{ I will soon -If people like this- put up a link where characters pictures, settings, and things like that will be located. Please comment and critique :3 }
{ : Иσ Яɛғʋɢɛ : }
| : Description : |
In a place, somewhere hidden in the future lies one girl and her story. A story that proves she hasn't gone insane, a story that shows what the world has come to.
Payton Harris was born and raised into a family of 3 boys, 3 boys that forever protected her. But when the world slips from her hands at the age of 8 and she loses everything important, her protectors and only family are gone forever...
She has entered the Warehouse, where you are the lowest of the low. Where thousands are traded, dropped off, and bought as a slave. Kids from the ages of as young as new borns and as old as nineteen are brought there, older then that are brought to another place, where have ever returned. It means you were unwanted all your life. Human-kind has been f`d up, and now only the rich and famous may prosper while the weak live and die hard.
Payton {who is currently 17} must now fend for a life she doesn't want, she must also learn to cope that human-kind itself has not been destroyed, just damaged almost beyond repair.
What happens when she meets the mystery guy, his name which is later found out is Arrow. Will she let him break down walls? or will she build more? And will she ever forget the guy who died for her...
But there is hope, there is always hope for those who seek Refuge.
_________________________________________________________
| : Prologue : |
{ Safe and Sound- Taylor Swift }
"They will come for you," My eldest brother, Jason (age:15) whispered, his voice had a hint of disbelief. He was kneeling in front of me, his dark curly hair was falling into his crystal clear green eyes- but unlike other times, they were cloudy and wandering, not the usual look my brother normally wore. His forehead was creased and his shoulders, normally broad and arms that were usually my welcoming home- were now skinny, almost to the bone. I swallowed, my throat feeling as If it wouldn't be able to swallow another breath. I choke up, "But-." I began, my voice small, weak even, and shaky. He shook his head- silencing me. He sighed, and I had no clue as to what we were doing in the old abandoned barn, which looked as If it were crumbling down with the rest of my life. The paint was peeling, burn marks were spread around- scarring the place. It was a haunted, wicked thing- this place. But It was my only refuge.
"They will come, and when they do- run, run fast, dont look back." He whispered, turning back toward me. His face was filled with worry, and at 8, I guarantee I never wanted this to be my brothers last expression toward me, yet It was.
"Jason," I said, my lower lip trembling. The stillness of the day, or night {I had not known, considering I had been locked up in this place for days, uncounted days}. He shushed me softly, resting a warm and huge hand softly on my face and stroking my cheek. It was so comforting, his touch. I knew what was coming, we both did, we all did- My brother Jason, Eric, Markus, and I. I felt a tear slowly dribble down my cheek and soon both of his once-strong arms held onto me. I buried my face into his neck, never wanting him to let go of all I had left. His dark hoodie concealed all of the scars and bruises, cuts and scratches, all of the things he had fought to keep unseen to me and my other brothers for our sake. But I knew they were there. It was the only clothing he contained, along with a ratty shirt, old worn-out-to-the-sole shoes and some small Jeans. I, on the other hand, had a small play dress on, and would walk barefoot.
But, as we all know- nothing ever lasts. He unwrapped his arms and his cheeks were dripping with slow tears. That took alot from him, he was always the strong one, the one who had high hopes and higher determination. But once again, the strongest thing always have a breaking point.
He dropped his hand, and we both turned at the sound of Eric's thudding foot-steps approach the barn, we both knew it was him, because If it weren't, we wouldn't have heard the clanking of his binoculars as they hit the ground, being dragged uselessly behind him. He slid between the door, barely making it, looking worn-out and out of breath.
"They're here." He murmured, catching his breath. His jet black hair swooped in front of his eyes, concealing what was really to be seen. Jason gazed back at me then stood up quickly, I could practically feel the reverberations on the ground. Markus bolted from a shadow, his slinky and lanky body seemed to blend in with the shadows and I jumped from surprise. Everyone exchanged looks, and then we all looked toward the huge door- closed, locked from dirt, grime, and hope. "Hide." Jason said, then snapped his head toward me, "Hide her now! Run!" He yelled, but it was only above a whisper. Eric only made it just in time when we all heard the approaching sound of tire wheels hitting the dirt and dead grass of the plain and dead field.
Eric grabbed onto me- his hands cupping me shoulders as he pushed me back, and I started to shudder. We'd been waiting for this, and we couldn't run. I grasped onto the locket around my neck, the one that held the picture of Mama and Papa in one photo, and in the other- my brothers. It seemed to weigh me down, but it was only my imagination.
"Hey!" He loud voice bellowed, me, along with Markus and Eric skittered into a broken farming contraption. Jason stood, waiting- his body blocking up, but he was infront of the door. His head was high, and we all knew, all of us, that he was the one to player the suicide bomber. I swallowed, tears coming down harder. The car kept coming though, and right when I thought that It would crash through the doors, It stopped. I turned my head and crammed it into Markus shoulder, he put a head on my head and murmured a lullaby.
"Just close your eyes
The sun is going down
You'll be alright
No one can hurts you now
Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound
Don't you dare look out your window
Darling, everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on
Hold onto this lullaby
Even when the music's gone
Gone..."
His words fading, and slowly, ever so slowly, time ticked by. I heard wood splintering, he turned by head quickly, the door flew open, and expected men in black suits and huge guns ran in. The aimed at Jason, and for a split-second Jason looked scared, but he kept his composure. "You f-cking monsters." He growled. But, instead of them pausing to hear a speech, they shot. It was If nothing changed, it was to quick to take in. One moment my brother was standing, holding his ground protecting us, and now he was down, on the ground- dead.
A gasp escaped Markus lips, Eric stiffened and tears rolled down, and a scream from somewhere else, my lips. The guys in suits flickered toward out, and me, being the dumb-ss that longed for her brother, broke from Erics grasp and ran toward Jasons limp body, my frail arms wrapping around him. He was still warm, and somewhere- his heart was beating faintly, I cried. "Jason." He I whispered, in that one instant, Eric was behind me and Markus was looking at the 5 men that surrounded us in a circle. But It didnt matter, I wanted my brother...
~~~~~~~
I looked back now, nine years later, and only have one memory, the final blow to Jason's head, blood splattered clothes, my blood splattered clothes, and my separation from Jason as arms took me, leaving him behind while I was in shock.
I never did see Markus or Eric after that, I only saw the continuous movement from warehouse to warehouse, the slave-holders place
Put it this way, If you were rich, you were fine, If not- you were a servant, locked and beaten, abused by those who were never liked your kind, and sold for pleasure or simply as a slave. In my position, {which wasn't a good one} I could either easily escape or easily die. I'd been to houses before, but somehow, was traded back into the 'Company' as you'd call it.
The weak die hard and the rich lived like Kings, that's how It had always been.
There will never be hope for me, there will never be determination, there will never be an will power.
There will never be any refuge.
_________________________________________________________
| : Chapter One : |
{ What If- School Boy Humor }
The cold, clambering, mistreated barn held atleast of hundred caged or shackled innocent teens. And yet, this place was all she'd ever known to call home. The place itself, a broken down barn- well bigger then any barn that is, try atleast 10 times bigger.
Payton swallowed, her eyes gazing through a crowd. Kids, innocent kids knelt in cages- each suffering from starvation, and lack of confidence. All contained the same expressions: Want, Depression, Fear, and even at times Broken. Surely, anyone would have noticed this unfortunate event, the fact that a hundred kids at least were trapped in some place with minimum care and maximum abuse, except for the fact that human-kind ran the whole damn operation.
Payton rubbed her arms, the T-shirt and ripped jeans that were faded from the sun, had tolerated this long. She bit her lip, and felt the cuff around both hands- restraining her. She gazed around frequently, her head snapping at any sound that provided something worth watching. Payton's long amber hair covered her green eyes, yet she had no resemblance to anyone here. She was one of few that had actual clothing that wasnt years old, or one that hadnt been broken down to no hope. No, she was a fighter.
She'd been here four weeks, four damn weeks, she thought bitterly. Out of those four weeks, she'd met about 3 people around her age. All had a fight left in them, but all were torn away from her, provided the fact you could be taken any day at anytime. She wasnt lucky enough.
The usually loud place was sober except from the cries and screams of pain, but she had gotten used to it. Swallowing dryly she lifted her hand to stroke her locket- the only remainder to prove to her that her brothers and mother and father had existed, had lived, had loved her- even if they were somewhere in the sky. She didnt even know If Eric or Markus had made it, yet that was nine years ago, and {even as hurtful as it hit her} there was no shot of them surviving at there age. She was just barely lucky enough.
Payton took in an immensely deep breath and leaned her head against the wall, the small of urine and crap filled her senses completely, and she was bombarded with the fact of being so close to throwing up. She sighed- and rolled her head to the side. The place was crammed, and beside her was a sleeping guy, He'd been there as long as she had, and he'd witnessed everything she had, in a way, they silently were both aware of the horrors that filled this place. But they never did talk about it. She nudged him slightly and at the lightest of her touch he snapped awake. That was another thing, around here- you could wake up scared at the sound of a pin drop. Stunned, he turned toward her- his eyes wildly searching hers, she offered a meek grin and shrug.
"Sorry, just checking..." She murmured, the few words ever spoke aloud by her.
He shook his head, his dark hair falling in his eyes- they'd always been that way, to the point where she never saw the color of his eyes- only his dark hair. "Its fine." He murmured, then layed back down- using his hand as a pillow- having to practically cling to the wall with any comfort from the shackles
Payton smirked, watching him and just once thinking, Maybe he does deserve a chance, she'd never fully allowed herself to really open to anyone, because one day they could be sitting next to you and talking, a full trust-bond going on, yet the next they could have been sold/traded or killed because of maximum limit in the warehouse.
On the other side of her, however, a boy around 12, who called himself Gizmo, was tinkering around with a set of old glasses- like really old glasses. She was always amused watching him, the way he fumbled his hands carefully, the way he constantly flipped the dark curly hair from his bright blue eyes. It was just a routine thing she never got tired of. She swallowed though, when he caught her watching, his airplane pilots hat with goggles (bad with description sorry) which was tearing from age was now facing her. She only shrugged, "Nice." She said softly, but he then began tinkering with it again, forgetting her and she dropped it.
This was how her day went, every day, for the past four weeks. Zip. Nada. Nothing new.
The only thing new was the new bodyguard the inhabited the place now, he was referred to as Rip-Jaw but all the prisoners {as he called them, but to an extent, they were} and he rarely showed remorse. He was in charge of when meals where and what they received. The meal had been a less-then-pint full of rice every other day. Which can easily show the care he gave out {Being said so sarcastically}. Thing was, Payton never ate hers, and neither would the guy with the long jet black hair beside her asleep, they would always manage to give it to a younger famished kid, almost dead of starvation- on the brink even, and just go without it.
Rip-Jaws corrupt form came through a door, recently opened and she heard it bang as it clanged against the wall. She muttered and saw the guy beside her jump awake, grabbing for the wall before he toppled over but accidentally grabbed Paytons arm. Both looked at each other, then awkwardly shifted away. Rip-Jaw had the whip, his favorite torture device, and a pistol hidden in his pocket. {Hey, Payton did her research} The clean-cut military guy looked like he was a retired officer, but he never so much as gave an order, only implied it with his 'weapons'. His buzz cut and graying dark hair, with his meek and demeaning grey eyes and built body made everyone shudder. The keys, which he was smart enough to do, where left in some office on a upper part- where he lived. If not, Payton wouldn't be here, she'd have escaped.
