Wrong Place, Wrong Time

It was getting late. Quill had already gotten used to walking home from Beata Academy as the sun was dying, but it did nothing to calm his nerves about walking through the Rose district, at least at this time of night. More importantly, he just didnt like walking alone. Sadly, he usually didnt have a choice. Curling up further into his jacket as he walked quickly through the streets, he could feel his quills flexing hard underneath his heavy clothing, reacting to each unexpected noise and each glance from the few folks that were standing around. He just wanted to get home.

"Hey, hey!" A strange voice suddenly called out from behind him, causing Quill instantly to speed up his pace. "Hey you! Dont ignore me!"

Quill continued his brisk pace, trying to ignore whoever it was behind him. However, that only left him with a hanging sense of dread as large and loud footsteps approached with intensity behind him, and in a few seconds, a hand firmly grasped his shoulder, stopping him dead in his tracks. "No thanks, I dont want anything you're selling!" He exclaimed, not daring to look at whoever grabbed him.

"Hey now, slow down buddy!" The stranger carried on, turning Quill around to face him. "Theres no need to get fussy. What are you doing out here like this?" The stranger smirked, looking the boy up and down, picking at his jacket and backpack. "You know these streets are dangerous, dont you?"

"Look, I dont want any trouble," Quill replied, panic breaking his voice as he looked up at the stranger, taking in his features. The dirty shirt, the ripped jeans, greasy black hair and the crooked smile sent chills down Quill's spine. "I just want to get home."

"Trouble? No no no, you got it all wrong! We wont have any trouble!" The stranger paused for a minute, his hand tightening on Quill's shoulder. "You just have to pay a small... convenience fee. You know, for us letting you pass on our grounds."

Quill gulped, fear striking his features, trying to take a step back to put distance between himself and this guy, but the hand on his shoulder only grew tighter. "But-but... I dont have any money. No, wait-!"

Within seconds, Quill suddenly felt his backpack get ripped away from him, the straps shooting off his arms as another much stronger teen yanked it from his possession. The boy was dressed not much like the other: a large blue and white varsity jacket covered a raggedy t-shirt that hung limply over dirty, baggy blue jeans while his stringy hair was bunched up within a worn beanie. "We appreciate your compensation then! I'm sure we can get something out of whatever the fuck is in this bag." His grungy voice could only be compared to a pack-a-day smoker. However, that didnt matter much as he ripped open the backpack to find its contents.

"No don't touch that!" Quill shouted, turning on his heel and reaching out for his bag. Before he could even take one step, a large boot caught him square in the back, kicking him hard to the ground.

"Hey buddy, this is ours now. Couldnt pay the fee so we have to start doing repo, you know?" The first boy cackled. "Is there anything worth shit in there Mike?"

"I dont know, man. It's just a bunch of fucking books," Mike replied, throwing everything out onto the ground. "Wait hold on... I found his phone! Look at this thing! That's gotta be at least two hundred dollars!"

As the first boy celebrated their find, Quill pulled himself up off the ground, scrapes on his hands, knees and chin burning from the fall. His spines all but penetrated through his clothes, some of them along his arms broken from landing hard on the ground. "Give it back!" Before he could even think, he gritted his teeth and threw himself at Mike, reaching for his phone that now was firmly in Mike's grasp. Just like the first time, though, Quill couldnt even grab onto the guy before Not Mike grabbed him by the back of his jacket and forcefully threw him down again, Quill's head hitting the concrete shooting pain through his skull and down his back.

"Watch it you little bitch! Your stuff belongs to us now, you hear me? Get lost before I bash your face in!" The first guy shouted, towering over Quill, fists clenched as he stared daggers down at my little porcupine boy.

A thin tendril of smoke swirled gently towards the dying light up in the sky. He swore he'd given up smoking, but the habit chased him relentlessly. At least he was doing it less often now, so much so that he wasn't the beacon of ash smell he used to be, back when everyone was one, and he didn't really notice anyway. Small steps, one day at a time.

It felt strange to go to school, and return to his own house. His family's house. Family was strange, school was strange, this whole town was strange. The most bizzarre assortments of creeps walked the days on a daily basis - the kind of creeps he had never even imagined to exist, like some characters ripped straight out of comic book. Which he luckily didn't have to share a classroom with. Seeing all of the madness that swirled around Beata, he felt more than fortunate he wasn't there, too, he'd have to be mad to crave something like that. A school that made heroes as much as it made broken husks and scoundrels. Someone with more brains would have had something intelligent to say about that - Sasha could just shrug and call it 'a shitshow'.

Noises piqued his interest as he walked the increasingly dark streets, and he knew the noises well. A fight. He listened in from a distance, didn't want to bother anyone he didn't have to, but there was something else. Firstly, whoever was being mugged, to his best knowledge, was a kid. No, he wasn't a hero by any means, he liked to think of himself as a scoundrel who pulled a very shaky U-turn, but he had to step in. Sasha ditched his backpack in an empty trash can - hopefully this wouldn't take too long.

He pushed up the sleeves of his hideous tie-dye hoodie that he didn't know he owned until this morning."Darlings," Sasha said loudly when he was finally close enough to be seen, all cards on the table. With two fingers, he plucked the cigarette from his mouth, flicking specks of ash off gracefully. "Mamas stopped giving you your allowance? Don't have money to buy porn mags anymore, or whatever you guys do in your spare time?" he teased. And he was right, that was a kid fighting, but fighting might have been a generous way to put it.

"Hands off the stuff, hands off the kid. You know the drill."

The boys whirled around, facing Sasha first with surprise quickly followed by annoyance. Mike grumbled, zipping up the backpack and tossing it to the ground. "Piss off! This has nothing to do with you, asshole."

The other kid tightened his fists and gritted his teeth at the sight of Sasha. Just the sight of how comfortable Sasha seemed to be made him uneasy, but he wasnt about to back down now. They at least had something to get some money out of and he wasnt about to let that go now. Besides, two against one? Those were decent odds. "Hey pal, we are just trying to make enough to get by, alright? Leave us be and no one gets hurt!"

All the while, Quill rolled over on the ground, holding his head in his hands to try to stop the pain. Tears stung his eyes and anger boiled in his chest as he lay helpless against these two. However, he froze as yet another stranger approached except this time, he wasnt talking to Quill. For the first time in the past few minutes that had passed like years, relief washed over the poor boy. This guy was here to help! Or so he hoped.

God, did he also use to be like these guys? A wave of shame washed over him, but at least he had the will to try and better himself, unlike Idiot Number One and Idiot Number Two over here. Their pleading words and attempts at intimidation did nothing to Sasha, very used to hearing such things. They got on his nerve fast. Really fast. He flicked the cigarette again, then inhaled from it briefly, before returning it to his hand.

"Hell, neither of you might be hurt, but I would be! I'm hurt you think I care about your problems, is what I'm getting at." he shot back nonchalantly, and took another purposeful step forward, stepping down his foot hard enough to make it heard in the shady street. Whatever these guys were, they were cowards, awfully stupid cowards who didn't know when to give up. From the corner of his eye, he watched the kid remain on the ground, which was for the best now. At least until he got those two to stop paying attention for long enough.

He hadn't gotten the opportunity to hit anything in a long time - Liberi wasn't as strict on having its students know how to defend themselves, and it was certainly a skill he had acquired by other means, and under other, much sadder circumstances. Still, saying no to a bit of training felt wasteful. "Say, I'll give the two of you another chance to back off. That way, actually nobody'll get hurt."