-A LOTTA ANGST IN THIS
-I came up with this cause I kinda made a headcannon that hollowheads aren't liked by a lot of the people in stick city (cause of chosen and dark's past) sooo it projects onto SC to
Warnings: Fight, blood, hurt/comfort (lemme know if i missed any!!)
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"What'd you need from the shop?" Red asked as she came down the stairs, slinging her handbag around her shoulder, making the trinkets on it clink.
"Just snacks I guess, you'll be sure to get-"
"Swedish fish, Red Bull, the sugar free one of course, popcorn but ONLY the toffee kind, mountains of Maltesers, Takis and oh! Of course your Venti, half-caf, triple-shot, caramel, mocha, soy, no foam, extra whip, extra hot, caramel drizzle, with seven pumps of caramel syrup and seven pumps of mocha syrup, yeah. I got you." Red said, grinning as she lingered in the doorframe.
"Thank youuu!" SC shouted as she walked out of the room.
"You're ANNOYING!" She screamed back jokingly as she shut the door.
She hopped on her motorbike and drove to stick city. She parked up to the store(as a brit that physically hurt me) and got the usual stuff that everyone wanted. She mounted everything on the back of the motorbike. She looked down an alleyway and saw a pet shop in the distance across a road. She needed more dog food. She made sure her motorbike was locked and walked down the alleyway, occasionally looking behind her in caution. However when she turned back, three hooded figures appeared in front of her.
"Excuse me." She tried to say politely, attempting to step past them.
"Nuh uh." A gravely, deep voice spoke, a hand shoving her back.
"We wanna talk about your little friend." Another voice spoke.
"I think you have the wrong person."
"Oh I don't think so, you're Red from Alan Becker." A third voice said.
Red didn't answer.
"What's SC's deal?" The second voice interoggated.
"What the fuck do you mean?"
"That hollowhead. Why the fuck are you friends with him?"
"That hollowhead is my best friend." Red said, stepping threateningly towards them.
"Why? He's a terrorist just like the others."
Red's eyes widened in realization. "No, he's not. In fact, one of those so called terrorists, is now a good friend of mine. The other one's dead if that brings you any comfort." She taunted.
"We want those things dead." One of them pushed Red harshly.
"They are not things you motherfucker." She said, feeling the pocket knife in her pocket. "Now if you'll excuse me, I wanna get on with my day."
As she attempted to shove past them again, the closest one to her, grabbed her arm and punched her in the nose.
"Fuck!" She cursed as she stumbled back, feeling blood run down her lips from her nose. "Wanna play that game then...alright."
Red flicked open the knife now grasped in hand, and all three of them charged towards her. She swung a hit with her pocket knife and sliced one of the attacker's faces, making him cry out. One of them attempted to kick her in the stomach, but she caught his ankle and pushed it away, making the stick fall hard on the concrete. The third one punched Red hard in the cheek before she even had a chance to react, snapping her head sideways. She swiped her right leg under the oblivious man and he fell to the floor to, but just as he had fallen, one of the other people brought their hands around Red's neck and held her up against the wall. She struggled and kicked around before finally kicking them right in the crotch, making him and herself drop to the floor. She took a deep breath in as one of the attackers charged at her again, and she swivelled the knife. The fight carried on for a few more minutes, Red taken down two and only one left. All the energy was drained from her, and her whole body ached and stung. As the unknown stick threw her hard against a wall, knocking the breath out of her. She coughed and started the get up, but the stick kicked her hard in the stomach and stamped hard on her right wrist, a snapping sound audible. She groaned out of clenched teeth, and she brought the blade down on his foot as hard as she could. He shrieked and she staggered to her feet.
