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The night would be beautiful if Tommy weren’t shivering on the streets. The moon seems to glow as it looms higher in the sky. The stars–
Tommy’s thrown roughly into the brick wall behind him and an arm is pushed threateningly across his throat. He winced at the impact his back makes with the wall. The man in front of him growls, “Give me your money, kid.”
His eyes widen and he gasps for breath, holding back a chirp of fear. The last time he had been this vulnerable was when he was there .
Tommy claws desperately at the man’s arms but the man barely flinches and the grip on his throat tightens.
When Tommy makes no move to reach for his pockets, the man slams him back into the wall and the arm presses more harshly causing him to gasp for air and strain to get oxygen into his lungs. The limbs on his back are crushed against the wall and they droop in pain, unable to hold their own weight from the pain forced upon them. Something wet drips down the back of his head and his back throbs with pain.
It’s fine. Right?
He’s been living on the streets long enough to deal with injuries that other kids without the knowledge he has would just die.
He strains for breath and the man presses harder against his windpipe. Something cold and metallic is pressed against his chest and he freezes, barely breathing. Struggling, he kicks out at the man and tries to knock the thing away but he barely flinches.
However… not even he can come back from the dead.
“I’m not going to ask again– ” The man suddenly cuts himself off with a gasp and his eyes roll back into his skull as a tremendously loud bang echoes through the damp alleyway.
The man falls to the floor and Tommy’s completely frozen, staring at the body. He turns and a man wearing dark clothing stands at the entryway. A long dark trench coat is draped around him and his arms are outstretched, a gun held tightly in his grip. He has fluffy brown hair, and a sparkling black mask covering his facial features.
Tommy’s eyes widen comically large. “ Holy fucking shit. ” He says quietly.
What are the chances he’d see a member of the Syndicate in a damp wet-cat smelling alleyway in the dingy part of town.
“Hey.” The man says, his voice distorted by his mask. “I think you need this more than I do.” He fiddles with it for a moment before chucking the gun at Tommy who fumbles with it and almost drops it. Holy shit.
Why would a member of the Syndicate save a random kid in some alleyway? Shouldn’t he have better things to do? The Syndicate’s not so much known for rescuing homeless kids in alleyways, more so for blowing up buildings with civilians inside, attacking heroes for no reason, and robbing large companies.
He owes Siren a favour now. Tommy gasps quietly at the thought but when he looks back up, a question on his tongue, Siren is gone.
His stomach growls in pain as it begs for food. He hunches further over against the wall and something cold and metallic presses against his stomach from inside his hoodie pocket.
Tommy slowly draws it out of his pocket, squinting when the side reflects the sun’s setting rays into his face.
He still has the handgun Siren tossed him.
He turns it over in his hands. It’s in perfect condition as far as he can tell, no scratches or dents in the metal. He’s so hungry, his stomach reminds him again with a gurgle.
He won’t hurt anyone with it, it’ll be a quick exchange he tries to convince himself. He really needs the money.
He’s not that kind of person. But he’s not him anymore.
No one is going to get hurt.
Tommy’s voice trembles and his hand shakes badly as he holds the gun out in front of him stiffly. “Give- Give me the money.”
The man at the register lifts his hands into the air slowly and glances to his left, at the door that leads presumably into the backroom. “Don’t- Don’t move.”
Honestly, he’s probably more scared than the man is. Holy shit, if he gets caught–
Someone reaches from behind him and flicks a switch on the gun. “The safety was on, sunshine.” They remark.
He stills at the sound of the voice dripping with honey, the distortion gone.
“I turned it off for you.” An arm is slung over his shoulders and a weight is pressed against his side. He turns his head to look at Siren, who he presumes is grinning like a madman under his mask.
“What the fuck.” The man behind the counter says, his voice shaking. “You training some new sick fuck.”
What the– This man thinks he’s a part of the Syndicate. He opens his mouth to respond with a snarky comment but Siren gets there first.
“Ehh, he’s not exactly one of ours.” He says, lightheartedly before his voice drops to a dangerous low tone, “Now do as he said.”
Siren squeezes Tommy’s shoulder… reassuringly? …pressuringly?
Tommy attempts to hold the gun steady as his hands now shake violently and the man behind the counter reaches slowly towards the cash register. He twists a key and the drawer pops open. The man slowly starts putting the money on the counter.
