Chapter Text
How I imagine the male lead ^^^ Credit: Change by CK0T
The train ride from Pace University (PU) to the ghetto suburbs was almost two hours. Lucky for me, those two hours were prime time for studying before all the distractions of the world fall on me. I am an international student. My family that I lived with is my 'extended' family (my aunt on my mom's side, her husband, and their two children). Their apartment was too small to accommodate me so I rented in the apartment next to them, which was thankfully at a discounted price because the pipes were so rusted, the owner couldn't be bothered to fix them, so he discounted the price for me. I showered at my aunt's and uncle's place, cleaned my dishes there as well, and did my laundry in the laundromat in the complex. Discounts, eh? So now I got the apartment for a nice 250$/monthly, including heating and wifi.
I walked back home, entering my apartment (on which the locks did not work so I had to ram a stick in it whenever I was in the apartment and stuff a hard piece of plastic beneath the door whenever I went out. It wasn't ideal. It was certainly a far cry from the comfort that I had back in Brazil. I stripped of my nursing scrubs (for my clinical days at the university), taking off my underwear and slipping into a t-shirt and shorts before sneakily entering my aunt's apartment to get some water for boiling.
My aunt was probably working late again at the retirement home, and my uncle was probably buying groceries with his children, so the apartment was empty. I quickly cleaned up what I could, straightening things out, putting away toys, folding their laundries and trying to be useful. We may be family, but I already felt like a burden. Uncle Rio made me feel uncomfortable by the remarks that he made about me freeloading and I always felt guilty so I helped out where I could. I finished cleaning the dishes and went back to my own apartment, starting the cleaning process for myself as well.
After eating my hardboiled eggs and yogurt, I began finishing up a few reports and documents that I needed to fill out--
"What the fuck?" I asked myself. It was a loud crash, as though someone had crashed through a window and as I ran into the living room, sure enough, from the view of my kitchen, glass was spilled all over the floor and everything was upturned---at least five bodies alone were in my tiny kitchen--moving in complicated moves and making unnatural sounds.
"What the fuck!" I screamed at them, my rage spiking. I was NOT going to be dealing with this. Someone is going to pay for all this damage. I grabbed the nearest thing I can find-- a pan that flew at my feet in the chaos. I charged, thoughtlessly, blindly, and angrily, into the clown-show and began banging on any head that I could find--
oop?
Human?
No?
What?
I was confused. The creature that I hit suddenly paused and turned around. The stench, I don't know how I didn't notice given how strong and awful it was, was so foul I gagged and my eyes blurred with tears. But they cleared up quickly when the face came into view. It was the ugliest creature that must have ever walked this earth. Its eyes were fully yellow, with only a black slit in each iris. Its face was malformed unlike any shape I had ever seen and a whole fucking axe was sticking out of its forehead.
It opened its mouth to reveal blackened teeth and I was dually mesmerized and horrified. I had never seen anything so strange and ugly and similarly terrifying at the same time. I was so shocked I never realized what was happening. I never realized that thing raising its arm and grabbing me by the throat, whipping me to the floor in a 180 spin. I grunted in shock and pain. What just happened?
I didn't have time to rationalize. The thing was already snarling and drooling above me, gripping my shirt and ripping it off, despite my violent thrashing.
"Get off of me, you fucking freak!" I shrieked, clawing at the attacker. "Get off--sto--opp!"
"Help!" I shrieked, "Call 9-1-1, call 9-1-1!" No one was listening. I struggled to claw that creature’s hand from my throat--black spots in my vision--no.
None of this seemed real. Was this a joke?
