Heavy fist collided in a dimly lit alleyway of Molina’s most notorious slum, the Iron Trenches. The almost hidden society carved into the darkest corners of Molina was no less alive than the city above it. Obscured by its rough public reputation, the town stands more of as a lawless frontier with its own set of rules and regulations that allowed it to function without imploding in on itself.
The heavy fist blows continued for a couple more swings before ending. The man on the receiving end was left gasping for air as blood trickled down his broken nose. His left eye was swollen shut and his right fared no better.
He pleaded through bloodied teeth and a swollen jaw, “C’mon Alexandre, just tell Centipede to give me one more month!”
The burly man giving the beatdown stood up to his full height. His knuckles were bruised and dripped with blood that was not his own. He moved the long ginger braid out of his face and wiped the stray blood droplets from his equally colored beard. His sky blue eyes glared down at his victim as he caught his breath.
The man, Alexandre’s, chest heaved as he informed, “Not my call mate. Centipede gave you three months to deliver and instead you tried to leave town with his money. That was a bad move. Now I have to be here beating the hell outta you instead of being home with my wife. So imagine how pissed off I am.”
The man scooted back on his behind, using his hands to pull him backwards so that he could create some distance from his tormentor. Still he begged, “I get it man, Okay? Look, I’d rather be anywhere but here too.” He frantically dug in his pockets and pulled out a small stack of bills rubber banded together and held it out to Alexandre who took the cash and began counting it. Then The man stammered, “It’s all there. I—-I was being greedy and it got me caught, just please let me go.”
Alexandre finished counting the stack and put it in his pocket under the leather scabbard that held one of his most prized possessions, a silver bladed cutlass that has been passed down the DeMar family for generations. Then he said to the man, “Again, not my call. But I can try to put in a good word if you come with me alive.”
The man’s face turned pale and he broke out in a cold sweat, “Alive? The Centipede will skin me alive!”
Alexandre shrugged, “Your choice.” As he turned his back and began to walk away.
Whether it had been out of rage or desperation, the defeated man grabbed a nearby broken piece of glass and charged with a yell at Alexandre from his blind spot. His life was over, and he knew that. But neither The Centipede or Alexandre would have his life so easily.
Alexandre heard the man coming and dodged the incoming stab, then launched his elbow straight into the man’s already broken nose. The man recoils from the hit. His eyes roll up into his head and his body goes limp. He falls to the ground with the same momentum he was using to stab Alexandre in the back.
Alexandre turned around and shook his head disappointedly then complained, “Amateur. Now I have to carry him to the club.”
He heaved the unconscious man over one shoulder and set out on his way through the streets of The Iron Trenches to The Pig Pen where his boss, The Infamous Centipede, was waiting for Alexandre to return with his prey in hand.
Alexandre carried the admittingly heavy man down the road. Carrying your drunk friend home was a normal occurrence in The Trenches so nobody batted an eye or even questioned what Alexandre was up to. Besides, he had a reputation that many in town knew about. Getting in his personal business would be ill advised so it made doin his job much easier when Alexandre knew he wouldn’t be bothered.
As he walked while whistling a tune to himself, a young kid no older than 12 was running by. His arms and tattered shirt were filled with fresh fruit and any loose snacks that could be easily grabbed with fast enough hands. The kid was clearly homeless. Alexandre could tell by his tattered clothes and outwardly not so clean appearance. It reminded him of himself when he was young, living off the streets for scraps and just trying to make it to the next day.
His empathy would be put to the test when the kid ran by and a large round man came running around the corner yelling, “Stop thief!” His one metal prosthetic leg furiously tapped the ground and the silver backpack-like device shook and groaned. Sparks flew from some of the jointed arms at the base that connected them to the battery. Each Spindly robotic arm that was attached to it shook as the man hobbled as fast as he could after the boy that had ransacked his produce when he wasn’t looking. He stopped out of breath in front of Alexandre then looked up at the tall, burly man carrying a body with his reddened face drenched in sweat. Alexandre was already annoyed and his face showed it, but it didn’t stop the shop owner from asking, “You there! Have you seen a young boy run through here with fruit in his hands? This is the third time that little shit has hit my stand!”
Alexandre snorted, “Sounds like you need a new security system, or you need to keep a better eye on your property mate.”
Angrily the shop owner snapped, “If I wanted your advice I'd have asked for it. Now did you see the kid or not?”
Alexandre shrugged, he never planned on snitching the kid out in the first place but now that the man was being rude that made him even less inclined to help him.
