"See? I told you…" the man said in a cheerful tone. "Cats can make a musical masterpiece if you squeeze 'em hard enough."
Mreeaaw~!
Mr. Graycat thrashed in his grip, flailing his claws and whipping his tail but it was useless.
The man wore a rusted chain necklace that clinked when he moved, and his bare arms exposed by a sleeveless coat bore crisscrossed scars.
"If you press here," he said, pushing at the back of Mr. Graycat's neck, "it sounds like do~ re~ me~."
Mrr– Mre– Mreaaaw~!!
The second man beside him, dressed in black, stood up from crouching and leaned back against the wall. He rested his arm lazily on the dented generator that Mr. Graycat used to sleep daily.
"I don't hear any music though," he said with a yawn, sounding bored.
"Shut the fuck up."
"The hell? I'm just saying—"
Before he could finish, the man suddenly hurled Mr. Graycat toward him.
He caught the cat without blinking, like he had done it a hundred times before (like he had caught an object hurled at him by the man a hundred times before). Mr. Graycat squirmed in his grip, but he didn't even glance down.
Seeing that, the man raised his right arm.
The dented generator where the second man rested his hands rattled, tore free from the wall, and hovered for a moment before launching straight at him.
He didn't even flinch but just casually lifted his forearm and the heavy generator slammed into it. Metal bent on impact as a sharp screech echoed down the alley, yet his forearm was still intact while the generator was split clean in half before crashing to the ground in two useless pieces.
"Hey," he muttered, dropping Mr. Graycat and brushing metal dust off his sleeve. "What the hell do you—"
"How can you hear it when you're so fucking loud?!" the man snapped.
The moment Mr. Graycat hit the ground, he immediately scrambled up and dragged his hind leg as he tried to run away.
But before he could even make it three steps, his legs were dragged backward as if the air itself was pulling him back towards the man's hand who caught him by the scruff again, laughing like it was all some kind of a sick game.
I couldn't bear to watch anymore.
I had seen people die here. I had seen beatings and even worse crimes people had committed in plain sight. It was normal in Ferroa Arx.
But this was different.
These two men were fooling around with Mr. Graycat like he didn't matter and like he was just another piece of trash in this city full of it.
No.
I would rather suffer in Mr. Graycat's place.
"Let go."
My fingers curled into fists as I said those words, forcing myself to keep my head up. Because even if I was Giftless… even if I didn't stand a chance…
…no one should dare touch what's mine.
The man holding Mr. Graycat laughed like he wasn't sure he had heard me right.
"What the fuck is this now?" he said, turning to me with a wide grin. "Oh, it's you! The giftless"
Of course he would recognize me. I was the only one in Ferroa Arx with a pair of pink eyes— the eyes of a kid rumored to have never received the gift of the Tower.
The other man chuckled dryly but didn't say anything.
Mreaww~
Mr. Graycat whimpered in the man's grip.
I stepped forward.
"I said let go."
"Look at you," the man said, tilting his head. "If pathetic had a face, it'd be yours. You're not just Giftless, shoeless, and clueless. You're gutless, too."
I didn't answer.
I just kept walking.
My heart pounded like a drum and I could feel the blood rushing in my ears like a tide. Still, I didn't stop.
Step by step.
Until he did what monsters do when they're ignored.
He made it worse.
He raised Mr. Graycat higher and began to squeeze.
Mrreeaaaawww~!!
The cry tore through the alley as Mr. Graycat kicked weakly. His tail flailed one more time, and his voice cracked like it might snap in half.
"Stop!" I shouted. "He's done nothing to you!"
"So?"
He shifted his foot back, like he was winding up to hurl Mr. Graycat again.
Desperate, I hurled the gear from my pocket straight at his face, aiming for his eyes… though he reacted quickly and caught it with his free hand.
But that was all I needed.
I had already kicked off a rusted pipe jutting out from the wall beside me, using it like a springboard as I launched myself straight at him.
He didn't expect it.
Maybe he thought I'd stand there and cry. Maybe he thought I'd turn and run, or break down, or beg.
But I didn't.
I slammed into him with everything I had. My shoulder hit his ribs and drove him a few steps back. His grip on Mr. Graycat loosened just enough for me to grab the cat mid-fall and twist my body to shield him as we hit the ground hard.
I felt the pain in my spine from the impact, but I didn't let go.
"Go…"
I whispered to Mr. Graycat and he slipped from my arms, limping towards the trash heap ahead.
Good.
That was enough.
The man staggered back a step, coughing.
"Fucking serious, are you?"
I tried to stand, but the man moved first.
His boot slammed into my stomach and sent me sliding across the rusted floor. The world tilted. Air fled my lungs in one sharp burst.