Someone spoke up, a young boy, somewhere way over the crowd. "Please, Sir- my sister, shes-shes going to die without food." The voice begged on, and from gazing over, she could barely pick out who it was. She swallowed- he was only about 6. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand and watched intently, Gizmo had stopped and did the same. Rip-Jaw slowly turned, ever so slowly to emphasize himself. He shot the boy a look, the look that even from a mile away, any prisoner/slave here could see. "And why is that? Am i not providing you enough?" Rip-Jaw barked back loudly. Dead Silence. No one dared a word, except for the kid. Now any other kid would be scared sh*tless, but apparently this kid had some nerve- which he was be severely punished for.
"N-N-Noo sir, Its not enough." The kid replied stuttering, his voice small, a tang of English accent on it. Rip-Jaw looked the kid up and down, and before anyone saw it coming, ripped out his gun and fired-
Bang! Bang!
The sound reverberated off the walls, as If shouting 'Cant hear me, well listen up' yet it only left the kid to drop dead and everyone else to watch in horror. A small tear slipped down Payton's face, remembering when her Brother, Jason, had stood up for her and her brothers and died for them. She wiped it away, and heard more sobs. But as quickly as it happened, men in ski masks came in, retrieving the body and unshackling it from the wall, then dragging it in its own pool of blood slowly and dreadfully for everyone to see. Slowly they disappeared farther from Payton's eyesight and she felt Gizmo slowly touch her arm, having seen the tear- "We'll be fine." He murmured, then as If something clicked he went back and started working on the glasses again.
Rip-Jar just shuffled off in an orderly fashion, his daily-shined shoes scuffing the ground loudly as he made his exit and retreated to his office.
This is how it always was, you'd see it, live in the moment for a minute, then robotically just drop it and move on. Like pretending it never happened, because that was the only way you would ever manage to survive. Yet Payton never did forget.
| : Description : |
In a place, somewhere hidden in the future lies one girl and her story. A story that proves she hasn't gone insane, a story that shows what the world has come to.
Payton Harris was born and raised into a family of 3 boys, 3 boys that forever protected her. But when the world slips from her hands at the age of 8 and she loses everything important, her protectors and only family are gone forever...
She has entered the Warehouse, where you are the lowest of the low. Where thousands are traded, dropped off, and bought as a slave. Kids from the ages of as young as new borns and as old as nineteen are brought there, older then that are brought to another place, where have ever returned. It means you were unwanted all your life. Human-kind has been f`d up, and now only the rich and famous may prosper while the weak live and die hard.
Payton {who is currently 17} must now fend for a life she doesn't want, she must also learn to cope that human-kind itself has not been destroyed, just damaged almost beyond repair.
What happens when she meets the mystery guy, his name which is later found out is Arrow. Will she let him break down walls? or will she build more? And will she ever forget the guy who died for her...
But there is hope, there is always hope for those who seek Refuge.
_________________________________________________________
| : Prologue : |
{ Safe and Sound- Taylor Swift }
"They will come for you," My eldest brother, Jason (age:15) whispered, his voice had a hint of disbelief. He was kneeling in front of me, his dark curly hair was falling into his crystal clear green eyes- but unlike other times, they were cloudy and wandering, not the usual look my brother normally wore. His forehead was creased and his shoulders, normally broad and arms that were usually my welcoming home- were now skinny, almost to the bone. I swallowed, my throat feeling as If it wouldn't be able to swallow another breath. I choke up, "But-." I began, my voice small, weak even, and shaky. He shook his head- silencing me. He sighed, and I had no clue as to what we were doing in the old abandoned barn, which looked as If it were crumbling down with the rest of my life. The paint was peeling, burn marks were spread around- scarring the place. It was a haunted, wicked thing- this place. But It was my only refuge.