He said, “I think he went that way.” and pointed in the opposite direction the boy ran.
The shopkeeper took his word and off he ran again.
Alexandre looked back to the alley to see the boy watching him. Alexandre gave the boy a thumbs up then went about his business while the young child disappeared once again into the darkness with his meal in tow.
Back in the alley, the poor child with his fruit in tow returned home to the makeshift shack he and his parents lived in. He placed the fruit on the table and was met with the sad eyes of his mother, his father was there next to her helping clean. She spoke calmly but stern, “Matty, Thank you. I’m so sorry you had to do this. Stealing is wrong, but survival is necessary.” The mother began to shed a tear but the boy wiped it away and said, “Its okay mom, we have to eat. Plus a mean looking man helped me get away.” As Matty finished talking he turned to walk away and headed back outside with a book in his hand.
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While the boy sat in his little chair in the shade, something out the corner of his eye caught his attention.
A Pale figure clung to the wall above him. Its sharp teeth bared as a pungent black liquid leaked from the corner of its mouth. Its body was covered in Violet tumors that illuminated the dark corners of the alley. It smiled wickedly before crawling down like a spider and curved its back until it was face to face with the boy. Matty slowly tried to inch away but before he could sprint, the pale figure dragged him to the darkness with a scream. It tore into his skin with glee, leaving festering gashes on his back tinged with violet before releasing Matty to run back into his home while it disappeared back into the darkness.
His mother and father met him at the door to see their son bloodied and scarred.
His mother yelled, “Matty! What animal did this to to you?”
Matty answered, “I don’t kn—“.
He didn’t have the chance to finish before he began to cough violently until blood began to clog his throat and spill out all over the floor and his new book. Black lines pulsed against his skin as the affliction began to take hold and invade his body. Blood gushed from his eyes until they drowned in blood and rolled into the back of his head and his skin cracked like an egg until it tore. Blood at first then black liquid drenched the floor and walls and from those tears exposed muscles ripped and warped. Long tendrils spilled out from fresh wounds over the floor and developed barbed edges dripping a violet poison. With one last wail Matty faded away, and what was left was a monster, and IT was starving.
His mother and father were frozen with fear at the sight of what their boy had become. They heard the noises and came rushing to their son’s aid but were not ready for what they now faced as a new creature stood in front of them.
The mother tried to backpedal and run away while still facing her son. She screamed as razor sharp tendril whizzed through the air and stabbed through her eye.
Terrified, the father also tried to run. Another tendril aimed at his achilles tendon slashed his ankles until the bones showed. The Afflicted that was once his son now stood over him. It’s Tendrils flailing in the air. It threw the corpse of the mother to the hround as its throat let guttural words spill from its throat, “M…Mo…Mommy?” The father let out one final scream as the sound of a passing train drowned out the sounds of the creature feasting on its very first meal, Matty’s loving and unfortunate parents.
Back out in the streets, Alexandre arrived at his destination. He walked down the street before reaching an intersection that splits off in three ways. Right in the middle of the three roads sat a rusty old building that has withstood the test of time and a few arson attempts from some less than happy customers in the past. On top of the building were makeshift, and probably illegally acquired, military grade batteries that normally were used to power war machines and Automata. Unlike the shiny ones up top, these were locally modded using spare parts and many rolls of duct tape. Sturdy metal poles held a heavy cloth over the building giving it shade while the dim lights of lightbulbs illuminated the inside. In large letters that look like they were crafted with scrap metal read, “The PigPen” and were welded onto the front of the building. On the outside of the building patrons hung out while a team of rusted silver automatons roamed around cleaning and doing maintenance work.
Alexandre walked in and was Instantly hit with a wave of the smell of Alcohol and sweat. Live performers played smooth jazz on brass instruments and acoustic guitars on the stage in front of the bar for the few drunkards that had been already drinking since the early morning, or out collecting loans like Alexandre. Behind the bar was a platinum blonde woman with heavy black eyeliner and black lipstick. She was covered from the neck down in tattoos scattered all over her body, but the one that dominated the most free real estate was an ornate tattoo of a Centipede that started on her lower back, wrapped around to her abdomen, and traveled upward to her chest, only stopping at the base of her neck as if it was driving its mandibles into her neck. Her eyes, One a navy blue and the other a clear synthetic green, followed Alexandre as he came walking up to the bar counter.
She approached Alexandre and asked, “Centipede?”
Alexandre replies by dropping the body on the bar table, “I have a delivery for him.”
