Steel Disciples

CHAPTER ONE: TEMPER TEMPER

He could taste metal in his mouth, like copper and iron, as the cut on his lip blossomed with red droplets. Boot buckles clinked with each step as he staggered backwards to keep his balance, but not once did his dark gaze leave his assailants. Three, large men who closed the distance slowly and threateningly, were his enemies in this moment. Though he couldn't blame them for the violent streak they'd stumbled upon. He'd picked this fight, and he'd intended to finish it, but perhaps he'd bitten off more than he could chew. He straightened himself; fixing the lapels of a patched leather jacket, and stood to his full height (not that it was by any means intimidating.) Even if there was fear to show, he never would. He was sure by this point he was building a reputation as being a cocksure fool. He wasn't brave, he just wasn't scared of what the world had left to throw at him. There was a lot that he'd done, seen, and been through, and he'd beaten the leader of this little trio in a fight before. Granted, it was a while ago, and he'd had more than himself to rely on in that time.

The men he was standing against were laughing, making a hell of a lot more noise than they needed to, and clearly celebrating before the fight had finished. He wasn't the only cocksure fool within this vicinity, he was confident in that, but he also knew that his enemies had more of a reason to be self-assured than he did. In a second another fist came flying. He managed to dodge it, ducking out of the way, only to find another arm lock underneath his shoulder and behind his neck. He was pushed up against a wall; his face grazing the rough surface and tearing free the first few layers of skin. The pain was nothing compared to the surprise from the suddenness of the motion. He couldn't get himself out from this. Funny that it reminded him of his childhood. He was hardly that old, but he'd grown plenty since he'd left. This was the same position he'd ended up in time after time when he'd tried to stand up to his father. When he'd snap at the man who was supposed to care for him but acted more like a prison guard than a parent. That household held more memories of violence than any warm feeling. This fight, despite the punches being thrown and the pure hatred radiating from the man pinning him to the wall, was perhaps even kinder than the way his father had treated him. The most familiar sensation, though, was the hot air against his ear as his assailant leaned in to threaten him. Long, backcombed blond hair tickled against his throat and jaw in the process. He tilted his head away from it, but to no avail.

"Didn't I warn you before about comin' 'round here, Shane?" The voice was a harsh whisper in his ear, consonants loud and aggressive enough that he had to wince against the violent air. "Are you fucking stupid, or what?"

A huff of laughter was his only response for the moment as he tried to shift out of the position he was forced into. Instead, the other's grip simply tightened as his comrades laughed and commented on him being squirmy. With a click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, Shane finally spoke. His tone was nothing if not laced with derision.

"Or what."

There was a hesitation now, his assailant's grasp loosening as he backed up some--though not enough to let him get free. He could only assume that the man had glanced over his shoulder at his friends briefly as the intended confusion set in. It was a pause of a few second, enough that Shane had a chance to deliver a snort of laughter before the man finally responded.

"What?"

Shane's response came quicker. "You heard me."

The resounding growl of frustrated rage was enough to tell Shane that he'd hit the mark. The fact that he was thrown to the ground shortly after was just a bonus. He made a hurried attempt at scrambling to his feet, but a boot connected with his gut before he could manage and sent him down again. His body collided with the floor more aggressively this time, not thinking to throw his arms out to catch himself. This time he was winded and struggling to breathe. In the confused haze, he picked up the words "grab him" spoken combatively from the small group's leader, and seconds later his arms were being dragged away from his chest and pinned to the floor either side of him.