Differences - a modern!verse short
Once upon a hot summer’s morning the brothers Kray, various working lads and Miss Frances were busying out back of The Sole Trader. Well, the lads and the Twins were at least. Miss Frances sat to one side out the way, clipboard in hand, doing the stock take as the lads brought round barrels and boxes and all other sorts of carriers and receptacles for pub grub and saleable fare. A half hour of frenzied doing elapsed before Kray the Elder rejoined his wife’s company to check in. All was well, but she had a curiosity for him.
‘Why is it-’ she brooked, glancing over at Ronnie in the far distance. Like the rest of the lads he’d discarded his shirt while he was working hard. Unlike them though, he was lent up at the kitchen window having a chat and sharing a milkshake with the second lady in attendance - his Monica, visiting from Portsmouth for a spell. Frances flicked a little covert point towards them before turning back to her husband. ‘Why’s it you ‘n Ronnie’re built so different, since you’re twins? I know ‘ee does weights ‘n tha’, bu’ ‘ees-’
She didn’t want to say what she was thinking - he’s fatter than you. That’d come out sounding wrong; like she was being rude, and she wasn’t trying to be that. Seeing Reggie’s brows crook, like he’d read her mind, Frances backtracked.
‘You’re both boxers’ she clarified, aiming her point better; getting to the meat of what she’d meant. ‘But you look like you do-’ A gesture indicated Reggie’s trim waist and fine chest; his strong arms that she so loved to be cuddled up by. ‘And Ronnie’s built different. Bigger here-’ A point was aimed towards Reggie’s torso, just in case Ron looked over and started wondering if he was being gossiped over. At least she’d have a half convincing, No, of course not, ready in that case. ‘Why?’
The smile Reggie first answered with was as charming as any he’d ever given her. ‘Well’ he said diplomatically; like he was introducing a new bit of his world to his little lady. Which he was, in a sense. ‘Ronnie ‘n me, we’re each a different kinda fightah. I’m more technical abaht fings-’ He raised his fists; adopted his proper ready stance; showed off his form for his Mrs. ‘All abaht aim ‘n precision. Where Ronnie-’
His internal filter caught up with him in the same second memory did. Reg flashed in his mind to Ron punching through a window, grabbing a wrong’n on the other side and yanking him through the shattered pane’s carcass before beating him two thirds into the coffin. The last third was bullet-bridged; his bullet for precision’s sake. You didn’t come onto Kray turf and pray on babies.
Another instance, another memory came - Ron flooring a Richardson stooge with a single punch, then going in on the prat’s knees with his fingers; dislocating them to leave him with, ‘-a prezzie t’wake up to. Regards, Ron-’ A sickly, wet pop. ‘Kray.’
Blinking free from his couple of seconds-worth of reverie, Reg picked up where he’d left off. ‘Ronnie’s-
Really fuckin’ vicious
Sadistic too - enjoys the violence
Like a Pitbull - won’t let go once he’s on yah
More willin’ than me to joint a man with his hands
‘A brawler. Ronnie needs th’bulk ‘ee keeps rahnd ‘ere-’ Reg leaned in and gave his girl’s tummy a gentle poke; fighting like hell to keep all those awful things he knew of Ron, and of himself, away from Frances. She swiped at him, but giggled prettily; blissfully ignorant still. ‘T’absorb punches; t’let ‘im get in close ‘n close opponents dahn ‘n ‘ammer ‘em once ‘ee does. See?’ Rakish and grinning, Reggie took a seat next to Frances - sharing the picnic table top she’d settled on for her part in their stock taking. ‘Different fightin’ style, different body type. Bowf’re just as good as each ovvah. Jus’ different.’
Across the way Just Different was none the wiser.
His world was all milkshakes and blue eyes and laughter like bells; for he’d made Monica laugh between sips of the double chocolate confection they were sharing. It made him warm, hearing it; made him smile back at her and carry on with his wittiness in hopes of earning an encore. She wouldn’t have recognised the man Reggie was describing. She didn’t know him, and if Ron had his way, she never would.
