Still working, this is a rather easy fic to manage.
With every chapter as a separate sort of scene, it progresses faster, and I'm glad for it. Hope that those of you reading enjoy it too.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Arrow" or "DC Comics".
Life was hard, and death only looked easy because what happened after was just guess-work. This was a lesson that was pressed hard in the minds of every citizen of Starling City who had the bad luck or bad taste to end up trying to make life work in the Glades. It was small wonder the church was empty. Most of the flock had been slaughtered or scattered, with no shepherd willing to guide or reclaim them.
But even an empty church has uses when the pastor resolutely clings to the idea that people are naturally good, and that a place of sanctuary should not have barred doors. Of course, people in the Glades did what people in the Glades did whenever someone showed them a chance to be trustworthy; they abused the hell out of the 'weakness' and soon the collection plates had gum-wrappers in them and the pews were stained from wallowing drunks. Twice a chalice had been stolen, and a pantry for the homeless had been cleared out in the night by a bold, solitary, and hungry vagrant who ate his fill and sold the aluminum cans for dimes and nickels. When it wasn't enough to buy beer, the rest were emptied and the cans sold, and eventually fifteen-to-thirty empty cans that held food instead were traded for six-cans of beer that could tasted like urine.
Starling City had the type of corruption that left the weak and the cheated to drip down into a cesspit like the Glades, and the Glades were the type of place where a girl who called herself Sin could sleep in the front pew of a Church to ward off the cold (she ignored some stains on the chipped varnished wood). Still, her dreams were always bad. All the crosses, chalices, and all the other icons of faith and love and forgiveness (no such thing) couldn't help that.
It started when she was just a girl with longer hair.
She learned the first nights were the worst.
It didn't get better though, she just got used to it. Numb, and accustomed to the streets and all their disappointments.
It was a little like freezing to death, or what she imagined freezing to death would feel like. So far she had avoided that fate, but her luck wouldn't last forever.
Luck? That wasn't the word for it. She had gotten lucky, but that made it sound like she was Aladdin staying one friggin' jump ahead of... stuff.
No, she just was lucky that people were half-decent or halfheartedly-decent, whatever difference that really made. For her, it meant some spare change, it meant sleeping in a lobby instead of on a bench, or it meant directions to a shelter. She was reluctant to visit one of those though, at least, she hadn't dropped enough pride to go to one of those places. She had dropped plenty of pounds and baby-fat though, and it might be that she got hungry enough to accept that bitter charity.
Besides, there were worse, more humiliating places she could turn to that she pointedly refused; pimps, drugs, gangs, 'clubs' that were basically finishing school for hookers, none of those were an option.
And neither was calling back home.
But twice a week (made three times now, with this latest call) she used some of her precious change (picked up or tossed in a cup by passing strangers, or made selling recyclables she dug through the trash to find) to make a call at what had to be the oldest, dirtiest payphone she had ever seen.
She was pretty sure someone was murdered in it too, though that was just guesswork by some of the holes in the glass.
Still, she always paid the .85 cents to call home, she always waited until there was someone who picked up (it was the same every time) and she always hung up before answering. Sometimes, walking home in the dark after one of those failed attempts to reconnect, she'd have wished that she'd tried harder.
But that was only in the night. During daytime she knew better.
Right now though? Tonight? She was about to learn just the two lessons that she'd carry with her for the rest of her life.
The first one? Long hair got grabbable, and late-night muggers (or worse) would take advantage of that.
By the time her instincts took over, and she started to punch, kick backwards, stomp and scream, her attacker had already got a handful of hair and was shaking her like she was a dog. Or like he was a dog and she was a rope-toy that he wanted to break in. Some time went (maybe half a minute, felt longer) before she managed to get a fistful of his greasy hair, and as she pulled it out by the roots while screaming a fit, he let her go only to kick the back of her legs sharply.
"Gerroffmeyoufickingsonofabitach'llbreakyourdickoffandmakeyoucokeonitifyoudon'toffOFF GET OFF OF ME!"
Definite strung-out waste of space, taller than she was though, lanky arms affording him some reach that could cause some issue. He smelled badly, and cursed almost as badly as she did through mush-mouth of bad teeth, swollen gums and split lip. The split lip was her work, she felt proud of it.
"I don't have any money you sicko! So step the hell back and leave me alone!"
"Maybe I don't want chump-change, bitch." He snarled back, spitting twice. The second time he got enough blood and spittle to spray over her shoes.
She didn't know it, but in few months, and a woman in black would kick punks like this to the curb for calling her a 'bitch'. Not tonight though, and when he pulled a knife, she shut her eyes in fear, not even considering what the future might hold. Her future looked plenty bleak and short right now, no use wishing for different.
There was no leather-clad rescuer tonight.
She'd have to make due with a girl her size who was wearing a ratty hoodie and kicking copious amount of junkie-ass to the curb with kung-fu moves.
That wasn't expected.
A moment to take in the newcomer, her rescuer; Asian girl, her age, maybe younger? Looked like she was swimming in those clothes too. Small, wiry, one of her bruised shoulders peeking out from where the hoodie was hanging off of her. She didn't look like she minded blood on her sneakers, which was pretty ballsy since no telling where that creep had been before. He had run off crying like a wuss, and now kung-fu girl was left staring. There was faded lettering on the hand-me-down, maybe rescued from trash-bin, hoodie. Maybe it said 'Cury' once, now it was hard to make out. 'Carly'? Maybe 'Sandy'? No, definitely started with a 'C'...
"...that was wicked awesome."
The new girl (Candy? Carol? Catty?) didn't respond, just stared blankly. She definitely looked younger. And then she took off.
"Hey. HEY!" Alright, she may be a weirdo, but she had moves; stuff like that could come in handy. "Hey, er... Cindy? Cin! Wait up, would ya? Hey-"
"-hey there."
Big hand, insistent but gentle, shook her awake. Enough experience on the streets since back then made her jump, and with honed reflexes she was out of the pew, clutching her leather jacket tighter about her torso.
Part of this was because she couldn't bring herself trust anyone since Sarah had went away without saying so much as 'toodles', even if it was a priest; another part of it was to hide the chalice she pinched off the alter, figuring it might be worth something somewhere.
She only felt moderate amount of guilt at that, which still felt like a big deal after going so long surviving without much further thought as to what imaginary friend in the sky would think of what she did.
"I'm sorry," the pastor started, big guy as he was looking shy and regretful, "I can't let you sleep in here."
"What if I call for sanctuary?" She shrugged. "Like in the movies?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"Worth a shot." She muttered, quickly getting out.
Church wasn't a great place for a girl who had been calling herself 'Sin' to hide anyway.
What a twist!
There's a couple canon comic ties that make this fun, I hope anyone reading might pick up on it.
I hope you're enjoying the story, please review!