Chapter 2: Má vlast: No. 2, Vltava (Moldau)
Moxxie held in his hand what he'd spent the better part of a week searching for. At long last, a bow tie.
He and his bunk mate had been out in the alleyways looking for one in the sweltering heat of the Ring of Wrath for what felt like all day before Moxxie had come across it. He nicked it off a set of dress clothes he found in a dumpster, the only one he found that wasn't covered in blood stains. It was old, with loose threads sticking out of a few areas, but none of that bothered him. "I still can't believe we actually found one!" He said before excitedly trying it on.
"After searching fer a week? I'd wish it didn't take so long if it didn't give me sumthin' to do." Huey groaned from his top bunk.
The pair of young imps were in their bedroom, a tiny, cramped little space populated with only a bunk bed, a shared desk, a beaten cardboard box of belongings, and enough space to stand perfectly still in.
It was one of the many rooms housed in the three-story building. An orphanage, located in Los Satanio, the closest thing Wrath had to a city. About as much effort went into its infrastructure as did its name. The mostly rural plane of Hell had little in the way of denser living spaces, but this city was just about the only urban space in the entire ring.
The orphanage wasn't well run, nor did it see much in the way of prospective parents. It existed mostly as a way to keep the streets clear of dirty brats. It wasn't the most effective, but it was better than nothing. The same could be said for the funding it received, which was barely enough to feed the kids and keep the building functional.
Moxxie awkwardly positioned himself in front of the cracked mirror that sat on their shared desk, in order to better adjust the bowtie he had just gotten.
"So, do it fit?" Huey asked.
"Does it fit," Moxxie corrected. "And yes, it's a little big, but I'll grow into it."
"Great, now ya can stop botherin' me 'bout keepin' an eye out fer a bowtie."
"Well, I'm not done yet…"
Next, he needed a pair of dress pants and shoes, and then he'd finally have a full outfit of proper clothes. He'd been trying to find a set for a couple years now, but it felt like every time he was finally about to have a full set, he'd grow out of something, or it would get torn, or stained, or otherwise ruined. Getting your hands on clothes that fit at all was a hard enough task as an orphan. There was no one to buy anything for you, the only clothes you got were the clothes you found.
Prior to this, all Moxxie had were a pair of ragged shorts he was handed down by one of the other kids on his floor, and a tank top that was only two sizes too large, and had a tolerable number of bullet holes in it. He looted it off a dead body, and it took a whole week (and a lot of bleach) to get the bloodstains out.
He'd be turning twelve in a couple months, which meant he'd be one year away from being a teenager. It was difficult to get adopted when you were in Hell, and an Imp. But, a teenager too? That was going to flush his chances right down the drain.
That's why he needed this. He had to dress well, behave well, appeal to the rare adult that passed through here in hopes of getting adopted.
That's what it seemed like anyways. Adults seemed to respect someone well dressed, at least the nobles Moxxie saw on the north side of the city. He'd heard rumors that sometimes, nobles would adopt young imps as servants. Being a servant didn't sound great by any means, but options were limited, and Moxxie was a hopeful child.
He gave himself one last checkover. Dress shirt? Check. Waistcoat? He'd prefer a tailcoat too, but it'd work for now. Check. Bowtie? Check. And no signs of growing out of any of them anytime soon.
"So Max-"
"Moxxie."
Huey lifted his head, "What?"
"Moxxie. I'd prefer if you called me Moxxie."
"I thought the whole point of nicknames was that they were shorter."
"Yeah, well it's not a nickname. I don't like my name, so I'm changing it. To Moxxie."
Huey held his voice in confusion for a moment, "Are you doing that whole gender transformer thingy?"
"What the hell are you talking- Oh! No, I'm not… Look, I just want to go by Moxxie now okay? Is that so much to ask?"
Huey shrugged, "I dunno, I think Max fits you better."
"It's my name, I think I'd know what fits me better than anyone else. Besides, it's not like my real parents gave me that name."
"Fine, whatever, Moxxie then. What's the deal with the whole get-up?" Huey gestured to the shorter imp, pointing out in particular the waistcoat and dress shirt, now in combination with the newly acquired bowtie. "It's a little… different from what we usually look fer."
"Well, it looks nice though, doesn't it?" Moxxie said, struggling to hold back a smile every time he looked in the mirror.
"I suppose, yeah," Huey started, "But I feel like we ain't the kinda people who should be gettin' picky 'bout our threads."
"I guess so. But, when people get older, they like to present themselves in a certain way," Moxxie said, sounding a little snobbish for a twelve-year-old. "Maybe I just hit that age a little early."
Huey raised his eyebrows, "And what, brats like us suddenly start wearing bowties?"
"It's called class Huey, you could stand to learn it."
