by Jamie Wang
“You know what I’m going to do to her right?” Bryce asked. “I’m going to make sure she goes through hell tonight. And then I’m going to find this red-eyed Mouse of yours and do the same.”
Please live.
Prince scooted backwards, leaving a trail of tears and blood behind him. At last, he reached the edge of the wall where the store kiosks were. He grabbed ahold of a stool and pulled himself up.
Bryce was upon her before Prince could get out of earshot. It was by design. He probably wanted Prince to see just how bad it was going to be for her. She didn’t know if it was possible, but she tried begging Prince to turn away with just her eyes. Her pants came down. Then her underwear. And then she felt a scorching pain.
She bit into her lip, determined not to utter a sound. Prince stared back, his mouth agape. He took small shaky steps away from her. With a final look, he turned and left.
Lissandra closed her eyes, forcing her mind to a different time and place. It was back before her father had died fighting that fire. Back before she ever contemplated doing drops, where her biggest concern was how to sneak into bars with her big brother.
But she kept getting shoved against the dirt and Bryce kept grunting in her ear. Reality was too hard to ignore. And in this reality, some Hawks and Mice had started a fire that killed her father. They had forced her into playing the same game that ended her world. And now, because of them…
Bryce grunted louder than before and then it was over. Whatever had happened to her became irreversible. She could feel his heavy breaths on her neck and his sweat dripping onto her face. Her nails dug into the ground to fight back more tears. She wouldn’t give Bryce the pleasure of seeing her pain.
But no amount of effort could stop the tears. Lissandra let loose a muffled scream. She brought her hand up and bit into her knuckle. The pain felt better. She tasted blood, so she bit harder. But no matter how much pain she felt, it wasn’t enough.
God, no.
“Don’t think it’s over Lissandra. I cleared my entire night for you.”
BOLT
Bolt jumped at the sound of another gunshot. His hands shot above his head and he twisted around. Nobody.
No matter what.
Unfortunately, his route involved going through the screams. Nothing good could come from screams like that.
He tiptoed his way through the alley, heading for the market. Just a few turns left until he would hit the main roads, to where the screams had come from. His legs twitched as he prepared to sprint across. It would be a mad dash to the next alley and then he would be clear of those screams.
“Don’t think it’s over yet Lissandra. I cleared my entire night for you.”
Bolt peeked around the corner to see a girl crying on the ground. She had bitten into her own knuckles so hard that they were bleeding. On top of her was a bald tattooed man, running his hands along the length of her body. To their side was another man. Bolt couldn’t even tell if he was alive.
“You ready?” the tattooed man asked. He laughed as she cringed away from him.
Bolt turned away. He felt dirty just having seen it.
I need to help her.
But Bolt had seen how big the bald-headed man had been. A Hawk poised to catch his next prey. Bolt’s legs threatened to buckle with ever step. He didn’t even know if he had enough energy to finish the drop.
No matter what. He reminded himself. If he went backwards, he could circle around and avoid the Hawk completely.
Then, a slight whimper. At first, he thought he had misheard it, but every once in a while, it would come back. He heard it above the echoing gunshot and above the grunting of the Hawk. It was the girl.
Bolt pushed himself out of the alley into the street, his knife unsheathed.
“Stop!” He screamed. Though he tried to sound tough, his voice tapered off at the end into a pleading tone.
The bald Hawk jerked his head toward him. He threw the girl’s legs onto the ground, like he was discarding some worn out toy. He stood up to face Bolt. “What do you want?”
“Let her go,” Bolt’s legs shook as he stepped toward them, just like his knife.
“I don’t think I will. You’re a Mouse, aren’t you?”
Bolt gulped as he inched his way forward. The closer he got, the more he shook. He had never gotten in a fight before, especially not one where his life would be at stake.
“If you take another step forward, I’ll snap your neck, Mouse. I already sent one Mouse running, I can do the same for you.”
Bolt froze. Behind him was a gunman, in front of him a Hawk. Both were just as eager to kill. Compared to them, the nickname ‘Mouse’ had never felt more appropriate. He glanced to his side, at the alleyway he had come out of.
There’s a reason God gave me such speed.
Bolt turned and fled back into the alley.
And it was to run.
LISSANDRA
If she wasn’t in so much pain, she would’ve seen the irony of so many people having failed to save her. She actually held some hope when the strange Mouse came from the alleys. But he had run away, taking what was left of her hope with him.
How long has it been?
She couldn’t tell. Her bloody knuckles were no longer in her mouth and her entire body felt numb. The only thing she could feel was the dirt rubbing against her back as she was shoved against it. Even her tears had dried. What did it matter?
What happened to Lissandra no longer concerned her. It was like she was watching her own life play out through a screen. This girl being raped wasn’t her, it was some stranger living out her tragic life.
A gunshot pierced the monotonous rhythm of Bryce’s grunts. He jumped off her, startled. Unlike the other gunshots, this one echoed through the nearby alleys. Bryce, for the first time, looked worried.
Another gunshot. This time, close enough to flash through the alley.
“Run!” A familiar face scrambled out of the alley.