“ Hurry up .” Siren hisses as police sirens can be heard in the distance, tightening his hold around Tommy’s shoulders.
The man tenses before going slightly faster than before.
“Is this a fucking joke to you?” Siren snaps and before Tommy can stop him, he reaches out, readjusts Tommy’s aim and pulls the trigger. A loud bang echoes through the store and Tommy’s arm jolts back as the gun fires. The man falls backwards, blood splattering on the wall behind him and leaving blood on the counter.
“ Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. ” Tommy mutters repeatedly.
Siren glances at him, tilting his head. “You good?”
“WHAT THE FUCK.” Tommy yells. “I JUST WANTED SOME FOOD. NOT TO KILL A GUY–”
He freezes suddenly, remembering who he’s talking to.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey.” Siren pulls Tommy to face him, planting his hands on his shoulders, “It’s okay.”
Tommy’s shaking like a leaf and nothing Siren is doing is helping. The police sirens from earlier are getting closer, the siren getting louder.
“Get the money and follow me, sunshine.” Siren says, letting go of his shoulders.
Tommy stumbles to the counter, picking up the money and shoving it into his hoodie pocket with his gloved hands. It barely feels real. He just killed someone. Holy shit, fuck, what did he get himself into.
He’s associated with the Syndicate now. Or one member at least. An arm is wrapped around his middle, the gun plucked from his grasp and he is dragged out of the store.
“That was fun.” Siren says with a jolly tone to his voice as they walk down the street.
Siren tugs him down the street and into a nearby alleyway. He sits Tommy down on the wet concrete and pulls a phone from one of his many pockets inside his trench coat.
Tommy concentrates on the ground. What the fuck was that? Why would Siren do that for him, for someone he doesn’t even know. He probably has ulterior motives. He’s gonna take Tommy to the Syndicate and they’re gonna torture him for information. Sounds about right. Although he’s come to the uncomfortable conclusion, he still can’t bring himself to move away from Siren.
There’s weeds growing through the cracks in the pavement and he watches water drip down onto the plant from an alcove above.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
He rips his gaze away from the plant. The concrete is dirty, rubbish strewn about the place and patches of slimy substances on the ground and on the alley walls you couldn’t pay Tommy a million bucks to touch. Well you probably could, the only thing in the way of that is his pride.
There’s a dumpster a few metres to his right, the source of the foul smell wafting through the air. He hears a chittering noise and a raccoon emerges from inside its cracked open lid. Eyes widening, it watches him before scampering further down the alleyway.
He groans before knocking the back of his head against the wall with a yelp as he remembers his head wound. Clutching the back of his head, something wet sticks onto his hand. Shit.
He touches the moisture and brings his hand in front of his face, squinting at it in the dim lighting. It’s a deep crimson colour. Well fuck.
A face appears right in front of his and he jolts backwards, smashing his hand between his head and the wall. He bites back a yell as Siren crouches in front of him with a presumably concerned look before hanging up on whoever he was talking to on the phone.
Siren’s saying something.
It’s fuzzy.
His vision is blurring.
He feels his head fall forwards and his limbs turn to jelly.
Tommy groans, waking on something unusually soft. He curls closer into the soft mass around him, and sighs at the warmth that surrounds him. His eyelids feel glued down and he can’t be bothered to force them open. It doesn’t feel like a dangerous situation.
Since when has the concrete alleyway felt this soft? He freezes, clamping his hand around a plush fabric, slowly forcing his eyes open, he sees that he’s in a bed surrounded by pillows and blankets and the room is dark so he can’t see well.
He can barely hold back the chirp forcing itself out his throat at the nest-like conditions. He fluffs up a pillow next to him and curls his arms around it, bringing it closer to his body and snuggling into it. He coos at the pillow, reassuring himself of safety.
A pillow on the other side of him moves and Tommy jerks away suddenly. There’s an intruder in the nest. In his haste to get away from it, he almost falls off the side of the bed but the thing in his nest grabs his wrist and yanks him back up. He hisses threateningly at it and his wings poof up behind him to make him appear more threatening. It coos at him in response in that sweet baby talking tone.
He scowls and chirps quietly at it and it twitters in response. He relaxes slightly almost instantly, slumping into their side. He never really had a self-preservation instinct. Plus he would probably be dead by now if that’s what they wanted.
They wrap an arm around his shoulder and tug gently so he’s lying down next to them. Snuggling into their side, he drifts off slowly.