I rolled to one side, clutching my ribs, and forced my knees under me while choking back the urge to vomit.
"Interesting," the man in black muttered, still leaning against the wall with no intention of moving.
"Let me make it more interesting for ya!" the man replied, already walking toward me. His coat flared with each step, and the metal at his neck clinked like a countdown.
He stopped just short of me and grabbed a handful of my jacket and yanked me upright like I weighed nothing.
I swung at him.
He caught my fist in mid-air.
I wanted to bite his hand, but I couldn't. My head refused to move as if an invisible wind locked me in place.
"Gutless, huh?" he said, mocking his own words. "You got some guts, I'll give you that."
He twisted my arm behind me and shoved me face-first against the alley wall. My cheek hit a cold brick, scraping skin and rust into my face.
My vision blurred.
"You ever seen what happens to rats who mouth off in the lower floors?" he whispered near my ear. "We use 'em as jam."
Then he stepped back, only to grab me by the shoulder and spin me around, slamming my back against the wall instead.
I barely had time to suck in a breath.
He drew his fist back, aiming for my face but stopped an inch away, holding it there as he grinned wide showing his yellowed teeth.
"Just kidding," he whispered.
Then he headbutted me.
I didn't even see it coming.
My skull rang. My vision blurred white. I dropped to one knee and I could feel the ground tilting beneath me.
Until.
A dented tin can flung from somewhere behind him, arcing up and smashing directly into my chin.
Crack.
Pain exploded down my jaw. My teeth slammed shut on my tongue, and I tasted blood instantly.
The bastard laughed.
"Oops," he said, turning his head slightly toward the other man dressed in black who yawned once more in response.
The man turned back to me and crouched low, dragging the back of his knuckles across my cheek like I was a dog he had just kicked for barking.
I tried to pull away, but he caught my jaw between his fingers and forced my face up and spat right in my face.
"Disgusting."
Then he grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me up again, so close I could count the pits in his scarred skin.
"You know what's funny?" he said. "You thought this was about the cat."
He slapped the side of my head with an open palm.
"You really think anyone here gives a shit about a stray?"
Slap.
"You really thought standing up mattered?"
Slap.
I didn't fall, but I wished I did.
His face was right in front of mine again, eyes gleaming with something that wasn't just violence. It was joy.
Pure, ugly joy.
Then he leaned in closer.
"I've been waiting for you from the start. The committee wanted to make sure the Giftless rat didn't crawl too far."
He stepped back and raised his arms, and my back remained pinned against the wall.
The air shifted.
The two pieces of a broken dented generator from earlier hovered in the air one on either side of me.
He spread his hands like a showman.
"You know what happens next?" he asked, before clapping his hands together. "Baam!"
I closed my eyes.
The world faded, and all that remained was the Tower who watched me suffer my whole life.
I begged for something to happen— a flicker of power, a hint of a Gift, anything that might mean I hadn't been completely forsaken. I thought, maybe if I was close enough to dying, the Tower would finally look my way and grant me a gift.
But it didn't.
Opening my eyes, the same blue translucent window floated above my wrist.
|| Name: Rhaen Vauxhall ||
|| Gift: None ||
"Fuck you."
I said not to the man in front of me, but to the goddamn Tower that abandoned me.
The two halves of the generator moved.
I clenched my teeth.
I was too numb to scream and too angry to close my eyes. All I could do was wait for my death.
But they never hit.
Instead.
Schkk—!
A soft sound like a paper tearing echoed in my ears.
The man in front of me blinked. His grin vanished. His arms went limp. Then his head slid to the side, and so did his neck.
A fine red line opened across his throat.
He collapsed, gargling something wet that never formed into words.
The generators slammed to the ground beside me, dead weight without their puppeteer.
I gasped and turned.
The man in black moved in a defensive stance. But then, he wasn't standing anymore.
He was in two pieces.
Split clean from shoulder to hip, like a loaf cut by a single stroke.
"W-What…?"
— Hey, mister None.
A voice whispered. I looked around but saw no one. There was nothing aside from the alley, rusted walls, dented generators, and the bodies at my feet.
Am I hearing things now?
— Up here.
I looked up, and nearly fell backward if not because of the wall behind me.
A face.
Too close.
Grinning upside down, just inches from mine.
A girl.
Her legs were hooked around a massive, floating scythe. Inked tattoos peeked out beneath the hem of her oversized shirt, dancing slightly with every shift of her weight.
She flipped down effortlessly, landing light on her feet.
Then, as if she hadn't just cleaved two men in half, she brushed off nonexistent dust from her sleeves and slung the scythe over her back.
— Nice to meet ya! Name's Necraia. I'm a Grim Reaper.