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Chip idly sat by, waiting for Reuben to come back to the base. He said he was acquiring some food for the two of them, (and Chip, of course, knew that “acquiring” meant stealing, threatening someone at knifepoint, but it wasn’t like he could judge. Food was food, after all, and Chip was hungry) and that he’d be back shortly. Chip carefully pulled out his knife out of his boot, beginning to sharpen it without thought against a rock. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. The sight of blood wasn’t something he was fond of, the iron scent burned into his nostrils. His head perked up when he heard the door creak open, sliding his knife back into his boot and standing up.
Rueben turned on his heel, gaze focused on Chip, a brown bag with who knew what in his hand. “Chip! I got us some food.” He said, beckoning for his brother to come closer, which he did—not unlike an obedient dog. Reuben let the bag open up, reaching inside and taking out a piece of bread. He broke it in half, giving the smaller half to Chip. It’s not like he would ever be caught complaining, though. He was grateful, and he didn’t want his brother to think otherwise. Chip nibbled at the bread absentmindedly in silence. “Chip,” Reuben started. Chip immediately stopped eating. “I think it’s about time you acquired some food for us, yeah?” Chip nodded, looking down at his stale bread. “Hey. Look at me.” Reuben commanded. Chip’s gaze immediately transfixed on Reuben’s, and he straightened his back a little.
Reuben motioned with the bread in his hand, occasionally taking bites from it, “Listen, Chip, you need to pull your weight, yeah? I love you, you’re my little brother, but I can’t take care of you forever, right?” Chip nodded, struggling a little to not stare down at the cold stone ground. “So, like I said, tonight—get some food for you and me. I always get scraps for the rest of the gang, but you don’t need to do that, okay?” Reuben said. Chip nodded. “Fuckin’— SAY yes, Chip.”
“Yes, Rueben. I, um, understand.” Reuben popped the rest of his bread in his mouth. “Don’t stutter. It’s not particularly… threatening, let’s say. Who’s going to be scared of a weak-willed puppy?” He said, dusting off his hands. “Nobody.” Chip mumbled.
“Do you think mumbling is ANY better, Chip? Because it isn’t.” Chip looked down at the floor, nibbling at the rest of his bread. Somehow, it felt as if it’d gotten staler from Reuben’s scolding. “I won’t mumble anymore.” Chip stated, looking back up at Reuben, who proceeded to reach over and give him a tousle of his hair. “Good boy.” He praised.
Chip smiled brightly. “Now, I’ve got some business to attend to. All I want for you is to have enough food for the two of us by sundown, alright?” Rueben stated, standing up and glancing down at Chip. “Can you do that?” Chip nodded. “I can, Rueben.” Reuben grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll see you later.” And with that, his brother was gone. Chip let out a small sigh. He pulled out the dagger, gazing into his own reflection. He didn’t really want to. But he had to. He just really hoped he wouldn’t have to use the thing—he was sure he was small enough that he could just sneakily steal a few things off people. It was the one thing he was good at. He’d helped Reuben once or twice by scampering into a cramped area to yoink them some goods. And he’d stolen things off people with his brother’s help—how hard could it be without it?
***
Much harder than he’d anticipated, apparently. Most people didn’t just have their food clipped onto their belt or anything substantial tucked into their pockets, which was Chip’s specialty—pickpocketing. Sitting against a dingy alleyway’s wall (well, he supposed ALL alleyways were dingy, but that’s besides the point), he brainstormed. Since food was hard to steal off of someone’s person—why couldn’t he just steal money? That way he could just buy food. Though, he realized how easily that plan could go south. Any reasonable storeowner would put together that a dirty street kid wouldn’t have that kind of money without stealing it, and he’d get reported. If that happened, Reuben would be pissed. Chip didn’t want to be around for that.
So, he was back to the drawing board. He figured he was pretty quick—probably quick enough to run past someone and steal their grub right out of their hands. He glanced down at his boot.
He didn’t want to use it, but if it came down to it, he knew he’d have to. He pulled the dagger out, tucking it in his waistband. That way, it’d be more easily accessible. Peeking out from behind a corner, he scanned for targets. He needed someone who looked like they wouldn’t fight back, someone who looked like they couldn’t run very fast. Glancing around, he saw the perfect victim. A hobbling older man with a bag by his side—Chip recognized the bag as one that a nearby restaurant gave out. Reuben had taken home that kind of bag before.
