Prologue?
(Tw: mention of abuse, blood, killing, child death, etc. if you are uncomfortable with to this do not interact. Including minor imagery if someone things.)
(Probably won’t go anywhere with this story. This is a reboot of an old book I made I guess. Brought back to life thanks to @kiksmelbre post on TikTok of the bendy straw story they made of “what if we met earlier” I believe. You don’t have to read this kiks. Amazing art btw I love your stuff)
(This is a repost of my story on this blog as sadly my account was deleted and removed my access to the og blog. This is not me stealing. This is my own art.)
Long ⬇️
. . . My life was never easy. I spent most my life alone. In the darkness of gang hideouts. A hallow husk just going through the motions. I wasn’t anyone’s child. Not actually anyway. Just some brat they picked up off the rode. Thought I’d be useful. I had a brother. Mugman they said his name was. A year younger than me. When they took us he was awake and crying, confused and scared. The lady who snagged him got annoyed as they were also hiding from gang members at the moment after conning them. Mugman wouldn’t stop no matter what she tried.
CRASH . . .
So she did anything she could to make him shut up. I didn’t have any siblings afterwards. Can’t exactly be sad over someone I never knew. Even so. Baby me didn’t understand. The first night at the hideout I was scared and confused, trying to find my brother but I was alone. Do I cried. On and on until my eyes hurt and my throat was raw. But no one came. No one even looked at me. From what they told me I learned pretty quickly crying got me nothing but silence.
So I was quiet. Until eventually the crying stopped completely. I was raised like an animal. Not a person. Not getting proper education just shit they taught me about guns and mission logs or whatever was important to them. I barely spoke. Only taught and allowed to say “yes sir” “no sir” “sorry sir” “excuse me sir” and more along those lines. Nothing to actually communicate. Not that I would have spoke anyway. I had no reason to talk. No reason to speak. When I did. Even the smallest tone change or word “out of line” I was left bloody and bruised in a cellar. Thankfully on with minor cracks.
I was invisible to them. Nothing more than dog. Obedient. Silent. Always at their beck and call… until I got my first job. A simple one. Get money from a guy. If he didn’t comply? Kill him. I didn’t even think when I took the contract listing. I immediately felt the gaze of the higher ups. I wasn’t just a dog, I was an asset like they wanted. I left with it a word. It was strange being outside but I managed. Found the guy. He obviously fought back when he refused to get the money. My boss gave me a gun, simple revolver, nothing fancy compared to the other weapons they had.
When the bullet fired, shooting through his skull and splattering brain matter on the walls. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. I’d seen men die before. It being by my hands was no different. Of course I felt a little uneasy. I wasn’t heartless. I wondered who he was before this. Was he forced into a tight spot? Maybe trying to help family? Or was he just a greedy bastard who wanted everything for himself.
Either way. It didn’t matter. I kept going. Got what was owed. Reported back in. And went back to being their obedient dog. As time passed I got more and more missions until it was basically my job. I got minor shares of the money taken, nothing much but worth enough to keep me alive as they didn’t properly feed me unless guest were around and they wanted to look good in front of them.
I was more swift that others. No one expected a child to come to pay their debt and collect what was do. Nor did they expect the kid to blow their brains out and leave them bleeding in their homes. I grew numb to it. The lack of empathy ment I got missions done faster without emotional struggle and guilt. Which they saw as a plus and kept piling more and more jobs onto me.
I didn’t care. It kept me busy and away from that awful place.
That is. Until that fateful day. The leader was assassinated by a hit man from a rival gang. I wasn’t surprised, especially with how arrogant he was it was bound to happen. I just wished I could have been the one to put the bullet in him. The replacement came relatively quick. I didn’t bother to remember their names. Two mouse toons. One a man, the other a woman, a married couple. The guys name was Mikey or something. Mocky? Mickey? Who knows. His wife was a lass camed Mini or something.
He was loyal to his wife. Protective even. Anything she wanted she got. But she wasn’t a spoiled bitch like most the other women who were wives of the boss. She was a sweet woman. Had her own bakery and always made sure the men were well taken care of. As soon as she saw me I could see the shock and heartbreak on her face due to my age alone. I ignored her for the most part, just continuing my jobs.
Unaware she basically begged her husband to stop having me work. Saying I was a child and shouldn’t have to live like this. I was an important asset so the boss was reluctant to let me go so easy. But he loved his wife. So he compromised with giving me two weeks of break every once in a while. She was overjoyed and immediately came to me about it. I didn’t expect such a thing and just watched awkwardly as she shatter to me excitedly on places I should go and spend time out of the gang.
I had a mission before my break. Break in, shoot a few people. Get out. Easy. The lady dropped me off saying to go to her bakery if I needed anything. I said nothing as I entered the bar while she drove off. Not even an hour later I walked out the back door soaked in blood. Not bothering to clear myself I went straight for the forest. I didn’t want to socialize right now. Slipping deeper I was lost in thought. What was I supposed to do now? No missions. No orders. I’d never had time for myself before. Not since I was born.
All I could do was think about the people I killed. Actually think about them. The lives they might have had. The families. Friends. Who were they. Were they like me? Were they happy? Did they know this would happen? Who were they.
I hadn’t noticed the figure behind me. Growing closer. Didn’t notice I was going deeper into the forest where it was more dangerous. Until a hand grabbed mine pulling me back.
Tensing I whipped around only to see a demon. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink or react to the blood staining my body and clothes.
“¿Adónde vas? ¡No es seguro tan lejos! ¡Especialmente tan tarde y encima cubierto de sangre!” Where are you going? It's not safe this deep out! Especially this late and covered in blood no less!
(It’s been a while since I’ve done Spanish bear with me.)
I stared down at him confused. Glancing down at his hand holding mine and his face. Why was his hold so weak, was he not strong? Is he speaking Spanish? Why isn’t he scared of the blood?
My mind ran wild with confused thoughts that went unanswered, the demons brows furred as he turned and started heading the direction we came. Dragging me along without caring if I wanted to or not.
“¡Vamos! Tenemos que volver rápido. Le preguntaré a Boris si puede prepararte sopa. ¿Te gusta la sopa? Principalmente tenemos sopa de tocino, pero podemos encontrar otro tipo si lo deseas.” Come on! We need to get back quick. I'll ask Boris if he can make you some soup. You like soup? We mainly have bacon soup but we can find another kind if you'd like.
I could hardly understand what he was saying, knowing little Spanish at the time. All I knew is he said something about soup and a guy named Boris.
“What?” I got no answer in response. Just more words in Spanish, scolding me for doing to the deadly part of the forest. The guys grip firm but gentle while he held my bloodied gloved hand as if it was the most normal thing in the world. All I could do was fallow. And for the first time. I felt unsure of what would happen next. Unaware my whole life would be flipped upside down.
(Kinda got lazy in the art. Not exactly good at drawing bodies or detail but whatever)
(Again. This is a repost. Not art/story stealing)
