A/N:- Thanks to Michelle Maria Salvatore, LocalTalent53, and A Mosaic Masterpiece for your reviews! I actually enjoyed writing this one, and I wonder who will support which characters as I reveal them. Read on for Riley and Becca!
The revs of a motorcycle could barely be heard over the rain, which had increased in both quantity and heaviness. A key in the lock, and the revs died down. Clad in leather, Riley Garcia pulled his black helmet off, placing it on his bike's handles. Climbing off, he covered the bike with a cover and strode towards a large, square, rather boring building made of grey brick and dull windows.
Unzipping his jacket as he walked, Riley ducked under the low-hanging cover lining the wall and leant back first against the brick. Pulling a packet of cigarettes from his jacket, Riley wrestled with a lighter until finally lighting the cigarette and taking a drag. Closing his eyes, Riley threw the cigarette down to the floor and stepped on it, before turning and pushing through the doors.
"Hey, Hisp, Boss is waiting for you in the office," was the only greeting Riley got as he walked into the reception.
Rolling his eyes, Riley nodded and quickly climbed the stairs and pushed into a slightly larger door with: H.D. Inckleman embedded in pseudo-gold plating. Inckleman was sitting in his desk, hands planted on the wood and staring deep into Riley straight away.
"You wanted to see me. It is my day o-"
"I don't give a flying Johnson that it's your day off Garcia." Inckleman snapped, cutting Riley straight off. "I called you in to make one thing," Inckleman put up a finger to emphasize the point. ",one thing clear, Garcia. You do not put your hands on my employees. I had to drive Frederick to the hospital myself! What in the hell were you thinking!"
"What I was thinking, sir," Riley started with a sigh. "Is what a... unacceptable attitude he has to me. Look, I admit, I was out of line. I shouldn't have hit him. But I can only put up with being abused by-."
"Wow. I really do not care what you think my employees are saying to you. I am putting you on a warning right now Garcia. The next time you even put a toe over the line, I will fire you."
"Sir,"
"Is that clear?"
Riley bit his tongue. "Yes, sir."
"Now get outta here."
Riley shook his head and pushed his way out of the room. On the way out a sudden blast of water burst over his head, down his collar and into his jacket. Looking up, Riley spotted one of his workmates giving a mocking wave with a bucket in hand. Riley stared for a second, before taking a deep breath and continuing on. It was raining anyway, so a bit of wet wouldn't matter.
Catching sight of his bike, Riley had to resist the urge to curse. Someone had taken the cover off, and his helmet and bike were drenched. Riley climbed on, pulled on his helmet while trying ignore the soggy interior someone had the bright idea to make wet. Completely soaked, Riley turned the ignition and drove off trying to ignore the situation.
It was long until his bike spluttered and started to slow. Clenching his teeth, Riley steered to the side of the road and stopped. Visible black smoke was rising from his bike.
"Damn..." Riley said through gritted teeth. Taking off his helmet he placed it back on the seat and reached into his jacket, pulling out a mobile phone. Dialling a quick number, he held to his ear. "Hey. Yeah, can you pick me up? The bike's practically spewing steam. Yeah, I know you're at work, but I really don't want to pay however much to get a tow. You will? Thanks sis, I owe you. Love you." Riley hung up with a sigh, before sitting down on the floor, back against the bike. He looked up at the sky, allowing rain to pelt across his face and hair. "Almost works as therapy." Riley muttered as he continued to stare into the sky.
Lightning flared across the sky, lighting it up so the black clouds looked almost ethereal. A few seconds later, a rumble of thunder rippled across the sky. Riley let out a brief groan. "Gonna be a hell of a storm..."
XXX
Knees tucked into her chest, arms keeping them tight together, and head down; Becca Matthews tried all she could to keep from getting completely soaked. Despite the fact she was in an over-turned dumpster, the rain was rising in the alleyway, coating the bottom of the dumpster in a combination of garbage liquid and rain. Her blonde hair was plastered against her face as her empty eyes looked out from under the fringe towards the grimy wall ahead of her.
"Hey, princess, you here...?"
The whisper was all but silent over the storm, but Becca heard the rough voice nevertheless. A man ducked under her makeshift home, beard dripping with water.
"You all right here?" The man asked.
Becca nodded silently.