So, Chip steadied himself, and sprinted. His vision fixed on the man, he reached out and deftly swooped it out of the man’s grasp, and Chip didn’t look back as he darted rapidly into a alleyway and behind a corner. Looking into the bag, he grinned. He’d hit the jackpot!
Two fully made sandwiches. Neither of them having a single bite taken out of them. Chip grinned, closing the bag. He stealthy walked all the way back to the abandoned warehouse he’d learned to call home, slipping in quickly. The sun was just about to set, the sky beginning to turn that gorgeous orange hue.
He was surprised to see Rueben already there. Usually he reappeared with the cloak of night. “Reuben! I struck gold, I got us two fu-“ Reuben held up a hand. “How’d you get it, Chip?” He asked. Chip cocked his head to the side confusedly, but complied nonetheless. “I… this old man was holding the bag, and I just ran past him really fast and grabbed it.” He explained. “Mm, really?” Rueben asked, rhetorically, walking closer. “Um, y-yeah.” Chip muttered as Rueben placed a hand on his shoulder. His grip tightened, and tightened, until his fingernails were digging into Chip’s flesh, almost certainly bruising it, “R-Rueben please, please stop, you’re hurting m-me-“ and his brother practically snarled as he shoved Chip to the side harshly, letting his pet fall to the floor. Chip dropped the bag. “I- I’m sorry, I- wh-what did I do wrong, I’m sorry- I-“ Rueben silently picked up the bag and placed it against the wall as Chip whimpered. “Didn’t I say,” he walked back over to Chip, now sitting on his knees, and kicked him in the stomach, causing him to keel over. “Stuttering isn’t threatening. I’m almost embarrassed to call you my brother, Chip.” He exhaled. “Stand the hell up.” He demanded. Chip, gripping his stomach and tears beginning to well in his eyes, did as he was told.
“I thought it was fucking obvious what I wanted from you, Chip.” He got closer to him, standing directly behind him, both hands on his shoulders. “ Running away, Chip?” He tapped on Chip’s left shoulder. “Pull out the dagger I gave you.” Chip, still sniffling, pulled it out of his waistband. Rueben snatched it, looking it over, twisting it side to side in his grasp. “If you don’t know how to use it, maybe I’ll show you.” He said, holding the dagger to Chip’s throat. “First, you hold it to their throat or up to them,” he pulled the dagger away, just simply pointing it at Chip for a moment, before placing it back near his jugular, practically grazing it. Chip felt if he breathed wrong he’d be dead. “Then you command they give you whatever you desire from them. Money, food, whatever.” Rueben moved the dagger, instead pointing it to Chip’s shoulder. “If they don’t give you what you want, then,” he covered Chip’s mouth preemptively before he sunk the dagger into his flesh. “You make it clear.” He shoved Chip forward, hard onto the rock, and just stood above him as Chip choked out sobs, blood oozing from his shoulder, and now his nose and mouth.
“Chip, I expected more from you.” He said, dropping the blood stained dagger onto the ground, it clattering against the hard stone.
Chip barely heard it over the thumping of his own heart, hand pressed to his shoulder, blood cascading down his hand and staining his shirt. Salty clear and red iron-y liquid mixed in a puddle now gathering on the ground. Chip’s eyes fluttered briefly, before he felt a presence by his side. He flinched, scooting away, hissing in pain. “Don’t move. I’m going to bandage you up, alright?” Reuben said. His voice had less anger laced in it, now. Chip meekly nodded. Chip let his brother guide his hand away from the wound, wrapping it with gauze. “You know I don’t like doing this, Chip.” Rueben said, softly. “Mm..”
Chip couldn’t even look at Rueben, his sight only looking at one thing. The pool of his blood and tears, and the little piece off to the side. Taste still clouded with iron, he ran over his bloodied teeth with his tongue. Sure enough, there was a small chip in one of his teeth. Reuben eventually finished applying the gauze. “You need punishment, though, Chip. Otherwise you don’t understand. You get where I’m coming from, right?” Rueben asked, and Chip just faintly nodded again. “It’s for your own good. Trust me. I love you, Chip.” He said, guiding Chip’s stained hand into his own.
Guiding him to their cot, Rueben laid down with Chip, his younger brother firmly in his grasp.