back seat between Envy and the smirking woman. The driver looked over his shoulder, leering at Ira under the brim of a hat that didn't hide his baldness.
'Who's the bunny?' he asked in a grating, high-pitched voice.
'That's a good question, Gluttony,' Envy replied, resting his arm around Ira's shoulders in a way that put his hand at a perfect position to clamp around his small throat. 'What's your name there, son?' Envy tilted his head a bit and grinned down at Ira, who stared blankly back at him and said nothing.
Gluttony giggled and shifted the car into gear. 'He's the quiet type,' the woman noted in a low, sultry voice, her lips closing into a smug little smile.
'It seems the boy's hungry, Gluttony. Let's make a jaunt to Leena's and see if we can't do something about that.'
'Right!' Gluttony chirped and turned the car down a different rode.
Ira remained perfectly still and silent as they rode, feeling Envy and the woman's eyes on him but doing his best impression of a lifeless dummy. When the car once again stopped outside a small café, he allowed himself to be pulled out and again lead by the shoulder, right into a corner booth. He sat, blocked on either side, between Envy and the woman.
Glasses of water had been set down by a waitress before the hostess had even finished seating them. The waitress stood next to the table with an exaggerated politeness, waiting for them to order as the hostess disappeared through the kitchen door.
'Coffee,' Envy said with a smile at the waitress. It wasn't as scary as the smirk he'd had before, but still plenty intimidating and Ira could see a stiffness to the way the waitress nodded, smiling a bit too widely and her voice a bit too high as she wrote that down. 'And how 'bout a cream soda for the kid.'
It was not the waitress who returned, moments later, with coffee and soda, but an older woman. 'What a pleasure to see you again, dear!' she said as she set their drinks in front of them. 'Did you have something particular in mind? Might I recommend the duck? We just got it in fresh this morning!'
'That sounds positively darb, Leena. I'll have the duck,' Envy said before taking a sip of his coffee. 'Lust?'
'The same, thank you,' the woman, Lust, said with her smug little smirk.
'And what about you, kiddo?' Envy asked, ruffling Ira's hair. 'Anything catch your fancy?'
Ira said nothing, staring blankly at the soda in front of him.
'No? Nothing?' Envy asked with a mock-disappointed look, the corners of his mouth fighting to turn back up into his creepy smile. 'Well what do kids like then? What's that kid having, Leena?' He gestured to a child at one of the other tables in the small café.
Leena followed his point and then smiled back at him. "That's chicken soup with noodles. It's very good for growing boys and I've never heard one complaint about it!' She smiled warmly at Ira, who continued to stare at his soda.
'That sounds perfect. Why don't you get him that and a slice of pie.' Envy smiled at Leena in a way that was almost charming.
Leena bustled away and Envy's attention focused back on Ira. 'Go on, kid, have a sip. You're not going to hurt my feelings now, are you?'
Without looking up, Ira caught his hands around the glass of fizzing, translucent liquid and pulled it towards him, sipping at it slowly.
'Attaboy...' Envy patted his head. 'What's your name anyway?'
Ira didn't answer, keeping his mouth settled on the edge of the glass. Their meals arrived in what must have been record time, while other patrons who had been in the café before them continued to wait on theirs.
...
After supper, which Ira had somehow managed to demolish despite the queasiness he felt at his current situation, he allowed himself to be shuffled back into the car again and pinned between Envy and Lust in the back seat. The car smelled like duck too; someone must have brought dinner out for the driver while they were in the café.
'It's a good night for a bit of sport, don't you think? Gluttony, be a friend and take us to see some dogs, would you?'
Ira watched the roll of fat that sat between the back of Gluttony's head and his shoulders, where a neck should have been, shake as he giggled disconcertingly.
The dogs which Envy apparently wanted to see were not running around a track chasing after a dead rabbit. They were, instead, in a lowered pit, viciously attacking one and other. People were watching and yelling, waving betting cards and screaming encouragement at the dogs. A few of them caught sight of Ira as he was pushed through the crowd and looked like they were about to protest before their eyes landed on Envy and their mouths quickly snapped shut.
Lust walked ahead of them, pushing men out of their way with much more strength than Ira would have though she had from looking at her. As people took notice, a path began to clear, letting them walk right up to the edge of the pit where Ira could see the dogs fighting. He stared down at one with a large gash on its shoulder where a bite had been taken out of it.
'Oh, did you think we were going to the track?' Envy inquired, bent down so that his mouth was next to Ira's ear. 'Hope you're not too disappointed... By the by, what is your name, kiddo?'
Ira said nothing, continuing to watch the two large dogs maul each other. Next to him, Envy gave an exaggerated sigh. 'I guess we'll never know, huh?' Ira didn't have time to contemplate the meaning of that statement before the hand on his shoulder suddenly shot forward, pushing him along with it.
Before Ira's brain registered what was happening, he was crashing into the dirt and sawdust at the bottom of the pit. The crowd abruptly stopped cheering and Ira heard a collective gasp as he lifted his head slowly, looking up at the two dogs who were now turned in his direction, growling. He heard a few voices start to raise protest but get cut off. He watched the dog with the tear in its shoulder as it lowered its head, growling and flattening back the one ear it still had.
'I think he deserves a fighting chance, don't you?' Envy's voice asked somewhere above him. 'Lust?'
Something thunked down into the sawdust at Ira's left and he looked over to find a knife lying there next to him. One of the dogs hadn't liked the movement though, and started charging towards him, barking angrily. The other followed suit half a moment later.
