Chapter Text
Even as the tiny fragments of early afternoon light from the city above found their way down to the otherwise dark streets of Zaun, not many roamed the Lanes during the day. Most of the lower Undercity inhabitants worked the hazardous mines, the only job profitable enough to survive beneath the control of Topside. Only the children found their way into the alleys to play- or, in the case of the older ones, to cause trouble.
And trouble was exactly what you were known for.
You, a proud, freshly turned teen- thirteen that is- made your way down one of the back streets where you knew some of the older teens had come to claim as their 'territory'. They had on more than one occasion harassed you, called you names, and mocked you. Not that you weren’t accustomed to being singled out, shunned, and disliked by others. Every child down there seemed to either tease you directly or whisper amongst each other as if you couldn’t see the way they looked at you with judging eyes.
But it didn’t matter.
Today would be different.
You had important business to tend to, and every intention of bragging about it. So, with a pep in your step, you strode right into the lion’s den, head held high.
One of the boys, a scraggly blonde leaning against a stack of crates, was the first to notice your approach. You watched with a confident smile as his bored expression morphed into amusement, like you were just the opportunity he was looking for.
“Look, boys, here comes the outcast,” he sneered with a nasty smile, flicking his stub of a cigarette onto the street.
His two cronies- one just as scrawny as him, and one considerably larger boy- turned their attention from the cans they’d been kicking in the street towards you as you approached. Cocky smiles played on their lips as well.
“We’re all outcasts down here, dumbass,” you retorted. It was true, but you also knew what he'd really meant. You were even more of an outcast than the other Zaunite children- an orphan, and most importantly, not even from there.
“What are you doing out here all alone, little girl? Did you lose your mommy?” the blonde taunted as he pushed himself upright to saunter towards you. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t have a mommy,” he mocked, feigning a sad face. “And no friends either.”
You clenched your fists at your sides as you came to stand before him, tilting your head back to glare up at him. “I don’t need a mom. I’m a teen now, and I can take care of myself.”
The most annoying grin painted the boy’s face, revealing crooked and stained teeth. He turned to look at his buddies, who had come to stand beside him. “You hear that, guys? She’s a teen now! She’s a big girl,” he jeered. Both of his cronies wore equally stupid smiles, chuckling at his sickening attempt at mockery.
You let your hands relax, releasing a long breath and straightening your back to appear taller. Fearless. Cool.
“Yeah, and I’m on my way to buy some brass knuckles-” you said matter-of-factly, “-with my coin.” When the three of them cackled in response, the blonde even so much as doubling over with his exaggerated laughter, you quickly added, “So I can do everyone a favor and knock those ugly ass teeth out of your stupid mouth.”
That put a quick end to his obnoxious laughter, as well as his surprised buddies’. He straightened up, glaring down at you, and took another step closer. The toes of his much larger feet nearly touched yours.
You stood your ground, though, now the one wearing the arrogant smile as you continued to glare up at him.
His gaze dropped to the small satchel wrapped around your waist, that stupid smile of his slowly reappearing as the gears turned in his tiny skull. With eyes alight at his epiphany, he met your gaze.
Shit.
“How you gonna buy anything when I’ve got all your coin?” he sneered.
Realizing you were likely about to lose this battle you hadn’t even intended to start until after your purchase, you tried to feign confidence as you took a step back.
“You’re not taking a single one,” you growled.
His crooked grin only grew wider.
“Hand it over little girl, and maybe I won’t beat your tiny ass too bad.”
“Fuck no!” you snapped, pressing both palms into his chest and shoving him as hard as you could, which unfortunately only sent him stumbling one more step away.
But that was more than enough to trigger him.
You saw the fist coming before he could land a hit, blocking it with your arms raised in front of your face. It wasn’t enough, though, to keep you from tripping backwards from the force of it. He may have been scrawny for his age, but he still had plenty of size on you.