"They will come, and when they do- run, run fast, dont look back." He whispered, turning back toward me. His face was filled with worry, and at 8, I guarantee I never wanted this to be my brothers last expression toward me, yet It was.
"Jason," I said, my lower lip trembling. The stillness of the day, or night {I had not known, considering I had been locked up in this place for days, uncounted days}. He shushed me softly, resting a warm and huge hand softly on my face and stroking my cheek. It was so comforting, his touch. I knew what was coming, we both did, we all did- My brother Jason, Eric, Markus, and I. I felt a tear slowly dribble down my cheek and soon both of his once-strong arms held onto me. I buried my face into his neck, never wanting him to let go of all I had left. His dark hoodie concealed all of the scars and bruises, cuts and scratches, all of the things he had fought to keep unseen to me and my other brothers for our sake. But I knew they were there. It was the only clothing he contained, along with a ratty shirt, old worn-out-to-the-sole shoes and some small Jeans. I, on the other hand, had a small play dress on, and would walk barefoot.
But, as we all know- nothing ever lasts. He unwrapped his arms and his cheeks were dripping with slow tears. That took alot from him, he was always the strong one, the one who had high hopes and higher determination. But once again, the strongest thing always have a breaking point.
He dropped his hand, and we both turned at the sound of Eric's thudding foot-steps approach the barn, we both knew it was him, because If it weren't, we wouldn't have heard the clanking of his binoculars as they hit the ground, being dragged uselessly behind him. He slid between the door, barely making it, looking worn-out and out of breath.
"They're here." He murmured, catching his breath. His jet black hair swooped in front of his eyes, concealing what was really to be seen. Jason gazed back at me then stood up quickly, I could practically feel the reverberations on the ground. Markus bolted from a shadow, his slinky and lanky body seemed to blend in with the shadows and I jumped from surprise. Everyone exchanged looks, and then we all looked toward the huge door- closed, locked from dirt, grime, and hope. "Hide." Jason said, then snapped his head toward me, "Hide her now! Run!" He yelled, but it was only above a whisper. Eric only made it just in time when we all heard the approaching sound of tire wheels hitting the dirt and dead grass of the plain and dead field.
Eric grabbed onto me- his hands cupping me shoulders as he pushed me back, and I started to shudder. We'd been waiting for this, and we couldn't run. I grasped onto the locket around my neck, the one that held the picture of Mama and Papa in one photo, and in the other- my brothers. It seemed to weigh me down, but it was only my imagination.
"Hey!" He loud voice bellowed, me, along with Markus and Eric skittered into a broken farming contraption. Jason stood, waiting- his body blocking up, but he was infront of the door. His head was high, and we all knew, all of us, that he was the one to player the suicide bomber. I swallowed, tears coming down harder. The car kept coming though, and right when I thought that It would crash through the doors, It stopped. I turned my head and crammed it into Markus shoulder, he put a head on my head and murmured a lullaby.
"Just close your eyes
The sun is going down
You'll be alright
No one can hurts you now
Come morning light
You and I'll be safe and sound
Don't you dare look out your window
Darling, everything's on fire
The war outside our door keeps raging on
Hold onto this lullaby
Even when the music's gone
Gone..."
His words fading, and slowly, ever so slowly, time ticked by. I heard wood splintering, he turned by head quickly, the door flew open, and expected men in black suits and huge guns ran in. The aimed at Jason, and for a split-second Jason looked scared, but he kept his composure. "You f-cking monsters." He growled. But, instead of them pausing to hear a speech, they shot. It was If nothing changed, it was to quick to take in. One moment my brother was standing, holding his ground protecting us, and now he was down, on the ground- dead.
