/8 years ago, in the Underground/
It was the first time in your life you had ever truly been scared. Which is probably a bit odd considering the only world you'd ever known was the Underground. But when you're surrounded by drunkards, thieves, and… people you'd prefer not to even let enter your mind, a tough exterior is needed if you want to see tomorrow. You can't remember when you figured that out, the knowledge that the world will devour you given the chance seems to have resonated inside you from your earliest memories. It wasn't skill, it was a way of life. An orphan of the underground either lives to see the sky, or they die. At least, that's what you told yourself. And to your credit, acting that way had never given you too much of a problem. Getting your hands dirty never made you hesitate, you would steal and fight if you had to, because you knew that your advisories more likely than not hands less clean that yours anyway.
Until one day, when you bit off way more than you could chew. It was a reckless move, even in your young age of 10 you recognized that. But you were so hungry. So, so, indescribably hungry and desperate. You hadn't eaten in at least seven or eight days- you assume, because your grasp on time had disappeared. You'd starved before, but never like this. You knew if you didn't find food soon, you'd be too weak to look, and you certainly could not rely on the mercy of those around you to take up that task and find food for you. As you remember it, it was either this or death. The supply cart was right there, totally unguarded. You couldn't see much, but you knew there was food, you could smell it- fresh bread, for sure, and god, was that cooked meat? You could have toppled over at the mere idea of it. You didn't remember what meat actually tasted like, but the smell of it made your mouth water all the same. Crouched behind a cobblestone wall just a meter away, you knew you had to make your move now and fast.
Without giving yourself the time to talk your mind out of it, you were making a dash- as fast as your weak body could, to covered cart. You slipped through the canvas canopy and reveled at the sight waiting for you inside. The spread was incredible. Cooked meat indeed; and bread, sweets, fresh fruit- you'd never known food could come in so many colors. You didn't hesitate. You strutted straight over a dark brown roast that smelled heavenly and began tearing pieces off with your fingers. It was absolutely divine. You remembered hearing how those above ground worshipped and gave thanks to an unseen force, and for the first time you understood why. If this is how they ate up there, you would be thanking the kind world every chance you got. Stuffing your mouth as you went, you filled your brown, tattered, oversized coat with all you could fit. You would feast for days. And just as you were about to congratulate yourself for the genius and grit it took for this plan to succeeded- you feel the wind from the canopy opening and the wooden creak of someone much larger than you stepping inside.
Before you can even turn to face whoever had caught you, you're being lifted by the collar of that same brown coat. All the food you gathered falls to the floor as you're dragged across the floor and thrown onto the hard cobblestone street outside. "So" the voice is booming behind you, it echo's, though that might just be an effect of the concussion you surely had from the hard hit your head took against the street. "Somebody was hungry, huh?" your vision clears, and you turn over to see a man, large and intimidating, in clothes nicer than what you were used to seeing, towering above you. "I- I'm sor-" before you can attempt an apology, a heavy boot is brought down onto your tiny chest, forcing you flat against the pavement.
"Sorry?" the way he says it is cruel, how he smiles through the word. "Another underground rat trying to rob the hardworking people of this world for their spoils". At this point, the commotion has caused a crowd to form around you, though none dare step into help. Not that you were expecting them to, because you have a decent idea of who the boot that's crushing you belongs to now. How stupid could you have been? How had hunger driven you to lack all basic competency? There's only one reason food such as that would ever roll its way into the dirty corridors of the Underground, and now you were face to face with one of the most dangerous men your home had known. You didn't know much, but you understood that the crime circuits that run the underground had a hierarchy of their own of sorts. And here he was, the so-called leader of the ring himself.
You struggled to slip out from under his weight, maybe if you hadn't been in such a condition you could have, not that you'd have gotten to far anyway, but still. As it was, your struggle seemed useless, you were only wearing yourself out more. "A whore's daughter like you, no doubt, could prove to be useful. But" he clicked his teeth, "you're near death anyway, so dirty that I don't think a swim in a fresh stream from above could even clean you up, as it were." You closed your eyes, but you knew what the metallic clicking you heard above you signified. "Besides, one shouldn't be rewarded with work after committing such heinous crimes and disrespect. If anything, think of it as mercy. You'll never know hunger again."
