Youngblood

by Centurion Pike-Wall

42~Fall (PT. 2)

April 7th, 3088 Imperial Calender (1515 AD)
1189 Geor Street, Apartment 2, Creui

DJ slipped past his dad, entering into their apartment first. It was small, located in one of the two small rooms below the main building of the apartment building. However, it was the only home he had known, and he could care less about the small size. The same went for the spare and cheap furniture and decorations that filled the small main room.

He walked over to one of the two doors that jutted out from the main room; his room. He tossed his bag next to the futon, before heading back out into the main room. His dad and the bighorn sat down on two of the pieces of furniture, a couch and an armchair, in the middle of the room, simply staring at one another in silence. With careful, practiced steps, DJ walked around the exterior of the room, walking into the dingy whitish-yellowish tiles of the attached kitchen.

He watched as his mother stood over the stove, a wooden spoon rolling in lazy circles in a pot. The interior was filled with a chunky, greyish-tan mixture, broken up slightly by small dark purple dots. He put a paw over his mother's shoulder, whispering, "Hey mom."

"Hello, DJ", she said somberly, giving him a weak smile. He had grown used to the few small bruises and scrapes that cropped up on her face, and so didn't comment on the new one. Instead, the two of them touched their beaks, before clicking them together. "I managed to get some raisins last time Dermot let me go to the market."

"You're the best, mom", DJ said.

"That almost done, Dixie?", Dermot called. "Me and my friend are hungry!"

"One minute!", she called, grabbing bowls from the old cupboard and snuffing the cooking flame. She began to ladle out portions of the Puls, first handing one and a spoon to DJ, before taking two more to Dermot and his "friend".

DJ walked past the two of them, carrying his bowl back to his room. As he did so, he saw the bighorn, Barclay, glare at him. DJ lowered his head, averting his eyes and trying his best to look small. His dad's friends were like the sharks that weird green filly at school described; able to smell fear, and pounced on it whenever they could.

He entered his room, shutting the door and sitting down. Setting the bowl to the side, he turned a small key on the oil lamp that was his room's only major source of light. He then leaned against the wall, simply staring at the shifting shadows cast by the sickly orange light. After a few more minutes, he began to eat slowly, working his way through the coarse and mostly tasteless Puls. When finished, he placed the bowl by his backpack so that he remembered to clean it in the morning. He gathered up his blanket and pillow, before curling up in a ball and trying his best to fall asleep.

+++++~+++++

As expected, he awoke to yelling.

DJ threw off his blanket, sitting up and blinking to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. Darkness dominated the room, the only light coming in from the crack around the door. From outside his room, he could hear yelling; mostly from his dad, though his mom's voice occasionally pierced the well of noise. After a few minutes, he winced as a loud impact passed through the door, followed by a crashing sound.

He gazed at the opposite wall, biting a growl back as he sat there. He had grown used to the sounds of arguing and physical assaults that took place almost every night; a fact that made him sick to his stomach. Of course, the last time he tried to intervene was when he was 6, and he had been locked in the hall closet for two days. And so, he merely sat where he was, watching the shadows dance along the far wall.

The usual noises, however, were stopped by a loud, crisp knocking on the door. DJ heard his father say, "Stay right fucking there", before steps went past his room towards the door. DJ stood up, creeping over to his door and slowly turning the knob, praying that the rusty mechanism didn't squeak.

He peaked his door open just enough to allow him to peak out just as his father opened the front door. On the other side of the door was a trooper in the Civil Guard, a law-enforcement paramilitary organization. The caragor straightened up slightly, adjusting the collar on his padded greatcoat. "Good evening, sir."

"Yes, yes", his father said. "What is it?"

The guard cleared his throat, replying, "Well, we have reason to believe that there has been criminal dealings here, and-"

"We?", Dermot questioned. DJ watched as he slowly shifted his position, angling one of his front paws towards a small rack by the door.

"We have a warrant for the whole building", the Guard explained. "I'm sorry if this is an inconvenience, but I must insist that you let me in."

"Of course, sir", Dermot said, lowering his head and extending his arm. DJ could only watch in horror as he yanked something free of the rack and swung it at the Guard.

A ball-tipped cane slammed into the guards' helmet, a sickening crack of shattered bone and displaced metal reverberating throughout the room. The guard fell to the ground in a heap, a scream barely escaping his lips before a second blow came down and struck him in the head again. The guard stopped moving, laying still in the doorway as blood leaked out onto the floor. His dad grabbed the shoulder boards of the guards' coat, yanking him inside and slamming the door shut. As soon as he did, a loud *CRACK-OOM* reached DJ's ears and a hole was torn through the door.

"Up and att-um, Boy!", Dermot yelled, rapping the cane against the door. "We're leaving!"

"Are you crazy!?", his mother yelled as his father went over to the only painting in the apartment, yanking it off to reveal a large bag and a few weapons. "What have you-"

"Would you shut the fuck up!?", Dermot yelled, discarding the cane and grabbing a few sheathed knives. "We're getting out of town. I know a few contacts from the old days who escaped Pryhan "Justice". We'll stay with them, then find a way to get out of this fucking area."

"Wh-what's going on?", DJ asked, looking at the groaning form of the Guard trooper. He jumped back as a long, serrated knife slammed into the troopers' neck, causing him to go stiff, and them limp.

The Imperial dog-fuckers caught onto us. We're leaving", Dermot said, slinging the bag over his shoulder.

"N-no", his mom said. Both of them turned to her, one with a look of shock, the other a look of anger.

Dermot growled, shaking the sword slightly. "What did you say, bitch?"

We can't get out of this, Dermot", she said, quivering yet kept her eyes locked dead with his. "Even if we did, there's no way we could run forever, and-"

"Shut up!", Dermot yelled, slashing his sword across her chest.

"Mom!", DJ yelled, shoving his dad away and trying to get at his mom. She gurgled up blood, the sanguine liquid running down her throat from the corners of her beak. She grabbed his paw, the two of them looking at one another as more blood ran out through the wound on her chest. Dermot stood up, sneering at them, but DJ didn't look at him. A heavy pounding noise echoed off of the door, filling the room with rhythmic, reverberating strikes like that of a drum. DJ looked up at his father...

... And everything went red.

Comments

[THERDSTORYWHISPERER]

Great chapter!

Is the flashback going to continue next chapter?

[Reclusive]

That's tragic.

[Night_Striker]

11112670
i belive it is likely to continue with the end we will konw the friends reaction to the story