The Man

"Tap, tap, tap." The sound of footsteps crossing through puddles resounded through the alleyway, a young boy, who could be no older than 16 was running with all of his might.

"Stop him!" A loud, and rough voice called out from behind him, along with what sounded like a stampede of bulls.

The boy turned a corner, but was startled to find that there was a tall, round bellied man standing in front of him with a rusty blade in hand.

"You thought that you could get away?" The Fat Man said with disdain clear in his voice.

"I swear! I didn't know who the pouch belonged to!" The boy cried out in despair, his eyes narrowing to pins.

"Plop!" The boy fell to the cobblestone floor, but did not seem to notice, as he was to enthralled with the terrible situation that was unraveling. All because he had made one mistake, and pick pocketed the wrong persons wallet. He had been doing so for years, and thought that he could differentiate between important and unimportant people, but it just so happened that the Goddess of Luck was not with him this day.

"Hehe, it's not our fault boy, blame no one but yourself." The Fat man said as he stepped forward, bringing his rusty blade closer to the boys face.

"Wait! I just did it to feed my family!" The hairs on the back of the boys neck where now standing straight, like those on a scared cats, almost as tall as the biggest building in this old city.

The Boys words had no effect on the mans twisted facial expression, as he continued to bring the blade to the boys face.

"Wait." A cold voice sounded from the entrance of the ally, as a tall, well built man stepped into the alley. His black hair neatly styled, as he wore the robes made of nothing more than cotton. Who would guess that this man dressed as the average field worker, was actually a notorious crime boss in the city? Even renowned throughout the other local Towns and Cities.

The boy quickly got on his knees, and pressed his forehead into the ground repeatedly, until blood flowed from his head like the River Styx.

The man looked at the blond haired boy that was kowtowing on the ground in front of him. His eyes not fluctuating a bit, as if this was meant to be.

"Raise your head." The Man's cold voice once again rang out with a command. The boy hesitated for a second, before slowly lifting his head. Some of the men around grimaced as they saw the boys face once again. A long scar ran from his forehead down past his eye and finally ending below his bottom lip. Somehow it appeared the boy was able to preserve both of his blue eyes, as they looked like a beautiful pond, that one would want to stare into for hours on end.

The Boy could finally get a good look at the man that he had taken the pouch from. The man was tall, around 6 pous tall. (1 pous = 12.13 inches).

In his average robes, he looked down upon The Boy. He stared at him with cold eyes for what seemed like years, in a cold icy hell for The Boy, before he finally spoke.

"What is your name boy?"

The Boy, like a frightened cat, once again raised his head his lips quivered before he finally let out a high pitched squeak like a mouse,

"I do not have one, sir."

This was the truth, the boy had no family, besides his sick sister, he was homeless and was without family. He struggled for years on the streets, learning from previous mistakes, but it seemed that he would not be able to learn anymore.

The Man made eye contact with The Boy's blue eyes, trying to decipher whether the child was telling the truth, or if it was just another deceitful tactic that he had learned on the streets.

After a few moments of looking at The Boy, The Man looked at the Fat Bellied Man. The Fat Bellied Man caught the glance, and backed away from the boy.

"You are now Athan. Follow me."

The man ordered as he turned around, and walked out of the cold, dark alley. Athan, stayed on the ground until the Fat Bellied Man gave him a cold slap to the nape.

"You heard'em boy, get the fuck up!"

Athan no longer hesitated as he stood, and with his head down followed after the man. The second he stepped into the hot sunlight, the resounding noise of pedestrians going about their day hit Athan's ears.

Athan and the group of men continued walking along the streets, taking turn after turn. After what seemed like ages, and the sun already setting below the horizon, they finally arrived at a large manor, that was surrounded by metal fence and a fate 12 pous tall.

The huge manor had four towering pillars holding up the roof, and a large dark wood door that was polished until you could see your own reflection in the mirror.

The Man walked up to the door, and proceeded to do a rhythmic knock on the door, which consisted of a hard knock, a pause, two light knocks, and then one more hard knock.

"Clank!" The sound of a lock turning was heard by the group of men, as the door turned ajar. The Man and his goons walked inside, Athan's hesitated for a moment, before one of the goons gave him a shove on the shoulder signaling for him to walk inside.

The second Athan's stepped inside his jaw dropped from disbelief, there was a fireplace burning warm, a long bear rug that laid upon the floor, with white marble floors and walls. Athan had never seen such a display of wealth, he had always been living on the streets, and he had suddenly stepped into one of the best manors in the city.

The Man walked over to a leather chair that was situated in the corner of the room.

"Come, kneel."

Athan had no choice but to oblige, he walked over with unsteady steps and kneeled before The Man. His head facing the floor, and cold sweat trickling down his back.