**TRIGGER WARNINGS: Violence, Gore, and Alcohol**
Reader discretion is advised
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The sky was pitch black while the streets of London were overflowing with sooty fog. The buildings were all grimy and the gutters were steaming with sewage.
"Come on, Bryon!" Said a shaggy blonde haired human boy as he ran into an alley. The boy was no older than sixteen and was wearing a brown jacket with a matching brown cap and faded grey trousers. His baggy white shirt was very dirty and covered in various different stains. His muddy shoes were black and worn out. He was carrying an oil lantern with him.
"Wait for me, Horace!" Said a dwarven boy with short black hair. Bryon was around the same age as the other boy and was wearing the same dirty clothes as him, except for the fact that he didn't have a jacket. He was carrying a large, empty dark green duffle bag with him. Once the two boys were in the alley, they approached a door on the side of one of the buildings. The door was made from metal, didn't have any windows, and had a large lock pad on the front.
Horace turned to Bryon, "Where is he?" The boy asked.
Bryon looked at the entrance of the alley way and then turned back to his friend, "He should be here any second now."
"He ditched us, didn't he?" Said Horace, angrily, "I knew we shouldn't have trusted that no good devil!" He stomped his foot.
Footsteps could then be heard, running across the wet pavement. The two boys looked over to see who it could be.
Another boy, almost fifteen, with lavender skin and grape purple ram horns was running into the alley. His monochromatic, dandelion colored eyes glowed brightly in the darkness as his slender, demonic tail swayed vertically while he ran. His messy plum colored hair was wavy and almost reached his shoulders. The boy was wearing a wrinkled beige shirt with multiple holes in it and torn brown trousers. His clothes seemed to be in worse shape than the clothes of the other two boys. The third boy wasn't wearing any shoes, despite all the cold mud and rubbish on the ground. The boy was also carrying a small, but heavy, dark grey bag. When he finally approached the other two boys, he put his hands on his knees and began to pant.
"I'm here, I'm here." Said the purple boy.
"Where were you, Lars?!" Horace asked, still pissed off.
"I'm sorry," said the boy, "I had to grab my tool bag." He lifted up his clunky bag.
Bryon shook his head, "Enough chit chat!" He then pointed to the door, "Mr. O'Blen is going to open up shop in an hour and we're already behind schedule."
The two other boys nodded as Lars opened his bag and took out a screwdriver and small knife with a curved tip. The purple boy inserted his tools into the opening of the lock and began to pick it.
Horace crossed his arms and looked at the boy impatiently, "How long is this going to take?"
"Not too long," said Lars, staying focused on the lock. Within a couple of seconds, the lock popped off. The heavy, metal door slowly opened inward. Horace then grabbed Lars by the shoulders and shoved him towards the entrance. Lars carefully crept into the dark building without any light source. The purple boy walked down a dark corridor that led into another dark room. Unlike his peers who needed their lantern, Lars was able to see in the dark, however, he could only view things in various shades of grey when there wasn't any light.
The purple boy then returned to the other two boys.
"The coast is clear." Said Lars right before he went back inside. Bryon grabbed his bag as Horace led the way with his lantern. The three of them entered a large room with many wooden tables, chairs, a wooden countertop and shelves filled with bottles of alcohol.
"This must be it," Bryon whispered as he looked around the room, "Now where's the money?"
Lars looked over and saw a cash register on the counter. "There it is," he said as he pointed to it. Bryon walked over to it and dropped his bag on the floor before he began to climb onto the counter. The young dwarven boy was barely three feet tall and was too short to reach it while standing on the floor. He carefully opened the register and then looked down at Lars.
"Open the bag." Bryon whispered. Lars nodded as he opened Bryon's duffle bag and held it open. Bryon then dumped all the cash from the register into the bag.
After he was done, Horace walked over to them as the other boy slowly climbed down from the counter. The blonde boy looked into the bag and frowned.
"Only a couple pounds?" He whined.
The black haired boy nodded, "I know it's not a lot but it could be enough for a loaf of bread and some medical supplies."
Horace set his lantern on the counter and shook his head, "I want more than just some stale bread and bandages," he looked over at the shelves, "I need something to drink." He then looked over at Lars, "Devil boy, get me some of that!" He pointed at a large bottle of whiskey that was located on the highest shelf.
Lars shook his head, "We don't need drinks," he protested.
Horace then took out his switchblade and grabbed Lars by his shirt collar. "We don't need you either," he said as he pointed his blade at the purple boy's throat.
"Horace, no!" Said Bryon as he tried to interfere by grabbing the other boy's arm.
The blonde boy quickly turned around and pointed his blade at Bryon, "Mind your own business!" He hissed, "This is between me and that devil kid."
Bryon put his hands up in surrender as he began to take a few steps back.
Lars sighed as he hung his head, "Alright, Horace. I'll get you the whiskey." He turned to face the shelves and leaped up to grab the first one. He then began to grip the third level as he placed his feet on the first shelf. One by one, he was able to quickly reach the top without making too much noise or damaging any of the merchandise. He finally reached the large bottle of whiskey and was about to grab it.
DING DONG! A loud ringing could be heard.
"What was that?" Said Horace, alarmed by the sound.
"Over there." Bryon pointed to the grandfather clock on the other side of the room. It was seven in the morning and the boys had forgotten that Mr. O'Blen opens his bar half an hour early on Saturdays. The sound was so loud that it broke Lars' concentration. The purple boy lost his footing right after he grabbed the bottle. He slipped and fell to the floor, causing the bottle to shatter into numerous little pieces. The alcohol spilled all over the floor and was soaked up by his thin clothes.
