Chapter Text
In the city of Acongojar you had three ways to survive. Option A, be someone above the rest, the one in the million, or to simplify it - be extremely rich so you can protect and buy yourself out of sticky situations. Option B was to lay low and get used to the life of a no one, a shadow amongst the crowd, someone who knows what and who to stay away from, and a statistic when your time runs out.
And for option C - well, I'm sure you'd all guessed it by now- be able to aim a weapon or twist a knife without remorse.
Only one of these was optional, the others all given. Figure which one.
-
The night was chilly as the cold wind swirled through the abandoned streets, flipping plastic bags down the road. Leaves were crunching beneath the only man's feet that dared to be outside at an ungodly hour like this. 3AM what a mystical number.... When all the spirits and demons allegedly roam around, playing and trying to spook the humans every once in a while.
Well, Evan wasn't scared of magical creatures nor the looming presence of paranoia that crept in the back of his mind. He'd lived in Acongojar ever since he knew his name, so he pretty much had the backstreets of his part of town memorised by now. He was aware of the gang territories along with the safe routes. These late night walks of his were dangerous -he didn't have to be reminded, thanks Brock- yet he never gave a damn. Apart from his few close friends he had nothing to lose hence why his careless attitude. He cared about his boys, though, he really did - just living in fear, boxed between four walls wasn't his thing.
It would've driven him delirious.
Barking of stray dogs, chasing cats snapped Evan out of his thoughts. The animals almost knocked him over as they flew past him, making him reconsider his next turn. He shook his head straightened his back and kept on walking. Have some composure, hold your posture, he reminded himself as he stuffed his right hand into his coat pocket twisting his tiny penknife -hey, better than nothing- , no longer amused of the faint gunshots from afar. Probably a family quarrel - he noted then spotted a faint light shining from a window above. Strange, nobody lived there -
A muffled thump that only those could hear who really listened, and the light went out. He never stalled before so why couldn't he move his legs? Something wasn't letting him so he stared at the broken glass for a few minutes too long. And between the shards he locked eyes with someone. Nothing but a stoic gaze that could cut through him, held eye-contact if only for a split second it was there, Evan swore to himself that he saw them.
Police sirens neared the alleyway and Evan did what his first instinct told him to do: he ran.
~
"Oh my - Evan, are you okay?" Brock, the raven haired boy's roommate was up in his face the second he'd stepped over the threshold.
Brock looked concerned as he eyed the heaving Evan for any injuries, hands on his shoulders. The latter's back was flush against the door, chest rising and falling rapidly from his speed run. Speaking of which, Evan still couldn't comprehend why he decided to do that. He'd witnessed his fair share of crime - in the city of delinquency and grime-, to say the least, and this time he just accidentally locked eyes with someone... Or something.
Yeah, it was very likely just his imagination. Right.
"What happened? And why were you running? Was someone chasing you?" Brock pried, after his roommate just shrugged with a quick 'I'm fine, don't worry about it' and stepped out of his hold. "Evan, did someone attack you?"
Evan, without a care in the world flopped down on a couch and let out a sigh, meeting his friend's eyes who took a seat beside him in the meantime.
A fake smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. "Relax. I just decided to jog home. It was cold outside, no big deal."
Brock shook his head with a raised eyebrow and a disapproving look. "Like I'm gonna believe that..." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Aren't you working tomorrow?"
It was Evan's time to shake his head. "Not on Mondays. Not anymore."
"Cool."
And that was that. Brock didn't approve of the slightly younger boy's antics, his late night wandering disconcerted him the most, but he never stopped him. He wasn't his mother after all and nor was Evan a child. He was a grown man who had a right to make his own decisions.
However, he wasn't always in the right mindset to do so. Like how he straight up walked back to the forlorn house on the corner of Ángel street in hopes of finding those pair of eyes there once again within twenty-four hours after his first visit.
