Just Another Teenage Psycho (A Roy Harper/Arsenal Fanfiction)

Chapter Three: Thicks Arms and Tattoos

I end up stuffing everything I'm taking to Roy's in a twenty inch suitcase. It's black, inconspicuous and does the job. Along with the clothes Alison has pretty much stolen from me, I pack my older ones, my weapons and a few items I don't want to leave here.

Since it's our first time meeting and Jason wants me to get close to him, I choose my outfit wisely. As in, enough to get stuck in his head.

It's Fall, and freezing, but I decide to risk it. I barely feel the cold anyway. The black off-the-shoulder top and the shorts will do for underneath. I'll add the red coat on top and my usual thigh-high boots.

With my new makeup I finish my face, then brush my hair and leave it down as usual.

I step back to see the finished product in my mirror- floor length and one of the few items in the room.

My Ἁιδης tattoo is visible between my elbow and wrist without the jacket. Most people don't ask what it means, which is good, because I hate trying to explain it. If Roy does then I guess I can tell half the truth.

With my suitcase and the shoulder purse I take everywhere, I leave my room. I go through the long process of locking my door. Each little click is satisfying, knowing that the stuff I'm leaving behind is safe. 

Everything important is in the black suitcase, I just don't want people going in there to have sex on my bed during parties, or just being in my space in general.

"I'm going," I announce when I enter the living room. Michelle is cooking dinner in the kitchen while Danny and Sandy are doing another type of cooking on the couch.

"Need a lift there?" Michelle asks.

"No thanks, it's not far," I lie, "Call me if you need me- but not to pedal."

"You got it."

Danny and Sandy mumble goodbyes but continue making their drugs without looking up. They have a little rhythm going. I guess teamworks helps when you're ruining people's lives.

"Hey Ever?" Michelle calls out when I reach the door. I turn just in time to catch the tin she throws at me. I know without having to look that it's Boison, a drug I used to get on often.

"I don't-"

"It's just a gift," she says, sounding friendly, but I hear the intent like any other Glades-Crime Alley kid.

She wants me addicted again so that I'll buy from her. Now that I'll be getting paid by Jason I'll have the extra income to fund it.

"Fuck you," I say, but I don't throw it back as I leave.

Boison isn't the worst you can do. It has the effect of being drunk, rather than high or energised or alert. Most people use it to dull pain, get drunk without drinking, sleep or drive themselves away from worse drugs.

Maybe I can help Roy with them.

It's about seven at night when I step out onto the street. Since this is crime alley, it isn't too busy. That only happens late at night. I imagine I'll run into the hustle and bustle when I cross through the city centre to get to the base Roy lives in. 

I cop a few wolf whistles which results in a couple of kicks to the groin. It doesn't disturb my stride as I drag my suitcase through the muck of this shit city and come to the train station.

There are more people down here than on the street. Girls dressed for the club, a few couples who look like they're going on dates or shopping, groups of guys looking dodgy as hell.