Chapter Text
Tryce hauled ass down the metallic corridors. Boards weren't his specialty, so the sharp turns were proving to be a challenge. Osiris not only knew his way around his ride, but to him these cursed labyrinthian halls were a playground.
Cursing himself, Tryce found that he was starting to spot less and less of his runner. A minute ago, he could identify the crimson garb of Devil Theory's leader. All that could be spotted around each corner now was the bush of hair that blew behind him. He was losing ground, but nothing the leader of the BRC couldn't handle. Skirting turns tighter and tighter, he activated boosts as much as he could until it was clear that it was as Red would say, "Ride or die."
A dash of scarlet could be seen once again, giving him the push he needed to continue the chase.
"Why are YOU even involved in this, ‘Tricycle’?!” Osiris shouted, his voice barely traveling to Tryce’s ears. The Bomb Rush member was getting better at the turns, visibly getting closer to his target.
“First off, why does everyone call me that?! At least come up with something more creative!” He called, arm starting to reach out, “And SECOND,” his hand extending out, “I’m just tryin’ to get my damn bike fixed!”
Just as his fingers grazed the back of the Devil, he was taken aback by the sudden brightness that engulfed them from around the corner. To say bright would be an overstatement, as it was still the black of night, but compared to the suffocating void of the shipping container maze, the moonlight became blinding. Only letting it stun him for a moment, Tryce continued the chase, grinding on handrails and pipes down the path of his adversary.
Osiris was heading further below the complex, waves crashing far from their feet, and yet always feeling closer. He would always be ahead being so familiar in these perilous conditions, so in a moment of frustration and hope, Tryce took off his jacket and threw it at the runner. It flew, hitting Osiris squarely in the back and hugging his body just enough to throw him off balance.
Tackling the thug to the ground, Tryce found himself grappling with him for the jar, though this devolved into merely throwing punches for the face.
“Yer doin’ all this to get yer bike fixed?! HAH!” Osiris tried to clock Tryce in the jaw, “Come on, you’re a big guy! You could EASILY take that noodle down!”
“Yeah??? Well, unlike you , I don’t get my pleasure from beatin’ down folks for free stuff!” Tryce rolled, Osiris now on top of him.
“I dunno, isn’t that what you’re doin’ right now???” Osiris pressed his knee into Tryce’s stomach, “But this is different, right? ‘Cause yer doin’ it for a good cause or whatever? Gimme a break!”
Tryce felt the air leave his lungs, he tried to choke out a retort but only got a cough as the Devil member started to slowly gain an upper hand. Osiris pressed his knee in harder, and used his other hand to wallop him in the face, “We’re in a GANG, shitface! You and I are the LEADERS of our gangs! You know what that means, right?” Osiris punched again, “RIGHT?!”
Trying more desperately to fight back, just to get some air at least, Tryce attempted to swing at his enemy’s face. His throws were easily thwarted, and only returned with proper blows to various places. “It means we gotta PROVIDE, ASSHAT! And last I checked, this ain’t some fairytale where the town rewards ya fer savin’ the city or whatever! I feel like if anyone knows that, it’s YOU!”
Everytime darkness would start to creep into his vision, Osiris would ease up enough to let him get some air, only to press down harder the next time. “It’s either use money, or steal! I don’t got money, YOU don’t got money– none of us do!!! We’re all just stupid broke IDIOTS tryin’ our best out here!!!”
Finally, the onslaught of punches stopped, Osiris grabbed both of Tryce’s hands, pinning them to the ground. He pressed his face real close, voice no longer holding the same rage fueled volume, “So stop tryin’ to be the good guy. We’re gang members doin’ what gangs do. So I suggest that you either get with the program, or get off the streets. Helpin’ Coil may work this time, but how you gonna provide for your team next time? Or the next? I say, teach’em a lesson, and teach it quick. There ain’t no way else to do it.”
And with that, the Devil got up and kicked Tryce aside. He picked up the jar that had rolled a few feet away, inspected it for a moment, before shrugging and tossing it over his shoulder carelessly with full care and intention to throw it off the side of the walkway. It fell into the ocean, the mouth of water consuming it whole.
