I never read the author's note; wouldn't be offended if you didn't either.
He pushes his way through the crowded marketplace, weaving through people, shoving them out of the way, leaping over obstacles, and anything to get him through faster. Needless to say, he was in a hurry. Even under normal circumstances you wouldn't want to stand still in such a crowded area, especially in this place, but this was urgent. Most people saw him and moved out of the way for him to pass; they all knew who he was.
He seemed so comfortable in this environment, he knew every stall, every shopkeeper, every hazard, and every shortcut. The white fur lining his collar tickled his neck, in his stride the various holes in his jacket did not protect him from the brisk air, and he desperately needed a new pair of shoes. After wearing the same ill-fitting boots for over five years, they've started to wither and tear so much that they've become more of a problem than a solution. He hopes, after doing this favor, the Queen of the Isle will allow him first picks when the supply ships came.
He turned a corner into an alleyway, it was a shortcut to the castle, and began to saunter through. A hand clutching on his jacket pocket, he looked straight ahead, never wavering from his goal.
Suddenly, in a flash of purple, he was stopped in his tracks. He tried to see who it was, only to have his legs to be tripped. He fell to the ground, landing on his elbows with a thud. He groaned in pain, the hard concrete tore open his red jacket, tore the flesh under his skin, and the blood began to seep out slowly.
"Carlos." His attacker spoke up.
He recognized that voice, hell he could never forget the voice of that she-devil, he quickly turned around on his elbows to meet those glowing green eyes, "Mal..." he said with distaste.
"Funny how you just run into people," she said with a conceited tone.
"What do you want-" he tried to get up but Mal pressed her boot against his chest, pushing him down into the cold concrete.
"What's someone like you doing on this side of town?" She narrowed her eyes as she spoke, a playful tone in her voice.
The thing Carlos noticed most about her was her eyes, he's seen them glow before but not like this. They were so bright and frightening, and they never faltered. It was like Maleficent herself was reaching her black hand into his soul. Though Carlos knew the game that she was playing, and he wouldn't allow her to win.
"I don't speak to the likes of you," he sneered, "get off of me!"
He shoved her foot off his chest quickly and with great force. Mal lost her balance and she wobbled a bit in her stance as Carlos tried to get up. Unfortunately for him, Mal was prepared for his retaliation. She stepped down on his hand as he was getting up. Grinding her boot into his palm mercilessly, Carlos let out a stifled scream. It felt like she was cracking and breaking all the bones in his hand. Though he saw no blood, he was certain intense bruising would occur.
"Oh, what you got here?" Mal smirked and she bent over, meeting him eye to eye as she slipped her hand into his jacket pocket.
Carlos was too distracted by the immense pain his hand was in to stop her from pulling out a small, leather pouch. She stood up, looking at the pouch in her hand with a satisfied grin on her face. Mal looked down at the pathetic creature she literally had beneath her feet, Carlos was always a more sensitive soul. She couldn't believe she let someone like him take advantage of her, and after everything she did for him.
"Thanks, Puppy Boy!" She taunted, taking her foot off his hand. He was relieved only for a second before Mal ruthlessly kicked him across the face. He winced in pain, clutching his cheek with both hands as he rolled to the side.
Strangely enough, as she strolled away she felt no guilt, no sympathy, and no sorrow. Almost as if she enjoyed hurting her once trusted ally. No, that wasn't the word she used to use. She used to call him friend. That was the greatest title Mal could bestow on a single person, and he threw it away like garbage.
"Give that back!" There was only a second to react before Mal was grabbed by the arms and shoved up against the cold brick wall. A short gasp escaped her lips as Carlos held her down.
"You don't want to do this." Mal spoke through her teeth with rage fuming through her body.
"Funny, that's the same thing you said that night in the castle," Carlos snickered and snatched the pouch right from her hand, "I'm a lot different now, you know; you can't just push me around like the old days. Turns out, I actually like to fight back."
"You call this fighting back?" Mal retorted.
"Well I am the one with the prize now, aren't I?" Carlos said as he tossed it into the air and caught it.
Mal then smirked in amusement. In a short moment, she was able to stomp her foot down on his, causing Carlos to recoil back in pain, she turned back around to face Carlos, grabbing his shoulder, she kneed him hard in the gut. Carlos let out a suppressed groan, gasping for air as he held his stomach in pain. She still wasn't satisfied; Mal then punched Carlos in the jaw, making him let out a cry of pain and his head whipped back. Mal shook out the pain from her hand after that impact.
Out of nowhere, Carlos snarled with hatred and pulled a carving knife out of the holster kept on his calf. He pointed it Mal with a low growl in his voice. Mal took a quick step back in surprise, putting her hands up slightly.
"Carlos..." She began, "lets be reasonable."
"Why? You never were." He spoke with so much resentment in his voice that she hardly recognized him.
Then she scoffed, "you would never do it, you don't have the stomach."
"Like I said, I've changed since we've last crossed," his hand started to tremble, "trust me, I will do it."
"Prove it," Mal said with radiating confidence, fearlessly she stepped up to him; putting the knife right in front of her heart, "I dare you."
