Bed of roses
By shadows/of/flame
How he got his tatts and the nickname.
Heres the next chappie - thanks to my 2 reviewers! This is dedicated to you. Enjoy!
"I am here to tell you my story. It is a long one, so sit tight... It will take a while to tell, so stick with me the whole way, if you will..."
-
It was a cold, bitter winters night as the hooded duo made their way downtown.
Torn shifted uneasily as he was lead to the tattoo parlour.He couldn't believe everyone in the Krimzon guard had to have tattoos! It was unbelieveable - but Torns theory to the tatts was bad.
The words of the Baron earlier that day were stuck in his head.
"If you DARE betray the Krimzon Guard, and somehow get away, those tattoos betray you as a traitor and a murderer! So that is why it would be better to die for me! Instead of being shunned for the rest of your lives as the 'KG outcast'!"
"How reliable is this tattoo guy?" Torn asked nervously, sidestepping his unimportant thoughts for those that were more current.
The man leading him there, whos face had been hidden until that moment, revealed his face to reveal badly done tattoos.
"He did these."
Torn gulped, the whole traitor theory coming back to him. He could back out then and now...
But he knew the hooded man would sink 100 bullets into him before he took another step.
The two men reached the dingy tattoo parlour, and a large, flabby man greeted them at the door. Screams were echoing from a side room, and Torn gulped as he knew another poor, innocent person was being put through the hell of the 'wonderful' KG tatts.
"Back for more 'ey? Or giving me a newbie for his tatts?" The flabby man asked, his flabs asking the question as well.
The hooded man grinned.
"Another one for the needle. This one." he said, shoving Torn forward.
Torn gulped as he was dragged away by the fat man, into one of the side rooms - the tattoo room -leaving the hooded man behind. There were heaps of large needles and ugly tattoos lining the walls, and the room stank of sweat and... something worse.
Seems it was a private KG tattoo parlour, it was even worse to wonder what the other smell was.
Torn was strapped into a chair which was slick with sweat, and the man grabbed one of the bigger, uglier needles and started the tattoos immediately. No alcohol swab or nothing.
The pain was burning right into the middle of Torns forehead, and it was almost unbearable.
Torn decided not to scream, and not to toss to and fro, or he would end up like the hooded man outside, with the ugly grotesque tattoos, tatts gone horribly wrong. An escort - only good for escorting newbies to the parlour, waiting for some poor fool outside as he went through the same pain.
Was it really worth moving for?
After a few hours of sheer torture, Torn was released from the seat, his forehead burning like a red hot poker.
The hooded man grinned as Torn left the stench that was the tattoo room,and Torn drew his hood over his face, hoping for his tattoosto notbe seen as the hooded man paid the money for the tatts.
"We're outta here, Tattooed wonder." He grunted, as he steered Torn out the door back to Headquarters.
And even though the man didn't know it...
The nickname "Tattooed wonder" stuck.
Whaddaya think? A short chappie, BUT they get longer! I promise.