— — —
Coil could hear the shouting as he ran, it was bad bad bad BAD. When he finally caught up, all he could see were 2 dark silhouettes on the metal walkway, both entangled with each other as the one on top yelled. Punch after punch was thrown at the figure below, he recoiled. Hiding behind the closest solid wall, his heart rapping quick in his chest. Again, for the second time this week, Coil heard the sound of fists on flesh from his hiding place. Again, someone else was taking the pain for him. Time passed in slow motion, every bite of vitriolic words spewn from the vile Devil chewing at his mind.
There was no hero that came. Coil didn’t jump in and save the day. He stood there with shaking legs, waiting for the sounds of wheels on metal grating to roll away. A barely audible splash echoed in his ear.
When Coil turned the corner, he spotted the crumpled figure of Tryce laying on the ground, crawling towards the edge. It was here that he finally let his coil spring, as Coil ran to the Bomb Rush member’s side.
“I’m gonna get it–”
“Like hell you are
NOT
.” Coil curtly stopped, pulling Tryce back from the edge. The two stared at the water, its benevolent crashing foam cursing them. A silence passed, only the ocean’s laughter was heard. Coil walked over and gathered Tryce’s jacket from the ground. He brought it to its owner, they exchanged small “thanks” and “you’re welcome”s.
Tryce looked like he had been run over several times by a steamroller, his voice as scratchy as a match to its box, “... I can get it back.”
“No, you can’t. The ocean is far more dangerous than it looks. You’ve already weathered enough. I– I’ll fix your bike. As far as I’m concerned, you… you kept up your end of the bargain well enough.”
Tryce turned his head to look at him, “... Sorry ‘bout you’re–”
“Shut up. Tryce… I’m the one that should be sorry. You’re only in this mess because I couldn’t stand up for myself.” Coil bit back some tears. Here wasn’t the place.
“Somethin’ tells me it’s not entirely your fault. You didn’t ask to get mugged, or whatever happened.”
“No, but I could have done something, Thijs.”
“Yeah, well, I coulda done somethin’ back then too, Matteo.” Tryce looked back with knowing eyes, times far gone blowing back in his mind. “How about we call it even now?”
Coil stared in his pupils, similar memories playing like a record. He couldn’t help but crack a small smile, “I still don’t think we can call it even , but yes I suppose I could lessen my grudge some.”
Between bruised and bloodied faces, the two laughed out their troubles. It was only as they started to head back towards the exit that Tryce finally remembered, “Hey by the way, where’s Red?”
“Red? Your friend? Well, when he and I managed to defeat those goons, he said something about catching up once he finished–”
There was promptly a small explosion from the shipping containers, a small red figure flying through the air laughing all the way.
— — —
A small elderly woman rocked in her chair, barely awake at an hour like this, though it was necessary when she knew her grandson was out. When he entered passed the beaded doorway into their quaint living area, she couldn’t help but sigh. Freshly blooming bruises littered his body, his dried bloody nose drawing her attention to the glasses missing from its perch. “Just like when he was little.” She reminisced.
His eyes remained downcast, crossing one arm over the other. “Nonnina… I tried to get him back, I truly did…”
“Hmph, and where does he sleep now?”
She watched as Matteo’s eyes welled up, “The ocean, Nonna.”
The ocean, huh? She wondered what adventure her boy had set on for it to end there. Her finger beckoned the boy to come. His tearing eyes trickled, but she simply chuckled and wiped his cheeks, “Bah! I say good for him! That bastard always said, ‘A bad day out fishing is better than a good day at work’!”
“N-Nonna!”
“Ssshhhh, I don’t want to hear anymore about it. He wouldn’t have wanted to see you cry, dear. It’s not a good look for you.” She took his hand in hers, playful eyes turning into earnest ones, “You said it yourself, you truly tried to get him back. Now he simply sleeps elsewhere, and there’s nothing we can do. I’m just glad you’re not horribly injured or worse, okay?”
“Sì, Nonna.”
“How about your friends, are they hurt? Can we do anything for them?”
“I– They’re fine. And they’re not my friends.” He replied quickly, standing back up and regaining his composure.
The old woman laughed, “Really? And that wasn’t that Thijs boy’s voice I heard?”
“NO– er, yes– I mean– that man and his comrade were associates in business just like myself and nothing else! ”
Oh how the old woman laughed, she laughed so hard her chest hurt. Her husband may be gone further than he ever had, but the light of her life was still here, right where he needed to be.