Despite the sting in your forearm where you’d taken the brunt of his fist, you didn’t hesitate to take advantage of the moment he pulled back for another swing to take your own. Your punch landed- right in his gut.
The boy coughed, spit hitting you in the face, but to your dismay, he barely flinched. Before you could make another move, you heard the crack of his knuckles colliding with your cheek before you felt it.
Spit- and blood- flew from your mouth this time. You stumbled backwards, wincing and leaving yourself blind to the second fist hurtling towards you. The next hit landed on your other cheek before you could catch your footing, sending you tumbling down onto the street.
You managed to catch yourself with your hands, but not without skidding them across the jagged pavement. The pain of torn skin was nothing, though, dulled in comparison to the throbbing in your jaw. Not ready to give up yet, you attempted to stand up, only to find yourself knocked fully back as the bottom of the boy's boot connected with your stomach and chest.
The air rushed from your lungs all at once, more spit and blood spraying from your open mouth. You rolled onto your side, doubled over with the pain that radiated from your stomach and chest.
Taunting laughter echoed in your head.
“Giving up already?” the blonde jeered. “Thought you were a big girl now.”
You kept your eyes shut, fighting back the sting of tears you knew were forming. Somewhere through the pounding of blood in your head, you heard the approach of footsteps surrounding you.
“Fuck you!” you forced out through gritted teeth.
“Come on. Get up.” His demand was swiftly followed by a kick to your tailbone.
You released a strangled cry as the pain shot up your spine, but you were left with no time to recover as another- different- boot kicked one of your shins.
More laughter followed, the other boys joining in and taking turns kicking you.
You lay tightly curled up, trying desperately to block as much of your body as possible while maintaining what little pride you could by swallowing your cries of pain. With each hit, you felt your resistance break more and more.
Though it likely only lasted several seconds, it felt like an eternity before they finally gave up.
“You’re no fun,” the blonde scoffed, nudging your crumpled-up body with the toe of his boot.
You kept your eyes screwed shut tight as he knelt down beside you. Every fiber of your being screamed to rip him apart when you heard him unzip the pouch around your waist and remove every last coin.
Your entire savings.
But the pain that pulsed through every bone and nerve in your body screamed louder, leaving you lying there helpless and defeated.
“What a loser,” the jerk spat, giving you one last half-assed kick to your side before turning to leave with his snickering posse.
When you knew they were far enough away- their stupid cackling fading away completely- you forced your aching body upright.
Once again, you had picked a fight with the wrong crowd. And you sat there, bruised, bloodied, on your ass in an alley, and with nothing to show for it. You had nothing.
No money.
No family.
No friends.
Nothing.
Somehow you had managed to keep your tears contained while getting the absolute shit beat out of you, but while you sat there alone, your restraint finally broke. Hot tears rolled down your face. You angrily wiped them away, smearing dirt and blood across your cheeks.
“Stupid jerks,” you muttered under your breath.
You were about to make an attempt to stand, despite the protest of every bone in your body, when you heard footsteps approaching behind you. Afraid of being seen in such a weak state, you cleared your throat and rested your forehead against your knees to muffle your sniffles and hide your tear-streaked face. Between the spread of your feet, you watched as a pair of large boots stepped into view. Thankfully not the same boots that had just kicked your sorry ass. Whoever it was, they were facing you, staring down at you. And easily half a foot taller, given the scale of their legs.
“Go away!” you snapped. Or at least you tried to. It came out choked and pathetic. “I don’t have anything. Little pricks already took all my coins.” It was true, unfortunately. Not only had they beaten you to a sniveling pulp, they also took every bit of your savings, as measly as it was.
When the boots remained unmoving, you finally lifted your head to glare up at the-- girl? A tall, well-toned girl with shoulder-length, straight black hair and dark brown skin. You assumed, by her size, that she was close to the same age as the boys, at least three years your senior. You also assumed, based on the scowl she wore and how she glared down at you, that she was going to attempt to get something out of you despite your warning that everything had already been pilfered.