Before anything else could happen, the creature was ripped off from me and standing above me had to be the tallest person I had ever seen. I didn't have time to analyze any facial characteristics. I tried to crawl away. The cut off from the oxygen that I had was making me sluggish. But I was aware enough to move away. In one quick move, the tall man thrust something into the creature and the creature stopped squirming and shrieking. Black liquid, thick and oil-ish, dripped onto my kitchen floor. The creature slumped into the ground. Before I knew it, another similar creature slumped to the ground by another tall man. A third similar creature hopped out of the window. Brief words in a language I didn't understand were exchanged. One of the tall men hopped after the creature and I was left to deal with the other tall man.
"What was that?" I choked.
"A stupid decision on your part," the man said curtly, in a heavy, unidentifiable accent. His voice was deep and unnaturally hoarse, like gravel being pulled from degenerating vocal cords. It made me pause for a second because it sounded so strange.
"What?" I shrilled. "I didn't ask for your opinion I asked what is that thing!" I pointed at the black creature that just tried to molest me.
"That is an orc," the man bent down and with one arm--an arm with a hook, that man was one handed--yanked the creature up by a hook through its neck and tossed the body outside like it was a sack of potatoes rather than a fully grown humanoid that was probably twice as heavy as I was, and I was obese. "Your shirt is torn."
It was. I just realized it now. My breasts were on display for the man to see. I quickly tucked the torn remnants of my shirt together, self-consciously. He probably saw everything, stretchmarks and all, even though I never saw him look. "Sorry," I apologized quickly. It was strange of me to apologize for flashing him. Technically, if I flashed someone I would apologize, but it just made me seem insecure to the other party. "You can't just dump bodies outside of my apartment, it looks like I murdered somebody."
"That is not a human, little woman, that is an orc," the man said sardonically, watching me struggle to my feet without using my arms because they were too busy holding my shirt together. I quickly tied the torn ends in a firm knot. Right, orc. That made anymore sense. Looking at the strange, humanoid-creature, I was perturbed to find that it was truly unlike a human. It didn't even have 10 fingers and its feet were shaped like camel hooves.
"Doesn't matter," I snapped, "It is still dead and outside of my apartment. You broke my windows and ruined my kitchen."
"A hazard of the job," the tall man said meanly, tucking a--was that a sword? -- in a scabbard. Where was this man from? What time does he think he lives in? Who carries around swords and slays monsters now a days. That only happened in historical fiction. And besides, the man was so tall and large, he took up nearly the entire kitchen, even bending down slightly.
"This isn't a movie where you get to wreck everything to catch a bad guy and not pay for damages. You can't just say that!" I shrieked indignantly. "I have to pay for those damages, and I can't afford that!"
The man paused to stare at me, something about his mean face gave me a pause. Should I really be getting cross at this guy? He seemed like he can smite me. He even managed to take down that thing single-handedly.
"I saved your life," the man said, unimpressed. "You should show a bit more gratitude than that."
I felt my heart drop with shame. "Sorry," I choked. I cleared my throat when I realized I sounded like a wimp. It was taking a lot of courage to deal with this giant. "Still, you ruined everything, and you trespassed on my property."
"This is a public ghetto," the man smirked sardonically, and I flushed with shame and anger. "Your local crackhead can take a shit on your lawn, and you won't be able to say anything."
Ouch, ouch, ouch. This was my cue. I burst into tears. "Why are you being so mean? You owe me compensation."
Silence, and then an aggravated sigh. "Here, take this and sell it. It should cover the cost. In your currency, it should be worth at least $8000." The man tossed me something small--it was a ring. It was huge, with a huge rock of a diamond right in the middle, studded within the gold. The overall look, despite the huge diamond, was masculine. It had designs unlike that I had ever seen. There was no way anyone on earth can make a ring so fine and so masculine. It looked like it was worth $8000. But I was certain that I didn't have $8000 worth of damages. At most, a thousand. Still, my inner scammer didn't hesitate to accept the ring. But I also have another problem.
I choked on my tears and stared at the man stupidly. "Where am I going to find a buyer who will buy a ring for that much? Where am I going to find a buyer who would call the cops on me for buying a ring of this much value?"
The man gave me a droll look. "Do your research. I did my duty."
"Who are you?"
"None of your concern."
"I'd like to properly thank my savior," I insisted. I don't know why I was insisting. The guy seemed ready to leave and I was going to be glad to get rid of him.
"Give me a glass of water and one of your eggs, then we will be even," the man finally said, openly evading my question.
I grabbed one of the glasses that weren't smashed and walked away from him. "Where are you going?" he asked me.
"To fill up water, cold, yes?" There were people out there who drank their water hot. I know in China and certain reserves they did that.
"You have a faucet right here."
"I don't have water," I said bluntly. "I'll go get some."
"Don't bother, I'll just have the egg," he pointed to me untouched stove where two already boiled eggs were. He wanted a boiled egg. Not water?
"It's fine, it will only take a minute."
I walked out of my apartment, my heart thudding from all the strange happenings today. So much happened, so little time to comprehend it. What was happening? From where did this man appear? Should I call the police?
I wearily glanced back. I should call the police. Just as I was about to reach for a phone, a large, scarred hand slammed over mind, almost crushing my fingers and the phone beneath it. I cried out in shock. "Call the police and anyone you know, and you will meet the same fate as that orc."
I tried to pull my hand away in alarm. No avail, the man was incredibly strong. In one move, I was flipped and slammed against the wall, my feet barely touching the ground. I looked around in alarm to find anything I can use as a weapon. Nothing in reach.
"Whose apartment is this?"
"My family's" I whimpered. The man was glaring right down at me and up close, he had to be one of the most attractive men I had ever seen. Upon closer inspection, I realized his hair was really long and his ears were pointed. I knew this guy wasn't normal. Must have been a congenital defect that screwed with his mind as well. His face was angular, sharp, and gaunt in some parts. One scar was running down his eye and cheek, another across his perfectly crooked nose, and one running down the corner of his lips. The scars were old and silver. His eyes were green, the only reason I knew that was because of the thin, bright ring surrounding his blown pupils. He looked like one of those creepy figures with their pupils taking over their entire eye. His face was a contortion of rage and something a little bit more sensual.
"Why do you live separately?"
"They are my extended family, I am here to study, they can't afford to have me here, so I rent next to them," I whimpered, feeling incredible pressure under my armpits where he was holding me. He was incredibly strong. It must have been a solid minute that we are like this, and he hasn't trembled or wavered once. In many ways, undeniably, this man was the most dangerous person I have ever met and will ever meet in my lifetime.
"Please let me down," I whimpered, "You are hurting me."
The man didn't budge. "Where is the ring I gave you?"
"On my thumb, " I tried to hold up my arm but the pressure of the position and the hook underneath my armpit made me cry out and jerk violently. The man dropped me just as I felt the skin under my armpit rip. "Aiii!" I yelped in pain.
The man gripped my wrist and yanked the ring away. "This is mine now. If you prove trustworthy, I will take care of your damages."
"What do you mean?" I groaned in pain, looking up at him fearfully.
"Do not call the police, do not talk of what happened today, your family is not to know of myself and my partner, do not speak to anyone else of anything and everything."
"How are you going to guarantee that?" the terms were simple enough. But the methods were what was questionable. I wasn't going to like the answer, I can already see that.
With a disdainful snort, the man yanked me up by my shoulder and dragged me away from my aunt's apartment, slamming the door shut and shoving me into my own apartment, slamming that door shut as well.
"I will stay here, with you, while the commander and I finish our business here, in this world."
The fact that he spoke of New York as 'this world' rather than a more proximal noun didn't click as clearly as it should have. I was too busy comprehending that I was going to house two psychopaths.
"No," I shook my head. "Absolutely not."
"Yes, and if you don’t, I will let the rest of the creatures like that thing have at you. You already got a taste, didn't you? They can do much worse."
"Why are you being like this?" I was crying again. I could never hold in my tears. "I have a life; I don't want you in it! I won't tell, I promise."
"You will," he called my bluff. "Your life stopped being yours the moment you decided to charge into a fight with three orcs with a pan."
"You can't do this! I have a job, I have school, I have a life--I have my family. You will stop me from doing all of this!"
"No I won't," the man shook his head. "You will introduce me as your close friend. That should explain everything. This is non-negotiable."
"Where are you going to stay? This apartment is too small for both you and your friend," I spat out the word friend and his face darkened. Oops.
"You can't follow me everywhere," I eyed the sword at his hip, looking up at his shadowed face, glued to the ground in my vulnerable position. "I have a hospital placement; I have university classes. All of this--you can't come there with me."
"Right, then I will have your daily schedule and I will have your travel methods and everything."
"You will attract more attention. It won't be me who will oust you, it will be yourself," I was desperately trying to get out of this nightmare. Why couldn't it stop?
"Doesn't matter."
I swallowed. Is there a choice in this matter?
*
Life with two giants in my small apartment was hard. That is not considering the fact that they live, rent-free, under the threat of a painful death. I was too poor to act and in this part of New York, no one will believe that two white men, clearly better off than me, chose to stay with me in my crappy apartment. I was bitter with them because I never got their names to begin with (the tall red head always snarled and growled at me) and they insisted that my bedroom door be open at night. I wasn't sure where exactly they slept. It may have been they slept on the ground, but my bedroom was so small, it only fit one mattress and a nightstand, with some extra space for a small in-wall closet. Hardly anything. My apartment itself was poor. The most expensive thing I owned was a little dining room table with four chairs, one of which was broken. I had no water which was the one thing that got me in trouble in the first place.
I think my greatest set back is having to sleep with the bedroom door open. I usually masturbated before I went to sleep (the only thing that helped me sleep short of sleeping pills, which were dangerous if I only had as little as 4 hours of sleep every night because of schoolwork). So I was stuck in a frustrating state of self-celibacy. I briefly considered just pulling it off in the washroom but after a week of observing their behaviours, I realized that was not possible.
Mainly because they were absolutely attuned to everything. They smelled things that I never thought to smell or never could smell from my apartment. They heard conversations that my neighbors had two conversations down (the only reason I knew was because I once heard the dark haired one mention that said neighbor's workplace woes that my aunt knew about, but he couldn't have known because they avoided coming into view of my neighbors and extended family. It was the only conclusion I could draw. They noticed things and saw things that even I couldn't see, and my vision was perfectly fine. Besides their superior physiological and marital abilities, they knew too much without being told anything. That was scary and uncomfortable. By the end of the week, I was walking on eggshells in my own apartment.
It was incredibly uncomfortable.
The second issue came with the commute. The tall redhead followed me everywhere. He commuted with me on the train, walked with me to school, and basically followed me around. To anyone it seemed like it was a really tall man who hung around a really short woman. I was by no means a short woman. I stood at a nice height of 5'7 (but I was obese), but he was too tall. The man had to be, at the very least, seven feet. He was seven feet of pure muscle and a thunderous disposition. I was lumpy and soft compared to him. So we made an odd, attention-attracting duo. So I wasn't sure why he thought it was ok to follow me around. Wasn't the main idea to not attract attention? When I tried to bring up the point, he dismissed me with a vaguely threatening statement.
It didn't help that he wore black, form-fitting clothes and a black fishing hat, as it was supposed to hide his even more shocking long, red hair. It was so long that it swung around his hips in a high ponytail. He was also ridiculously attractive. What was his definition of fitting in? I just wanted to know. He certainly stood out in my crack-head neighborhood that was riddled with street gangs and low-lives that couldn't hope to ever attract such attention and repel it at the same time. Mainly because of his sizzling aura of pure malice and danger.
"What's your friend's name?" Suzee, a girl in my class I never spoke to before, asked me when I was done asking my professor a question. I turned around and saw that outside of the lecture hall, standing tall and straight, with his bowed legs wide apart, was the red-headed buffoon. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. My class was composed of fifty single women and three men (all of whom were married). He attracted the attention of every single one of them. it would have been flattering to be associated with him if I wasn't under the constant threat of death in his presence.
"Matt," I lied. "He is my brother in-law. He takes me to visit my sister."
"That's nice of him," Suzee said, the disappointment palpable. "That is nice of him to do that."
"Right," I said offhandedly. It really was not. "His work is really close to the college that is why he does that."
I just realized how sketchy it was that my brother in-law dropped me to and from school every time at every convenient hour that I had class. I didn't want to be seen as the woman who stole the man of my non-existent sister. At the same time, I couldn't think of anything else. I know he heard every single word I said.
"Cute hat," Suzee remarked. I was annoyed. Did no one realize that this man was a joke? A fishing hat? Really? That made him even more conspicuous.
"My sister got it for him, he burns easily," that was an easy enough excuse. He had the skin of a porcelain doll underneath all traumatic scars.
"What does he do?" she asked me. I turned to look at 'Matt'. What does a seven-foot man with long red hair, a black fishing hat, and strange facial scars do for a living besides making my life difficult and living rent-free in my personal life?
"I think my sister mentioned that he is an electrician. His practice is somewhere in the area."
"Wow," Suzee cooed, "What a lucky girl, your sister. He is handsome."
"Thanks," I said curtly, finally stuffing the last of my papers, eager to get out of her presence. I never spoke to her before and now she was speaking to me because of a good-looking psycho that follows me. "I'd better go, I'm pretty sure he has an appointment somewhere."
I walked out without waiting for her response, turning away from 'Matt' and walking towards the exist, already knowing that he was following me and looking like a stalker.
"I need to go to work," I said curtly, walking towards the bus station that going to take me to the train. "Don't act suspicious like you always do. The thugs might not be a threat to you, but they are to me."
"I will protect you then," Matt was following me. I glanced around to see if anyone heard this idiot. Who even said things like that in public, or to someone not their immediate close member?
"You can't," I shook my head, "Because I will be inside, and you will be outside. You can't do what you do here in university. The store is small and the people are screwed. You make it harder for me by hanging around me."
"Explain, little woman."
"My name is Priscilla," I snapped. "The men that come into that store are part of a gang. They harass me for sex, but I tell them no. if they see me walking with you, they will take that as an invitation to persist."
Matt was silent.
"Is there no higher authority that can protect you?"
"No," I shook my head. I went over all the rationale multiple times. The store was just close, easy, and paid me 3 dollars above minimum wage for working nights and the hazards of being a plus-size woman in a ghetto community. It couldn't get any better. Not. But still, I was of limited options. Everyone who had a job here held on to it fiercely. My only choice was prostitution. I was not down for that. I only had till June before I graduated and moved on to my NCLEX. "The police here are corrupt, and they work for the gangsters that harrass me. My manager is a stoner and I have nowhere else to work. Please be understanding."
Matt said nothing. I think that meant affirmative.
"Alright, so stay out of the area while I work," I told him getting out of the bus. "Don't follow me. Just stay back and do your thing. Your friend likes to go out and deal with some kind of business. Go with him. I finish at 12."
"Don't give me commands, little woman," Matt groused. His voice was strange. It was deep and baritone. But it also had a silvery lilt to it. Also talks as if he is a drill sergeant. Ew.
"I am giving you advice," I hissed at him. "You clearly have no idea who knows more. You walk around acting as if you are in a movie. No. People are noticing you; you are the tallest person they have ever seen off the NBA games. If you are trying to lay low, you are going about it the wrong way and attracting the attention of gangsters is not the way to do it, Matt."
He didn't correct me on the use of his name. Instead, his jaw clenched, and he turned around, walking the other way. Satisfied that I got my point through, I turned and walked to work.