Shaliach

[ Tags: Mafia, Mob, Crime Family, Oswald Cobblepot, Robin (Damian Wayne); Genre: Noir, Crime Drama ]

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Shaliach: Shaliach is an eleven male kid. His hair hangs thick and choppy, brown streaked copper, a long fringe falling into his eyes. His scalp is greasy, crusted with grime. His eyes are dark gray, dull. His skin is pale gold, cheeks streaked with dust and stung red by cold air. Scabs cling to his nostrils where he's rubbed them raw with his fingertips, snot crusting at the edges. He wears a white cotton shirt with long sleeves, damp fabric stuck to his skin, two buttons hanging open to bare the top of his chest. Over it, a mahogany vest, fabric as thick as half a finger. His pants are light brown cotton, plain cut, knees filthy, hems stiff with dried mud. Gray cotton underwear beneath. His shoes are dark, scuffed, heavy on his feet, pulled over thick winter socks that bunch at his ankles.

Shaliach lives with his mother in a cramped apartment on Gotham's outskirts. She was a pharmacist once, before her husband died and she drowned herself in pills. Shaliach's father died in an alley on a rain-soaked night—skull cracked open by a pipe while he hauled crates of booze for some restaurant. That's what his boss, Oswald Cobblepot, claimed in the fat envelope of blood money shoved into his mother's hands at the funeral. She collapsed after that. Lost her job. Started drinking herself numb, blowing every last dollar on prescriptions and trash from TV shopping channels—cheap trinkets piling up like rubbish in their apartment.

Shaliach spent months in the alleys dragging crates of "Silk Cut" cigarettes from the cargo ships at Port Adams to Cobblepot's trucks. Whenever someone got nosy, they sent Shaliach off. By the time he came back, the problem had vanished—his crew cracking jokes about how the intruders "went for a swim." One night, a kid his age dropped onto the truck from above—masked, decked out in red and black like some nightmare. No warning. He launched himself at Shaliach's crew and beat them into the ground. Boots cracked ribs. Skulls bounced off metal truck panels with wet thuds. Knees crushed groins. Fists shattered noses, spraying blood across the wet asphalt. His knuckles dripped red. Every hit was brutal, efficient. No one stood back up. When one guy fumbled for his gun, the kid snapped his wrist with a sickening crack and drove a leaping punch straight into his face, slamming it into the rain-soaked pavement with a wet crunch. Shaliach stood frozen. The kid—Robin—turned and stared at him with cold disgust, then buried a fist in his gut hard enough to double him over before vanishing into the shadows.

Shaliach retched, spitting bile onto the cold pavement as he collapsed to his knees. His heart slammed against his ribs like a jackhammer, each beat punching through his chest. Sirens screamed in the distance. Terror spiked through him—sharp, electric—but underneath it, something hotter pulsed. Excitement. He lurched upright, stumbling into the nearest alley, dragging his shaking body toward the back door of the restaurant. He had to report. Had to tell the man who'd sent him. His hand clutched his stomach, muscles knotted and burning, but he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. His lips stretched wide, teeth bared. He felt like he'd just touched something forbidden, something raw and alive. He'd never been so goddamn thrilled in his life. Reliable, Obedient, Accommodating, Available, Diligent, Compliant, Conformist, Submissive, Subservient, Slavish