Family (Part 1)

I never had a family.

My parents are either dead, or they abandoned me, or both. All I know is I wound up in an orphanage, and though they try to encourage a "family atmosphere" in there, it doesn't fool anyone. Growing up, I pretty much thought I would never have a family. I was an orphan, and orphans didn't go anywhere in life unless they got adopted or were in the movies. And, really, who ever managed to get adopted? If you didn't go anywhere, no one would want to be with you, you could never start your own family. Family wasn't an option for someone like me.

That's why I ran away. I thought if I was alone, if I wasn't surrounded by people, it would be easier to bear. I was wrong, but there was no way I was going back there. Back where they lied and tried to pretend everything was alright when, really, you were doomed. At least on the streets, nobody tried to pretend things were better than they were. Most folks were pretty pessimistic, actually. I don't know why, but that drew me.

The first person I met out there who wasn't trying to hurt, rob, or kill me, was Tilan. Now that I think about it, it's kind of ironic that he would be that person. Seeing how hurting, stealing, and killing is kind of his forte.

I was five when I met Tilan. I'd spent a year on the streets alone already, and I met him in a dark alleyway one day after unsuccessfully trying to steal myself some lunch. Most of my food in those early days was obtained from dumpsters.

I was wandering down the alley when I saw a tall shape in front of me. He looked to be about nine or ten, which, to five-year-old me, was pretty darn old at the time. As I watched, this mysterious, intimidating presence threw something at the ground, cussing like a sailor.

I dared scoot a little closer, just to see what it was he has discarded. To my surprise, I saw a limp, tan teddy bear with a large cut in it's neck. Stuffing poked out of the slash.

The strange boy noticed me now, and snarled, "Whaddya want, kid?"

I was instantly terrified. After a year, I'd learned not to trust anyone, and to always assume the worst. But the boy made no move towards me, so I asked hesitantly,

"...why don't you want it?"

He snorted. "Because it doesn't have money in it." He gave the bear a swift kick, sending it towards me. "Here, kid. You want it?"

I hesitated again, but then nodded vigorously and picked up the scruffy toy. Every five year old needs a teddy bear, mud-caked and maimed or not.

The older boy put his hands in his pockets and straightened up to walk away. Doing so, he entered the light, and I could notice something I hadn't been able to see before.

"Hey! You have red hair!" I squeaked with delight.

The boy gave me an odd look, maroon eyes boring in to me. "Yeah? So?"

I looked down to my feet. "I've- I've never seen someone else with red hair before..." I looked up and gave him my biggest smile. "I have red hair, too!"

He snorted. "Really?"

Being five years old, I couldn't exactly understand sarcasm yet. That was to be one of the many things this boy would teach me. I nodded, hugging the stuffed bear to my chest, and smiled up at him, "Yup!"

My fellow redhead turned as if to leave, then hesitated and turned back to face me again. "Hey, kid, what's your name?"

I was a little suspicious. Red hair or not, I didn't want to just give my name out to anyone. I also wasn't able to think of a proper excuse, so I buried my face in the bear's head and mumbled "I dunno..."

The boy laughed. "Guess I'll just call you 'Teddy', then, seeing as you're so attached to that little bear of yours." He grinned down at me, in a way that was utterly terrifying for a five-year-old boy. "And you can call me Stray. We'll see how much I like you before I consider telling you my real name."

I just stared up at him silently. Stray was obviously a street name, something someone earned after years in the underground, as everyone called it. You had to be tough to earn one of those. Soon, Stray turned around and started to walk away, asking without even looking over his shoulder, "Say, Teddy, have you eaten yet today?"

"No." I shook my head, and my stomach complained loudly as if to confirm my words.

"Well, I'm gonna get some lunch. You can tag along, if ya like."

I hesitated for a moment, then ran after him, teddy bear in tow.

And so I met Tilan. I only saw him about every week or so, even when I looked for him. It would be years until I learned the reason for that, the truth about my older friend. He helped me get by, taught me what I needed to know about... well... life, really. Sarcasm, theft, sports, breaking and entering, television, why rich people were stupid, why the main head of the black market downtown seriously needed to stop wearing spandex, because he's not freaking superman and there are children around.

Everything I needed to know, and some things I probably shouldn't have known at that age. Being a little kid, it only took me a week before I told him my name. Tilan took a bit longer, but I learned more about him as time went on.