Carlos wanted to, he really did, but something came over him. He'd gotten used to killing animals and even goblins... but Mal? Even if he hated to recall, she was his friend once. In that moment of hesitation, Mal took her opportunity to swiftly grab his wrist, while side stepping around him, and putting her other hand against the side of his head pushing it down, completely disarming him. He dropped the knife and it clambered on the cold, hard concrete.
"You were always weak." She whispered and then shoved him to the ground. Mal had already grabbed back the pouch and tossed it in the air only to catch it again.
She wanted to leave without looking at him any longer, she feared that she may grow attached again at the sight of her defenseless friend, she simply turned and walked away. Not daring to look back.
"You never deserved that title!" She heard Carlos say out of spite.
"Stay down, dog," she warned, "unless you want me to really hurt you."
"Evie won't let you get away with this, she will come after you!"
Mal lowered her head ever so slightly as she walked, her lips curling into a wicked grin, "that's what I'm counting on."
Carlos was soon alone in the alley, bruises and blood everywhere. He put his hand over his eyes to block out everything else. He just wanted to think; oh god it's been so long since he was able to think. Perhaps somewhere, somehow, things could have turned out differently. If only they weren't all in this god forsaken mess.
Under the single, brilliantly bright light of the infirmary, Carlos sat on the medical table with his jacket tossed to the side; he only wore his tattered old sleeveless shirt that had various black and red paint stains on it. He sat there, shoulders slumped forward, hands gently folded together, and his eyes distantly staring at the floor. His white hair fell over his eyes, it covered his sad expression well enough before the nurses would return to tend to his wounds. His arms stung, his hand already a deep purple, his jaw ached and wasn't moving properly, and his stomach hurt like hell.
"Whoa," a familiar voice from the other side of the infirmary could be heard, Carlos looked up, "have fun on your errands?"
Carlos quietly chuckled with a genuine smile om his face for once, "you should see the other guy."
He heard the footsteps of his friend and soon enough a certain leather clad thief sauntered into the light above the table.
"You look like shit." He stated bluntly.
Carlos lets out a small laugh again, "Thanks, Jay, I try."
Jay smiles a bit as he crosses his arms, observing the wounds and damages done to his dear friend.
"She really did a number on you, huh?"
Carlos shrugs nonchalantly, "somehow, she's a lot stronger than before."
Jay nods knowingly, "she took the bait though?"
"Oh yeah," Carlos smirked with victory in his eyes, "practically ate it out of my hand!"
Jay and Carlos exchanged a small bit of laughter. Carlos really liked the banter that they had; he's glad at least that has survived this shit show. Talking to Jay was like a window into the past, before everything went wrong. When he was with Jay, he could pretend that maybe nothing had changed.
"I just wish you didn't have to do stuff like this," Jay said with actual sympathy, "I mean, look at yourself."
Jay reached forward and lifted up Carlos' arm to reveal his bleeding elbows and forearms.
"It's really not that bad," Carlos tells him, "this is the worst beating I've gotten in a while. And I live with my mother."
Jay laughed a little at that. It was no secret that Cruella de Vil could lose her temper and her self control faster than she lost those dalmatians all those years ago.
"And I want to do it," Carlos spoke again, "Anything to put that she-devil back in her place."
Jay nods, "How did she look today,' he asked curiously, "because you know... I haven't seen her since...'
"Yeah," Carlos understood, "I really don't know how to describe it. She was... so angry. Like she had nothing left to lose."
Jay nods again, not knowing how to respond to that. Carlos doesn't really seem to either. A period of silence falls between them; not an awkward silence just a silence. As if they were both too deep in thought to speak.
"Did we do the right thing?" Jay asks suddenly.
"Well yeah,' Carlos said, "of course. We had to, remember?"
"I just can't stop thinking about it." Jay tells him as he shifts to one side uncomfortably.
Without warning, a nurse dressed in rags with a bowl of warm water and a cloth came up to Carlos' table. She set the bowl down and wrung out the cloth to clean Carlos' wounds with.
"Master Carlos, would you mind giving me your arm to clean?" She asked politely. Carlos nods, bringing out his arm for her to wash up.
"I'll leave you two here to do that," Jay said, "let me go tell the Queen the good news."
"Evie," Carlos abruptly spoke, "Her name is Evie, you don't have to call her by that stupid title."
Jay faltered and hesitated for a moment, "right, yeah." He put on a fake smile and nodded.
Carlos knew exactly why Jay didn't want to call her by her real name. It wasn't Evie's fault, one might say it was the previous queen's doing that sent Jay into the habit. Carlos always hated the word. Queen. He was never content with calling his friends by their titles. They grew up not needing them; then suddenly they are a big deal. Carlos refused to call anyone queen seriously. It was the one thing he never succumb to.
Carlos watched Jay leave to go tell the Queen of the Isle the news. The warm water on his torn flesh stung like hell but he would never show it. The sting was a reminder of what happened earlier that day. He will get back at Mal for the beating and humiliation he received. Next time he'll be ready for when that witch starts playing games. Next time he won't hesitate to drive his knife straight through her heart.