Bloodsport ; tommy shelby

𝒐𝒏𝒆 - small heath

November, 1918

Thick smog rolled over the streets of Small Heath, Birmingham as the train pulled into the station. The early morning sunshine fought its way through the pollution in small flecks, a somewhat feeble twinge of hope in such a grey town. It wasn't home, but it felt like it to Iris Hancock. The streets were reminiscent of the place she'd grown up in not too far away in what felt like another lifetime.

The stinging cold of winter morning breeze struck her, and she hugged her expensive fur-trimmed coat tightly to her slim frame as she stepped out onto the platform with her small bag. The platform was near deserted, faint sounds of the city coming awake were drowned out by the rattling of the train, and her heeled boots clacking down on the cobbled ground. She needed a drink.

It didn't take long to find a pub, and luckily one that was open at six in the morning. The Garrison. Iris stood outside surveying it for a minute or two as light chatter and laughter seeped out from inside.

She pushed the door open, and the room fell silent. Three men were gathered around the bar, one of them behind it. They were crisply dressed, a rarity in such a poverty-stricken town. It wasn't hard to tell that they were important in Small Heath. Iris locked eyes with the one behind the bar. He was tall and almost statuesque, with a scratch on one of his chiselled cheekbones. His eyes were stunning, an ultramarine blue that cut through the toughness like two sapphires.

The two men at the bar looked her up and down and exchanged a look.

"You serving?" Iris asked with an air of nonchalance.

"Who are you?" A moustached man leaning against the bar looked her up and down.

"Nobody you'd know," She said truthfully, reaching into her pocket for a cigarette. "May I smoke?"

"I asked who you are, young lady," the man repeated, but she didn't flinch. She was used to intimidation from men like that, and it rarely worked on her.

She placed a long cigarette between her lips and lit it with a match, heading over to the bar. Their eyes followed her.

"Iris Hancock," she said, taking off her leather gloves and putting them in her pocket.

The other man, who looked younger than the rest, looked amused. "What are you doing in the pub at six o'clock in the morning, Iris Hancock?"

"Same as you I imagine," she said, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Here for a drink."

"Any specific drink?" The man behind the bar spoke for the first time, though his eyes hadn't strayed off her face since she walked in.

"Whiskey," she said, maintaining eye contact. "Irish."

"With anything?"

"A glass is all I need my whiskey with," she said.

He poured her drink and stopped her before she could pull out her wallet. "On the house." He said.

Iris smiled, and looked back over to the other men. "Who are you then?"

The moustached man scoffed, and looked over to the man behind the bar. Clearly that was something she was supposed to know.

"I'm John Shelby," the youngest one held out a hand with a cheeky smile. "That's Arthur and that's Thomas."

"Brothers?" She asked, looking over at Thomas.

"Where are you from?" Arthur asked suspiciously as she downed her drink.

"Aston," she lied.

"Aston," John and Arthur repeated simultaneously.

"Right." She said, putting her bag over her shoulder again. "Well, I'd better be leaving. I have a job and lodgings to find."

"You're staying here, then?" Thomas asked. "In Small Heath?"

"Yes," she told him. "That I am."

Iris turned and stood for a moment, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips. 

The sun was shining now, brighter than before, and a smile formed on Iris' face. Small Heath might just be a good place to be. It might even turn out to be home some day, or something close to that.

The sun had begun to poke through the smog again when Iris stepped out onto the street. Small Heath might just be the place to be, she thought. A home, for however long it could be.

If only Iris had known what was in store for her in that small town in Birmingham, she might've run away and never looked back.

But there would be no story if she'd done that, would there?