A/N: Hey there! Thank you very much for clicking on this and giving me a chance! It means a lot, so there are a few things I want to clarify up front to possibly help ease worries. Firstly, as stated in the summary, this will contain OC inserts, and I say 'inserts' because there will be more than one. Secondly, none of these OC's will be paired with any of the actual cast for Life is Strange. So for those of you thinking this is some typical OC story with shoehorned romance, eggs and bacon you are mistaken! Thirdly, my OC's are not perfect just like everyone else and will make mistakes or even choices you don't agree with. So please don't worry that this is going to be some god-like character who fixes everything, my characters will mess up rest assured. What is a story without conflict?
Also the first chapter will be spent trying to establish the characters themselves, and explain their plight and try to set the plot (which will follow the canon one of LiS). So I apologize if it gets a bit too off-topic of what is expected, just hang through. What's the point in putting in characters if you can't help explain them? I know what they are like, but it's my job to explain to YOU what they are like! So please, just bear with it for a moment or so if you would please! The plot will be clarified a bit later in the chapter!
So all I ask from you my dear reader is to give the first chapter a chance, and see what you think! If you dislike it, then go about your life and have a great day! If you like it, leave a review if you'd be so kind and await for me to hopefully continue!
Life is Troublesome
Chapter One: Hands we are Dealt
The sound of leather striking cloth was constant, almost rhythmic with three strikes coming in quick succession before a slight pause them a firm and thunderous finish before it repeated over and over like a dull melody. The only other sound with this consistent melody was that of a creaking of a metal chain permeating throughout the somewhat empty warehouse. The leather meeting cloth was boxing gloves that covered a pair of fists that had begun to slow down but still struck with fervor. The cloth was of course a punching bag that took every blow, swaying back and forth.
The male who was striking the bag was a teenager by the name of Cyrus. Cyrus stood shorter than most kids did his age, 18, at the simple height of 5'6. But despite being only 5'6 and a little over 110 lbs., he was still one little ball of pent-up emotion and intensity, releasing his emotions by striking the bag for all his worth.
His azure orbs traced the lethargic movements of the punching bag and delivered each blow in the same consistent type of rhythm. A quick three jabs, followed by one slow, but powerful right cross. Sweat dripped from the brow of his heart-shaped face, trailing down his gaunt nose and then onto the mat where he stood upon, his feet firmly planted.
As time passed however, he sweat more and more and he felt his body grow more and more fatigued as he slowed down and finally stopped all together and attempted to control his jagged breaths. His hand combed through his short, jet-black locks that were slicked back with a few pesky strands that refused to cooperate and stuck out.
"Worn out already?" An orotund voice called from behind, loud, clear, and pulling Cyrus from his concentration to regain his breathing. Craning his neck, Cyrus' eyes fell onto his best friend. His right hand man. Olyander Vyseni. One of the few people in this world that he even cared about, except for his own family.
Olyander stood taller than Cyrus easily at 5'12, and looked to be his polar opposite in nearly every way. Where Cyrus had electric azure irises, Olyander had calm jade orbs that always stayed composed while Cyrus was more known infamously known to let rage glint in his eyes. Cyrus' hair was short, slicked back and black. Olyander had long, wavy chocolate locks that dipped just past his shoulders and went to his mid-back, parted down the center in the front and tucked behind his ears. Even the shape of their faces contrasted, with Olyander's being more of an oblong shape.
Cyrus straightened up and locked eyes with the other male, who stood inside of a makeshift boxing arena that they had constructed months ago. His thin lips curled into a slight smirk and he shook his head. "Just taking a breather, can't a man take a break?"
"Oh, so you aren't tired? Then why don't you hop in the ring here Mr. Bossman so I can evaluate my strength. If I can't beat the man I am supposed to guard then what is the point?"
"You act like I need protection. I'm more than capable of holding my own, you know that full well. Remember that chipped tooth I gave 'ya? Besides, stop acting like it is your job. All I need is for you to have my back, and I'll be fine. Your job is to be my friend, not my bodyguard you dork."
Cyrus pulled himself into the ring, grinning wryly towards the taller male as he slid into a fighting stance. "Mmmn, if you don't need protection then I imagine we won't need gloves?" Olyander retorted, cracking his bare knuckles.
"When have we ever used gloves…? Just come on you big tree, try and take me." Cyrus' gloves hit the mat before he could even finish his sentence.