Lissandra watched as the same Mouse that had abandoned her now sprinted toward her, his feet a blur. A figure emerged behind him. A blank mask and green cloak. It held up a gun and pulled the trigger.
The deafening crack shattered Lissandra’s apathy. It shoved her back into her body. Her pains and aches, all at once, screamed at her. The burning between her legs roared to life. She twisted her head to see that Bryce had already started running.
“Fucking Mouse!” the gunman screamed, limping along. Several more bullets dug themselves into surrounding walls.
Then the Mouse was above her. He looked at her with wild brown eyes. It took him both hands with his feet digging into the floor to haul her up. She stumbled up, somehow finding her balance.
“Run.” The command came soft, almost as if he was begging.
Lissandra squeezed his hand and allowed herself to be dragged away. He ran in a bee-line for the nearest alley. As soon as they turned the corner, he shoved her into a pile of trash.
“Stay.”
His voice trembled more than his legs. Tears swelled in his eyes as a clear line of snot dripped down his chin. In that moment, Lissandra pictured Leon, when he was too scared to even cry.
“Wait—” But before Lissandra could say more, bags of trash fell on top of her.
“Be quiet.” The words came out unevenly. “Just –” He stopped to sniff up snot. “– stay alive.”
Lissandra had thought that she had nothing left to cry with, but she found herself dripping with silent tears.
“Thank you,” she muttered as the Mouse’s footsteps faded deeper into the alley.
BOLT
There’s a reason God gave me so much speed. And it was to run.
Truthfully, Bolt didn’t want to save that girl. He was scared, more scared than he had ever been in his entire life. The fear choked him, until it felt like he was back in that dusty cabin, sucking air through a hole in the wall.
It wasn’t God that compelled him to run toward the gunshots. It wasn’t a sense
of morality that made him toss his knife at the gunman. It was Sasha.
She had told him that humans were the most powerful beings on Earth, that if there was truly something that had to be done, only humans could do it. It was this same pride that had forced her into saving him when they first met. And now, it was this same pride that forced Bolt to save this girl.
His steps slowed. His turning wasn’t as sharp, his feet heavy. Behind him, the gunman’s footsteps grew louder.
The wall beside him erupted in an explosion of debris. Bolt twisted his ringing ears away from the wall. His legs buckled and he fell, sliding to a stop.
“You’re out of gas,” the gunman screamed, short of breath. “About damn time.”
Bolt flipped himself onto his back just in time for a bullet to graze his cheek. He screamed and clenched his eyes shut. It felt like hot wax dripping across his face. He scrambled backwards into a wall.
“It’s the end of the road, Mouse.”
“Stop,” Bolt pleaded as the gunman approached him. Around him were numerous escape routes, but what did it matter if he couldn’t run?
“I can’t fucking aim with this thing on.” The gunman took his mask off to reveal a set of dark brown eyes, placed too close together. Uneven patches of stubble littered his thin face.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I was chosen,” the gunman smiled a toothy smile, showcasing his missing teeth. “Lions were always meant to rule the jungle.”
“Lions?”
The Lion shook his head and spat onto ground. “I never thought I’d see the day when Mice no longer recognized us.”
Bolt dug into his pockets, tugging against the linen to retrieve the pills. He yanked it out and tossed it onto the ground. “Take it. That’s what you want right?”
The Lion laughed and continued forward. His foot crushed the pills. “I’m not here for that. The Boss was very clear with what he wanted us to do.”
Bolt shuddered as the cold metal of the gun pressed against his forehead.
“This is our debut.” The Lion said.
Bolt squeezed his eyes shut. He heard the metallic click of the trigger being pulled, then the ring of metal as the gun’s hammer struck down, and then nothing.
“Pow.”
Bolt opened his eyes. The Dragon stood just a few steps away, a revolver in his hand pointed to the back of the Lion’s head. The moon was like a spotlight, illuminating The Dragon’s pristine white suit.
“Pow,” The Dragon said again as he fired his empty gun. “Pow. Pow. Pow.”
With each pull of the trigger, the Lion twitched and jumped, as if performing some strange dance.
“Don’t kill me,” the Lion’s voice shook. With a clatter, his gun fell onto the ground.
The Dragon smiled. “Let me ask you something. Are humans defined by their moments of strength or weakness?”
“What are you—”
“Quiet. Well, Mouse?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is this man a proud Lion or is he a dancing monkey? And if I were to kill you, would I be remembered as your savior or your killer? Would you like to know the answer?” The Dragon slowly brought his gun to Bolt, its silver snub aimed at Bolt’s heart.
“It’s empty.” Bolt murmured.
“Are you sure about that?” The Dragon pulled the trigger.
Bolt clenched his eyes shut. He waited for the thunderous bang that would end his life, instead, it clicked.
“We humans are remembered at our worst. Remember that if you ever wish to leave a legacy. Now run back home, boy, the adults have much to discuss.”
LILY
I was named after a flower because I’m small and delicate…
Lily’s body jolted back every time she pulled the trigger. Her arms ached from holding the gun up for so long. The shadows in front of her were too dark to see through.
It was just a flicker in the darkness, but her entire body whipped in its direction. She fired, sending streaks of fire into the shadows. Only the wall was there to take her bullets. The moonlight dimmed. She jerked her neck upwards to see a single cloud obscuring the moon.
