Chereads / City of blood / Chapter 1 - First Blood

City of blood

blatnoiprince
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Synopsis

Chapter 1 - First Blood

It was a shitty, rainy afternoon. The kind of day where the world felt as wet and miserable as the inside of a basement. I was 13, skipping class with my fat, loud friend Zurab. He wasn't the type to back down from anything. If anything, he thrived in chaos. The kid had more guts than half the school combined, and if you pissed him off, he'd get in your face without hesitation. He wasn't scared of shit.

We were stomping down the hallway, shoes wet and clapping against the grimy tiles. The argument we were having was so stupid I could barely keep track of it. But, it didn't matter. We always found some dumb shit to argue about.

"You're really gonna sit here and tell me that Miss Elena's got better tits than Mrs. Yulia?" Zurab asked, his eyes gleaming with that stupid smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "Elena's got the goods, man. You can't even compare them."

Zurab snorted, flicking his cigarette, the end glowing red in the dim light. "You're just mad 'cause Yulia actually talks to me. Elena looks at me like she's about to throw me out the window."

"You think she's gonna throw you out the window?" I chuckled. "She'd have to get her hands dirty, first."

Zurab flicked his cigarette at the wall, then gave me a deadpan look. "Nah, she's got a look like she's about to kill you with a fucking stare. At least Yulia doesn't treat me like I'm some kind of circus freak."

We kept walking, the conversation dissolving into nothing as Zurab lit another cigarette. He smoked like it was his job. Didn't give a shit if people saw. Didn't care about anything.

We turned a corner, and that's when I saw him—a skinny little kid, maybe 12 or 13, trying to look tough with a backpack that looked like it had bricks inside. He was walking fast, eyes darting, clearly out of place in the middle of the hallway. I didn't even have to say anything for Zurab to notice.

Zurab leaned in, nudging me with his elbow. "Watch this. I'll make this little fucker pay for walking like that." His grin turned dark, and the air around him shifted. Zurab was always looking for trouble.

Without a word, he marched up to the kid, shoving him into the wall hard enough that the kid's bag hit the floor with a thud. The kid froze, his face going pale.

"What the fuck's up with you, huh?" Zurab said, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you can just walk around here like you own the place?"

The kid stammered, his voice shaky as he tried to back away. "I-I'm just—just trying to get to class—"

"Shut the fuck up," Zurab interrupted, flicking his cigarette to the side and leaning in even closer. He was way too close to the kid now, the pressure building. "You know what I see? I see a little rat that's got something we want."

I stepped forward just enough to see what Zurab was going for. The kid wasn't a fighter. He wasn't even the type to speak up. He was just an easy target, and Zurab knew it.

"What's in your pockets?" Zurab demanded, eyes narrowing. "Money, right? You look like you've got money."

The kid shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I—I don't have much. Just enough for lunch..."

Zurab reached into the kid's pocket without hesitation. The kid tried to pull away, but Zurab grabbed his arm and twisted it until he yelped in pain.

"Don't lie to me, you little shit," Zurab snarled, pulling out the crumpled bills. "Lunch money's all you've got? Pathetic." He shoved the money in his pocket, not even glancing at it.

I stood back, lighting a cigarette of my own, watching the whole thing unfold. This was just how it went in our world. You didn't give a damn about the weak. They were there to be taken from, used, and pushed around.

Zurab flicked the kid's forehead, like it was nothing. "You should know better than to walk around here acting like you are too good for this school. Get the fuck out of here."

The kid stumbled back, grabbing his bag, too scared to say a word. He bolted down the hallway without a second glance.

We kept walking around the school yard, just killing time, sitting on a bench, smoking cigarettes like we owned the damn place. The rain had slowed down, but the tension was still thick in the air.

Zurab was sitting next to me, puffing away, eyes half-lidded, clearly not giving a shit about anything. But then, some kid named Goga approached us. He was trying to act tough, but he looked like just another sharik (a minor player) trying to make a name for himself.

"Hey, you got a cigarette or what?" he asked, looking at us like we owed him something.

I took a drag off my cig and glanced at him lazily. "We don't have any," I said, barely bothering to acknowledge him.

Goga didn't take the hint. Instead, he stepped closer, squinting at us like we were hiding something. "Let me see your pockets then," he demanded, voice trembling but trying to sound tough.

Zurab raised an eyebrow and flicked the ash from his cigarette. "The fuck's your problem, Goga? You don't believe us?" His voice had a dangerous edge, the kind that meant he wasn't backing down.

I looked up at him and scowled. "Are you fucking retarded or what?" I said, my voice sharp as a knife. "You doubt me, you piece of shit? I said I don't have any. Got a problem with that?"

Goga's face turned red, and he stepped forward, getting in my face. "Calm the fuck down, man, or I'll fuck you up. You think you can talk to me like that, huh?"

Zurab stood up beside me, his stance wide and solid, ready to throw down if it came to that. But I didn't need him to get involved.

Before Goga could say anything else, I lunged at him. My fist collided with his face, hard enough to send him stumbling back. He tried to recover, but I was already on him, throwing punch after punch, my hands crashing into his face. Blood sprayed with every hit.

"You want a fucking cigarette, huh? You're begging for one?" I snarled, pounding him. "Here you go, you little bitch."

I grabbed my cigarette, spit on it, and shoved it into his bloody mouth, pressing it deep. "You fucking whore," I muttered, stepping back, my fists still trembling from the fight.

Zurab was standing there, watching it all, a small grin on his face. "You know, you didn't have to go that hard," he said, cracking his neck. "But I respect it. Goga won't forget that anytime soon."