Chapter Text
"The Heir"
Everyone knew the mafia was in control of the city. True, there were law enforcement officers and business owners that operated independent from the mafia, but everyone knew who was truly in charge.
There were rumors in the street of a newly ascended member of the elitist group known as The Blades of Marmora, or The Blades. He was supposedly the grandson of the current leader and his sole heir, which made him a valuable member of the group.
It also made him a target for rogues who wished to either do harm to The Blades or The Heir himself. However, these attempts ended poorly for the poor saps who crossed The Blades. Even though The Heir was well guarded (usually), he was also well trained and always had multiple weapons on his person. Once word got out about the results of the attempted kidnappings, The Heir was soon known to be the most dangerous member of The Blades.
Even knowing all of this, Lance wasn't nervous about living in such a place. He constantly walked to the convenience store near his apartment to go to work. However, for the past two weeks he had had the feeling that he was being watched, but he could never see who it was.
He shuddered as he entered the little store, smiling lightly at his fellow cashier, a boy with long brown hair that was kept back in a ponytail. "Hey, Matt."
"Hey, Lance. Still being watched by your ninja?"
"Yeah." Lance had confessed to Matt about his feeling about being watched, and Matt surmised that it was one of The Blades, whom he likened to ninjas.
"Well, here's hoping to a quiet night." Matt raised his closed bottle of water for a toast. Lance copied his motions, and each boy took a drink.
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Lance was glad his shift had truly been a quiet one as he had gotten time to do some college work. He was almost done with his term paper, but he could work on it tomorrow on his day off from work. He was walking back to his apartment when he was suddenly surrounded by several, scarred, and much larger men.
"What do we have here, boys? A plaything, perhaps? He's pretty enough to be one," the largest one, who seemed to be the leader, taunted.
"Maybe he'll last long enough for all of us."
Lance knew what they were talking about, and he also knew he couldn't fight all of them and win.
"Don't you lay a finger on him," an icy voice broke in. "He belongs to me."
"Who says we can't share?" the leader asked, mockingly.
A young man in his early twenties dressed in dark blue with a matching cape stepped forward. He yanked his hood off, exposing his shoulder length black hair and striking purple eyes. "I do."
"Oh, $#!+. It's him! It's The Heir!"
"Let's go!" the leader called out, and the group took off in several different directions.
However, The Heir didn't give chase. Instead, he turned to face the brunette he just saved. He had been watching him for a couple of weeks after having seen him at a bazaar a week before that.
"Are you all right?"
"Are you going to..." Lance couldn't even bring himself to finish his question.
The Heir's eyes widened in horror. "No! Of course not! My name's Keith, heir to The Blades of Marmora, and you are safe now."
Keith extended a hand in Lance's direction in greeting, and, once Lance had grasped his hand, he truly believed the other's words.
Fin