Without another word, both males circled one another before stepping in to engage with a flurry of jabs coming from one another. Cyrus was already fatigued despite how he tried to hide it, so he was quickly pushed onto the backfoot and forced to guard and try to deflect Olyander's shots as he awaited an opening to reveal itself.
Luckily what he lost in size he made up for more than amplify in speed as he bounced off the balls of his feet after every jab and hook, though he could feel his body began to slow down as he tried to press a counter-attack. He threw one swift right hook that Olyander just managed to step out of the way of.
However, even as Olyander moved back, just like a python, he shot right back forward and went for a jab that was on a collision course for Cyrus' nose. Cyrus knew he was utterly boned as soon as he saw it.
His right fist was still going through with the swing, and he had leaned so far forward that there wasn't much of a chance for him to evade the strike. So all he could do was extend his left arm to try stopping the incoming fist, or at least help guide him when he inevitably got knocked back.
Olyander certainly never pulled a punch and this was no exception, Cyrus was sent right onto his ass from the sheer force of the hit. He could already feel blood trickling down his nose as starts faded in and out of his vision. Using his hand he managed to guide himself so he only fell on his rear and not just straight on his back.
Yeah, there was one solid reason Olyander was his right hand man. Not just because he knew he could trust him with his life, but because the man was not just a strong hitter but his technique was impressive. He was only a year older than Cyrus was, and was twice the fighter he was. He usually lasted longer but fatigue took its toll too quick.
"Not tired my ass, you could have weaved away from that if you weren't so desperate to end the fight. Pride before the fall Cyrus, I feel you should learn that phrase before I accidentally chip one of your teeth or worse."
Cyrus only groaned, tilting his head back and closing his eyes while clutching his nose. "I don't need a lecture right now, I feel like I just got bitch-slapped with a brick." He droned, his voice incredibly nasally as he cleared his throat just to spit blood out of his mouth.
Olyander watched for a moment before releasing a drawn out sigh and reaching for a towel and throwing it on top of his compatriots face. "No more training for today, not like you're in much of a rush. The Bishops in downtown haven't done anything for a while, and the Boulevard Boys haven't tried for anything for months, we are in the clear."
Cyrus had stuffed the towel up his nose as he let his face back down. A cocky grin was etched on his visage as his nasally voice responded. "It's because the Price Syndicate isn't one to be screwed with, they won't make a move. Bayport is ours, and it will stay that way."
Cyrus' grin was contagious and Olyander couldn't help but letting a small smile spread on his visage. After both of them had left Arcadia Bay a few years ago, Bayport was where they set down their roots and in just a few short years, they had established a way to get by. And despite the usage of the word 'syndicate', it wasn't through criminal activity. Technically. Kind of. The line was a bit blurred…They were fighters maybe, but not criminals. Or at least that was how most saw it.
When they got to Bayport, it was in the middle of a huge power struggle between two opposing gangs that were doing whatever it took to assert dominance. The Boulevard Boys and the Bishop Family, both using extortion, assault, and bribery to try to control Bayport. It didn't take long for Cyrus to have an altercation with one of the gangs and get himself jumped and the hell beaten out of him. Olyander would never forget the way he came home, bleeding and looking more infuriated than ever.
Hell hath no fury like a Price scorned, because the very next day he started rounding up people who were neutral to stand up against the gangs. They were usually the children of shop owners whose parents were being extorted, or the type looking for some type of new thrill in their life. After he had his motley crew formed up, Olyander included, he began talking to the owners of shops and anyone who was suffering from the power struggle.
He offered protection in exchange for money. It wasn't exactly legal, but Cyrus was fair in what he asked and didn't try to lash back at those who opted out. Not a lot believed he would own up, who would? He was just some 18 year old with enough balls to make a claim. People assumed it was all talk. However, he was quick to prove them wrong. He struck hard and fast against each of the rival factions and asserted what he called 'The Price Syndicate' as a legitimate competitor. His stake? To try and find a way for both of them to survive. Or at least that is what he said.
Olyander knew well enough Cyrus was ambitious, and did whatever he believed was right to do. It was in his nature to see something and let his heart guide him. Seeing people suffer from fighting just didn't sit right with him. He'd never admit it, more comfortable to let people think he was only doing it so he could survive, or so that he could get revenge. It made people not question him and take him seriously.
Now, after Cyrus made his stake, admittedly that is when some…criminal things happened. A lot of fighting, vandalism, and destruction of property. Cyrus established everything, and soon those who doubted followed behind him. Hell, even local law enforcement turned a blind eye when they could. They were just as sick of it as the residents were.