I saw Tilan on and off for about three years. Sometimes I'd see him every week, once he disappeared for six months straight and I was certain he was dead when all of a sudden, there he was, helping me convince Ernie (That's the spandex guy) that my lizard tail was worth trading for an illegally caught salmon (We did it, by the way). Then, one day, when I was eight years old, he showed up with a new face.

That new face was Wave, or as I later learned, Ranellin. Wave stayed with me full-time, and he already knew a lot about survival on the streets. Not as much as me, though. Not only had I learned from the master himself, but I also picked up a few tricks of my own along the way. Boy, was the eleven-year-old surprised to find out he could actually learn from me. Since I spent so much time with Wave, I got to know him pretty well. We worked together to survive, and grew closer. By the time we crossed paths with Aaron a year later, I already had my own street name (A couple of traders in the market coined me "Flame", due to my unusually bright hair), and Tilan was with us full-time, having finally broken out of the world's #1 top security asylum for good.

Aaron sort of just stumbled into Ranellin, which surprised us all. Usually everyone who crashed into street life ran into Tilan in one way or another. Stray just had this creepy way of being there. That's why Til was so famous in our warped little community- all the newcomers passed through him first, and he deemed them worthy, doomed, or, if he was in a temper, dead.

So, Aaron met Ran, and they made some sort of weird little pact-thing that had something to do with lead Wave to drag him over to me and Tilan and announced he would be joining us. Stray raised an eyebrow at the demand-rather-than-request tone, but let it slide that one time. We all knew Stray was the boss around here.

Aaron didn't exactly have the fortune of Tilan's good wishes at the beginning. It was probably just because of the way he was introduced, that he was probably the first kid ever to come down from the surface, not be deemed worthy by Stray, and live to tell the tale. That didn't exactly rub the alley cat the right way. The oldest and newest members bickered back and forth, and Aaron often received a little less help from our mentally imbalanced leader than the rest of us, especially after he started playing off of Stray's street name by calling him "Kitty". That didn't matter, though. Wave and I were more than willing to help him out.

Thinking about that fact one day, that's when I realized it: I had something I'd always been convinced I was doomed to remain without. A family. A dysfunctional one, maybe, but definitely a family.

We helped each other out whenever someone was in need, worked together to make it through each day, and kept each other company. We all held each other's sanity together. When Tilan went on rampages, only one of us could bring him back down. When Aaron saw somebody he recognized, everyone instantly flew to distract him from his haunting past life. When Ran got in another fight with that gang down the street, we all backed him up in battle. When I woke up screaming in the middle of the night from another nightmare, the other three were there to tell me that is was just a stupid dream, I was safe, and shut the hell up so that they could get some freaking sleep for once.

I brought up this subject with Ranellin once, sitting on the rooftop where we camped after another heist.

"Hey, Wave, if we were a family, what roles do you think everyone would fill?"

The conversation soon drew the rest of the "family". Aaron supplied,

"Wave would be the family shrink."

Tilan and I chuckled while Ran rolled his eyes. Tilan tipped his head and considered me before deciding, "Flamey, you'd be the annoying little bratty brother." Two heads nodded in agreement, and it was my turn to roll my eyes.

"Aaron'd be the overprotective punk brother," I added. Aaron snorted.

"Punk?"

"Yeup."

"Well, what about Kitty?" Aaron glanced over at the oldest member of the group. "He sure as hell ain't the dad."

Wave snorted. "More like everyone's crazy uncle."

A grin spread across my face. "Uncle Kitty!" Everyone had a good laugh at that. Over the next week, "Uncle Kitty" became our official family nickname for Stray. Aaron and I took to calling each other "Bro", and Wave was already "Shrink", so nothing much changed there.

As time went by, I grew to consider my decision to run away from the orphanage the best one I'd ever made. Most specialists would agree that the environment and people around me weren't exactly healthy for a growing, impressionable child, but I didn't care. I knew I was happy and that was all that mattered.

I had a family. And there was nothing in this world that could possibly separate us. Not any foster homes, not Social Services, not the numerous asylums chasing Stray around, not even Aaron's crazy brother (Who was pretty much the three previous things combined into one, OCD, tuxedo-ed freak). No matter what, we would stick together. Because that's what families do.