The bus ride back to the Southside was the longest he'd ever felt.
'On Friday, have all of your belongings removed and your ID badge returned to me. You are dismissed.'
'M-m-monster.'
He leans forward in the dark blue bus seat with a dry exhale, pulling a splinter from his rough blood-dotted knuckles.
'These hands. These stupid hands... and the rest of me.'
His body feels so heavy, it was as if a giant magnet was pulling him into the ground.
"Next stop, final stop. Barrow Street."
'What the hell am I doing?'
"Final stop. Barrow Street."
Dirty white sneakers land on the sidewalk outside, and the bus drives away behind him.
His stomach grumbles.
He's tired, he's hungry, he missed Eve's visiting hours, he got laid off from work, and Eve's hospital funds will get cut off soon. All he wants to do now is go home and let his hard mattress consume him until tomorrow. That's all he wants, but...
He soon stands in front of the familiar moldy turquoise sign and ugly decorated shop.
Like he does every evening after work, he still checks in on Barry.
His heavy eyes fall on three obnoxiously black falcon-painted motorcycles leaning on the shop beside the broken barricade door.
He wished he hadn't come.
'No- what am I thinking?! Is Barry okay?!'
A voice from inside booms.
"THERE'S THE MAN OF THE HOUR!"
Ty rushes inside and stops at the sight before him. The three massive biker men in their matching black leather jackets are cackling. They tower over Barry, who's glaring at them in his makeshift wooden wheelchair he and Ty had built, holding an old broom clutched tight in defence.
Ty inwardly sighs in relief.
'They haven't touched Barry yet.'
Before another thought can come to mind, the three men have left Barry and are surrounding Ty.
"Some~body just got fired. And from RiseX, such a rich company. Never woulda thought a squirt like you'd have Northside presence."
The three men circle around him like muscular vultures.
"Oh we found out all~ about you. Think just 'cause we're Southsiders don't mean we got no Northside connections? We're the Falcon Raiders."
The bald one with a mangled ear, Muggsy, suddenly stops walking. He towers over Ty.
"We got everything."
He harshly taps Ty's head of disheveled white hair.
"Everything but a white beast."
He leans in close, the man's ugly face hovering over Ty's. His breath smells of garlic and dirt. The corners of his cracked lips raise in a snarl, and his voice deepens.
"I'll pay you double what you made at RiseX. So?"
Anger washes over Ty as he recalls Barry's crumbled body at their feet. A moment later, he relaxes. He gives an inaudible dry sigh, his shoulder sagging a little.
'I'm so tired of these shitty men.'
Ty's voice came out quiet and cold.
"No."
Muggsy's small eyes flare in his giant head.
"NO? I don't think yer gettin' it, squirt. Best listen while I'm bein' generous. I'm sayin' we'd have a good give-n-take. Northside crime families are squashin' Southside gangs left and right, so we gotta get new faces and fast fists to survive. 'N you have something that needs to survive too, eh? That sweet sister of yers in St. Bernadette."
Ty freezes.
'They found Eve? Did they go see her?! DID THEY TOUCH HER?!'
"It's not like poor sad Barry here can do shit for 'er. Or you. Can barely keep this crappy shop open all broken like that, eh? 'N there ain't much more expensive than a disease with no cure, EH?"
Ty's blood vessels turn to ice while his hands shake with burning white fury.
The ugly man's smile darkens.
"Told ya, kid. We're more than muscle, we got information n' money too. Ain't no leading gang here for no reason."
Muggsy gives Ty a rough shove, causing him to stumble back beside Barry in the wheelchair.
"You can't escape us."
He shows his rotting teeth in another big snarl.
"How's that answer of yers lookin' now?"
Somehow, the broom Barry was holding is now clenched tight in Ty's hands. His grey eyes are dark but filled with rage.
"Absolutely not."
Muggy's face filled with vile disgust.
"HUH?"
Ty's voice wavers with anger.
"Eve... is going to live a long, beautiful life away from jerks like you. So I'm... not going to lower myself to working as a jerk like you. You almost killed Barry."
His grip on the broom is so tight it almost snaps, his voice rough and full of raw hatred.
"I'll never be one of you."
Muggsy's bald head cocks to the side, his own eyes narrowing. His voice gets deep and serious again.
"Hey. Are you an idiot? You think we're gonna leave 'ere with nothin'? Barry ain't givin' us no money, and if you ain't given us your fist... least I'm gonna get is some of that pretty white hair to sell. An' I'll be takin' it from yer sister. You know, I'll take the whole girl. I bet she's real pretty like you. We'll keep that disease of 'ers a secret and give the rest 'o her to the highest bidder. If she were healthy, she'd sure grow up to have 'er uses."
The two other biker men, Skull Face and Greasy - or Ratty was it? - huddle up and glare at Ty from each side of Muggsy, whose face is contorted in a horrible frown displeasure.
"Then again, you've made me pretty fucking pissed. Maybe I'll just kill her. A diseased little girl- SEEMS LIKE THE EASIEST THING IN THE WORLD!"
The broom snapped.
No, the broom didn't snap, it was something loud in Ty's mind that did. The broom was the only thing that stayed the same. Everything else was different than it was moments earlier. It was as if reality flashed and shifted into a parallel dimension, with a couple of very powerful differences.
For one, blood has begun dripping from his knuckles onto the clean broom clutched in his hand.
For another, the three massive men were in a bloody pile on the fish shop floor. It was the mirror image of how Barry had been.
Dark greasy hair, a skull face tattoo, and a bald head with a mangled ear are tangled together in a pile of odd-angled joints and a swamp of blood.
The world is silent for a moment as Ty stares at the mess.
"Ptoo."
Muggsy spits out a disgusting glob of blood.
"Fuc-king... monst-er."
Ty's eyes slowly fall to the bald broken biker.
The man loses consciousness like the other two.
Something squeaks beside him, and Ty whirls to watch as Barry moves in his makeshift wooden wheelchair closer to Ty and the pile of bikers.
"Boy..."
The old man starts with an uneven voice, looking at a loss for words.
Ty stares back at him.
Barry continues, collecting his thoughts.
"How... Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
Ty drops the broom. It crashes to the shop floor.
His voice is almost mechanical as he stares at the old man with wide emotionless eyes.
"Fight? What are you talking about, Barry?"
A shiver runs down Barry's bruised spine.
"You just... knocked 'em right out like that."
Ty's eyes slowly move from Barry, to the bloody pile of men, then back to Barry.
"Oh... I did... Well it was easier than I thought. It's like they're full of air."
With high pitched squeaks, Barry rolls his wheelchair over to the unconscious men. Stopping before a limp arm belonging to Skull Face, he leans over the chair and tries to pick it up, finding it heavy and hard to do so.
"They ain't full 'o air, Ty."
Barry lets go and the man's limp arm crashes back to the ground.
"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."
Ty's insides all clench up under a merciless grip. His entire body is seized with intense nausea, to the point he feels so dizzy and wrong it's hard to see or stand straight.
"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."