Gasps from the crowd be dammed, you knew there wasn't any help coming. You knew you weren't getting out of this one. You waited for it, and hoped it was as quick and painless as grown-ups talked about it being. You waited and waited. When you felt the weight of his foot lift off you, and the pin-drop silence of those around you, you assumed you were dead. Opening your eyes, you were shocked to see that you were in fact in the exact same place. The man was no longer hovering over you, however. You turn your head to the right to see stunned faces staring, but not at you, at something behind you. Your head turns in the direction of your stars, and you're greeted the face that had just nearly taken your life, expressionless lying next to you. That's when you notice the blood. On you, next to you, and coming from his throat. You scream, involuntarily, as your weary brain begins to piece together what happens. You throw yourself backwards, trying to put as much distance between you and the body as possible, when your back bumps into something, no, someone. You look up to see stark silver eyes staring back down at you- their expression hard to read, but you don't feel as if it's malicious. "Hey" his voice is soft and calm, how can he be calm? "Are you alright?"
He reaches a hand downwards towards you, and you accept the offering. He's taller than you, and bit older, a teenager at least. Jet black hair harshly contrast his pale skin, freckled in scars both new and recent. "What kind of idiot are you to try to steal from Kuver?" He says, his tone a lot less harsh than his words. You go to respond when you feel your throat dry up, spotting what's in his other hand. He sees you eyeing the blood covered knife and gives a light chuckle. "To be fair, it was you or him." You stare aimlessly back up at the boy. Why would he stick his neck out for you- you didn't know him, you're sure of it? And more importantly, how did he manage to kill him?
Just as you're about to open your mouth, you think to thank him, you hear the yells behind you. "What the hell happened here?!" you turn towards the voice and notice several more men, large and dressed as dapper as the dead man next to your feet, heading in your direction. They did not look happy. "Tch. Look at the mess you got me in, runt" the boy says to you, looking onwards at the men as they get closer to the scene. You still can't get over how calm and composed he's kept himself. Is he not scared? He's a bit older and marginally bigger than you, but certainly not by enough to take down the parade of hilariously intimidating men who look ready to kill whatever twerp was responsible for the death of their leader.
"Get out of here" he says, giving the knife in his left hand a twirl, wiping the blood off with the sleeve of his black coat. "But- I, are you gonna-?"
"Did you hear me kid or what?" He gives you a slight nudge. "You got a slim chance of getting away here, you better take it."
The men were at the cart, and your instinct kicked in. Without another word you ran off as fast as your scrawny legs could take you, running through alleyways, taking every new turn of direction you could to try to put as much distance between you and the men. You didn't stop until you were at the very edge of the city, resting in a mostly drained sewer looking out over the rest of the Underground. Only then did the guilt approach you.
That boy, he had to be dead. Maybe he got lucky with the first man, but there's no way he survived everyone else. A stranger you didn't know was dead because you made a terrible call and for whatever reason, the idiot decided to help you. And the worst part of it all? You didn't get any food. You were still going to starve to death in this sewer despite that kids' efforts, but thanks to you, two people would be dead instead of just one. Three if you count the man, Kuver, as you recall the boy calling him- not that you feel sympathy, but still.
At that point, all you could do was accept your fate. You rested your exhausted body against the edge of the sewer and let your eyes close. This is probably the shittiest way you could imagine yourself going out- pun intended, because you're going to die anyway, you might as well die laughing. You're thoroughly taking by surprise when your eyes do open the next day (you think- it's impossible to gage how long it's been, especially without the sun to let you know) and see a small wrapped parcel placed next to you.
Your eyes widen when you open it and see what it is. Meats, bread, fruit- the ones from the cart. Someone there saw, and someone found you- but who? There was no way of knowing for sure, but your gut had a feeling. A smile broke out, even bigger than the one you made when you first saw the beautiful, glorious food in the cart for the first time. The boy, somehow, miraculously, against all odds, made it. He survived, and found you, and made sure you did too.
How strange, to be given such kindness.