The woman sucks her teeth then makes her way past a curtain that leads to the back room behind the bar. Two voices are heard, hers and a man’s voice. The man’s voice has a gurgle and a wheeze to it, similar to those that are heavy smokers and developed some kind of lung cancer. The voices stop and the woman comes back and says, “He said come to the back, and he wanted me to tell you this word for word.” She gently coughed to clear her voice then began imitating his guttural voice, “Stop saying my name so fucking loud, I could hear you above the moans of my hookers.”
Alexandre laughs and says, “Yeah that's him alright. Thanks Maeve.” He makes his way to the back of the house to complete his delivery.
Behind the curtain, sheets of lavender cover the room. Lavender cloth rope their way across the ceiling and around wires like a velvet spider’s web, some hang low from the ceiling and land lazily on the ground. The entire room smells of flowers and cigar smoke. On the Wide oval shaped bed the blankets and bed sheets are also colored lavender, the nude hourglass figures of multiple women make imprints under the blankets. Some sleep and the two closest to the man in the center of the bed caress his hair and chest, giggling and speaking sweet nothings into his ear to keep his money and free booze flowing into their pockets. They continue their traveling hands even as Alexandre walks in.
From the middle of the blanket to women on the bed, a husky but somewhat muscular man ordered his bed mates to move away. He was a short haired man with an eye patch over his left eye. His right eye drooped and was rounded with a light brown color. He had the same centipede tattoo as the bartender outside snaking its way around his large body. An annoyed twitch in his eyebrow began and gradually got more evident as Alexandre and his shit eating grin walked closer to the bed.
The Centipede spoke loudly with the same foreign accent that Alexandre speaks with, “Alexandre! I hear you brought me a gift.” He takes a big puff of his cigar.
Alexandre drops the body of the debtor on the ground who groans in pain and sets the stack of money he retrieved that was owed by the same man on the edge of the bed, “More like a pain in the ass. Poor bastard was trying to skip town.”
The Centipede stares for a minute before taking another puff then snaps his fingers as two men enter the room and drag the man off behind the lavender curtains, a third grabs the money on the bed and begins depositing it in a hidden safe in a separate room. Then he looks back at Alexandre and says, “Well done, we’ve been trying to get that bastard for weeks. I’ll make sure you’re paid a little extra for your troubles.”
Alexandre smiles, “Wonderful, with the extra I think I’ll take your sister out for a nice date.”
The Centipede lowered his cigar and laughed, “I still don’t know what she sees in you. But I’ve never been one to judge my sister’s choices. Anyone else I wouldn’t trust but we’ve known each other for how long?”
Alexandre groans, “Too long. Don’t you leave that bed? I can only imagine what the sheets smell like.”
The Centipede chokes on cigar smoke, “Don’t worry about my sheets.”
As they bicker like children, a short blonde haired woman comes walking through the same entrance that Alexandre entered through. Her slim frame stands out from the rest of the room as her blue eyes light up when she sees Alexandre. She quickly walks to him and stands to stare up at him saying, “There you are. You didn’t give me a kiss before leaving the house this morning.”
Alexandre smiles weakly, “I’m sorry love I was in a rush. These men don’t turn themselves in, unfortunately, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to pay the mortgage.
The woman pouts then kisses Alexandre on the cheek, “You made your wife leave the house to hunt you down you know.”
The Centipede groans, “Leilani, what did I tell you about coming here?”
Leilani waves a hand dismissively at the man in the bed, “Stick to your whores, little brother.” Then she hands Alexandre a bulging envelope. “The lovely bartender had me bring you your payment. I do hope one day you’ll leave this work behind. You know I worry.”
Alexandre sighs, “I would if a certain loan shark would stop sending me all over the city.”
The Centipede takes a big drag of his cigar, “Tell you what, one more job and I cut you loose. A man of your talents is hard to come by, Alexandre. It’d be a shame to lose my best collector.”
Alexandre replies, “You mean Thug.”
The Centipede snorts, “There’s a difference?”
Suddenly, from in front of the bar, an uproar has begun filling the air. The usually calming jazz music had abruptly stopped and the sounds of people clamoring to the front of the building were becoming louder by the minute. Alexandre and The Centipede looked at one another as screams pierced the air. Even the women in the bed who were lazily enjoying their time sat up in unison on edge. Leilani clutched to Alexandre who tensed up at hearing the commotion. Dread filled the air as every sense in his body were raising alarms that something apocalyptic was happening, and he would end up in the middle of it the first thing he steps out of these lavender curtains.
