Skippin' The Hard Part | Skipp x Reader

Chapter 2 - A Scrap Named Skipp

Today, you were on a mission. To find something to keep your boredom at bay.

Your father was at work, your mother was at some important business meeting, the servants weren't around today, and the chef was resting. You had the whole house to yourself.

That sounds exciting at first, but after being reprimanded by the cook for making too much noise dashing around the mansion, you soon find yourself as bored as a guest at an empty circus. You were supposed to be studying for your upcoming exam, but you couldn't be bothered to do that. You wanted something fun. Something that won't make your head burst like an active volcano. Something that will keep you from getting a migraine.

Then you remembered you had freedom, and you swiftly dashed to the cook's room to ask for permission.

"No, Miss L/n. Spending your time out in the streets is a bad idea. Scraps are crawling everywhere."

You watched the chef's chest rise and fall, his eyes closed and his left arm bandaged. All the servants had simple rooms, with average beds and short desks. Some even had a small bookshelf with a few novels your parents discarded. Like the chef's room. It was comfortable enough to not feel like a prison cell but miserable enough to not feel like a luxurious boudoir. The servants rooms were, you mentally ranked, below average.

"But it's so boring. There's nothing to do here," you exaggerated your pleas with dismal expressions.

He grumbled, and you presumed he was going to say no. Instead, he said, "Be back by sundown," before sinking further into the bed.

Your heart sped up. He actually agreed! You mumbled a fast, "Thank you," and scurried out the door. Checking the clock, you had approximately five hours before your parents came home. That was plenty of time for exploring the streets, going shopping, and soaking up the humid air. This was going to be the highlight of your week!

You exited the house after dressing up. Making sure your money was secured tightly in your pocketbook, you headed towards Entertainment Square. You were 99% sure nothing bad was going to happen. Rich folks walk through town alone all the time. And all of them arrive home safely without getting kidnapped or mugged. Almost all of them.

You'll be fine. The chances of those things happening were only a little more than 50%. You reassured yourself that you'll get in, do your business, have fun, and get out. That's the plan. What's the worst that could happen?

•••

Apparently, a lot of things could happen.

You passed by a lootbag getting dragged into a sewer. Another lootbag was getting robbed by the elderly. There were also gunshots, and in the distance you saw a bunch of scraps hooting and hollering. A fire could be seen in the road as well.

Welp, this was an unfortunate outing.

Clenching your jaw, you carefully stepped over an unconscious woman's hand. What was going on?! More rich folks were screaming, and you took that as your cue to turn back. This was definitely not the day for a casual walk through town.

After a burning tire rolled past you, you noticed a scrap wielding a machete. He looked well into his thirties and was charging straight in your direction.

"AHHH!" A shout croaked from your throat, and you hurried into an alleyway to escape. You ran and ran. Past dumpsters with stray dogs, garbage bags with unique scents, and scraps who seemed half-dead. This was exactly like a scene from a horror movie

CRASH! You heard the man run smack into a trash can. The sounds of him clinging-and-clanging were enough to know he wasn't chasing you anymore. Phew!