"Lemme guess, this class is where you're getting all yer fancy words from too?"
"No, that'd be called a dictionary."
"Addiction what-now?"
"You're hopeless," Moxxie groaned.
Huey frowned. "Yeah, well you and me both. Our own parents didn't want us, what chance do we got of anyone else wantin' us either… Wait, that's not why you've been doing all that fancy shit is it?"
Moxxie paused. "I don't know what you're talking about Huey."
"I know you've been sneaking into the rafters of that one theater up northside, watching plays 'n shit. Now the new name, and the clothes? What, are you trying to make all the grownups think yer fancy or sumthin'? Get 'em to adopt you that way?"
Huey was an idiot in every capacity. He had mistaken forks for spoons, he couldn't even read most words. And yet here he was, dissecting Moxxie like it was nothing.
"...I already told you, I just want to present myself a little better. That's all." Moxxie lied through his teeth.
After a brief quiet moment passed, Moxxie glanced out the cramped little window they had. It wasn't really much of a view, half obscured by another building, but through the rest of it, he got to see down the street. Looks like it was getting late.
Their foster parent, if you were generous enough to call them that, hadn't called anyone down for dinner yet. Which probably meant they weren't getting any food tonight.
Moxxie didn't even have to say anything, he and Huey had gone through this enough times it became an almost palpable feeling in the air. A detectable routine that they'd be going out to the streets to see what food they could scavenge.
The two of them jammed their window open, and climbed out.
"Max, check this out."
Rolling his eyes, Moxxie ran over to Huey, stopping by the end of the alley they had been scrounging through, both of them crouching behind a pile of garbage bags.
Beyond them, was a small little clearing between buildings. No street view, so it was secluded. The bench in the dirt clearing meant it was probably going to be some kind of small park area or something, before Hell did what it does best, and threw those plans out the window.
All the funding to cities to put kids in orphanages and trash off the street never came from a place of genuine goodness, but rather a functional need to keep kids off the streets and trash out of people's walkways. So something like a local park? Like that'll ever happen.
What Huey had dragged Moxxie over here to see though, wasn't some scrapped public project. In the clearing, there were two kids fighting over a bag.
"What do you think it is?"
"I dunno, but whatever it is, it's gotta be worth it."
Moxxie glanced at the two kids. Despite seeming to be around the same age as him, they both seemed way better fighters than Moxxie had dealt with before. He had always been a runt. The bullied, not the bully. He could hold his own, or at least survive a beating. But these two seemed to be fighting way more seriously than Moxxie had ever seen before. Whatever it was in that bag must've been outrageously valuable.
"I don't know, they seem way stronger than any other bullies I've seen before."
"Then we don't gotta fight 'em."
Moxxie gave Huey an incredulous glance, "You're not expecting to sneak in there and take the bag without them noticing are you?"
"No," Huey corrected, "I'm expecting you to sneak in and take the bag without them noticing."
"Me?"
"Moxxie, you're way smaller than me. Besides," Huey reached into his pocket and pulled out a sharp piece of metal with cloth and tape wrapped around one end. "You can take this, stab 'em if they catch you."
"Huey, where did you get this?" Moxxie asked, grabbing the shiv.
"One of the bigger kids taught me how to make one. Had to give up my bread for him to do it though."
"No wonder you're so thin," Moxxie sighed.
The two scuffling kids were about three or so yards away from the dufflebag, which itself was by the bench. Moxxie slowly made his way towards it, carefully softening his footfalls against the sand. Two yards away now, one yard, two feet… Moxxie could just barely reach the bag now.
It was obvious why the two of them were fighting so violently over the bag. The zipper was open, giving Moxxie a peek inside. He couldn't even count how many stacks of bills there were inside of it. All hundred dollar bills, probably a hundred to a stack as well.
For a kid who couldn't even afford clothes, this was an unfathomable amount of money. He could buy at least a dozen full course meals with this, probably more. His understanding of wealth capped out at having food to eat and clothes to wear, though.
"Hey!"
He froze, glancing up to see that the kid had finished the fight and now saw him. The other kid was completely still in the dirt, not even breathing.
"Oh crumbs," Moxxie uttered before taking a swift knee to the gut. He tumbled across the ground, the shiv flying out of his pocket and into the dirt.
The kid tried to tackle him, reaching and clawing at Moxxie, who was kicking and screaming. One hand flailing, and the other blindly reaching for the shiv. It was too far away though, a good foot or two away from Moxxie's grasp.
Moxxie struggled against them, but they were bigger than he was by a foot, and that was all the advantage they needed. The kid's hands were more like claws, scratching Moxxie every time they got a little too close comfort. They swiped at him again, and tore through Moxxie's shirt, cutting right into the skin of his shoulder.