Truth to be told, the life that Evan lived was empty and monotonic. An office job and the same four friends to talk to every once in a while wasn't his cup of tea after three whole years of its repetition. Don't get him wrong, he loved Brock with his mother like personality, and his co-worker Brian -Brock's crush but he'd never admit that- wasn't half bad either, not to mention the overly enthusiastic Craig who didn't know how to shut his mouth but was fun to hang out with nonetheless. But now, Evan needed something new, something refreshing that would spice up his time being.
In any way soever, as crazy as it sounds - even in a city like this- Evan was bored and ready for some sort of adventure. And that adventure happened to be in a sketchy part of town with a possible stalker involved.
Great.
Too deep in thought, Evan didn't seem to acknowledge the quiet footsteps closing in on him. Two pairs of boots, maybe three, slowly but surely grazed the concrete, making the hairs on the boy's arms stand up.
Chilly wind nipped at his skin as he didn't dare move.
And when a frosty metal was pressed against the side of his head, he flinched, blood running cold, heart rate picking up. Without further ado, Evan rose his hands up in surrender, limbs trembling from the unnecessary trouble that he'd managed to get himself into.
"And who do we have here?" A tall man in a worn-out burgundy jacket stepped in front of him, a huge 'C' on his green beanie and matching bandana that covered the lower part of his face.
The Cocodrilos, Evan pondered over the name and their usual hideouts. This wasn't their territory, it was an open space, a legal property of Acongojar so what brought them there?
Since the raven haired boy did not elaborate, the barell of the pistol was pushed deeper into his skin as a different voice spoke up from beside him with a huff. "T, why don't we just get this over and done with?"
The man towering over Evan crossed his arms with a shake of his head and ran his fingers down his own gun in its holster.
"This brat couldn't have killed him." He stated, fierce blue eyes studying him in disdain. "He couldn't hurt a fly."
Although, Evan really wanted to deny that - he was a hockey player for years after all- he figured it wasn't the best time to act like a smartass. So instead of replying to that remark he stayed silent and waited until he was adressed once again.
"He is still somewhat a witness." The guy who had him at gunpoint reasoned, finger steadily on the trigger.
"I-" Evan's voice quivered when the tall gang member fixed his gaze on him once more. "I was just walking by, I didn't see a thing."
Way to bee confident... The Canasian thought, bracing himself for the inevitable. What were they accusing him of anyways? A murder? When? Where?
"Is that so?"
Evan gave them a curt nod, praying that he was still at home in bed having a nightmare and that he'd soon wake the hell up.
"He is lying, T." Gunman whined, dragging the pistol down towards Evan's ear and then back up.
"You're right. Sh-"
Before the six foot something giant could finish his command the pistol flew out of his ally's hand, and a knife whizzed past his own head. He immediately reached for his revolver, not ready for another one, yet out of nowhere it came and pierced through his right shoulder. 'T' cried out in pain, stumbling backwards he almost fell onto his bottom, dropping the weapon. The other now also defenceless thug reached for his handgun to face whoever injured his partner.
Evan, shocked from the events but street-smart enough, took the opportunity and stepped back away from his attackers. A flash of black pushed past him a hand shoving him away from the scene. The new figure kicked the gun further away from the Cocodrilo, punching him in the stomach as the other man tried to get his act together and defend the two of them.
"Run!" His saviour shouted, delivering a right hook to the still barely touched criminal, not even looking back at Evan.
His senses must've been extremely sensitive since when 'T' charged at him after he'd removed the knife from his flesh with a grunt, he dodged it with ease, slamming the other to the brick wall of the alley. Even though both of them looked more built and were clearly taller than him, he seemed to be more skilled as he moved agily like a feline.
And poor innocent Evan just stood there staring at the scene. He couldn't look away, it was like a car crash- you don't want to watch but you can't help it.
Now he caught a glimpse of a white hockey mask underneath that black hoodie. Who was this guy? He couldn't have belonged to a gang be-
When 'T' ran into a wall, clearly losing too much blood, the masked man sprinted towards Evan and grabbed him by the arm to drag him away.
"Run, goddammit!" He cried, running with him for a few seconds to make sure Evan was not turning back, then took a sharp turn and disappeared for good in a blind path.
Evan didn't have time to look back, though, not until he was back on a busy square to catch his breath.
That did not just happen.