In the eyes of Barry Moore, Ty Walters was a transparent kid; he laughed when he was happy, yelled when he was angry, and went silent when he was sad. Whatever he was thinking and feeling would be clear as day by his actions, tone, and facial expressions. He could be sassy, blunt, and overbearing, but these qualities made for interesting company, and although he'd never say it, Barry liked the kid quite a lot.
Here was clearly an immature kid forced into an early adulthood with the weight of his sister's life on his shoulders.
It must've stemmed from his feeling of responsibility and protection towards his sister, but Barry felt Ty was a compassionate kid in general, and he was grateful this compassion extended to Barry himself. Though he'd say different to Ty, in reality, he would've died that day at the biker men's feet if Ty hadn't protected him and patched him back together. Even since then, the kid's helped slowly nurse Barry back to health, even made him a wheelchair so he can move around when Ty's off at work or Eve's, and after his long tiring days on the Northside, Ty still always checks on Barry on his way home.
Their relationship might just be employer and employee, but Ty was all Barry had, and he suspected Ty didn't have much else besides Eve and Barry himself.
This connection made Barry feel a little protective of the kid too. He knows he's old, broken, and broke, but he still wants to silently look out for Ty however he can. Ideally even act as a support column for the kid and his big heavy life... though Barry was never really so grand a guy. Still, he did what he could, or at least tried to. But sometimes… Ty felt like a brick wall. It turned on like a switch every once in a while. His body would start to shake, or he'd mutter a couple words over and over, or throw up in Barry's bathroom, or suddenly exert a strength like Barry'd never seen before, just for the kid to brush off like it was nothing. Three years have passed since Ty started working for him, but this hasn't changed. To this day, Barry still couldn't explain this obscure side of the kid. To this day, there's so much Barry wants to know about him.
'Why'd this kid run from his hometown and come to Carnelian City with his baby sister? Where's his parents? Where'd he get such strength from? How'd he know to utilize it to knock out the three leading blokes of the Falcon Raiders? Three men four times his size, who I know for a fact are middleweight champions in the underground fighting ring in this part of town. How the hell'd this kid move so fast that he let go of the broom, knocked out those kinds of folks, and got back before the broom even hit the floor?'
He may be old and growing a tad senile, but Barry used to be in the military. He'd seen a lot in his time, and yet Ty was the craziest beast he's ever known.
Barry's eyes narrow on the limp arm of the Skull Face man he just dropped to prove the crazy sheer bone mass on these twits.
'Just who is this kid?'
"An' that stance you's had, it was perfect. Just what the hell-"
"My st-!"
Ty vigorously shakes his head.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no."
The kid's legs wobble.
"I don't have a stance. It was a fluke, Barry. A fluke."
Barry's eyes widen through old wrinkles, before hardening. His gruff voice deepens and quiets.
"...alright. A fluke."
'Just who are you, boy?'
His eyes fall back on the arm at the foot of his splintered wheel, and the unconscious body it belonged to.
"But they're real still, eh?"
Barry leans down out of the wheelchair again to grab the arm, this time to check its pulse.
Ty wavers and stumbles forward.
"St- still?"
'I ain't feelin' a thing.'
"Barry?"
Barry doesn't answer.
"No, no. NO. Tell me they're not- tell me, tell me-"
Ty's shaking, blood-smeared hands are brought just before his eyes as the large silver pupils bore holes into them. His uneven voice is full of horror.
"Tell me I didn't kill them."
Barry's thick eyebrow twitches as he readjusts his fingers on the thick wrist.
'Ah. It's faint, but I feel it.'
He drops the arm once again.
"Nobody's a killer, Ty. These maggots just got the lights knocked outta 'em good."
Ty's hands drop to his side, but his wide intense eyes are stuck on the pile of bleeding men.
Barry frowns.
'This kid's gonna throw up again.'
"Come, boy, drag these men outta 'ere for me. They'll be scaring off customers."
When Ty looks back at Barry, it looks like a bit of normal Ty bluntness has returned.
"What customers?"
Barry grunts with a concealed grin.
"Oi."
"...I'm going."
One by one, Ty grabs a biker by their two limp arms and drags them out of the shop, to their motorcycles beside the broken barricade door.
Ty eyes the sight of three big burly unconscious bikers outside their already uninviting fish shop.
"Isn't this even worse?"
Barry wheels outside of the shop beside Ty, but faces away from the shop.
"Yeah, well. 'What customers', eh?"
Barry looks over at Ty, and is relieved he did. The kid had a smile.
Ty turns to look away from the shop too, and tilts his head to look up at the bright full moon above. The moonlight illuminates his white hair, smooth pale skin, and vibrant silver eyes. The boy looks like a descendent from the moon itself. His heavy eye-bags were especially visible - a dry blue - and his face was cast with a somber expression.
Mournful silver eyes stuck on the moon above them, Ty's voice came out quiet and thin.
"Barry, what am I going to do?"
The powerful bloody beast from moments ago in the shop now looked like a fragile porcelain doll under the gaze of the moon.
Barry glances behind them at the pile of men against the shop and their bikes.
"'Bout these men?"
"About everything."
A moment of silence falls between them.
"You really got fired from that Northside job?"
Ty gives a quiet exhale.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
The kid's dirty hands clench and unclench at his sides.
"My supervisor took credit for all of my work, and I let her, believing all her stupid pretences. I guess I thought it would be alright, that she would still look out for me, that I would still have plenty of work to show my boss... but she took everything. And my boss... he didn't believe me."
Barry gives an old man's sigh.
'That's rough stuff. It ain't what I had in mind, though. I thought Ty might've lost control of that obscure strength of his an' done something bad.'
"And then I hit my boss' desk. It cracked and everything."
Barry lets out a hollow chuckle.
'Ah.'
"You and that fist, boy."
Ty's eyes lower to his hands.
"Barry."
The old man sighs again.
'Leave it alone, it's nothing, it was just a fluke, eh?'
"Alright, I get it."
'Just what will it take for you to talk to an old man?'
Barry's eyes flicker down to his limp legs in his wheelchair.
'Though I guess askin' advice's a good start.'
"Get a new job, Ty. Knock on every Northside door if you have to. An' ain't you made any connections at yer last job?"
Ty's eyes widen.
"Oh. Oh yeah, I did. Even if the credit was taken from me, I still made good contact with all sorts of Northside figures. Madame Buffant owns Vivid Theatre Productions and she seemed especially fond of me. She did say she'd love to see my hair shine in the stagelight… maybe she'd get me a job in production or something."
The boy nods.
"You're right. Yeah. Thank you, Barry."
Barry offers a grunt in reply.
"'An as for 'em passed out maggots behind us... they may be ruthless folks, but they ain't keen on dyin'. Survival's always number one, especially with the Falcon Raiders. That's why they're still around when most of them Southside gangs been squashed by Northside crime syndicates. You may've just knocked these guys out, but you obviously coulda done more. They tried to threaten an' recruit a beast, but it looked like they ended up messing with a god. I'm sure they'll drop the whole thing."
Ty sighs, and slowly nods his head.
"...okay. I think... I think I'm going to go home now. Will you be alright, Barry?"
"Oi, this old man's a real roach. Couldn't kill me if you wanted to."
Ty rolls his eyes.
"Night, Barry."
He takes a step forward, but Barry opens his mouth again. He can't help it.
"Murderers."
Ty freezes with his back to Barry.
"That's what yer so scared of, ain't it? I want to ask why, boy, but I won't. That don't mean... I don't want you to tell me."
Ty's head turns to look back at Barry, and gives something like a smile, but it's all wrong.
"Who likes murderers?"