Mafia Lodged.
Midnight City, 1945.
They say that the City never sleeps. Of course, what they actually mean is there is never nothing happening, they're not saying that the proverbial City is a restless animal. But there is something savage about Midnight City in the twilight hours. Its streets play host to many dark deeds. And Spades Slick sits at the center of the web. He had built this city from the ground up, the place would be a damn dust bowl if not for him. Him… and the Crew.
Jack Vantas awoke with a start, something prodding him hard in the crook of his neck. He groaned. It was going to be one of those kind of days. Well fuck. He sighed and rolled over to see the freckle faced abomination that was, apparently, his own flesh and blood. He wondered idly if he had been that annoying as a kid. He doubted it.
"Whaddya want, brat?" the red eyes that bored into his own steel grey one were filled with resigned irritation.
"Well gee, dad, I guess I just want to get to school on time today. First day of High school and all that bullshit. Don't want the teachers giving me hell this soon into the fucking year." Karl snarked.
"Then walk. Ya still got both ya legs, don't ya?" He grunted dispassionately. "Why'd ya need me to drop ya off, you're 14. Ya can't expect me to hold ya goddamn hands every step."
"Dad." Karl deadpanned "You've never been a hand holder. In fact, I would say it is a much more accurate description to say you are a first class, platinum coated pile of apathetic fucking garbage that only hold the titles of legal guardian and father because my dear departed mother apparently had tragically low standards. You have been a frankly deplorable guardian and, honestly, I have had more paternal care off Uncle Drake, and I'm almost certain he's a fucking sociopath."
"Then ya should see it coming, kiddo." Jack grimaced at how scathing his son had gotten of late. When did that happen? "Why can't ya get ya goddamn Uncle Drake to drop ya, if he's so fucking great?"
"Ara's ill." Karl shrugged and slumped into a sigh. "I don't even want go, not really. I… I don't want people to see. Not until they have to."
"See what?" Jack raised one eyebrow. What had gotten his son, his angsty little ball of rage and fire, so goddamn self-conscious?
"My…" Karl sighed, before whispering "My fucking hair, ok? First day of High school and I have a chance to meet people who don't know what a goddamn freak I am." Tears rolled down his pale cheeks.
Jack Vantas stared at his son's scruffy mop of snow white hair. The brat was scared. Holy Shit, that was unexpected. He sat up, "Kid, look at me. No, seriously, look at your old man a goddamn second."
Karl looked at him with his red eyes growing redder still from crying. Jack smiled sadly. "I have one eye, Karl. I have one goddamn eye, I'm missing an arm, my lungs are fucked and I have lost teeth more often than I care to count. Kids see me and they run away screaming. And the worst part is I did this shit to myself. Ya think you're a freak? What does that make me? I'll tell ya what it makes me. A monster. Ya not a freak, and if anyone says you are… tell 'em you'll set the scariest monster in Midnight City on 'em. Also, punch the bastard. That works too."
Karl was smiling weakly now, his cheeks still wet with tears but his shoulders had stopped shaking. "Thanks dad."
"Ya welcome, runt. Now, if it'll shut ya up, I could always dye that hair black for ya." Jack flashed him a grin. "Keep the eyes though, it'll scare the shit out of those little assholes."
Hey. So... I reflected on somethings and realized that, much as it read OK, the original first chapter was not leading in the direction I think this should be going. It was an OK short story, but it is far from the best I can do.
Plus, its been something like eight months since I wrote that and I honestly can't get myself to follow the plan I layed out while suffering exam stress. Sorry if you read and enjoyed the original, but this should work better. I hope so, anyway.