Panic welled inside her throat. She wanted to scream and run until she collapsed. Her home, which seemed so wretched before, now appeared cozy next to the cold malevolence of these shadows. She longed for the warm dirt floor underneath the open sky, with the single fire to keep her warm, surrounded by the others without a home.
The mask that had once fit so perfectly, now suffocated her. She ripped it off. Behind her was the slight scuttle of feet tiptoeing through the blackness. She twisted around, her finger twitching on the trigger.
What am I doing? I’m a Lion. Lions were kings of the jungle. And this was the jungle.
“Stop hiding you coward!”
“Stop!” It was all she could manage before she choked on the rest.
The breeze on her back disappeared. She stood unblinking. A small whimper escaped her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. She froze in place, her gun pointed in the wrong direction.
It was coming; the pain that would tell her it was all over. But the seconds stretched into minutes and still none came. Slowly, she let her burning arms fall limp.
She had imagined it, all of it. Well, not all of it, she knew the corpse that she had seen was real, the corpse that looked like someone had run a person through a blender. But the part where she was being followed, she must have imagined.
Lily gave off a slight chuckle. She must’ve appeared insane, firing round after round into the walls around her, frozen in place for entire minutes. With a deep breath, she took a step forward and held still, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.
Please, don’t be so paranoid. Already she was behind schedule. There was no time for childish fears.
“Boo.”
Lily’s feet flung to the sides and she crashed into the ground. Standing above her stood The Slasher. Everything about him was ugly, his skinny limbs were too long, his ears too big, and his eyes like black holes. And though she had never seen him before, she had heard stories of his existence.
Her heel had been sliced open to the bone. The pain came in torrents. She clutched her leg with both hands and grunted from deep within her throat.
The Slasher crawled on top of her, his nose inches away from her own.
“Abel was the first man to ever die, do you think that God heard his screams?” With every word, his face contorted into a new emotion. Amusement. Hurt. Pain. It was all there. “Do you even think that fool even wants to hear us out? Or can? Maybe we’re the fools, pitifully screaming at a deaf man.”
Lily pushed against the ground with her good foot. She didn’t move.
“Personally, I believe that if we don’t try, we’ll never know. So how about it? Won’t you give it a try?”
All Lily could do was cry. She let loose a long and pitiful wail.
The Slasher shook his head. “No, no, no. If you want God to hear your screams… you must project!” He shoved his fingers into her mouth and pried her teeth apart.
She gagged on his fingers, the metallic taste of blood still on his hands. His nails sliced into her gums. She swung her head away, but The Slasher hung on.
“Scream!” The Slasher shrieked. “Let God hear you scream!”
Lily did so, louder than she had ever done so before. Her body buckled forward with her scream. Louder and louder until it felt like her throat had caught fire. Each scream left her gasping for air, but she kept screaming, loud enough to awaken even God Himself.
VLAD
Vlad left the crying Lion in a heap on the ground. She had yet to notice him get off her. Her screams had died. They were scratchy and would stop halfway through, but Vlad was satisfied. Not even Beethoven could compose the sonata she had given him.
He looked up at where God supposedly resided.
Did you hear that? She was screaming for you.
He picked up the Lion’s mask and slipped it on.
“You’re not at all how I imagined you. You’re so skinny it’s embarrassing.”
Vlad turned to see Sasha bandaging the Lion’s ankle with a strip of her shirt. As soon as the blue cloth touched the wound, a dark blotch spread throughout it. Sasha’s arms trembled as she tied it as tight as she could. The Lion cried, her eyes still trained to the sky.
“Sorry,” Sasha told her, “this is all I can do for now.”
Vlad cocked his head. “And they say I’m crazy,” he said, making his voice deep and raspy. “You do know that’s the same Lion that will be hunting you tomorrow right?”
“I didn’t come for a Lion, I came because a girl was screaming. Should I have just let her bleed out?”
“Yes.” Vlad responded, surprised anyone would ask such an obvious question.
“And what about you?” Sasha asked, her crimson eyes like lasers burning through his retinas. “Aren’t you dangerous?”
Vlad shrugged. “I’ve always considered myself a friend of Mice.”
“I don’t have friends that kill.”
“What if I told you I am a Mouse?”
Sasha’s response was immediate. “I wouldn’t believe you because Mice don’t kill. No Mouse would do what you do.”
“I do the things that nobody will, so that nobody has to.”
Sasha advanced toward him, her steps firm. She had an expression as if smelling sewage. “So you’re a hero.”
“I have never once harmed anyone that didn’t deserve it.”
“That doesn’t make you a hero.” Sasha snapped back.
Vlad shook his head. “There are only heroes in this world. It is God’s greatest running joke that we’re all pit against each other.”
“Heroes don’t enjoy killing. That’s reserved for monsters.”
“I don’t deny that I enjoy this, but we all have our guilty pleasures. At least my hobby keeps the streets safer for you.” Vlad took a step toward her, expecting her to back away. “If I’m a monster, what do you call the thieves, rapists, and killers you hold such sympathy for?”
