Hey Now, You're a Brawl Star! (A Brawl Stars Story)

Bull Arc Chapter One

Welcome! TRIGGER WARNINGS: child abuse, swearing, very brief hospital, courtrooms? Is that a trigger? Imma go with yes.

He was seven when his father was arrested.

The man had requested a particularly hard meal for dinner that night, and his mother was still at work, so he was forced to make the bastard dinner.

He had ordered a bacon burger, which was definitely inside the skill range of a seven year old. Brady pulled out a stool and the necessary ingredients and equipment, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

As he always did, Brady's father hovered over his shoulder while he cooked, to make sure Brady didn't tamper with the food. Brady had a single burger cooking on the griddle pan ( he and his mother would be having grilled cheese if he made this well, dried fruit from Mom's stash if he didn't) and a few slices of bacon frying on a smaller pan on the next burner over.

Anytime he thought about that night, he would say that shit hit the fan when he tried to salt the burger.

"What're ya doin with that, brat?" His father asked as he reached over the bacon pan to grab the salt shaker. Brady whipped around in surprise (fear) and by doing so, simultaneously dropped the salt on his father's foot and slammed the handle of the bacon pan, causing the hot meat and hotter grease to go flying. Most of it landed on Brady himself, but a few drops that particularly disliked the boy flung themselves onto the forehead of the man picking up the salt shaker.

The reaction was immediate and harsh.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Brady's father screamed, grabbing the hood of his sweatshirt (my hoodie!) and yanking him off the stool he was standing on. Brady scrambled backwards towards the wall (get away from the stove away from fire) in an attempt to postpone the inevitable.

The first kick landed just below the center of his ribs.

He couldn't make a sound, that would make the beating worse. Instead, he prayed. Wide-eyes and desperate, the boy prayed that his father wouldn't use his belt or, heaven forbid, one of the still hot pans.

He sat through five more harsh kicks before his father made his way towards the stove.

Luck hadn't completely abandoned him, because his father picked up the cooler of the two pans, which had been laying on the floor since the beating started.

"I'll teach you to try to hurt me, you ungrateful fucker." His father was gripping the handle so hard that Brady feared the cheap plastic covering would crack and fall off of the metal it covered. Then he would really be screwed.

The first hit hurt the worst. His father had hit him square in the temple, and the pan was still hot enough for it to burn. Brady put his hands up to protect himself, but his father hit them away, aiming for a piece of bacon still sticking to an exposed forearm and hitting the burn underneath, and taking the other wrist head on, breaking it with ease. Brady dropped his arms and resumed his prayers.

By the time Mom walked in, his father had been beating him for half an hour, occasionally throwing in insults.

"UPSTAIRS, BITCH!" His father roared when he saw her. She bolted up the steps , and Brady heard the door to her bedroom closing. Ten minutes later, just as his father was deciding that he had done enough, the police showed up. Brady would later find out that his mother had brought her phone upstairs, which she wasn't allowed to do, and called the police.

"FREEZE!" Three officers swarmed into his house, shouting things at his father. Brady took the opportunity to close his eyes.

Time skip brought to you by pain meds and blackouts

The next time Brady opened his eyes, his mother was asleep next to his bed.

But this wasn't his room. The walls were white, not creme, and there were pictures hanging in several places.

"Brady?" Mom rubbed her eyes and sat up, trying to wake herself up.
"Hi mom," He replied, smiling at her. She grabbed the hand that he didn't have in a cast (when?) and gave it a squeeze.
"How you feeling, kiddo?" She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but it turned watery and worried. It still made him feel better.
"Like I got hit by a Rachel Ray Commercial," Mom chuckled a bit at that. "Where's father?"

He couldn't have killed the mood faster if he had had a knife.

Mom sighed, rubbed her forehead, and put her other hand on his.
"Your father was arrested," he froze, not believing what he heard. Then his smile found it's way back onto his face.
"Good."

The days leading up to the trial progressed relatively quickly. Within a few days, Mom had gotten a lawyer, and the lawyer had assembled a case.

When he asked Mom how you buy a lawyer, she replied with "sell your soul," so Brady decided that they came in little capsules that you put in hot water to make them open.

The trial was quick, too. Mom's lawyer asked him some questions, then dad's lawyer asked him some questions, then he went and sat back with his mom. After the lawyers asked mom some questions and the court went to recess (which involved a suspicious lack of playground equipment) the verdict was delivered: guilty. His father would serve a life sentence in prison.

Yes, people salt their burgers. My dad does. Also, wanted to let y'all know this is crossposted to Ao3 and Fanfiction.net . Thank you, please keep reading, and goodnight!