King

Preface- Little things

The crisp cool air clung to everything this evening, pushing away any of the remaining heat that the sun was leaving behind as it sunk below the horizon. The typical sounds of London echoed, the honking of horns, the rev of engines, the drunken giggles and the bass of the club down the road escaping from the back door as it was pushed open. But it was calm, it was easy, and in a way it was the exact opposite of welcoming. It was calmer than it should have been, and that's when trouble usually stirs.

A young man, early twenties, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes walked down an alley, brushing past a few much larger men who stood in a circle as they spoke. They paid him no mind as he passed, unbeknownst to them, slipping two fingers into one of their back pockets, slipping a thick wad of cash out. He continued sauntering down the alley, eyes closed, breath held, as if any of it would stop them from realizing that they had just been stolen from. He exhaled when he reached the end of the alley, bright blue eyes fluttering open in relief, a small, pleased grin flitting onto his lips.

Then a large, strong hand clamped over his shoulder, roughly tugging him back into the alley, pinning his back against the hard brick wall of the building as he grunted. "You little shit." The one he had stolen from growled, his face turned up into a scowl. The light of the setting sun caught his eyebrow ring as it made its final descent, causing it to glint for a few more seconds before it dulled again as the sun slipped completely under the horizon. The lad swallowed, eyes wide and icy blue with fear, face crumpling in pain when one of the other men- a man with sleeves of tattoos, a sneer on his lips- punched him in the side. "Did you think you would just slither away?" The first prompts, not waiting for an answer before hitting the lad in the gut, causing him to let out a pained wheeze as he wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach.

The last man snatched the stack of money from his hand, punching him in the face next before handing the money back over to the first man, the leader it seemed. The blue eyed lad grunted, head snapping to the side with the force of the hit, trying to cover his face and his abdomen as the trio began to hit him, with no rhythm or pattern, just blind fists thrown in his direction. The longer it went on, the lower he sunk, curling in on himself, but it did him no good as now he was being kicked. Hard, steel toed boots bruising his skin, and he's sure he'll have some broken bones as well. The lad knew it was risky, stealing from someone quite obviously a drug dealer, although they couldn't be that high end as they looked as much like criminals as they acted. The lad's blue eyes squeezed shut, his head spinning, black dots dancing under his eyelids, pain ebbing him into unconsciousness.

And soon, he was out like a light.