To your surprise, she extended a hand to you. A hand, you noted, wrapped in bloodied bandages, fingers adorned with various rings that looked pretty damn cool. You eyed her suspiciously for a moment, only taking the proffered hand when she raised a brow expectantly.
She pulled you to your feet with ease. A bit too much ease. And with your pained legs, you nearly toppled right over. The only reason you didn’t was that she had slipped an arm around your waist to hold you upright. At that point, you weren’t sure what was worse- the way your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, or how they were covered in dried tears and blood.
“C’mon,” she ordered.
Despite your lingering suspicion of her intentions, you followed her.
Neither of you spoke as she led you to a nearby abandoned shop and into the tiny restroom near the back. You gave her the side eye, not sure if you should trust her. She never met your gaze, though, her focus directed on your surroundings.
“Sit,” she demanded, nodding towards a wooden barrel beside a dirty sink. You did, watching her cautiously as she pulled a white cloth from a small leather pouch at her hip. The old, rusty pipes banged and rattled when she turned the brass faucets on to wet the cloth. That sound barely registered through your still pulsating head.
Dark brows knitted together and lips pulled tight, she turned to you and started to clean your face as if it was the most normal thing for her. She just nonchalantly took your chin in one hand while running the cloth over your busted lip with the other.
You, on the other hand, were not used to this. You'd always cleaned your own wounds. Even if you had asked for help, your foster parents would have just chewed you out for getting into yet another fight.
But this girl, not only had she taken it upon herself to tend to your injuries, she did so with such attentiveness and gentleness that you'd never been given before. It left you stunned. At least until she caught you staring into her eyes. Her uniquely… gunmetal colored eyes.
The girl's grip on your chin hardened as she glared down her wide nose at you. "What?" She asked in a tone that was surprisingly deep for a young girl. It just added to her whole badass, tough-girl demeanor. To say you were a bit envious would have been a severe understatement.
"You have very pretty eyes," you replied unwittingly. The realization that you'd let your thoughts become vocal sent a wave of heat to your cheeks. You immediately turned away from her and tried desperately to come up with an excuse or cover-up for such a stupid slip. You weren’t even sure why you cared. It wasn’t like you’d ever cared what any other kids thought of you. There was just something about this girl, though. She oozed confidence and coolness. You admired that.
Too engrossed in your own thoughts, you almost missed her quiet reply.
“So do you.”
Wide-eyed, you turned back to her. She was focused on rinsing the dirty cloth, and you weren’t sure if that was to strategically avoid your gaze or just a coincidence. Either way, your cheeks hadn’t gotten any less heated after the returned compliment.
The two of you went quiet for some time after that while she continued to clean the remaining wounds. You felt terribly awkward, but you weren’t sure what she was thinking. Her expression remained stoic, neutral, and unreadable. Eventually, unable to take the uncomfortable silence any longer, you spoke first.
“What’s your name?”
“Sevika,” she replied flatly as she wiped a particularly deep gash across your brow.
Despite your attempt to remain cool and unaffected, the sting that radiated from that point caused you to flinch. She took notice, pulling her hand away, but rather than teasing you about it as any other kid would have, she simply stared at you. Now it was your turn to question the scrutiny.
“What?”
“You gonna tell me yours?” she asked with an arched brow.
Oh.
You laughed awkwardly, feeling stupid for not offering your name. “Well, most of the adults down here just call me ‘trouble’.”
“Wonder why,” Sevika replied sarcastically.
Brows furrowed in annoyance at the obvious jab, you glared up at her. She was busy rinsing the cloth again, but you caught a glimpse of the corner of her mouth pulling up just the slightest. She was teasing you. But not like the other kids. It was friendly.
“Yeah, well, you look like trouble too,” you replied with a playful smile.
“Only if you fuck with me or my friends.” She watched you from her periphery as she wrung out the cloth and stuffed it back in her pouch. Hands crossed below her chest, she turned to you. “Now, let’s go find the little pricks that did this to you.”