"Good, good. Hey, Sneakers has got a hold of a trolley full of canned foods. You wanna come? You look mighty hungry." The man caught what he said and let a grim laugh. "Haha, well, aren't we all? Come on, it'll be good for you." Reaching forward, the man offered a hand.
"T-t-t-thanks... P-Patch..." Becca whispered, grabbing Patch's hand. Patch lifted her up easily. He pulled Becca under his overcoat, shielding her from the worst of the rain.
Patch was named as such for the fact that he lost his eye back in a battlefield in his 'young times'. Now he wore two eye patches, one over the over, making a peculiar double strap eye patch.
"Princess, did you hear about Sapphire?" Patch looked down to the thin and shivering woman in his jacket.
"I-I did... where is she getting buried..."
"Well, if the damn government actually cared about us, she would get to go in a proper graveyard. No, we're going to bury her down in the scrapyard. It's the only place with soft enough mud to give her a deep burial."
Becca nodded, taking a deep breath. Patch led her through a number of wet and bedraggled alleyways until coming under an overpass. A group of men and woman, all in various states of rags and appearances, were gathered around a large trolley of food. A man was at the head of the trolley, most noticeable by the pair of white sneakers on his feet.
"Pork 'n' Beans, over to you." Sneakers threw the can at a woman. "Who wants soup? Over there, catch." Sneakers turned around just in time to spot Becca and Patch. "Hey, Princess and Patch!" Sneakers called out with a bright smile.
Out of the homeless Becca usually lived with, Sneakers was one of the brightest and youngest. At only 18, Sneakers was african-american and an orphan. He had lived on the streets since he hated the orphanage and ran away.
Sneakers slipped a carrier bag into Patch's hand. "Got some special stuff for ya."
"Thanks." Patch patted Sneakers back and walked over to a large building area made of various things, such as cardboard or fences. A large network of dens had been made, although all who lived in this poverty were constantly under fear from eviction. Pulling Becca down onto a bench, Patch rustled through the plastic bags. "Oh wow, he managed to get meat for us. Oh. Princess, here." Patch handed a bottle of Cola to Becca, who looked at it ravenously. Products like Cola were hard to get just like that.
"M-Mine?"
"All yours Princess. My present." Patch said as he opened the can with a serrated knife he had. He ate a piece of meat, swallowed, and squeezed Becca's shoulder. "Hey, Princess, I got another present for you." Reaching into his jacket, Patch pulled out a envelope. He handed it to Becca. "There is fifty dollars in there."
Becca's eyes bulged open as she stared at the envelope. "F-F-Fifty? How... where?"
"Collection. Everyone bunched together and handed in their own meagre funds for you."
"Wh-Why? I don't... why?"
"Because you don't deserve to be here. It's not your fault. A lot of us our because of our own choices, our own mistakes. Not you, Princess. You were abandoned... hell, I found you half-dead. You were mumbling about your family and I took you in. I knew you weren't meant to be here. So... over the last year we collected this for you. Keep it. Use it."
"Hey, hey, guys." Sneakers padded over. "Everything's gone."
"Already?" Patch looked surprised.
"People are hungry." Sneakers shrugged before turning to the still shocked Becca. "How'd you like the present Princess?"
"I-"
"Haha, at a loss for words?" Sneakers patted Becca on the back. "No worries. Look... I was thinking... you were the one who cared for me when I came, you and Patch anyway." Sneakers nodded towards the old man. "I want to repay you personally with my own present. I got us places in a coach. A coach to Baltimore." Sneakers grinned. "There is a group of people over there just like us. I figure it's time to start new. We're young, we need a different place. Maybe we can find a break there. God help us we're not gonna get a life in the 'Big Apple'"
"I-I-I don't understand." Becca shook with a combination of thankfulness and confusedness. "Why? Why now? Why help me like this?"
"Don't you remember Princess? It is your birthday today." Patch said.
Becca blinked. "My... birthday?" Involuntarily Becca looked to her wrist, where a hospital bracelet was hanging. "I..." A tear mixed in with the rain. "My... Birth..."
"Hey, hey." Patch wiped away the tear. "Come on, let's put you back, eh? You need time to think and the bus is on Tuesday." Pulling Becca back into his coat, Patch helped her back to her own home space. Becca was deep in thought the whole journey, looking at her bracelet.
