2035
Fuck! Just breathing hurt. He had to take shallow breaths and everything just so he didn't pass out. Cocksuckers had jumped him. He gave as good as he got. Northsiders knew who he was. But he wasn't Superman.
Felt like a few knuckles- hell, maybe a few fingers- were broken. His left eye was definitely hard to see out of. Lip split in a few places too. And his ribs? Yeah. At least a fracture or two, if not more.
Not to mention the bruises in his shins and thighs, chest and arms. The taste of blood was still on his tongue. Not just his own blood.
He smiled at that. Bitches. Igor would miss that chunk of ear
But, fuck, walking home was rough. He stood straight. He was sure any number of those pricks might have been waiting. Hint of weakness was all they needed. So standing tall was important.
Not that the rebar clutched in his hand didn't have something to do with it either. That stuff was near deadly. Break a bone. Crack a skull. Rip your skin or muscle away. Stab you in the gut. "Rebar" was a dumb name. The "fuck you up bar" was more like it.
All show, of course. His right hand was fractured somewhere. One swing and it would probably fly away. But as long as they didn't know....
And of course. Please, Holy Mother. No one of the crew was around. His apartment was a couple blocks away. But he was too hurt to consider it.
He sat on a stoop. Just to get his breath. Ma would freak out. She always freaked out. He was 17. Shit happened. He'd live.
A noise caught his attention. He looked up- only one eye working, sadly- and saw a vision of beauty. Despite himself, he smiled. "Well well. Didn't know we had angels around here." Ok. The smile hurt. Maybe there was a trickle of blood too. But she was cute. You always smile at the cute girls. Even if they are older than you.
Especially if they are older than you. Heh. He'd write that one down. Sounded deep.