Moxxie screamed and hissed, kicking as hard as he could, but he just couldn't shake them. Before they could cut him again, Huey dove in from the side, tackling them right off of him.
Not being one to waste an opportunity, Moxxie scrambled across the dirt, snatching the shiv off the ground. With both him and Huey now, they'd have a much better chance.
Instead, the second Moxxie turned around he was greeted with the sight of Huey hurling through the air right towards him. The two of them tumbled into the dirt again, but this time, Moxxie held onto the shiv tight. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.
Before he could get up, Moxxie felt himself getting pinned to the ground by the imp again, his face being pushed into the dirt. He couldn't see anything going on now, and feared the worst. Desperately, mustered every bit of strength he had in him to free his right arm, swinging it backwards, shiv pointing out, and hoped for the best.
Shik!
That sound boded well. Moxxie felt the kids grip on him loosen, and shoved him off. Finally turning to see the result, he saw his shiv handle deep in the kid's shoulder. 'That makes us even' he thought. The victory was short lived however, as the kid seemed to have the pain tolerance of a bull. They grabbed the shiv, ripping it out of their arm and charging at Moxxie.
Everything slowed, Moxxie's senses heightened. He felt sluggish, like he was drowning in molasses. He could see the kid charging at him, but he himself was completely frozen. He wanted to move, he needed to move, but he couldn't. Huey was still groaning in the dirt, not at all capable of saving Moxxie a second time.
The kid was closer now, leaping into the air, holding the shiv high up like he was going to spear a shark.
And then, Moxxie watched as a small piece of lead broke the skin of the kid's head, bursting out his temple along with all manner of blood, viscera, and grey matter. Their body went limp, the shiv flying out of their hand as they plummeted. Right onto Moxxie.
The body falling on Moxxie was more than enough to bring him back to attention. Too much even. Moxxie had seen plenty of dead bodies before, in alleyways, in dumpsters, on the sidewalk, you name it. But there was something different about being under the still-warm body of a child your own age, whom you just watched die a matter of seconds ago.
"Max!"
The urge to correct him was faint, and entirely unimportant to Moxxie right now, but it was the only comfortable thought that occurred to him in the moment, and so he held onto it like a plank in the ocean.
"Moxxie! I already asked you before, call me Moxxie!"
"Whatever! Are you okay?" Huey dismissed, pulling the kid's body off of him.
Moxxie scrambled to his feet as soon as the body was off him, "I'm fine! I'm fine… When did you get a gun?"
"I thought you-"
"Boys, over here."
The two of them snapped to the source of the voice, finding a tall imp standing a short distance away from them, a silver gun in his hand, perfectly clean and shining, and with smoke still rising from the barrel.
Neither Moxxie nor Huey had any idea what to do or say, the two of them just stood as still as they could, hoping he wouldn't raise the gun again.
The man sighed, adjusting his hat as he noticed the open duffle bag. "Shit, you were scufflin' over the money weren't you?"
Neither of them responded.
"Well? Don't all talk at once!"
Moxxie spoke first, "Yes. We were… sir."
The man rubbed his forehead with the barrel of his handgun. "And none of you brats took any money out of the bag did you?"
Moxxie shook his head, Huey did the same.
"Good. Get over here, now." The man pointed at the dirt in front of him.
The two of them were hesitant, but they determined it'd be a bad idea to disobey the armed man who had already proved his willingness to shoot a child.
They approached him slowly, ready to bolt at the drop of a dime. But the closer they got, the more relaxed he seemed to get. Gun lowered, hat raised, posture slack. Once they were standing where he was pointing, he even holstered his gun.
"So fellas, believe it or not, but you're not the only ones in deep shit. See, I was supposed to get the money to my boss over an hour ago. And that dead little shit is to blame," he gestured towards the corpse only a short distance away. Moxxie didn't look back at it.
"Now, no offense to you, but being held up by a kid ain't a good look for an adult like me, ya hear?"
Huey nodded, Moxxie just stared.
"So, how about this. If you were so desperate to fight to death over this money… How about I pay you myself? But I'll need a favor in return."
That caught Moxxie's attention.
"You two ain't half bad in a fight, if ya had a weapon that kid wouldn't have stood a chance."
Clearly he was being a little generous, two on one and they were still losing. Moxxie didn't interrupt though.
"So, here's the deal. If you two can go kill me some grown ups, and drag em here before I get back, I'll pay ya each a hundred bucks."
One hundred dollars? Each? That was like a small fortune to them. Moxxie and Huey looked at each other in disbelief. In fact, Moxxie really didn't believe it.
"What's the catch?"
The man turned to Moxxie with a smirk. "Ballsy little brat ain't ya? Looks are deceiving I guess. No catch, just need you to make it look like I had to fight a lot more folk to get this stash back. Help me impress the Don a little, eh?"