A gasp escaped Markus lips, Eric stiffened and tears rolled down, and a scream from somewhere else, my lips. The guys in suits flickered toward out, and me, being the dumb-ss that longed for her brother, broke from Erics grasp and ran toward Jasons limp body, my frail arms wrapping around him. He was still warm, and somewhere- his heart was beating faintly, I cried. "Jason." He I whispered, in that one instant, Eric was behind me and Markus was looking at the 5 men that surrounded us in a circle. But It didnt matter, I wanted my brother...
~~~~~~~
I looked back now, nine years later, and only have one memory, the final blow to Jason's head, blood splattered clothes, my blood splattered clothes, and my separation from Jason as arms took me, leaving him behind while I was in shock.
I never did see Markus or Eric after that, I only saw the continuous movement from warehouse to warehouse, the slave-holders place
Put it this way, If you were rich, you were fine, If not- you were a servant, locked and beaten, abused by those who were never liked your kind, and sold for pleasure or simply as a slave. In my position, {which wasn't a good one} I could either easily escape or easily die. I'd been to houses before, but somehow, was traded back into the 'Company' as you'd call it.
The weak die hard and the rich lived like Kings, that's how It had always been.
There will never be hope for me, there will never be determination, there will never be an will power.
There will never be any refuge.
_________________________________________________________
| : Chapter One : |
{ What If- School Boy Humor }
The cold, clambering, mistreated barn held atleast of hundred caged or shackled innocent teens. And yet, this place was all she'd ever known to call home. The place itself, a broken down barn- well bigger then any barn that is, try atleast 10 times bigger.
Payton swallowed, her eyes gazing through a crowd. Kids, innocent kids knelt in cages- each suffering from starvation, and lack of confidence. All contained the same expressions: Want, Depression, Fear, and even at times Broken. Surely, anyone would have noticed this unfortunate event, the fact that a hundred kids at least were trapped in some place with minimum care and maximum abuse, except for the fact that human-kind ran the whole damn operation.
Payton rubbed her arms, the T-shirt and ripped jeans that were faded from the sun, had tolerated this long. She bit her lip, and felt the cuff around both hands- restraining her. She gazed around frequently, her head snapping at any sound that provided something worth watching. Payton's long amber hair covered her green eyes, yet she had no resemblance to anyone here. She was one of few that had actual clothing that wasnt years old, or one that hadnt been broken down to no hope. No, she was a fighter.
She'd been here four weeks, four damn weeks, she thought bitterly. Out of those four weeks, she'd met about 3 people around her age. All had a fight left in them, but all were torn away from her, provided the fact you could be taken any day at anytime. She wasnt lucky enough.
The usually loud place was sober except from the cries and screams of pain, but she had gotten used to it. Swallowing dryly she lifted her hand to stroke her locket- the only remainder to prove to her that her brothers and mother and father had existed, had lived, had loved her- even if they were somewhere in the sky. She didnt even know If Eric or Markus had made it, yet that was nine years ago, and {even as hurtful as it hit her} there was no shot of them surviving at there age. She was just barely lucky enough.
Payton took in an immensely deep breath and leaned her head against the wall, the small of urine and crap filled her senses completely, and she was bombarded with the fact of being so close to throwing up. She sighed- and rolled her head to the side. The place was crammed, and beside her was a sleeping guy, He'd been there as long as she had, and he'd witnessed everything she had, in a way, they silently were both aware of the horrors that filled this place. But they never did talk about it. She nudged him slightly and at the lightest of her touch he snapped awake. That was another thing, around here- you could wake up scared at the sound of a pin drop. Stunned, he turned toward her- his eyes wildly searching hers, she offered a meek grin and shrug.
"Sorry, just checking..." She murmured, the few words ever spoke aloud by her.
He shook his head, his dark hair falling in his eyes- they'd always been that way, to the point where she never saw the color of his eyes- only his dark hair. "Its fine." He murmured, then layed back down- using his hand as a pillow- having to practically cling to the wall with any comfort from the shackles
Payton smirked, watching him and just once thinking, Maybe he does deserve a chance, she'd never fully allowed herself to really open to anyone, because one day they could be sitting next to you and talking, a full trust-bond going on, yet the next they could have been sold/traded or killed because of maximum limit in the warehouse.