In a few short years, Cyrus and the crew had restored some semblance of peace to everything. He and Olyander had went from having nothing in Arcadia Bay to being saviors in Bayport.
How life changed so drastically.
Cyrus rose from his spot on the ring and moved to the exit, ready to pack up and leave. However, as he moved to change his clothes the phone that was placed on top of them began to ring. Cyrus lifted it to examine the screen and instantly knew the number and answered without hesitation as he put it to his ear.
"Hey hey! How is my big sis doing these days!?" Olyander shifted to him, in the middle of changing as he examined Cyrus' face shift from joy to one of stone. His lips reverted from a smile to a firm line and his body went rigid.
Even from across the ring he could hear the yelling from the phone and he could see some sort of rage churning within him. Hell hath no fury like a Price scorned, but hell could never imagine the fury of a Price when one of their own was scorned.
"He what!?" Cyrus shouted, his fuse already starting to lite. Olyander observed with a worried frown, his friend had a short fuse and when he went off, he was like a powder keg. Olyander made his way over to him, watching as Cyrus mumbled a few things into the receiver. By the time he got close enough all he could pick up was "I'm headed to Arcadia Bay, I'll see you soon."
Cyrus hung up right after, shifting his gaze from his phone to the larger male. That look in his eyes…It was the same as the night he had been jumped. Olyander only clapped him on the shoulder, nodding slowly. "I'm coming with you." Cyrus only gave a brisk nod before turning away and striding towards the exit of the warehouse.
"Call Roman and Silus, tell them they are in charge while we are gone. I'll explain in the car." Olyander was already on it, dialing the numbers in his phone as he followed.
"So, apparently what had happened was that my sister is not good at life choices." Cyrus stated as he sped through a yellow light to get onto the highway ramp. Olyander clung to the arm rest and the door handle for dear life, trying to suppress a worried groan. When Cyrus drove, he was reckless, but when he was mad? It was like a roller coaster.
Of potential death.
"You know what isn't a good life choice, Cy? Driving the car like you're on eight types of drugs."
The words seemed to get through as Cyrus slowed down a bit, sighing with irritation. "Sorry, just…She thought it'd be a smooth move to try and persuade Nathan to give her money…" Cyrus was silent for a moment as he sped down the freeway. He slammed one hand onto the steering wheel, further scaring Olyander and filling him with regret for letting the rage-filled male drive this death machine.
"She was way in over her head…She says she was partying with him, and was taking drugs and drinking and being an idiot. When she woke up, she was in his bed and he apparently had a 'creepy smile with a camera in his hands.' Now she is freaking out about it, and plans to try and hold him up for the money in exchange for secrecy."
Olyander blinked a few times as he stared at the fuming black-haired teen beside him. "What does she owe money for?" He inquired, arching his brow curiously. Cyrus merely shook his head. "No idea really, but if I had to guess it'd be Frank. If she's into drugs and he sells…"
"Do you really think it is a great idea to try and extort the kid for money though, Cy? I mean, Nate is the type that will sink the entire ship just to kill the captain."
"I mean, I don't know what I'll do to be blunt with you. I want to be angry with him, but I don't even know if anything happened between Chloe and him. I wish it was someone else so I could break their nose without a guilty mind but he's…it was only like a few years ago when we were like close friends." Cyrus combed a hand through his pulled back locks, sighing in defeat.
"I just know I need to be by my sister most importantly. I've abandoned her enough as it is, I owe her this much."
"I guess it won't be bad to go back to home, you get to see your mom again at least."
Cyrus scoffed a bit, shaking his head faintly. "I am not sure how happy she will be too see me after the scene I made leaving. I mean, mom will still take me in with open arms and pretend it never happened. She will definitely be happy to see you, I know that. However, what David is going to do is up to anyone's guess. He may very well kick us out and make us sleep on a park bench."
"We do have a car to sleep in, Cyrus."
"Let me be dramatic!"
Olyander rolled his eyes and smirked, at least Cyrus had calmed down a bit with talking it out and thus his driving had become less dangerous. They were only going ten miles over the speed limit now, so it was progress.
"How long do you think we will be in Arcadia Bay?" Olyander inquired, keeping his eyes outside the window as he rested his chin on his hand. He observed the early morning sun, the cool morning breeze blowing through the car as it sped along.
"A day or two tops. It depends how severe the damage is my sister caused. If getting money and extorting someone is all we have to do, then it'll be a day. Maybe two to check up on some stuff. But if my sister managed to stir up a massive tornado then it could take us a week or so."