R.T.V.X.S - Prologue. Prologue

“Do you know who I am? Do you?”

The condescending words grated upon Rayden’s ears, and he flinched as a stabbing pain lanced through his stomach. At least one of his ribs was cracked, if not broken, and it hurt to breathe.

The shadow standing over him crouched down, leaning his head down to eye level. The man’s eyes were a clouded grey, soulless and empty like his heart. His hair shone white in the faded moonlight piercing down through the fog drifting along the streets.

“You shouldn’t have come here, boy. This is Sinner’s Inc. ground. And we don’t take bitches of your kind, either.”

Grinning maliciously, the man stood, the crimson cloth of his gang uniform rustling with the movement. “If you want that kind of pleasure, try the Skulls, they aren’t picky when it comes to their bed dogs. HAHA!” Turning on his steel booted heel, he walked off into the night. A long gash splitting the back of his coat was burned into Rayden’s memory as he lay panting on the ground, black threads holding it together stark against the bloody fabric.

“..Wait!” He managed to croak out, struggling to sit up as his torso erupted in agony, forcing him back down to the ground.

I know I'm dressed like one, but I’m not a prostitute, he wanted to say, but instead what came out was “What’s.. Your name?”

The man paused before bursting into raucous laughter. “And why the hell would I answer a question from a brat like you?” His guffaws died out, and he cast a glance over his shoulder at Rayden. “Ah, jeez. You're a bold piece of shit, so you might live.” He began to walk again, gloved hands slipping into his pockets. “Madory, that’s what the Sinners call me. Pop Madory.”

With a final snicker, he vanished into the fog, leaving the boy alone on the cold, damp street. With a sigh, Rayden slumped onto his back, attempting to lessen his movement and pain. Controlling his breathing until it became steady once more, he listened to the deafening silence, closing his eyes. Once, there would have been cars driving down the road, the street lamps lit and the typical sounds of a city in the night. Once, civilization still had some semblance of order and governmental systems, a defining authoritative figure.

Once, he had dreams that weren't haunted by his mistakes.

The unmistakable limping footsteps of Theodore drew closer from the looming buildings on his left, and slowly the sounds of the others could be heard all around. The light and soft steps of Victor, the quick tread of Song, the slow movement of Xerxes. Rayden sensed their presence surrounding him, the flames of their souls burning continuously, their anger and disappointment radiating from their bodies.

“You failed.” It was a statement, a fact. Teddy’s voice was flat through his gas mask.

“Yes.” Rayden said simply, opening his turquoise blue eyes to look at each of the members of RTVXS.

“We had a deal, then.” They all crowded close as Xerxes spoke, and Song unsheathed the sword strapped at her waist.

For a brief moment, a boy’s face flashed in his mind, his tearful face igniting a raging flame in Rayden’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the air, as the blade came down on his neck.