The Streets: Chapter 1

[remy]

Title: The Streets
Author: Savvy
Characters: John, Mystique for a while, ? 
Summary: John grows as a young man after coming across Mystique one night in Manhattan.
Warning: Slash, angst, gang rape, drugs, adult language
Author Note: I'm trying to decide whether to continue this. Feedback will be greatly appreciated!! 

(One year in the future)

 

I’d had enough.

 

He fell, he screamed, he crawled; his nails gripping the asphalt in one last attempt to run away. I could hear them snap as they clawed the ground, the sound piercing my senses, but not ridding me of the anger that had my heart beat pounding in my ears and tears flowing from my eyes. He lay unmoving; his naked body hissing, steaming, smoking as the rain fell from the sky; it’s watery presence extinguishing his burning flesh. He was dead. He had to be. There was no way he could have survived.

 

I stood over what was left. Blood, raw meat, flesh peeling from the bone, and as I watched, a steady stream of gray smoke issued from his eye sockets, nose and mouth, blowing into my downcast face making me gag. My head spun, my bare legs shook. I stumbled into the alley wall; my fingers gripping a protruding brick and I lost it; my control, my calm and my food. It all left my body in one body weakening purge, splattering onto the ground at my feet until the acidic rain washed it away. Wiping my lips with the back of my hand I pushed back from the wall and looked toward the sky, eyes closed against the down pour. So, this was what it felt like to kill another human being. It hadn’t been what I expected, but how could you prepare for something like this? You couldn’t.

 

I pressed my back against the cold brick and looked at my fallen prey. Who’s the bitch now? I thought smirking to myself as I looked at the smoking pile of blacken viscera. You got what you deserved. You took one for the team. Fucking cliché really, but it fit.

 

I grabbed my drenched clothes from atop a dirty tin trash can and pulled them on. They felt heavy on my thin, fragile frame, but the cold fabric clung to the bruised skin, pacifying the sting; assuaging the pain. It felt good. Slipping my Zippo in my back left pocket I ran down the alley way and when I reached the end I looked over my shoulder and grinned. “Rest in fucking peace.”

 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

(One Year in the Past)

 

“We’ve had complaints about your behavior with the other boarders. You’re not getting another chance. You have to go now.” I looked into the cold gray eyes of the man named Gresham Marshall and pleaded with my eyes to stay.

 

“Please,” I begged as he pushed against my chest, forcing me out onto the streets. “I’ll do anything you want me too. Just let me stay.”

 

The seventy year or so balding man towered over me shaking his head defiantly back and forth. He chewed on a small piece of broomstick straw; his right hand twisting the stick while the other thrust me out the shelter’s main entrance. 

“We’ve given you three chances, John,” he said, my name light and friendly on his lips as if talking to a pet puppy he’s just bought but found he no longer wanted. “You’re out of life lines, my friend,” he chuckled, his gut bouncing up and down under his plaid blue and white shirt; one button was missing just above his belly button. I took my eyes from the man’s stomach and looked at his small daughter named Ann who was now holding out a duffle bag with my belongings.

 

“Where am I supposed to go?” I asked taking the bag from her and wincing as a howling February gale pounded against the right side of my face causing that entire side of my body to goose.

 

“Go home,” he growled, nudging his daughter back inside and slamming the screen door in my face. “You’re young. Just go back to mommy and daddy like the good little boy you are.”

 

“I told you I can’t go back there,” I yelled through the wooden door. He cracked it open and chuckled.

 

“Well, find somewhere else to go, because you’re not getting back in here.” With that the door snapped and the lock clicked. I could hear him laughing on the other side.

 

“Fuck,” I hissed, pulling my hood over my head as I hurried down the sidewalk to hells knows where. Shit. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that bastard. He’d been threatening to put me out for weeks now. It had been only a matter of time before he got bored with me, though I’d hoped to find a place to stay by now. I had gotten on the fuckers good graces by getting naked for him while he masturbated when his wife wasn’t home. He’d called me things like “sexy school boy” and “tight virgin ass” while he stroked himself and I’d roll my eyes in disgust, letting him do his business while I toyed with my Zippo. Dealing with his shit had kept a roof over my head and food in my stomach. It had been alright until he tried to put his hands on me while I was sleeping one night. You should have seen the fucker. Chest heaving, tobacco rolled behind his lip, and shirt off so that his hairy stomach showed; remains of that night’s dinner tangled in the beastly mess. It had been fucking disgusting.

 

He hadn’t been too pleased when I called him a nasty pedophile to his face eithter. He made to slap me in my face but his wife came in and pulled him away from me. That happened three days ago. If that was the fucking complaint he was talking about, he could kiss my ass. I hadn’t done shit. Hell, I was happy to get away from that place. Anywhere was better than there, I thought as I entered a fish and chips food shop about 2 miles down the block. Where that better place was, I had yet to figure out and by the look of the sky outside, I better figure out fast. Being outside in snow wouldn’t be fun.

