A frail, young boy with pale skin sat on a bench across a busy street. He was busy looking at the contents of a small, torn bagback. His short fingers trembled as he smoothed out a few wrinkled, low-value bills.
"My lucky day!" Resisting the urge to jump up and down, Felix rushed his legs through the street. He ignored the cars that honked loudly nearby, his focus entirely on the meager cash, which prompted him to let out an unsettling giggle. Some time later, he entered a gas station near the road.
His big grin twitched when he noticed the people inside turn their attention to him. Looking unhealthy with his cheap clothes and lack of comfortable sleep — or proper sleep at all — Fellxwas noticeably out of place. Also, he was the only child inside, or teenager to be more accurate.
"Welcom—" A cashier began, but quickly stopped when noticing who it was. His expression quickly showed one of annoyance. "—Oh. It's you. Madale, your friends here!" He quickly looked away, intent on serving the other customers.
Prick.
"Felix, hey." Felix turned to see a familiar face come from around the counter. Her long brown hair rested on her shoulders, and her eyes slowly came up to meet him. Her face mostly showed uninterest, but also a hint of exhaustion that mirrored his own.
"Hey Mad. I was hoping to get a few skins." When her eyes widened, she quickly turned her head in the direction of the other cashier. When she returned to him, she scratched her head.
"I can't keep doing this, Felix. I need this job, and if I get caught. ." Without a change to his smirk, he reassured her. "You know I'd never involve you with anything if you'd get caught. Have you been caught so far?" Her eyes went to the right, then her hands went to her hair.
"Listen. They installed cameras just last week. Things are different now." Dropping his shoulders, Felix looked a little defeated. "You're right, Mal. Sorry. I'm not trying to get you fired."
Hearing his heartfelt words, she gave a sigh of relief, putting a careful hand on his shoulder. "It's fine, don't worry. You know, I can help you with a job." Lifting his head up, he looked insulted. "A job? Sorry, but that's never happening."
After a disappointed look, Madale returned back to what she was originally doing.
"I've gotta get back to things. Take care, Fel." And she began walking away. "Hm. Not a problem." His finger began to tap his chin before settling on his lower lip, tracing the edge of it.
𓋹
"Sorry! Sorry!" Noticing a commotion, the cashier from earlier got up and went to look. "Seriously? I swear kid, you're nothing but a grimy rat." The 'grimy' kid on the floor knocked over.
He seemed to have clumsily dropped his change along with a board holding cheap candy. Stomping over, he continued to hurdle insults while Felix attempted to pick himself up. Eventually, Malad came over, her arms extended to cover Felix.
"Madale? What are you doing?" "Stopping whatever's going on." She shyly defended. As the two bickered, Felix finally lifted himself up using the desk as support, finally speaking over the two. "Listen, I just wanna pay and leave," He shot a glare at the cashier, "isn't that what you wanted?"
With an equal amount of distaste, he grumbled something while stomping away. After he was far away, he gave her a sad smile. "Thanks." "No worries. And my offer still stands."
Leaving with a small bag of coffee candies in one hand, Felix quickly began to snicker. When he was far enough, he let out a full blown laugh. Reaching into his pockets, he took out three scratch-offs that went slightly bent from how quickly they'd been tucked away.
A small crinkle followed as he unwrapped a coffee candy and plopped it into his mouth. As quick as it came, the laugh died down. When he noticed that Mad had the eyes of a liar, he almost did a double-take. For as long as he had known her, she was his partner in crime — his number one. Seeing her try and manipulate him was—
that doesn't matter!
She unknowingly helped him and still got what he wanted. But if that was the case, why did he feel so weird? Trying to put his mind at rest, he began using his unkept nails to scratch the film of the tickets.
Now, let's see. . .
—CRASH!
The next thing he knew, he felt the hard floor against his cheek, and realized that he had collapsed onto his face. His little strength was completely gone, and he had already lost sensation in his fingers.
What. . just. . happened?
He could hardly recall anything but a brief flash of white and something loud, but it was also muffled. Trying to overcome his slow processing memory, he tried to recount what else he was forgetting. Damn it, I can't think with this much noise. . .
As everything began to go pitch black, it only managed to confuse Felix even more.
𓋹
Everything was black. All he could feel was this awful headache. It was hard to breathe and sometimes felt like he was drowning. It had a feeling similar to when you were falling in your dreams, and then you'd jolt awake.
The first thing he could do was take a multiple of deep breaths.
Then, opening his eyes, finding his vision blurry. Utterly disoriented, his body ached. When he rubbed his eyes, he noticed what he was staring at — a red light that engulfed the usually blue sky.
"What the hell?" The first thought going through his mind was to question where he currently was. Forcing himself to prop himself up on his elbows, he looked around.
Along with the blood red sky, he was in a trashed narrow alley. Just as he was beginning to collect his bearings, a loud sound reminiscent of an explosion came from nearby. Although he covered his ears, he could make out the sound of footsteps beside him, along with soft vibrations.
