Hi, I'm new here - only just discovered this community while browsing for Sin City fan fic, and am looking forward to exploring the archives! I also come bearing a gift - a Kevin fic I wrote a while ago, which is the fruit of my
Rating: R for series
Feedback: Constructive feedback is very appreciated!
Disclaimer: With the exception of the narrator, all characters and settings are the property of the brilliant Frank Miller, and I only borrowed them to play.
Notes: Set at an undisclosed time pre-"The Hard Goodbye"
Warning: This is a bizarre little story - some may even call it sick. Slight cutting/bloodplay overtones in a later chapter.
Summary: Walk down the right back alley... ;)
The full story can be found on my website.
It's the softest of noises that catches my attention. It's late at night, or some would say early morning, and it's raining--drizzling really--as I walk home after a long night shift. I can let my mind drift here, without having to be afraid of being ambushed from the next dark alley. Old Town is our turf, and no one would dare to try anything here. The few who did, didn't survive long enough to regret it.
It was a good night; some of my best customers have visited, and yet I find myself in a melancholy mood. I have more freedom and safety than I ever had before in my life, I have friends who would literally kill for me, a nice apartment, money enough to live comfortably if not in luxury... and yet lately I've been feeling as if something is missing.
I'm still trying to work that out when I hear the sound. I'm not sure what it is, but it seems to have come from down this small little alley, which leads to the edge of Old Town. My curiosity peaked, I walk into the shadow, careful not to make a noise, thinking maybe it's a cat or dog.
When I come close to the end of the alley I look out over a small courtyard. I see the back door of a seedy club, and in the flickering light of the single bulb above it, movement near the trash bins standing a bit to the side. A figure, hunched over... bodies? Rocking gently, and over the pitter-patter of the rain I can just make out a soft voice, but can't distinguish any words.
I'm curious to know what happened here, but this is not Old Town anymore, and I don't want to get involved. I'm about to leave when I notice a shadow moving to the left, and another one--no, two--to the right, moving in on the crouching figure.
I don't know why, but even as I step back further into the shadow of the alley, I call out a warning, turning and walking away before I can see if the lone stranger heard me. Suddenly I sense more than hear movement behind me, and before I can turn I feel a blow that almost misses my head, but is still strong and surprising enough to fell me. A man--he must have been closer to me than the others I had seen--pins me to the ground and big strong hands close around my neck. I claw at his hands, try to push him off, but it's useless. I struggle, try to force air down my windpipe as he squeezes, but it's not coming, and I start to panic.
Stupid girl, getting yourself killed for an outsider!
Stars start dancing before my eyes, and my arms sink down at my sides as my strength leaves me. All I can think of is that I always wanted to ride a horse and I never will. The last thing I see is a shadow appearing behind my attacker, then darkness takes me.
I wake up with a start, taking in air in big gulps. What a nightmare, I think, Except for the singing. Singing? That's right--I dimly remember hearing a voice sing to me--a voice so beautiful, almost angelic, that it made me cry.
Still caught in the memory of my dream I lift my hand to rub my neck, surprised to find it hurts and is sore to the touch. And only then I notice my surroundings in the daylight, dimmed by thick drawn curtains. Not my own apartment, not any apartment I know. I'm in a room that looks more like a prison cell, but when I look beyond the bars in front of me, I see a normal kitchen/living room area.
Where am I?
I gasp when my eyes move to the left and discover a young man stand inside a door to another room. He is standing so utterly still that I didn't notice him at all until I looked right at him. Small, lithe, startlingly blue eyes behind glasses looking at me dispassionately--and yet aware, alert.
I have to clear my throat before I can speak, and even then my voice is rough. "Where am I?"
He doesn't reply, instead moves to the fridge, taking out a bottle then reaching for a glass from the cupboard. He fills it with liquid and carries it over, stretching his arm through the bars to present it to me. I get up from the cot, and when I reluctantly take the glass, I can't help but notice his fingernails, longer than my own. They look healthy and very sharp, reminding me of a cat's claws.
I sniff the liquid, take a small sip--water. Deciding that he could have drugged or killed me while I was unconscious if he had wanted to, I drink it all in small sips. The cool liquid feels good to my throat. I hand the empty glass back to him with a thank you, and he wordlessly carries it over to the kitchenette, putting it in the sink.
"You haven't replied to my question yet," I try again. "Where am I? And who are you? Why am I here?"
"Do you understand me?"
"Can't you speak?"
"You can speak?"
Again a nod, and... am I imagining things or does he almost look embarrassed? Things are starting to become clearer in my mind now, and I suddenly remember the shadowy figure appearing behind my attacker just before I fainted.
"You... you saved my life, didn't you? Was it you who I saw? The one the others attacked?"
Another nod, accompanied by a solemn look.
I shake my head, almost bemused that this tiny guy should have overcome four foes... but something tells me not to underestimate him. "Why did you help me?"
He shrugs, finally whispers so softly that I can hardly hear, "You... shouted."
"So you can speak," I tease, softening my words with a smile, but it doesn't stay on my lips long. "Thank you. And thank you for making sure I'm all right." I hesitate a moment, but decide to press on. "I'd better get home now, before anyone misses me and they call a search party."
He doesn't move a muscle.
"Would you let me out please? I can assure you I can take care of myself."
"Oh, I see... you want repayment? I guess it's the least I can do for you..." I give him a lascivious smile as I curl my fingers around the bars and stretch my body languorously.
For a moment he just blinks at me,seeming utterly nonplussed, before he looks me up and down, as if seeing me for the first time: my high heels, fishnet stockings, skimpy outfit, generous cleavage and blood-red lips. When his eyes return to mine, the look inside them is impossible for me to interpret. Suddenly he turns without a word and without paying heed to my protests walks out of the apartment.
He leaves me behind utterly confused. Fuck. What did I get myself into here?