 

“Jose,” I yelled to the man behind the register. He was about ten years older than me and always high. I knew he had a place above the shop where I could stay for the night, if I gave him something in return. What I would be giving him, I hadn’t asked, but he’d always let me now that if I wanted a place to stay, to check with him first.

 

This would have to do for tonight.

 

“Hey, John,” he laughed following me with dilated pupils, his Cuban ascent stronger than usual. “How may I help you?”

 

“I need a favor,” I said grabbing my Zippo out of my front pocket and lighting an small flame. I smirked as he reacted just the way I suspected. He licked his dry lips and turned to face me, his right elbow leaning on the counter and his head cocked to the side.

 

“Uh huh,” he grinned. “What do you need?”

 

“A place to stay for tonight. That’s it.”

 

He stood a little straighter and moved closer to my side. “And what do I get if I let you stay?”

 

Why did people always want something?”

 

“What do you want?” I asked knowing the answer before he spoke.

 

He leaned down and pressed the side of this face against mine. “A blow job.” He stood up and laughed. “Either that or a fuck.”

 

“Hell, no I’m not doing that shit,” I hissed shaking my head. “Never mind. I’ll find somewhere else to stay.”

 

He grabbed my arm as I turned to leave and pulled me back; his nails digging into my forearm. “Stay,” he hissed. The bell rung behind us signaling that someone had come in. He turned and yelled one minute then turned back to me. “You’ll give me something before you leave. You heard me?”

 

I raised an eyebrow, smirked and didn’t answer. He shoved me away and went to see about his customer.

 

“Damn faggot,” I hissed as I rubbed my arm and climbed the flight of stairs beside a sign that read, “If you touch it, you buy it!”

 

The building wasn’t big and the room I now stood in was even smaller. There was only a chair, an old mattress on the floor and a table whose leg was propped up by a stack of ‘Cooking Weekly” magazines. I closed the wooden door behind me and tried the lock which didn’t work. Fuck.

 

Lodging the chair under the door handle so the handle wouldn’t turn, I floppled down on the mattress, enveloping myself in a cloud of dust and who knows what else. I fanned the air in front of my face and rolled over onto my stomach and closed my eyes; my lighter held tightly against my chest as I slept.

 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

“You know you want it,” Jose slurred from the other side of the door four hour after I had fallen asleep. He banged against the wood causing the thin door to rattle on its hinges. The door handle jingled and turned but thanks to the chair I placed under the handle he couldn’t get in.

 

I sat, legs bent to my chest against the wall on the dusty mattress. It was two- thirty in the morning and the crazed lunatic outside the door had been pounding on the door since one. I had begged for him to leave me alone, saying that I’d give him what he wanted in the morning. It was a lie, but I’d do anything to get him away from the flimsy door that looked ready to give in to the abuse any second. Jose had laughed, his drunken slurred words sending chills up my spine as I sat quietly, my heart pounding in my chest. I flipped the lighter on and off staring into the flame as I prayed for patience. This was my life. I know I should be use to his sort of thing by now.

 

“You’ll like it,” he said shaking the knob. “I’ll have your tight ass begging for my dick. You’ll never get enough!”

 

“Go away,” I yelled standing and walking toward the door. “Just do to bed.”

 

“Fuck sleeping,” he murmured. “I want…ah, look what the cat drug in.”

 

I scrunched my face up in confusion and pressed the side of my cheek against the door and listened. I could hear a woman’s or maybe a man’s voice on the other side, I couldn't tell.

 

“I have a client tonight, Jose. So I need my space.” Her voice was deep, boyish to some extent. Something rammed against my door and there were moans.

 

“Be a good boy and give me some space,” she continued her tenor voice barely more than a whisper. I could hear Jose mumble incoherently and stumble down the stairs. There were more moans but they were drawing to the room down the hall.

 

“I fucking want you now,” a man said.

 

“Pay up first sweetheart. I don’t have all night.”

 

My curiosity got the better of me. I drew the chair away from the door and pulled it open. I could hear Jose cursing downstairs so I knew I wouldn’t have to deal with him again for a while. I peered down the hall just in time to see the extremely tall ‘woman’ push her male client into the room. He howled in pain but laughed second’s later saying “Take me, master.” The door slammed and I could hear no more.

 

I’ve heard some crazy shit during my six months stint on the roads of Manhattan, but I’ve never heard anything like this. My curiosity got the better of me. Creeping so that I wouldn’t bring attention to myself, I stopped in front of the woman’s door and leaned against the wood.

 

I heard moans, someone definitely got slapped and then cursing, laughter than a howl of pain. What in the world was going on in there? I stifled my laughter with my hand as I continued to listen.

 

“Who’s your master, bitch?” she asked.

 

“You are,” the male yelled as he was undoubtedly slapped again.

