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Arnie was heading home when he heard it. He’d closed up shop and begun the short walk back to his apartment, but the sound of a fight had interrupted his journey.
He normally wouldn’t interfere, it was none of his business after all, but at least one of the voices shouting sounded a little too young to be out this late in this area. Too many bars and clubs for kids to be hanging around.
When he rounded the corner into the alleyway, he saw four teenagers, maybe about fourteen or fifteen, backed up against a wall by a group of men in leather, patch-covered jackets. Another man stood between them, back to the kids. He was short, but his long, electric blue Mohawk made up some of the height difference. He was also wearing a jacket that bristled with spikes and patches. Unlike the other men and their offensive patches, this man wore rainbows and slogans like ‘down with the cistem’. Arnie approved of his message.
‘And what’re you gonna do about it then, pal?’ sneered one of the arseholes cornering them.
‘Well, pal,’ the man spat back, ‘I’m gonnae punch your fucking lights oot, ain’t I?’
His voice was eerily familiar, for all Arnie was sure he’d never laid eyes on him before.
One of the arseholes spat at the short man, which was the absolute worst thing to do. He howled like a kicked cat and threw himself at the offender, fists swinging.
Arnie was absolutely sure the short man was about to die.
He took advantage of the ensuing chaos to knock one of the arseholes into the wall, making an opening for the kids to get out of the alley. As soon as it was clear he meant them no harm, the kids all went flying past. The trans flag pin one of them was wearing explained why they’d caught the attention of the arseholes.
‘You fuckin’ cunt, I’m gonnae shove yer head so far up yer arse ye’ll get lost up there!’ the short man snarled. His head connected with the man he was currently taking on, a loud crack that left Arnie wincing signalled one arsehole down, knocked out cold. How the short man was still standing, Arnie had no idea.
He sighed, shaking his head as he waded into the fray to drag his feral little shit out of trouble.
...Now, that was a strange thought to have, he mused. He’d never met the man before, and yet here he was, claiming him.
The fight was fairly short, once Arnie added his bulk to the fray. Several of the arseholes broke and ran after Arnie tossed one of them halfway down the alley and the feral one slammed a steel toecap into another’s balls. All that were left were the two lying on the ground, out for the count. The short idiot spat at them and stalked off. Arnie shook his head.
‘Well? Are ye coming wi’ me or not? I’m for a cuppa after aw that nonsense.’
Arnie snorted and followed. A cuppa sounded good after all.
They walked together in silence for a moment or two before the short man turned and sighed. ‘Thanks for helping out,’ he said. ‘The wee yins were gettin’ grief from those idiot transphobes. I wisnae gonnae let them away wi’ it, but I might jist have bit aff more as I could chew.’
‘It’s no a bother,’ Arnie replied, ‘I’ve nae time for anyone that’ll go after kids. No time for transphobes either. My name’s Arnaghad, by the way. Most folks call me Arnie though.’
‘I’m Erland.’
Arnie reached out to shake his hand, a lazy smile on his lips, and just as their hands met, Erland finally met his eyes. A shiver of something rolled through Arnie, and Erland looked at him with something akin to recognition.