"I'm not a good man. I act like one."
Atomikill said thoughtfully as he smoked a cigarette. The only light in the small, dank shed that the crime boss- Hanzai Nobosu- owned. Leaning back, Atomikill blew out a puff of smoke as he let his trench-coat fall to the floor, revealing all of his tensed muscles as he pointed his gun to the smaller man sitting across from him. The other man was soaked in blood, wearing a once nice purple shirt and a grey jacket with short black hair and eyes with tears streaming down from them. Great. He was gutless. Oh well, he'd have to listen.
"Y'know, I'm really sorry bout your gang." Tommy sighed as he pulled off his mask, throwing it aside onto a mutilated body. "Honest. I had a gang for a little bit. 'Eddy's Angels'. We were embarrassing. To say the least." Tommy snorted a bit as he stood up, gun still trained on Hanzai. He went to a small mini fridge toward the back, opening it up and letting the cool air onto his face for a moment. Gently bumping his head against the door, he grabbed a whiskey in the doorway, closing it as he walked back to his chair. The smell of blood emanated through the air as flies buzzed in, light still shining in. It was about five o'clock. Dusk was coming. Sighing, Tommy rubbed his fingers against the silver barrel of his gun, glinting golden light off of it, as he sat down miserably.
"The earliest memory I have is getting the scars from dad. I was about four, or five..." He began whilst undoing the cap to the bottle of whiskey. The criminal didn't understand english. But that didn't matter.
None of it mattered...
Gothic City. 1989. March 7th.
it was 11:00 in the Bastion household, a small, low-rent apartment with three rooms- living room/kitchen, bedroom, and bathroom. Morning had come and gone for them, as Eddy made Tommy some scrambled eggs and toast. Their parents wouldn't be up for another couple hours. And when they did get up... It'd not be pleasant.
"You finished? C'mon, let's go." Eddy said. He himself had not eaten- there was hardly enough food in the fridge to make up a meal. Grabbing a few dollar bills off the counter, he pocketed it as he dragged his little brother through the door.
"But Ed, where're we gonna go?" The smaller boy said- only 5 years old, at the time, with bright blue eyes and a head full of blonde hair. Wearing a worn out t-shirt and some pants with some holes in them, the younger Tommy was quite frail. Not much to him but skin and bones. However, everyone in the Bastion house was frail. They hardly ate- closer to starvation than one would prefer.
"Don't matter where we go, Tom-boy, as long as they ain't there." Eddy said with a sigh as he cracked his neck. His hair was a darker blonde, and he had brown eyes. Nonetheless, it was easy to tell they were brothers. As Eddy and Tommy went out the door, he looked around. It was a cloudy day, foggy day, and at the street corner was a gang of boys that usually gathered there. Eddy's group. Good.
Walking over briskly, Eddy dragged Tommy along the cracked sidewalk as they marched toward the small group. There were only three other boys beside them, one who was home sick. However, the gang was young and fresh. Over time, they'd (hopefully) grow larger. "Guys, this is my little brother, Tommy."
The boys looked at the smaller kid for a brief second. Then, one of them, an African American by the name of 'Big Money' started laughing. The others did too. "What is he, 6?" Big Money snorted as he poked Tommy's ribs, making the frail boy jump in discomfort.
"Leave him alo-" Eddy started to say as he stood between the two, but Tommy was not a sissy- despite his diminutive stature. Pushing Eddy away he threw a punch to Big Money, sending the boy sprawling on the ground.
"Shut your sh!t mouth." The small kid spat as he kicked the bigger boy's stomach. He had heard his dad say it to Eddy, the other night, and had wanted to try it out. It tasted funny in his mouth, but he felt... strong. Powerful, for saying it. This strength, however, only lasted a couple moments.
"Get this little motherf-cker!" Big Money growled as he crawled back up to his feet. Simply off-guard when he was hit, Big Money did not like to be offended. Especially by toddlers. So, one of the other guys rammed into Tommy, as Big Money sent a punch for Eddy- who, of course, was going to jump in to rescue Tommy.
Tommy was getting beat- hard. Now in tears and in a fetal position, Tommy simply wanted to go home. Back to bed, where he could read a book, and keep away from his parents. But the other boy wouldn't let him. Kicking him roughly, he sneered as he kept making puns off of the fact that Tommy was younger.
Meanwhile, Eddy was sending blow for blow in the face of Big Money. Surprisingly enough, the small amount of meat built up on the boy was enough for him to build up some muscle. After a small combo, Eddy brought his foot up to Big Money's crotch, before running over to the other boy- not caring about the black kid who he just destroyed.
Luckily for the other kid, he had a knife. A dinky little pocket knife- but a knife nonetheless. Spitting at Eddy, he swung the blade a few times- one leaving a nasty gash on Eddy's arm- before Eddy landed a surprisingly strong blow to the jugular. Gasping for air, Eddy watched the boy as he threw him to the nearby brick wall, pulling the knife out of his grip as he stabbed the other boy's hand. Screaming in pain, he took off, Big Money closely following with a small limp.
Panting, Eddy looked down at Tommy for a second. "You ok...?" He said, before throwing up. Blood was gushing out of his arm, a vein having been hit, but he stood strong.
Tommy sniveled as he crawled to his feet, a black eye starting to form. Looking around, he grabbed Eddy's bloodied hand- not caring if he got blood on his own arm- and started to guide him back home.
However, they didn't expect to see their parents up so early. Their father was up, and glaring at the door when they walked in. "Where were you?" He snapped as he lit a cigarette, holding it shakily between his fingers as he coughed a bit. Wearing pajama pants and a bath robe, their father was not a pretty sight.
"Out, sir." Tommy said lightly as he went to grab a washcloth for Eddy's arm- which their father ignored simply.
"Care to give any details as to why you little brats are beaten worse than... than..." The older man said carefully, no metaphor coming to mind. Finally he simply glared at them.
"No." Tommy said boldly, rubbing the cloth on Eddy's arm as they sat on the couch.
"What'd you say?!" Their father suddenly shouted, as he sped over to his youngest son. Grabbing his arm, he sneered as he burnt the end of the cigarette into his arm, making him shout and scream in pain.
"That'll teach you to back talk me... Little asslick..." He muttered, throwing the cigarette away as he turned back. Tommy wanted the support of his brother, but he was too weak to do anything right now. Rubbing the wound, he whimpered lightly, still rubbing the washcloth on Eddy's arm.
___
Atomikill sighed as he finished the small story. The crime boss, even though he didn't understand it, nodded his head, interested. Pulling back his sleeve, the Radioactive Rebel showed the mobster the cigarette wound his father left when he was a boy.
"He was a nasty sonuvabitch. I'll give him that." Atomikill snickered, poking the wound lightly as he rolled down his sleeve. Everything was quiet for a moment. It was now dark. Then, in a split second, Atomikill shot the gangster between the eyes. A flash of light, a bang, a trail of smoke, and another dead body. A day in the life, of Thomas Bastion. Standing up, he pulled his mask over his head, buttoned his trench coat, and walked out briskly- looking for another person to share his story with.
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