Just Him&I: In a Universe of Cruelty

Part • 1

The clouds gather, casting shadows across the entire area — a hint that rain is on the way. I survey the small city square.
The floor was paved with small cobblestones, with green moss peeking through the seams.
There were also traditional European museums and buildings that had survived since communist times.
Many trees were planted near the houses of ordinary residents, blocking them.
I involuntarily noticed the vendors standing by, selling various fruits.
My stomach rumbled. I frowned and turned away. I probably hadn't eaten for more than two days.
I didn't know how my body would react to food. So it's better not to risk it.
I frowned slightly and exhaled a puff of air. I walked up to the newspaper vendor and picked up one, scanning each line with my eyes. I raised my thick eyebrows in open shock and disbelief. I rubbed my eyes several times to be sure I was really seeing this.

"Alexander Pierce was killed today during the destruction of the 'Insight' project. According to the media, he was a Hydra agent undercover. All data was released online."

I wasn't very upset.
This was unexpected for me, after all, I knew — they would kill him! But I expected him to suffer as much as I had. Rotting in a cell until his death.
I put the newspaper back on the stand and rubbed my fingers. I noticed the vendor; he was closely watching my actions. His face seemed angry, he tried to force a smile, but didn't pay me any real attention. More like he was watching my actions. As soon as I put back what I had taken, he muttered irritably under his breath. His face grew even more annoyed, and wrinkles appeared on his forehead, of which there were many. Judging by his reaction, I wasn't the first person to do this. He warmed his hands on a cup of tea, tapping out his own rhythm. Mid-autumn after all, most people were dressed in jackets or coats. I wasn't that cold; I had become weather-resistant overall.
I should say "thank you" to my daddy, who used to throw me out in winter wearing only shorts and a t-shirt. Like unnecessary trash. He explained this by saying he was toughening me up for different weather conditions.

***
He threw me into the snow like a piece of meat. I ran to the door. Two guards stared into the distance, not even noticing me.
"Stay here a while! You need to get used to it," said a rough monotone voice, slamming the door in my face.
"Dad! Dad! Let me in!" I yelled, running closer.
One of the guards picked me up as if I weighed about 20 kilograms. I noticed his purely gray eyes, and the next second, he tossed me back.
***

I shuddered and tensed, trying to forget what I had remembered.
"I need to get this serum out somehow — that's what matters now!"
I felt myself getting nauseous and quietly hissed, not showing anyone that something had happened. My throat felt ticklish. My body was reminding me that there was something inside that shouldn't be there. And I walked down dark alleys, pondering my next steps.
I definitely needed to find shelter.
I had a small black backpack on my back.
It was as inconspicuous as possible, with many zippers.
I had about $13 — not sure what kind of place I could get with that.
I pulled the hood of my sweater further over my face.
Hiding my short, dark hair beneath it.
I got it from my mom, if I believed his words. I don't know if that's true at all. I don't remember her well; she disappeared when I was around 4 years old.
I recall how she used to sing me lullabies. I soon learned them by heart as a memory of her.
And that she was Ukrainian.
There wasn't a single photograph or hint of a woman's presence in the house after her disappearance. Maybe he was hiding something — rather, used to hide. That she died by his hand, I'm not sure why exactly. Those are just my suspicions.
The rain was lightly drizzling, leaving wet beads on the cobblestones.
So I wrapped myself tighter, not wanting to get sick.
Although I wasn't cold, I got sick just like everyone else. I shivered slightly when a drop of water fell on my hand.
But I kept scanning the area with my cat-like green eyes, watching for danger.
Carefully shifting my gaze from one person to another. It seemed someone would eventually recognize me and take me down right here. But he's dead — there's nothing to be afraid of.

I heard quiet, unpleasant sobs. Passing by a dark alley. It didn't look too presentable. Scattered trash and glass. I noticed some cardboard laid out, maybe a homeless person lived there. Who knows?
Yes, the square looked much better than this alley. But there was nowhere else to go.
I stopped quietly without turning my head. For a few seconds, I fought the urge to just walk by, but my conscience wouldn't let me. I spit on my own safety and worried about someone else's.
Maybe Pierce didn't squeeze out all of my conscience. This trait — it's inherent in everyone, just some use it more, some less.
Finally, I noticed what was happening.
Two burly guys were bullying a girl. She looked about 24 years old. Asian appearance and hair as black as pitch. She was dressed lightly for such weather. The wind lifted small debris and leaves into the air.

— Ce faci? Hai să ne distrăm!* — I heard part of their dialogue. It's Romanian, I understand it perfectly and even speak it fluently. In addition to training day and night, I never missed individual lessons.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. I plunged my hand into one of the pockets of my blue jeans and felt the brass knuckles. Heavy, cold, and metallic. The tips of my fingers went numb as I slipped it on and clenched my fist again. I always carried it with me, sometimes a knife.

— Bună băieți!** — I called out to them, and they both turned towards me. The girl shrank in fear.

— Îmi poți spune unde este biblioteca?*** — I continued. I pulled my hand out of my pocket. One of them stayed with the girl, while the other started walking towards me.

— Ai merge mai departe!**** — he said, beginning to smile. He was almost upon me. I jumped and kicked him in the chest with both feet. He flew back and hit his head on an old TV someone had thrown out. The guy lost consciousness, splattering the floor with blood.
The other guy rushed towards me. He threw the bag he had taken aside on the way. But I twisted his left arm until it cracked. He turned and punched me in the stomach. I kicked him straight in the groin. Letting him go, I grabbed his hair, pulled his head back slightly, and brought his face to my knee.
A hit.
He closed his eyes and collapsed next to the first one. Blood splattered on my jeans.
"They look huge, but they're not trained for combat."
I tried to catch my breath. Something wouldn't let me. I felt a sharp burning pain where the serums were stitched. My vision blurred, and I started vomiting blood. Then I noticed a piece of mirror lying right beneath my hands. My amber-green eyes began to flicker blue for a few seconds. The girl ran up to me, shaking my arm.

— Meme, ce e cu tine?!***** — I didn't feel anything anymore and collapsed to the ground.
One of them broke!

***
— Ce faci? Hai să ne distrăm!* — "What are you doing? Let's have some fun!"
— Bună băieți!** — "Hey guys!"
— Îmi poți spune unde este biblioteca?*** — "Can you tell me where the library is?"
— Ai merge mai departe!**** — "You should just move on!"
— Meme, ce e cu tine?!***** — "Ma'am, what's wrong with you?!"