"My whiskey!" Horace screamed, "That's it! You've done it this time, devil boy." As Lars slowly got up, Horace attempted to cut him with his switchblade.
"Horace, stop!" Bryon begged as he tried to hold Horace back again. Horace shoved the other boy to the ground.
"Stay out of this!" He yelled right before he turned back to face Lars. The purple boy was trying to escape without the blonde boy noticing but Horace caught him. He grabbed the purple boy's tail. "This is for destroying my drink!" Horace hissed as he began to slice into the purple boy's tail.
Lars yelped in pain as he attempted to get away but to no avail. He then leaped towards the boy in order to tackle him but Horace just kicked him in the stomach. Lars fell face first onto the floor and Horace kept his foot on his back while he successfully sliced off half of the purple boy's tail. Lars cried in pain as he slammed his fists into the concrete floor while the end of his freshly severed tail began to bleed a lot. Once he was done, Horace let go of his tail and grabbed the amputated half. He could see a little bone sticking out as a few drops of blood dripped out from it. The boy smirked as he stuffed it into his bag. Bryon looked at the two of them in pure terror.
"Horace," he muttered softly, "How… How could you do such a thing?"
Before the other boy could answer, another male voice could be heard.
"Who goes there?" Asked a loud, older man's voice as footsteps could be heard moving down the stairs.
Horace quickly stuffed the small bag into the duffle bag and then threw it onto his back. He also grabbed his lantern before he could head for the back door.
"What about Lars?" Asked Bryon as he quickly got up from the floor.
"Forget him, we need to go!" Said Horace as he grabbed Bryon by the arm.
"We can't just leave him here!" Bryon crossed his arms, "He's our brother."
"He's not a baby anymore! He can fend for himself and find his way back like he always does. Now let's leave!"
Before Bryon could say anything else, Horace finally pulled him away and they left the room before being spotted. Lars got up and attempted to run away. He ended up cutting the bottom of his feet on the broken glass. He also slipped on the wet floor and fell down, landing on his tailbone. He yelped in pain again before he turned onto his back and curled up into fetal position as he grabbed onto his tail and held it close.
"Please," the boy begged softly, "Don't leave me." Tears continued to roll down his face as he thought about all the horrible things that would happen to him now that he was going to get caught.
After the two boys had left, a rotund, middle-aged man entered the room. He was wearing a black bathrobe with light grey pajama bottoms and black house slippers. He had short dark grey hair, pale ivory skin, and pale blue eyes. His messy beard reached all the way down to his collarbone. The man walked into the room with his lantern and looked around. He followed the sound of Lars' weeping and slowly approached the bar.
"Is that a child crying?" He whispered to himself.
Behind the counter, he could see the boy curled up on the floor, surrounded by broken glass, and clothes soaked in alcohol. Lars suddenly stopped when he realized that he was not alone. He laid there in complete silence as he carefully observed the man's facial expression and movements. The man quickly noticed the boy's horns and inhuman skin color. The man was more stunned than angry.
Why is he staring at me like that? The boy wondered, Isn't he afraid of me because of my appearance? Isn't he furious at me for breaking in and trying to steal his whiskey? Why is he just standing there?
The man then noticed that the boy's tail was severed. The man gasped, "You're hurt!" He opened one of the drawers behind the counter and took out a small, metal box with a red cross painted on the front. He set his lantern on the counter and then offered the boy his hand. Lars carefully grabbed his hand before the man helped him get up.
A few minutes later, the boy was sitting on one of the barstools while the man wrapped a bandage around the end of his tail. After he was done, the man grabbed a seat next to him.
"You feeling alright, lad?" He asked.
"I guess." Said Lars.
"Good. Now listen, I know what you were doing here." He said, looking at the boy sternly.
Lars gulped, "You do?"
The man nodded, "Yes. I'm gonna give you two options. Either one," he held out his index finger, "I call the police on you and you go to jail. Or two," he stuck out his middle finger, "You work for me to pay for the merchandise you damaged."
Lars thought for a moment. He had been to jail before for theft and it was awful. However, he didn't want to work either. Now that his only family had left him, he didn't seem to have much of a choice. Nobody was going to save him this time.
"You seem a bit conflicted. How about I sweeten the deal a bit?" Said the man, "If you choose to work here, all your earnings will be going towards that bottle of whiskey you ruined, however, your employee benefits are that you get to stay in my spare bedroom upstairs and I'll be the one doing all the grocery shopping. You don't have to pay rent or utilities."
Free food and a free place to stay? Thought Lars, And all I have to do is work for this man? That sounds a hundred times better than going back to Horace!
"Alright," said the boy, "I'll do it. I'll work for you."
"Are you sure, lad?" He raised an eyebrow, "That whiskey was very expensive and will take you at least four years to pay me back."
Four years for one bottle of whiskey?! Thought Lars.
The boy looked over at the broken glass and then back at the man. He took a deep breath and sighed, "Yes. I'm very sure."
"Alright. You work here to pay me back and I let you live here rent free," the man repeated as he stuck out his hand, "Deal?"
Lars grabbed his hand and shook it, "Deal!" After a split second, the two of them let go and the man stood up.
"You can start now by cleaning up that mess you made." Said the man as he pointed at the broken glass on the floor. He walked over to a small closet near the counter and took out a broom and dust pan. He then handed the items to the boy.
"Yes, sir." Said Lars right before he hopped out of his seat and took the two items. He then went behind the bar to sweep up the mess.
"Please, lad," said the man as he gave Lars a soft smile, "Call me Mr. O'Blen."