Don. That's a Mafia term for their leader. The two of them knew it practically by heart now. Huey because he obsessed over mafia stories, Moxxie because he had to listen to Huey's relentless trivia about them.
"We'll do it," Huey answered.
"And the short one?"
"My name is Moxxie. And yes, I'll do it."
Moxxie took the gun. It was heavier than he expected, polished to a perfect black gloss, different from the gun at the man's waist. Moxxie didn't know it yet, but he'd soon learn all there was to know about this gun. It was a Beretta 87 Target, modified beyond recognition. The only signs of its original state were the iron-sights, rails, and the weirdly high safety switch.
Speaking of, Moxxie hadn't held it for even a few seconds before he found the safety switch and magazine release.
"Got a knack for 'em huh?" The man remarked, "That's a good skill to have."
"Why'd you give me this?" Moxxie asked, ignoring the compliment entirely.
"It'll make things easier for you, and look more legit for me."
"How do you know I won't shoot you?"
Huey elbowed Moxxie, but for once, he just winced and stood his ground.
The man smirked, more amused than threatened. "Because, if you so much as lift that gun in my direction, I won't hesitate to pop your head like your little friend over there."
Moxxie tried not to let it show. His posture was rigid, but his eyes couldn't mask the fear. Moxxie still felt the warmth of the dead kid's body on his chest, like the weight of the man's threat made manifest.
Probably best not to test this guy's patience any further.
"Now go on and get some bodies in here. You got twenty minutes."
Moxxie and Huey darted off, occasionally looking back to the man. He never looked away from them until they were completely out of sight.
After that, Moxxie and Huey both killed for the first time. And the second. And the third. Until they had seven bodies total.
They watched from the distance as the man returned with several men behind him. They talked, too quietly to hear, and soon all but the man left.
Sure enough, he gave them their money, and even let them keep the gun. He claimed it was a gift, but Moxxie figured he probably mentioned something about losing it to his boss.
"Pleasure doing business with ya," he said, so casually Moxxie almost forgot that he'd taken multiple lives for money. The reality hadn't set in on him until just now.
And that was it. That was the first time Moxxie killed for money.
And it wasn't the last. Soon enough, the man visited them, making offers from the other side of the fence that surrounded the sandy backyard of the orphanage. Money for small time hit jobs. Moxxie blocked out the death, instead focusing on the money. They killed old and young, men and women, even Hellhounds on occasion. They always put up the biggest fights. But to Moxxie, each of them were just a hundred-dollar bill. And if he dared think any harder about it, he'd stay up all night.
With their earnings, Huey got himself all the food a young orphan could dream of. As for Moxxie, clothes.
That other night, his clothes had been torn up. The ones he spent so long looking for, to have a chance of presenting himself well enough to get adopted. Ruined in an instant. He needed to get proper formal wear if he was ever going to get out of here, and scavenging wasn't cutting it. The money though, that would fix everything.
And so, it went on like that for years. Murder for money, a Capo and his two unofficial guns for hire.
In time, Moxxie would get to know this mafioso a little better. His name was Paulie. His accent was something between Boston-Italian and something made-up entirely. It was fake, but he'd done it for so long he couldn't remember how to talk without it. He admitted that to Moxxie once when he was drunk, but had denied it ever since. He was tough, hard-boiled, but soft in the center. Soft only for orphans and Hellhounds. Apparently, he had been an orphan too, and had been taken into the Mafia by a Hellhound.
Moxxie wondered if that's what this was. Some sort of roundabout pseudo-adoption. He always wanted a family, the kind he read about in stories. The ones that met at the table for morning breakfast, that read bedtime stories and tucked the kids in at night.
At some point, he wasn't sure when, Moxxie realized he'd never get that. He didn't know when that hope in him died, but by the time he realized it was gone, it had been for a long time.
So, he settled.
Maybe they'd never see it that way, maybe it was just Moxxie grasping for anything at all, but Huey and Paulie were the closest thing Moxxie had to a family. A tense, uneasy family. A bitter one, with hard lessons and little love to give. But it was better than nothing, and it was all he had.
A/N: Just as a heads up, don't expect chapters to come out this frequently. I had this written mostly beforehand. I can barely find the time in a day to write without it coming at the cost of my own sleep (it is 3:00 AM as I write this.) Also, ten chapters total is an estimate, not an absolute. Just so you know.
Anyways, let me know what you thought! I hope you like it so far. I know it's not the hottest shit this side of the nuthouse, not much in the way of ships or anything, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head after reading the story that inspired it. Felt I just HAD to write this or it'd harass me in my own mind for all eternity. Plus, it's my new headcanon for Moxxie's past. At least until the show actually gives us anything to work with. Orphan Moxxie gang rise up.
