The streets are dark and quiet; behind him the saloon is bright and noisy. It's been a good night for gambling, Kenny's jacket pocket has a bit of weight to it for once. He tries not to think too hard about how much heavier it'd be if he hadn't spent so long at the bar. Oh well, nothing to be done about it now; and anyways it's been a hard week and he deserves to put his feet up and have a few drinks. And now he needs some sleep.
His footsteps are quick and quiet as he ducks into an alley; most men with an ounce of sense would avoid the back streets of this town after dark, but Kenny is not most men. He's halfway down the alley when he hears pounding footsteps; the woman rounds the corner in a flurry of long skirts and hair and runs straight into him. Kenny doesn't budge an inch but the woman does, right over backwards with a high-pitched yelp. She jerks back upright, one hand clutching the torn bodice of her dress, and the moon chooses that moment to come out from behind the clouds just enough that Kenny can see the blood dripping from her nose and split lower lip. Her right cheek is starting to bruise horribly and she has the beginnings of a nasty black eye; the exaggerated makeup and tight, low-cut dress tell Kenny all he needs to know about what she is and why she looks that way. He holds her gaze for a long, silent minute; her deep brown eyes are filled with fear but she juts her chin and sets her trembling lips in a thin, defiant line that makes Kenny smirk. The girl has a bit of a back bone then. Good. If there's one thing Kenny can't stand it's a coward.
He walks past her, right hand reaching into his jacket, and she flinches. She outright jumps when the small pouch of money drops into her lap. She looks back at him, mouth hanging open in confusion; he pulls his hat low over his eyes and keeps walking. It's not in his nature to be kind or generous and God knows he could've used that money, but he can't unsee Kuchel in every single prostitute he passes. His older sister is one of the reason he's this far out west; with their grandfather-the only living relative they had left-dead almost two months all the brotherly instincts that he's tried to bury for so many years have come flooding back. Kuchel had never gotten along with their grandfather; she'd struck out on her own as soon as she was able but things didn't go well and last time Kenny saw her she was working at a brothel. With Grandfather dead Kuchel has no one else left to turn to, not that it was likely that he would have helped her even if she had asked. It was even less likely that she would've asked at all, a theory proven by her willingness to become a prostitute over having to beg him for help. All they had now was each other; Kuchel had always looked after him and while Kenny is loath to admit it he does love her. A little bit anyways. The least he can do is check up on her and give the bad, or maybe good, news. The only problem is, he can't find her. The girls at her…previous place of employment told him they woke up one morning and she was just…gone. The madam of the last brothel he stopped at had described seeing a woman pass through who looked almost exactly like Kuchel, but that was three weeks ago. He's been to two towns since then and no one he's talked to since has seen her. If he's being completely honest that worries him. Just a little bit though.
Behind him he hears the girl's skirts rustle as she gets up and runs off, accompanied by the soft clink of her prize. She's hardly around the corner when a man stumbles into the alley from the same direction she had come. The man's torso is bare; Kenny has to smile a bit when he sees him. The man's face, chest, and arms are all scratched and bloody. The girl was even more of a fighter than he'd originally thought. The man stops short on seeing him, furious expression turning wary for a brief moment before he shoves Kenny aside and makes to continue down the alley. In one swift move Kenny turns on his heel so he's behind the man and grabs a fistful of his hair. At the same time a knife appears in his left hand and Kenny draws it across the man's throat without a second thought. The man makes a gurgling sound and goes limp in Kenny's hand; he holds him up for a second longer and then, with a look of disdain, lets him drop. He produces a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wipes the blade off, leaving the body face-down in the dirt.
He's not hardly out of the alley when he hears the soft scuff of feet behind him and he berates himself silently for not considering that maybe the man had a partner. He whirls around and draws his arm back, about to slide his knife back out of its hiding place up his sleeve, but he stops short when he sees his attacker.
It's a child.
He's maybe seven years old, eight at the most but it's a stretch. He's a starved sort of skinny and his dark, dirt-caked hair hangs several inches below his shoulders. The only thing clean about him is the large knife he's holding, the knife that would've been buried in Kenny's side if he had been any slower turning around. The child charges at him again, weapon held high, and Kenny starts to draw his as well. It won't be the first time he's killed a child, age doesn't matter to him. If you draw a weapon you had better be prepared for the consequences.
The child slashes at his hip, he has a strong swing but his aim is poor and Kenny side steps him easily. He catches the boy by his shirt and raises the knife. The boy freezes, wild eyes fixed on Kenny's face. He brings the knife down.
The moon comes out from behind the clouds again, shining full on the boy's face, and Kenny feels his heart skip a beat. The knife changes directions at the last second, sending strands of the boy's long hair fluttering to the ground. They stare at each other, frozen for one long moment before the boy capitalizes on Kenny's confusion and slashes his arm. He reacts on instinct, flinging the boy away from him and into a nearby building. The boy hits hard and slumps to the ground, knife falling from his loose fingers. Kenny approaches him, stuffing his closed blade into his coat pocket and wrapping a fresh handkerchief around his bleeding wrist. He drops to one knee in front of the boy and roughly brushes his long hair from his face. In the dark he looks just like any other scruffy street urchin and Kenny's heart rate starts to slow, but there's no mistaking what he saw. He closes the boy's knife and hides it with his own, then removes his jacket and wraps the boy in it, completely hiding him from view. He tucks him under his arm and heads in the direction of his hotel.
He's down half his winnings from the night, his arm hurts like a bitch, and no doubt it'll make things a real hassle tomorrow when someone finds the body he left in the alley; but Kenny can't help but smile. The boy has his mother's eyes.
Has Kenny's sister's eyes.
Wow long time no update guys how's everybody doing? I feel bad about being awol for so long but after Young Justice was cancelled I lost my main writing muse. Got it back in recent months largely thanks to the lovely fe7 on Tumblr, who is also responsible for this fic. Trying to get back into the habit of writing, so maybe I'll be more active here? Or maybe not haha who knows so if you guys ever want to chat or send fic prompts or whatever you'll have more luck reaching me at my Deviantart or Tumblr accounts (which you can find on my profile).