Chapter 4: Roy- A History
Medea could remember the first time she had seen Roy. She had been sweeping the porch, trying to clean it of the mud that the homeless always seemed to track in. It had been a hot summer day three years ago, much like this one. Looking up she covered her eyes from the sun, and saw a jumble of kids at the nearby corner, waiting for the church to open up its mess for its daily noon soup kitchen.
Nearby them sat a small little midget lying on the road. Now most of the kids in the slums were short mind you - mostly from the malnutrition that seemed to haunt the gaze of nearly all of its residents. But the kid seemed... broken, almost twisted; his bones looking almost stretched from constant abuse.
For some reason Medea felt compelled to watch him. The kid was on the edge of starvation. No, the kid was starving. Thin arms and legs, joints that looked ridiculously oversized, a swollen belly. And if hunger didn't kill him soon, the onset of autumn would; his clothing was thin and there wasn't much of it even at that. The only thing about him that looked even remotely alive was his vibrant red hair.
Normally she wouldn't have paid him more than passing attention. But this one had eyes. He was still looking around with intelligence. None of that stupor of the walking dead, no longer searching for food or even caring to find a comfortable place to lie while breathing their last taste of the stinking air of Rotterdam. After all, death would not be such a change for them. Everyone knew that outskirts was, if not the capital, then the main airport of Hell. The only difference between the outskirts and death was that with outskirts, the damnation wasn't eternal.
This little boy - what was he doing? Not looking for food. He wasn't eyeing the pedestrians. Which was just as well - there was no chance that anyone would leave anything for a child that small. Anything he might get would be taken away by any other child, so why should he bother? If he wanted to survive, he should be following older scavengers and licking food wrappers behind them, getting the last sheen of sugar or dusting of flour clinging to the packaging, whatever the first comer hadn't licked off.
There was nothing for this child out here on the streets, the elder kids had a way of jostling their way to the front of the line in ways that often injured those younger than them. But boy was she wrong. That little brat carried more surprises than an entire circus.
A faint smile appeared on her face as she began to ladle the now finished soup into small bowls. Once she had laid them down she found a nearby bench and took a deep sigh, before continuing with her recollection.
The daily noon rush had just began as children began to line up at the church's gate. The nuns and their wardens had attempted to maintain an orderly lineup before, but it always ended up backfiring with the little children who made it to the front never making it back. Just as she was about to open the gate and allow the children into the church's mess hall, the small redhead whistled.
The supply truck that drove through the outskirts daily to deliver its cargo to those beyond the walls was the only vehicle to ever traverse the rickety streets of the outskirts. As it rounded the corner, a bunch of small kids jumped out from a nearby alley behind the redhead and began to jump and holler straight in the trucks way spooking the driver and causing him to swerve to the left, straight into the jostling line of children missing Medea herself by only a couple inches.
The street was now splattered with the brains and guts of what had been twelve living breathing children just moments ago. Medea remembered herself standing shell shocked at the sight, her hands clenching her newly bloodied habit. She had seen worse for sure, (it was part of her duty as a priest of Elmira to remove the dead/drowned and purify the slum streets) but it had never been so sudden, the victims never so young. Doubling over she had clutched the church's iron fence and vomited in the nearby bushes. At the same time the bewildered truck driver had exited his murder machine and he emptied his breakfast on the floor
The redhead had laboriously gotten to his feet, with the assistance of two of the children (he could barely muster enough strength to even stand) and walked right over the dead/soon-to-be-dead bodies of the children he had basically just murdered, up to the churches gate. Their feet squelching in the blood, an entire horde of nosy children crawled out from every nook and cranny and lined up behind the redhead totaling to nearly sixteen of the brats.
Speaking slowly, as if every word pained him he spoke in a near whisper. "C-can we have some soup?". His eyes were a dark purple, and glazed over from starvation. But they still managed to pierce her, as if he was seeing all that she had to hide. 'They planned this.' she realized. 'He planned all of this, and they all followed'. That day, for the first time she had ever remembered, every kid got their fair share of food, no biting and scratching over scraps, or shoving each other out of the way. And so it had been even to this day.
Suddenly Medea barked a laugh. It would've been hell to be on cleaning duty that day, and the stench of blood had reeked for weeks. She opened the blinds and watched as the nun's escorted the already lined up children inside. After the noon soup kitchen, normally there would be lessons for the children, and most of those midgets would somehow mysteriously disappear, just to be found hours later trying to make off with a sack full of trinkets they had pilfered. But after that scrawny redhead had taken control over the streets all of that had changed. Crime, violence, and even the drowned became more uncommon, under his leadership, and all of the kids began to show surprising amounts of enthusiasm for lectures they had deemed "useless" merely days ago.
"Amazing what kids could do if they put their minds to it eh?" she said while eyeing the little rats in case one of them decided to play smart with their pockets. Even with Roy playing king, there were always one or two smart alecks who thought they could get away with bending his rules, (though they normally ended up found dead in a dumpster somewhere or the other).
As her fellow sisters began to distribute each of the kids their allocated meals (a slice of bread and a small bowl of thin veggie soup), she noticed something.
"Where is Roy?" she muttered to the nun on her right.
"Dunno, he's usually here with the other young'uns. He's your favorite right? Give him a while, I'm sure he's on his way." said sister Andrea as she handed her a tray of food.
"Now help me give these out, feeding these kids are going to help him more then worrying about him; you know how much they adore him.
Medea took the tray and began to serve the kids. But for every dwarf she counted, the wrinkles on her forehead only increased. Eventually her eyes settled on a cluster of children lead black haired kid who was happily chatting with his ensemble as they waited their turns; with the kid clearly enjoying being the center of attention.
"Hey, you there! You're under Roy right?" she shouted.
"Me?". The kid looked around the room at his cluster of friends before looking back at Medea. "What is matter to you." he sneered.
"Shut it- we have enough to deal with helping you snotty brats; you should be grateful we even feed you. The only reason this soup kitchen even exists is because Roy keeps asses in line." she snapped.
"Now answer my question, before I tell Roy and find your ass buried in some ditch. Now, where is he? If you answer you get another piece of bread."
The boy stood there shell shocked for a minute, before straightening his back and replying "He went out with the big boys to check out some new Church or something being built nearby. Gimme bread."
Medea laughed him off and gave him the promised bread; ignoring the sinking feeling that had begun to settle in her chest.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone