Chapter Text
Life is complicated. It comes with many paths, choices and bumps along the way. For some people, like yourself, those bumps are more like gigantic sinkholes that you've unknowingly driven into. It's unexpected, heart wrenching, and life changing. For example, you never expected to find yourself forced to work for a mafia boss against your will, but here you are. You're a prisoner, made to work for a sick-minded, egocentric man who leads the Brotherhood mafia family. Well, using the word "work" might imply that you have a paid job, but no. This is unpaid, forced labour and all because someone figured out what you are and blabbed.
It's a shame, too, since up until that point you'd never been found out.
People like you are often hunted down by the mafia. You make good weapons or threats, especially if you're a human passing half-blood like yourself. You look completely human, completely average, and your magic often reads as a mage's does. The only tell is a mark somewhere on your body, something out of place that screams to the world that you're not entirely human. That in your cells lies DNA that you received from your monster father. Unfortunately, that mark is how you were found out. Someone saw your back, they saw the markings, and they tattled, but he'll pay for what he's done.
They'll all pay.
So, for three years, you've been forced to help an egocentric man-child who throws the most intense tantrums upon hearing the word, no. You've been demeaned, beaten, spit upon, grabbed at, sexually harassed, and generally just treated like you're worth about as much as a pile of dirt. All of this because you were a lowly half-blood, a dirty blooded freak who has both a human parent and a monster parent, but just so happened to take after your human mother. You've been shuffled from safehouse to safehouse, kept in basements with no windows or, if you're lucky, a bedroom with a barred window, but there were always locked doors. Always. There was never any way for you to escape. You were trapped and growing angrier by the day, to the point where you've begun to worry you might lose yourself to your rage someday. It was obvious that you needed to find a way out of this prison, and you were willing to do whatever it took to do so.
Luckily, today seems to be the day the opportunity to do so will be dropped into your lap.
You're currently sitting on the floor, your feet aching from walking on them without shoes for days. You haven't had any for a while. Evidently, shoes for half-blood prisoners were taboo or something, or so it felt like, since it's been months since you've had any. Your clothes were also quite dishevelled and torn, while your hair was a matted, tangled mess that would take time to get fixed. Every part of you screamed with some sort of ache or pain caused by your captors.
The Brotherhood.
One of five mafia Families that rule the city of Ebott. You knew only their organization names and little else about their leaders or higher-ups. Some names have come out in the news from time to time, but not often. See, you're not from Ebott. Sure, you were born here, but when your mother died in childbirth, your father, who is your monster parent, chose to move you to a different city about four hours away. You knew your Dad missed Ebott, that he had friends here, but you didn't and right now you seriously wished you did.
A lower-level initiate of the Brotherhood sat in the room with you. He was currently tapping away on his phone, looking bored. This guy felt no concern over your well-being, nor was he afraid of you. Why would he be while you're stuck in these anti-magic cuffs? Special bracelets that lock onto a monster or half-blood's wrists to disrupt their flow of magic. It makes them incapable of fighting; sometimes, they even remove the ability to speak in certain monsters. You're lucky not to be one of those people, although you bet they wish you were. Regardless, you know you can't go anywhere, not with this guy here. He's meant to guard you, to stop you from ever escaping. Too bad he didn't anticipate the alarm sounding.
It's sharp, loud and harsh in your ears, making you wince. Glancing around, you can see the guy starting to panic. That phone is immediately inside his pocket as he first points at you and snarls.
"Don't you dare fucking move, half-blood!"
Charming.
You don't say a word; you don't even nod, and you just watch as he runs to the door. He yanks it open and grabs the first person who runs by to ask what's going on. From what you can gather from the hurried, garbled speech, they're being raided. Great, looks like you'll be forced to scare whoever has intruded off. Looks like you won't be able to rest your feet for too much longer, or that's what you thought at first, until you manage to catch the name of who is raiding.
"It's the Serif Family man. All hands on deck! Leave the half-freak here, she's useless."
Aw, what a nice sentiment.
You're only useless because it's the Serif Family. They're the only Family of The Five that is comprised solely of monsters. It's not your fault that your monster genes stopped at the halfway point. It's also not your fault that monsters aren't going to be scared of a beaten, sore, and pissy half-blood. It's just not gonna cut it, no matter what they try. The guy who was supposed to be watching you turned and snarled for you to stay put before running out the door. Does he expect you to actually follow that? Yeah, right, as if, especially when you can see that in his haste, he made one fatal mistake.
He forgot the key to your cuffs.
The damned thing is literally sitting on the table close to where the guy had been standing. He'd had it in case of emergencies, but was never supposed to leave something like that lying around. What a moron, but you're not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, you push yourself up onto unsteady, shaky legs. You wince as pain shoots through your feet, but magic is already pumping through your body like adrenaline. It dims the ache in your joints, your feet, even your soul, giving you enough energy to surge forward until, finally, your dry, cracked fingers can wrap around that little metal key.
Excitedly, you work to get your cuffs unlocked, although your hands shake the entire time you do it. Once they're finally off, you rub your wrists and relish in the sensation of your magic surging to life in full, ready to take on any danger. You just had to hope your feet would be strong enough to carry you there. Looking around, you begin to wonder how long it'll be before they manage to figure out that you were able to free yourself. If you had to guess, you'd say they'll realize a lot sooner than you'd like, which means you need to get moving. The important question, though, is where? Sure, you know most of the layout of this warehouse, but that doesn't mean you'll be able to just walk out of here. Someone is bound to try to stop you, but you can't stay here. You'll never survive another year of being degraded, beaten, and forced to fight when all you want is peace. That's all you've ever wanted, but once you've gotten out of here and gotten your revenge, you'll finally get that normal life you've craved for the last three years. However, it's not as if you could hurry away on foot; you'd be recaptured easily. Sure, you could make it through the safehouse with ease just by running, but once you're outside, you need a plan. Your legs will only carry you so far. What you really need is a car, but you bet there's one somewhere outside this stupid warehouse. These ding dongs are frequently leaving cars unlocked outside, so with a little luck, there will be one tonight. You'd just have to make it there, but that's easier said than done. There's gunfire, shouting, and people running around everywhere. Does that stop you, though? Not a chance. You need to leave and leave now. It's unlikely that you'll get this opportunity again. This is your only shot at freedom, so you need to take it.
Willing your feet to move, you first start at a slow jog, but before long, you're running, and you don't stop. Not when someone tries to grab you, not when someone shouts at you, or bullets go past your head. You just continue to round corners, dodge random idiots and jump over injured people if you have to. They'll be seen to after this raid is over; it's not your job to stop and help them right now. You can't stop anyway, not when freedom feels so close. The door to the outside is literally right in front of you at the end of this hallway that you've just turned into. Your heart and soul are pounding, your legs and feet hurt from lack of use, but you ignore them. Nothing stops you from barreling through that door and out into the fresh air.
It's dark out, the nighttime stars are twinkling in the sky, and the moon is high overhead. You hadn't even realized it was already night; that's how skewed your sense of time was from being cooped up in there. However, you don't care what time of day it is. You just care that you're unshackled and free for the first time in three long years. Taking a deep breath of air that didn't come from inside that building tasted so sweet on your tongue. It doesn't matter that it's laced with the scent of machinery, exhaust and a smattering of other smells. It was the best breath of air you've ever experienced in your life, because you're finally free. Well, for now you are. You still have to get away from the building first.
Glancing around, you look for a vehicle that you're still hoping is there. You don't have much time left. The members who saw you running away uncuffed will have likely told someone higher up, and they'll be after you. It disgusts you to say, but you were the Brotherhood Head's prized possession. He'd told you that on numerous occasions, and that's what you were to him. His possession, his toy to do with whatever he wanted, and you were powerless to stop him. You'll show him, though. You'll show all of them. You're not some weak little girl, and they'll regret the day that they ever thought you belonged to them.
Luckily for you, though, today really is your day. As you're scanning around, you do manage to spot one car, your relief insurmountable, and you almost dance, feeling so elated that it finally feels like something is going your way. They won't be able to stop you now. Gleefully, you hurry toward the car, but as you get close, that elation you'd felt starts to slowly dim as you realize with a sinking stomach that it doesn't belong to the Family that kidnapped you. They don't use old model cars like the one in front of you now. This must belong to the Serif Family, which means there's likely a zero chance of a key being left behind. Biting your cheek, you try not to cry. You refuse to do that now, after all this time. There has to be a solution, but it's not as if you know how to hotwire a car, and you doubt they'd just give you a ride if you asked. You're desperate; you need to do something, or you'll be caught again, and you refuse to let that happen. So, you do the only thing you can think of under this kind of pressure.
You hide in the trunk.
Of course, this only works because the morons left the car unlocked. Is that just a mafia standard? Leave the car unlocked so people can just hop in? What an odd thing to do, but as you said earlier, one man's mistake is your good fortune. So, with a pounding heart, burning lungs and aching feet, you first open the front driver's side door, breathing heavily as you pull the button that will pop the trunk. Next, you slam that driver's side door shut before you carefully clamber into the trunk. There's a lot of junk inside of it, bits of metal and other car parts that you have to maneuver around, but you make it work. Double checking that the trunk door has a safety release hatch on the inside, which it does, you grab onto the door and bring it down, plunging you into darkness.
Your heart is pounding in your ears, your magic pulsing in your veins in place of a human's blood. Every breath still comes rather quickly and heavily, so you try to calm your nerves by taking deep breaths. It's sort of difficult, given how the trunk smells so terribly metallic and like oil was spilled in it at one point, but you're not going to complain, not if this works. Thankfully, it turns out you made the right choice by doing your best to calm your racing heart, since you don't have to wait too long for your unknown chauffeurs to arrive.
You hear them before they get in the vehicle. One of them is hooting and hollering as if this were exciting. Psychopath. How is getting shot at exciting? Wait, why are you trying to get into these people's minds? That feels like a bad idea. You can't even really make out what they're saying until they're in the car, though, and slamming doors. Three, you heard three door slams.
"this is why i don't take ya with me on stealth missions, barrel!" A somewhat nasally, yet warm and velvety voice snaps, "this were supposed t'be a quietly done!"
Oof, yeah, they failed there.
"where's th' fun in that, though, gauge?" You're assuming that's Barrel, who also has a nasally quality to his police, but it's raspier than Gauge's, who evidently snapped before. Gauge's was almost kind-sounding despite the annoyance in his tone.
"yer impossible." Gauge growls, but he doesn't sound all that unhappy. Honestly, he almost sounds amused. Guess he wasn't that upset at Barrel with whatever he'd done. "drive scope, we're all in." He adds at the end, and you figure Scope must be the third person. This proves correct when a third voice, a much quieter voice, just says.
"okay." Evidently, this is Scope. He's also a bit nasally, but huskier sounding and much softer in tone. Almost as if they don't like talking.
You hear the car start, the engine revving to life, before you suddenly lurch forward a bit. You manage to catch yourself from falling, so you don't smack into anything, but you're not really paying attention to that as much as you should. You're too focused on the fact that this car is now moving. This car is taking you away, far away from your old life and into your new one. You spent three long, agonizing years of servitude to this giant prick. Now you're free, and you plan on getting back at all the people who hurt you. Why should they get to go on as normal after making you suffer? You refuse to let that be the outcome.
Settling in for the ride, you continue to do your best to avoid the junk that's lying around you. It turns out you'll even get to listen to a drama show, since your unknowing companions for this ride have started bickering. Evidently, Gauge and Barrel are an old married couple by the way they keep sniping at one another. It was entertaining in the beginning, but as time continues to pass by, they start to drive you nuts. We get it, Gauge. Barrel ran in like a maniac when he was supposed to be backup, which forced Scope to run in after him, and it turned into a firefight. We all get it. Can you drop it now? If only you could tell them to shut up already. You will Scope to say something, but not a peep leaves him. Unfortunately, you're on your own. You even cover your ears at one point, which proves to be a mistake.
Wherever you're going, it apparently has you going over speed bumps and the first one you hit has you kicking some of these metal pieces when you're forced to try to catch yourself from falling onto your face, since your hands had been covering your ear. The stupid metal bits clang together horribly and have you freezing as Barrel and Gauge silence in the car. Holding your breath, you pray that they assume it was due to the speed bump. Eventually, the two people started bickering again, so you figured that you're in the clear, and relax.
Oh, how wrong you are.
The moment you feel the car finally start to slow down, a sense of anticipation starts to well up inside you. Finally! Once these clowns get out of the car and leave, you'll open the trunk with the emergency latch, then sneak away. They won't even know that you were there unless they open the trunk before you can sneak away. Wouldn't you know it, though, that fate is a cruel bitch.
You feel the car stop and hear the three people get out of the vehicle. You're doing your best to listen for their retreating footsteps. The problem is they never come. Instead, you end up startled when all of a sudden that trunk door opens, and you're met with three guns in your face. You freeze and take in the three faces now staring at you in disbelief.
They're skeleton monsters.
All three of them are, but that shouldn't be surprising. They're the Serif Family, and they're famously comprised entirely of monsters alone. However, you swear that these three must be related somehow. All three have long, angular skulls with strong square jaws and pronounced cheekbones. That's where the similarities seemed to end, though.
The first guy was tall, but all monsters are. Your father is quite large, too; wherever he is, your soul immediately aches for the familiar sight of your monster father. You wonder where he is and if he's safe. You can't think about that right now, stop it! Focus! You need to focus! Internally shaking your head, you bring your attention to the first guy again, who is standing on the left side of the trunk. This guy stood at about 8'7" and was wearing a black and yellow zip-up hoodie with the hood up over his skull. Underneath that was a simple grey button-up tucked into black slacks. He finished it off with a yellow tie. A small scar ran from his right jaw and up into his cheek. His teeth were pointed and sharp, with his upper canines poking out of his mouth, and braces that seemed to cover the top row of his teeth.
Guy #2, who was in the middle, was even taller, standing at 8'10". He was wearing an orange button-up shirt with the first two buttons undone, which was covered with a grey vest. He wore black slacks that appeared to be held with a brown belt. What looked to be an untied white tie rested around his neck, and gloves adorned his hands. A scar ran from the right of his mouth, through his cheek, then up through his socket, through his brow and ended on his forehead. Gorgeous orange lights burned in his sockets as he watched you in astonishment. His teeth looked average despite the gap tooth, which is admittedly adorable.
Now, the last guy on the right was huge. He was at least 9'1" and wearing a black button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A grey vest covered this shirt and matched the slacks he wore. A yellow tie was secured around his neck, and black fingerless gloves were on his hands. What you can't stop staring at, though, are his canines. Both have been replaced with what you assume is titanium, and they looked quite sharp, which fits in with the rest of his teeth. He also had quite the facial scarring, with one starting from his right canine up through his socket and toward the back of his skull. It even spidered over to his left brow. However, what was most unique was that he appeared to have heterochromia. The light in his right socket was orange, while the light in his left socket was red. Interesting.
All three seemed stunned upon seeing you, but none of them lowered their guns, so you carefully raised your hands to show you had no weapon to harm them with. The tallest guy makes an audible "huh" sound.
"s'a girl."
You recognize that voice. It's raspy, meaning that's probably Barrel.
"astute observation, barrel," The guy with orange eye-lights sighs, but he's smiling. You recognize his voice, too. The warmth to it, the velvety quality, that's Gauge, which means the hooded guy is Scope. Well, at least you can put names to faces now, "who are you?" Gauge asks you, raising a brow.
"No one." You answer quietly, "I just needed a ride."
"in a trunk? Barrel replies, his gun lowering a bit.
"I doubt you'd have given me a ride if I had outright asked." You admit, hands still raised.
These three have no idea what you are. Without the cuffs, you're able to use your special ability again to mask your magic. Well, not mask exactly. It's more illusioned based. You give off the illusion that you are just a simple, normal human woman. It doesn't even change your appearance; it just hides your magic. The only way this breaks is if your magic is suppressed or you bleed, since your "blood" is actually magic, which, of course, means its colour is off. However, there is a downside to this special ability. You can't use your magic for anything else, or the illusion will break, meaning you can't use it to fight or to sus out these three clowns, but after your recent stay with the mafia, you think it's safer that they don't realize you're a half-blood. They're often not the kindest to half-blood, although monsters are usually different. Still, you didn't want to take any chances.
"probably not." Gauge agrees to your previous statement, "we don't usually offer rides t'th' public."
Duh, you know. That's why you didn't ask; you just got in the car. Can they lower those guns now? They can clearly see that you don't have a weapon. You don't even have shoes.
"why'd y'need a ride?"
All attention shifts to Scope, who has asked the million dollar question. He's watching you, with a clear interest written on his face. It's too bad that you also make the other two interested when you suddenly hesitate at that question. All three immediately notice, but how could they not? You were super obvious.
"looks like y'don't want t'answer that question," Gauge muses, "what were ya doin' at a brotherhood base in the first place anyway?"
Yet another million dollar question that you don't want to answer, but you can't just keep ignoring them; they have guns in your face. So you simply say as calmly as you can.
"I was forced to be there."
The three look at each other, and Barrel hums before attempting to clarify. Rather poorly, you might add.
"are ya prostitute or...?"
"No." You reply sharply before any of them can say anything else, "I was never a prostitute nor will I ever be one!"
Barrel's smile grows, "she's feisty, can she stay?"
You hope he's joking.
"she's a person, not a pet." Gauge scolds despite trying not to laugh. They have to be friends, you swear.
"indentured?" Scope mutters again, this time in the form of a question. He's close, but indentured implies there was a contract. You had no such thing. However, it's easier just to agree with him than explain that you were kept and forced to be a weapon for a man with a tiny dick complex.
"Something like that."
"so, we unknowingly kidnapped an indentured servant tryin' t'bail on 'er contract, is that it?" Barrel asks. You shrug.
"Sure."
You can immediately see that Gauge isn't buying it. He has this look about him that clearly shows that he realizes there are more pieces at play here. It's a twitch of the brow, the tightness of his grin and the way he almost hesitates with his gun. Evidently, he's more shrewd than you'd given him credit for,
"we should take 'er ta a.k.," He announces in a soft tone.
Scope hums while your heart literally drops into your stomach, especially since you recognize that name. You've heard it on the News before, even though you didn't grow up in Ebott, but a city a few hours away. He's one of the Serif Family leaders. Despite not living in Ebott, you do know a little about each of the five Mafia Families, and the one thing you know about the Serif Family is that it has multiple Heads, unlike the others, which each have one. Unfortunately, that means that it looks like they won't just let you go, will they? Ugh, you don't understand why they can't just let you leave! It's not as if you've stolen anything or have anything they want. You just stowed away, that's all and wouldn't keeping you be more of a liability if the Brotherhood comes looking for you?
"out." Scope mutters and Gauge sighs, then rubs his forehead with his free hand. Something tells you he might be a bit tired... or stressed, or you're completely off the mark because you don't know this guy at all. However, you're starting to feel a tiny bit of hope that maybe it'll be too much effort for them to keep you around.
"who's home, then?" He redirects. Scope answers promptly.
"ammo, arsenal, auto."
"let's take 'er t'ammo then." Gauge decides. These are some seriously interesting names, but that doesn't mean you want to meet this Ammo character. That's a name you don't recognize at all, and you don't like the unknown, especially after your recent encounter with the Mafia. Barrel snickers loudly.
"what? don't wanna go say hi t'arsenal, gauge?"
"not particularly, why do you?" Gauge snorts quietly while Barrel holsters his gun even as the other two leave theirs on you.
"nope, i'd rather see my brother." Barrel replies with a smirk as he holds out a hand to you, "c'mon sweet thing, yer comin' with us."
"Do I get a say?" You find yourself foolishly asking. Barrel shakes his head.
"nope, sorry."
Yeah, he's not sorry at all. However, they've left you no choice, and you'd rather live than die. You've come too far for it to end now, just because you didn't want to leave a trunk. It's not as if you have that much pride that you'd deny that they've won this one. So, you reluctantly reach out and take Barrel's hand despite the dread forming in the pit of your stomach. This wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to get away, supposed to restart your life. Why did you have to get caught? Feeling miserable, you allow the large monster to help you climb out of the trunk and onto your sore feet.
Standing in front of the three monsters now, you feel incredibly tiny, even though your Father did impart some of his height unto you, his half-blood daughter. Nothing crazy, you're still human-sized, but these guys just feel like something else. Somehow they're even larger now that you're not in the trunk. How does that work? You're starting to feel like you've made the right decision by going along with them. Even if you had unmasked yourself, you doubt you could've taken all three of these guys on by yourself, since, despite having your magic suppressed by your choice, you can still feel their magic trying to investigate you. They're powerful. Very powerful. You wouldn't stand a chance against one of them, let alone all three. Your best chance of getting out of this is to just follow along for now and play dumb. Maybe they'll just let you go after they have you meet this Ammo guy, who knows?
Fortunately for you, that's not how it goes at all, although you might not see it that way at first.
The three skeletons lead you into what has to be the most gigantic house you've ever seen. You hadn't been able to see it from the trunk, but the second they made you turn to go toward the house, you almost stopped in disbelief. This isn't a house, it's a damned mansion. You could fit a city inside this building, you swear. The Brotherhood don't have anything like this, not that you'd seen, although that might be because you were always kept in dingy, shitty locations. Thankfully, your awe doesn't get you shot, as you catch yourself at the last minute and keep walking.
The inside is even nicer than the outside. You can't help but look around at the modern Victorian-style decor and the general ambiance of the place. It all looks so fancy that you feel as if even one of the throw pillows you see when you pass by what looks to be a lounge area is more money than you've ever even owned in the entirety of your life. These people obviously want for nothing, and a small part of you almost feels envious of all of these people who live here. However, that gets stomped out when you suddenly remember who you're dealing with. Honestly, they're probably all super entitled, every last one of them.
You do your best to remember the entire way to where you end up. If you need to make a quick getaway, you'll need to remember every turn and every door you go through, but hopefully that won't be necessary. It's better to be prepared than underprepared, though. Eventually, you end up at a rather ornate set of double doors, but looking around, there are multiple sets of these fancy doors. Each one has a nameplate, and the one you're standing in front of reads "Ammo Gaster". Guess this is who you're looking for, and your stomach drops once again as you recognize that last name. You're pretty sure that the A.K. person had the last name Gaster, too. Are they related? Is this another Head? If that's the case, the last thing you want to do is meet Ammo, but since Gauge is knocking on the door now, you won't have much choice, will you?
A rather smoky yet silky voice calls back through the door that it's open. Damn, whoever that is, they have a nice sounding voice... and is wearing a ridiculous sweater. Where did he get that?
Upon hearing the command to enter, Barrel had opened the door to reveal the person with the admittedly nice voice. He's tall like all monsters, standing at maybe 8'1". He had an oval skull with the same strong jaw as these three, but his cheekbones weren't as pronounced. Like Barrel, he had heterochromia; the right eye was that lovely orange, while the left was red, but unlike Barrel, his left socket appeared to be a bit lazy, the... lid, you suppose, drooping down to cover a portion of his red eye-light. Perhaps it was caused by the scarring that ran up from that socket, but maybe not, since his right socket also had scarring running down from it, and it seemed perfectly fine. The guy even had a scar going from the top of his skull to about mid-forehead on his right side. His teeth are sharp and pointed, which he's happy to show off with his smile. However, the real show is the sweater. This guy clearly had on a black button-up shirt and a red tie, but he's covered them with this sweater with the wildest, most intricate pattern. Honestly, despite how silly it looks, it seems like it's comfy.
This must be Ammo, and for some reason, you swear you've seen him somewhere before.
His eye-lights snap right to you the second you enter, pausing your contemplation on where you might have seen him before, and watch as his brow raises, "Now, what have you brought me here, little brother?" Ammo asks calmly, and boy, if you thought his voice sounded nice outside the door, it's much better in person.
"she stowed away in our car." Barrel explains to the person who must be his older brother, seeing as Ammo used the term little to address him, "she was workin' fer th' brotherhood an' ran away."
"Did she now?" Ammo starts to move toward your little group, and you immediately notice the very obvious and pronounced limp he has. He's not fully bending his right leg, making you believe that's the one that's bothering him. "And why did you do that, young lady?"
You blink, not expecting him to just ask why you ran away. Is this a trick question? Watching him carefully, though, he doesn't seem to be attempting to do anything other than get the truth. Well, you hope that's the case, or you're about to make a huge mistake by answering him.
"I didn't want to be there." You murmur, "I never wanted to be there."
Ammo tilts his head, "Indentured servant or...?"
"Or?"
"Chattel?" Ammo tried next. You shift your weight from foot to foot, trying to find a comfortable position. They really are sore, and you're surprised they haven't started bleeding yet, but you guess that's lucky for you, or your cover would be blown. The tall monster in front of you notices, his eye-lights dropping to your feet for a second before snapping back to your face, "Your feet hurt." He states matter-of-factly. You nod.
"Yes."
"Do you wish to sit down?"
You shake your head, "No."
Ammo nods, "Very well." He then studies your face for a moment before drawing in a deep breath through his nose... although he doesn't seem to have one. How does that work? He then stands a bit straighter, wincing a bit and shifting his weight off his right leg onto his left. Definitely his right leg that's injured. "It seems we are in a bit of a unique position." Ammo crosses his arms, continuing to watch you, "The Brotherhood may assume we took you on purpose and see it as a slight. Normally, the suggestion would be to return you, but it does not feel right to return someone to a situation like that." You start to get your hopes up a little bit, even standing straighter yourself, hearing him say that. Are they going to let you go then? "But it would also be a bad idea for us to let you just be on your merry way. If the Brotherhood comes looking for you, they may find out that we are the ones who took you in the first place, even if by accident."
"I wouldn't tell anyone." You promise him immediately, "I just want to leave." You admit, hoping your honesty might win you some points, "I have business to take care of."
"Do you?" Ammo raises a brow again, "What sort of business?"
You're keenly aware that the three skeletons behind you are also keenly listening in now. They want to know just as much as Ammo does; they're just letting this guy take the lead, whoever he is. You know the Serif Family has multiple Heads, but you can never remember all their names. Observing the way, Gauge, Barrel and Scope are deferring to his judgments, you're going to assume Ammo must be one, especially with a last name like Gaster. Maybe he can make decisions without alerting the others, so if you just tell him what's going on, he'll agree to let you leave. It's worth a shot, and at this point, what do you have to lose? You're desperate to get out of here.
"I want to find my father." You confess, albeit reluctantly, shifting your feet again, "But first, I'm going to make Zayne Crawford and his stupid Brotherhood pay for ever thinking I was their property." You growl lowly, Ammo tilting his head again, "He's going to wish he'd never taken me from my home, he's going to regret every time he hurt me, every time he mocked me, every time he laughed in my face." Your voice is rising without you realizing as you snarl out your last words, "I'm going to make him suffer just like he made me suffer every day for the last three goddamn years!"
When you've finished, you're huffing, your anger seething inside your chest as you think of the man who had made it his mission to make the last three years of your life as miserable as he possibly could. What you wouldn't give to have him in front of you right now so you could smash his stupid face into the lovely hardwood flooring beneath your feet. Ammo barely reacts to your fury, though. He just calmly listened, but Barrel, behind you, evidently feels the need to make a comment, which ends up being his mistake. He leans in toward Gauge and whispers.
"are we sure we can't keep 'er? she seems fun."
"I'm not your property!" You whirl on him and scream, Barrel actually taking a step back, his sockets widening, "I'm not anyone's fucking property! You don't get to just keep me!"
A hand lands on your shoulder and you instinctively shrug it off, stepping away from whoever it was to find it's Ammo. There's not an ounce of fear in your heart, any sort of anxiety smothered by your rage, but thankfully, Ammo doesn't seem upset by you shrugging him off. He still has his hand extended, but calmly retracts it, realizing he made an error by touching you. The skeleton keeps his distance this time and instead nods toward his younger brother.
"My brother is joking. It was a poor joke, but he meant no harm, I promise. I hope you can forgive him."
"I'm not property." You huff, "I refuse to be property ever again! If that's what this is, then just shoot me because I'm not doing it!"
Ammo chuckles, the sound pleasant on your ears, "Actually, I was thinking a trade might be better."
