Thread: The Struggle for Power (Sumi & Alan23)

I guess the good news, thought Jak Kerhall, grimly, is that I'm not going inside. He walked between the two police officers, his habitual scowl strong enough to melt the air around him. One of the cops - the pot-bellied one with the triple chin, had wanted to put cuffs on him. The other - the tall one, with the big ears, had vetoed that. Instead, he walked with his hands on Jak's shoulder. A gentle, yet firm touch, that said Run, and we'll catch you. And then, we might not be so nice. It was a thought Jak appreciated. Not that he planned to run, anyway. He'd done a lot of things in his life - but running away wasn't one of them. If he had run, he thought, perhaps he wouldn't be in this mess. The last time - the time he'd stolen that car - had been just fun. Suspended sentence. Whaling from his father. Not that that made much difference - his father hit him on the slightest pretext anyway. Not much incentive to keep out of trouble when there was no reward in it. This time, though... Maybe, in retrospect, he shouldn't have run with the Ravenblades. It had seemed a good idea at the time. A group of friends, people to stand by you on the streets. Lots of liquor, meth, girls. Especially girls. Maybe, even, he should have stayed in the gang, but kept a lower profile. That was part of the problem - being the height and build he was, he always looked a threat. A showdown between him and Lucky had always been a threat. Jak was as brave in a fight as Lucky was. Almost as strong, and a lot faster. Better with a blade maybe. Lucky's final taunt Well, if you think you're that good, let's try you out, had been the end of them both. He remembered it as vividly as if it had been a few minutes ago. The stare down. Two hands going for their blades. No firearms allowed in a stand off. Win, and he'd be the leader of the whole lot. Every girl, every guy, his to order. Warlord of the Ravenblades - not a bad thing to be. If he lost - disgrace. Humiliation. Exile from the team. First to cry enough, first to back down. That was all. Except he'd lost it. He'd been up against the wall, his face bleeding from the cuts from Lucky's blade. Lucky being just a little to confident, a little too slow. Moving forward, leaving just that tiny gap open. Jak's reflex thrust, - No, Lucky didn't back down. Lucky hadn't been so lucky after all. The rest, though, was a blur. Gang members standing around, open-mouthed. Pointing. Izzy screaming. Lucky trying to say something, choked by the blood streaming from his thick lips. Jak standing, in a daze, too paralyzed even to throw away the blade, still red-stained with Lucky's blood. Sirens. A confused impression of being alone. Everyone else had fled. Blue uniforms. You are not obliged... Standing still, not resisting. But he hadn't run. Being alone in the cell. Parents not even bothering to visit. A lawyer appointed. A suggestion he plead guilty. A trial. Over in a few minutes. He'd already prepared himself for jail. And then... That lawyer hadn't been as uncaring and inefficient as he'd looked. A summons to the prison superintendent. Something about the Charity Service Scheme... new initiative... blah blah blah... you have to work hard, mind... do everything you're told... last chance... if you come back here... Who cared. Anything was better than jail, right? Until he'd seen her. Oh yes, he remembered Iris Augustine, all right. It's hard to forget a rich-bitch who has a crush on you. Hard to forget those lips, that rack. Another regret. Maybe he should have... nah! She wouldn't have. A girl from the wide streets, and a guy from the hill? Forget it. But he'd seen her looking. Watched her blush whenever he walked by her. Seen her friends teasing her, all those blue-eyed dolls with their hair perfectly arranged, those designer clothes, those giggles that went right through you, that said we are as far above you as an angel, and never forget it. They could say a lot, those girls, with a laugh. And now, here she was. He was hers, to do with as she liked. No, iris, you little bitch, you don't need exceptional skills. Just live in a place where the rich get everything, the poor get fuck all. And that's why you're that side of the desk, looking like you've got a nasty smell under that pretty nose, and I'm here, between two cops, one kinder than the other. Looking into those cold, cold eyes that said At last, I have you just where I want you. involved in a relationship? he repeated her question, mocking her refined accent. You mean am I fucking? The fat cop growled. Answer the question, son, said big ears. No. I'm not with anyone. Not married, no. Illegitimate child? He looked at tall cop, as if he didn't know what the words meant, though he did. He'd been called it often enough, and accurately too, for what that was worth. Tall cop explained, in a whisper, trying to be helpful. Though Jak didn't need the help, he was grateful. No, ma'am. No children. More questions, all pointless, all none of her business. But that was the way of it. She had him, he was hers. Acting as her lackey. And they pretended it was fair, that she was doing him a favor. Well, he'd wait out the time. One day. One day... he'd find a way to take that oh-so-fucking-superior smile off her face. But that was for the future. And this was now. Now was being escorted to her car, chauffeur driven. Both cops having the decency to say good bye, son, and good luck. He hadn't expected that from fat cop. He was almost grateful. But he put any soft feelings out of his mind. There was a long way to go yet, before he'd done his time, and it was all over. He had that to dream about, being free, one day. But that was the future. This was now.