"Hey jackass, this is our turf." Turning around, he was faced with something that should have been impossible. The first was a towering, gangly creature with red-pink skin. His limbs reminded him of a horror, with unnatural length with four-fingered claws.
The other beside him stood a shorter, stockier brute who looked like a rabid fusion of a hyena and a heavy-metal roadie. His fur was a patchwork of mangy grey and toxic green, and a pair of mismatched, glowing yellow eyes locked onto Felix with predatory hunger.
Still dazed and shocked, Felix noticed it was as though their inner evil had surfaced, as their faces were corrupt. Raising his arms above his head, Felix quickly tried deescalating.
"Your turf? My apologies. I usually have a better understanding of boundaries." With an eerie calmness, he gave a dry chuckle. His voice was remarkably steady for someone staring at monsters. "What do I call you turf, and what are the rules?"
The two looked at each other, exchanging curious glances. When they turned back to him, they answered. "Well bud, this whole street is our turf. You're really lucky you came across us. We're pretty merciful!" The tall one said with an arrogant smirk. "But merciful doesn't mean free kid," he growled, leaning down.
"Rule one: You breathe our air, you pay the tax. You got any soul-coin? Jewelry? Maybe some of those 'human world' trinkets you freshly fallen types usually have tucked in your socks?"
The brute one snickered, his claw-like fingers twitching. "Look at him, Jax. He's scrawny. Probably died of a heart attack seeing his bank statement." He circled Felix like a vulture.
"Tell you what, 'Short-timer.' Since you're so polite, we won't tear your limbs off to see if there's marrow inside. Instead, you're gonna be our lucky charm for the night."
Jax, the hyena-brute, reached out a massive, scarred hand and hoisted Felix up by the collar of his worn shirt, dangling him like a ragdoll. Felix's toes barely grazed the grime-stained pavement.
"There's a shop around the corner," Jax sneered, his hot breath hitting Felix's face.
"Owner's a real prick — an Imp with a trigger finger. He won't shoot a 'helpless' little brat like you on sight. You're gonna go in there, play the 'lost child' act, and keep his eyes on you while we slip through the back." The tall one leaned in close toFelix's ear, his voice dropping to a menacing hiss.
"If you scream, or if you trip — well, let's just say it's a long way to the bottom of the Pride Ring, and we'd be happy to give you a head start. What do you say, kid? Do we have a deal, or do we start seeing how many of those little fingers of yours we can snap off before you pass out again?"
Swallowing something in his throat, Felix slowly opened his mouth.
𓋹
The conversation between the two grunts slowly gave Felix an idea on what he was dealing with. He bit his lap, surprising the anger that he could feel the hitch in his breath.
That was upon the realization that was brought by their words and the terrible pain all over his body, rather than a terrible hallucination or nightmare, it was likely that he had died. Worst of all — aside from the skull-splitting headache that was close to subsiding — he had been transformed into a monster. Without a mirror or reflection of any kind, he could only observe so much.
So far, he noticed he had remained short and wiry, but his skin was now a polished, porcelain-white with cracks revealing a glowing red covering his arms. His teeth were likely metallic, as they felt hard and cold, and gave an acidic and metallic taste. He remembered the comment the tall one made about his eyes, which he inferred that they had been changed too.
He had to continue his initial analysis, as he pushed the doors open, he was introduced to a cluttered, dimly lit cavern. In the air, a hum of a flickering neon sign that crookedly hang in the window read 'LOANS & GROANS' in a sickly electric pink.
Every inch of wall space was crammed with rusted weaponry, jars of shimmering, questionable viscera, and 'Human World' junk that looked like it had been fished out of a dumpster fire. Behind a counter reinforced with heavy iron bars was presumably the owner. Sitting on a chair was a snout, elderly demon.
Consistent with his surface knowledge of demons, he had the color of a dried scab and black and white striped horns. He didn't look up from the scorched newspaper he was reading, but his tail thumped rhythmically against a double-barreled shotgun resting across his lap.
"We're closed to loiterers, kid," the Imp rasped without lifting his eyes, his voice sounding like gravel in a blender.
"Unless you're here to sell your teeth or buy something that'll kill your neighbors, turn around and crawl back into whatever gutter spat you out." Felix took a step forward, feeling the weight of the two thugs watching him from the shadows outside.
As he caught his reflection in a cracked, dusty mirror near the door, he froze. His eyes which had given 'rich vibes' were large and literally glassy; instead of pupils, he had vertical reels, reminding him of slots.
Ah. I believe I'm starting to get it.
With his new discarded, haunted antique physiology,he replied. "I'm not loitering," Felix said, his new voice smooth and strangely melodic, masking the spike of adrenaline. He forced his cracked, porcelain face into the most pathetic, wide-eyed expression he could muster. "I. . I think I'm lost. And those men outside wanted to use me as a scapegoat to try and rob you."
The Imp paused, his yellow eyes finally flickering up to meet Felix's. The silence in the shop grew heavy, punctuated only by the distant sound of chaos.