 

There was silence and I strained my ears to hear the slightest sound, but I could hear nothing but deep breathing and panting. I leaned my back against the wall and slid down onto the floor. I flicked open my lighter and toyed with the flame, letting the tiny flicker dance around my finger tips in slow procession. It was lulling and I could slowly feel myself falling asleep. Shit, I couldn’t stay here.

 

Standing I brushed the dust from my jeans and turned to go to my room.

 

Her door opened.

 

“Who are you?” she asked shoving the man out of the room with only his shirt on. My eyes involuntarily glanced downward and my face burned as I averted my eyes from the man’s naked body.

 

“I’m no one,” I said coldly, my eyes following the man who now jumped up and down trying hopelessly to pull his pants on. I smirked and continued to my room.

 

“Wait,” she laughed. “Come in.”

 

I turned on my heels and shook my head. “It’s late; I should really be in bed.” She pulled her curly brown hair over one shoulder and grinned.

 

“But you’re not. Come in and have a drink.” Her eyes swept over my entire body as if I were a piece of candy she wanted to taste. She licked her lips and gestured me inside the tiny room. I felt so many reservations as I went into that room, but I ignored each one. Honestly I didn’t know what I was getting myself into and I didn’t care. If things got out of hand I’d just burn her. Simple as that.

 

Her room was furnished more intricately than my own. There was a thin layer of pale pink paint on the walls and maroon silk-like curtains on the windows. Her bed had rails and the floral covers lay strewn over the mattress. Clothes and shoes lay on the floor and there were wet panties and socks hanging from a rope on the ceiling.

 

I looked at the large assortment of g-strings and thongs before spinning to look at the naked woman who stood leaning against the closed door.

 

She smirked at me. “Name’s Raven,” she smiled, her long, straight blonde hair pulled over one shoulder. Hadn’t her hair been brown? I thought.

 

“John,” I frowned looking to the side of her at a grotesque painting of black, red and purple oil paint.

 

She pushed up from the door and walked around me, her hips swaying dangerously as she moved. She snickered as she surveyed me with her eyes before seating, legs crossed on the bed.

 

I turned to look at her and saw that her hair color had changed yet again. It was now red and bobbed around the ears.

 

“How are you doing that?” I asked bluntly crossing my arms.

 

“Doing what?” she asked grabbing her purse and pulling out lip gloss, sliding the shiny liquid over her plump lips.

 

“Your hair, it keeps changing.”

 

“What do you mean?” she smirked, cocking her head to the side. Then before my eyes her whole appearance changed. Her original skin peeled downward to her feet and now the person sitting before me was… Jose?

 

I flicked open my lighter and pulled a flame into my hands. “What the fuck are you?” I yelled. I could see the flicker of my flame illuminated in her eyes as she or rather he stood and crossed over to me. She smiled, her eyes still on the flame hovering in my hands.

 

“I’m a mutant, John,” she murmured transforming yet again, this time in a scaly blue woman with reddish black hair. “And I see you are too,” she whispered eyeing the hovering flame.

 

She didn’t seem at all perturbed by the red-blue flame in my hands as she walked to the makeshift bathroom and ran the water in the sink. 

I extinguished the flame and walked to her side. “You’re like me?” I asked curiously.

 

She smirked before dousing her face in cold water. “I’m a shape-shifter.” I felt a release of tension fall from my chest. I wasn’t alone then?

 

She dried her face and turned to face me. “How long have you been on the street?”

 

“Six months,” I confessed eagerly as I followed her into the bedroom, taking a seat beside her.

 

“How old are you?”

 

She liked asking questions. “Sixteen.”

 

“You alone?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She paused and crossed her legs. “I’m guessing you have no where to go since you’re staying in this hell hole.”

 

“Not really,” I confessed, wondering where she was going with this.

 

“You need money?”

 

“Who doesn’t?” I asked. She smirked.

 

“You want to make it fast?”

 

“And how in the hell do I do that?”

 

“Stop being a boy and start acting like the man you are.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’ve learned one thing while being on the streets and that’s to use what you have to get what you want. Do you know what I mean?”

 

I paused, my eyes staring straight ahead of me. I wasn’t really seeing anything in front of me as I thought. Then it dawned on me. “Prostitution?”

 

She nodded. “It’s easy money and a boy like you shouldn't have a problem getting clients.”

 

“A boy like me?”

 

“You’re young and guys like that. You’re a virgin too by the looks of it and that’s appealing to guys like Jose down there,” she nodded with her head.

 

“I’m doing fine, thanks.”

 

“Where are you going to stay tomorrow? Because by the sound of it, Jose isn’t going to let you stay without some sort of service in return.”

 

Was she giving him her services? I thought.

 

“I’ll figure something out,” I said standing from the bed and walking toward the door, pulling it open.

 

“If you need someone to get you clients, let me know,” she laughed as I stepped out the door. I paused for a moment at her words, and then left the room.