On the other side of her, however, a boy around 12, who called himself Gizmo, was tinkering around with a set of old glasses- like really old glasses. She was always amused watching him, the way he fumbled his hands carefully, the way he constantly flipped the dark curly hair from his bright blue eyes. It was just a routine thing she never got tired of. She swallowed though, when he caught her watching, his airplane pilots hat with goggles (bad with description sorry) which was tearing from age was now facing her. She only shrugged, "Nice." She said softly, but he then began tinkering with it again, forgetting her and she dropped it.
This was how her day went, every day, for the past four weeks. Zip. Nada. Nothing new.
The only thing new was the new bodyguard the inhabited the place now, he was referred to as Rip-Jaw but all the prisoners {as he called them, but to an extent, they were} and he rarely showed remorse. He was in charge of when meals where and what they received. The meal had been a less-then-pint full of rice every other day. Which can easily show the care he gave out {Being said so sarcastically}. Thing was, Payton never ate hers, and neither would the guy with the long jet black hair beside her asleep, they would always manage to give it to a younger famished kid, almost dead of starvation- on the brink even, and just go without it.
Rip-Jaws corrupt form came through a door, recently opened and she heard it bang as it clanged against the wall. She muttered and saw the guy beside her jump awake, grabbing for the wall before he toppled over but accidentally grabbed Paytons arm. Both looked at each other, then awkwardly shifted away. Rip-Jaw had the whip, his favorite torture device, and a pistol hidden in his pocket. {Hey, Payton did her research} The clean-cut military guy looked like he was a retired officer, but he never so much as gave an order, only implied it with his 'weapons'. His buzz cut and graying dark hair, with his meek and demeaning grey eyes and built body made everyone shudder. The keys, which he was smart enough to do, where left in some office on a upper part- where he lived. If not, Payton wouldn't be here, she'd have escaped.
Someone spoke up, a young boy, somewhere way over the crowd. "Please, Sir- my sister, shes-shes going to die without food." The voice begged on, and from gazing over, she could barely pick out who it was. She swallowed- he was only about 6. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand and watched intently, Gizmo had stopped and did the same. Rip-Jaw slowly turned, ever so slowly to emphasize himself. He shot the boy a look, the look that even from a mile away, any prisoner/slave here could see. "And why is that? Am i not providing you enough?" Rip-Jaw barked back loudly. Dead Silence. No one dared a word, except for the kid. Now any other kid would be scared sh*tless, but apparently this kid had some nerve- which he was be severely punished for.
"N-N-Noo sir, Its not enough." The kid replied stuttering, his voice small, a tang of English accent on it. Rip-Jaw looked the kid up and down, and before anyone saw it coming, ripped out his gun and fired-
Bang! Bang!
The sound reverberated off the walls, as If shouting 'Cant hear me, well listen up' yet it only left the kid to drop dead and everyone else to watch in horror. A small tear slipped down Payton's face, remembering when her Brother, Jason, had stood up for her and her brothers and died for them. She wiped it away, and heard more sobs. But as quickly as it happened, men in ski masks came in, retrieving the body and unshackling it from the wall, then dragging it in its own pool of blood slowly and dreadfully for everyone to see. Slowly they disappeared farther from Payton's eyesight and she felt Gizmo slowly touch her arm, having seen the tear- "We'll be fine." He murmured, then as If something clicked he went back and started working on the glasses again.
Rip-Jar just shuffled off in an orderly fashion, his daily-shined shoes scuffing the ground loudly as he made his exit and retreated to his office.
This is how it always was, you'd see it, live in the moment for a minute, then robotically just drop it and move on. Like pretending it never happened, because that was the only way you would ever manage to survive. Yet Payton never did forget.