The fire in your chest starts to dim, hearing him say that. "...A trade?"
Ammo nods, "If you agree to stay here with us, maybe even work with us, paid of course," He adds quickly, seeing your expression darken, "Then we will help you reach Zayne Crawford and take care of this business you have with him. How does that sound?"
"ammo, y'can't make that promise, not without talkin' t'th' others." Gauge points out, but Ammo waves him off.
"Oh, a small decision like this does not need everyone's attention. I am enough."
Gauge looks instantly uncomfortable, but doesn't seem to have a response to refute Ammo, but you do see him give Scope a look. The shorter skeleton says nothing; instead, he just nods and walks away. Where the hell is he going? Did Gauge just communicate telepathically? Is that a thing? You've never heard of a skeleton monster having that type of ability before. Ammo chuckles again, drawing your attention.
"I would take my deal, young lady, before Scope returns with Arsenal or Auto." He's got this cheeky little smirk as he holds out his hand to you, "Do we have a deal?"
You hesitate to take it, looking him in the eye, "...I won't be property?"
"Not at all." Ammo reassures, "An employee, paid and with a proper contract."
"You'll help me kill Zayne Crawford?"
"Yes."
"And find my father?" You add on, hoping that wouldn't be a deal breaker, but Ammo just nods like it's nothing.
"Of course, that is not a problem. I am sure Flash could find him quickly."
You can hear Gauge click his tongue behind you, but he doesn't say anything, nor do you look at him. You're too focused on Ammo in front of you, his hand outstretched and waiting for yours. His deal is a good one if a bit unsavoury. It's not as if you want to keep working for the Mafia, but even you realize that you're only one person. Getting to Zayne by yourself would be nearly impossible. These guys have resources that you don't have; this house is proof enough of that as it is. They have the manpower to take on the Brotherhood. Plus, you wouldn't be property, you'd be paid and have respect, or at least you hope you would. Ammo even promised to help you find your father. It's been three years, and you don't know if he's still living in the house you grew up in. For all you know, he could've moved. You already know his phone number has changed since the one time when you'd managed to sneak a phone to call him, you'd gotten a message that the number was disconnected. You're not sure why his phone was disconnected, but you know it's not because he isn't looking for you. He is, without a shadow of a doubt, searching for you, but that could mean he's moved on, and you'll need help locating him. Ammo is offering that. You wouldn't even know how to start your search for Zayne on your own, or how to find your father. It's true that you don't particularly like the idea of working for the Serif Family, but other than that, there seems to be little downside to this deal, especially since you have zero qualms about selling your soul to the devil to get your revenge.
Mind made up, you stride toward Ammo and place your hand into his, watching his grin grow as you shake his hand.
"You have a deal." You tell him.
"And what deal would that be?"
Startled by the new voice, you glance toward the door to find someone who looks an awful lot like Ammo and honestly feels just as familiar. Why do these two look so familiar? They have the same skull shape, the same jaw, even the same lazy socket, and the same height. The only difference was that his eye-lights were purple, and his scars ran up toward the top of his skull from each socket. He was wearing a purple button-up shirt with the top button undone and a black vest. He looks insanely bored and like all of this was beneath him as his eye-lights darted between you and Ammo.
"Who is this?" He sighs, crossing his arms and jutting his skull toward you.
"Oh, I did not get your name, did I?" Ammo laughs, while Auto rolls his eye-lights, hearing that. Ammo lets go of your hand. "That was silly of me. What is your name, young lady?"
"You made a deal with a random girl whose name you don't even know." The new guy grumbles, closing his sockets and pinching the bridge of where his nose would be if he had one, "Why am I still surprised by your idiocy? Arsenal is going to be so annoying, I hope you understand that, and I hope you know that I am not going to sit around while he bitches because you were an absolute moron."
"Oh, it will be fine, Auto, calm yourself." Ammo soothes, appearing to take this way too lightly. He refocuses on you while Auto just scoffs from the doorway, "Your name, young lady?"
You glance between the two men, figuring that if you're going to be in business with them, you probably should tell them your name. So, with a strong, clear voice, you answer Ammo's question.
"Piper. My name is Piper."