Ira made a sound for the first time that evening. He opened his mouth and screamed in terror, scrambling to get the knife before the dogs reached him. The pit was small though, and teeth had closed around his ankle just as he was fetching up the knife and a handful of sawdust with his left hand.
He whipped around, swinging the knife towards the dog attached to his leg but didn't get there because the other dog slammed into him. He was knocked back so hard that he was too stunned at first to feel the jaws clamp down on his right arm, the second dog growling viscously around a mouthful of flesh. Ira screamed again and started bringing down the knife in repeated blows as the dog relinquished his shoulder and attempted to catch the flailing left hand that was attacking him.
The first dog started shaking its head violently, trying to rip his leg off. Ira kicked with the free foot but while his concentration was there the second dog made a grab for his neck. He brought the knife down again and was rewarded with a yelp and a moments respite from the second dog as it stepped back and pawed at its now injured eye. Ira took the opportunity to switch the knife to his right hand and slash at the first dog's face with it, finally freeing his bleeding leg. Instead the first dog went after his swinging arm.
A weight hit him from behind as the second dog rejoined the fight, teeth snapping wildly around for any bit of flesh they could find. Ira was screaming again though he wasn't really conscious of it, as the second dog clamped down on his shoulder, searching for his neck. He tried to deliver a sharp kick to the first dog but his foot was captured instead and he felt one or two of the tiny bones inside break. Ira pitched forward to bring the knife down on the first dog and surprisingly broke free from the second's grip on his shoulder.
The first dog let go of his foot, going after the knife-hand coming towards it. For its trouble the dog received a deep slice down the side of its muzzle and retreated a step. Ira screamed again, this one sounding less like a terrified child and more like a desperate animal, and threw his body at the dog, tackling it and wrapping his free arm around its chest while he stabbed haphazardly with the knife. The dog went down but kept struggling and making noises and so Ira kept stabbing it until the jerking motions it made started to become weak.
After the dog had gone still, Ira whipped around, his left foot trailing red, sticky sawdust, to find the other dog similarly still on the other side of the pit, apparently bled-out.
Ira crouched there, panting and half expecting one of them to get back up and attack him again. Neither did. Instead he slowly became aware of a sound other than his own heartbeat and looked up to find the source.
Envy stood at the edge of the pit, a wide, smug grin on his lips, clapping his hands. Ira stared up at him.
...
Ira was woken by the smell of sausage, eggs, pancakes, butter and molasses. A woman dressed in a smart maid's uniform was setting down a breakfast tray, piled with enough food for two grown men, on the small table in front of a huge window. Ira sat up quickly before yelping and falling back down into the down-filled bedding that puffed and shifted around him with a life of its own.
The woman gave him a look of intense curiosity, but said nothing as she turned and left the room.
The room in question seemed to be larger than most apartments. Ira uncurled himself from the fetal position he'd adopted out of pain, and slowly fought his way out of the down. He let the foot that wasn't wrapped in bandages touch the floor first and then gingerly tried to set the other down without disturbing the torn flesh underneath too badly.
It was a painful journey, limping from the bed to the table and when Ira got there he'd already crammed a sausage link into his mouth and grabbed a muffin and a handful of sticky pancake before he'd finished collapsing into the chair. He kept shoving food down his throat, not bothering with utensils, until he felt as though he was about to vomit, and then he sat, licking the molasses off of his hands.
After his hands had been licked clean and wiped dry on silk pajamas, Ira just sat where he was, watching the door to the room and waiting for it to open again. He sat there for a long time. He didn't know how to read the clock on the wall, but he thought he must have been there for an hour or more. Still the room remained quiet and the door remained closed.
Hesitantly, Ira pushed himself out of the chair and limped over to the door. It opened easily to his touch, having not been bolted, and led him out into a fully carpeted hallway. He looked back into the room and all the food that was still left. He could have stayed there for days with so much food, and not have to wander out into this unknown, but the curiosity was killing him and so he let go of the door handle and hobbled out into the hall.
It was quiet here too and Ira looked up and down before heading towards what looked like the top of a staircase. He descended it backwards and sideways, leaning as much as he could on the railing with his less-damaged arm. As he neared the bottom, he could hear music from a radio or phonograph playing softly through the fancy French-doors of what appeared to be a large parlor.
He hesitated for a few minutes at the base of the steps, before limping his way across to the parlor doors and then slowly creeping inside.
'What the hell are you limping for?'
Ira twisted to see Envy examining him over the top of a newspaper, one eyebrow raised.
'I don't remember letting some worthless gimp in here. Where's that kid who balled up all the bets at the dog fight?' Envy asked, looking at him pointedly and lowering the newspaper a bit more.
Ira stayed still for a moment and then straightened his posture, ignoring the stabbing pain as he settled weight back onto the torn-up foot. Then he took a few steps toward the chair where Envy was sitting, not even wincing, and stood in front of him.
'... My name is Ira,' he said quietly.
Both of Envy's eyebrows went up then and his lips slowly pulled back into one of his widest grins. He let a short chuckle drop from his lips before he responded. 'Not anymore. Haven't you heard that Latin's dead, kid?' His eyes narrowed and his grin took on a look of wicked satisfaction. 'Your name is Wrath.'
...
A/N: I actually wrote this over a year ago, I think... I never did post it because I guess for some reason I thought it wasn't finished, but I think it is now. I suppose the combination of catching up on Brotherhood and watching Gunslinger Girl reminded me about this fic. I don't think anything at Mafia_Series has updated for two years or more... Which is sad, it's my favorite AU ever. So, well, anyway, here it is. I like comments.