[Deleted]

Despite the warmth of the day--cooler today than it had been, but still nearly eighty degrees--Scrap tugged on her thin, long-sleeve shirt. Skin protection was important for one so fair skinned, but mostly it was crucial to a snatch and run. The thief preferred stealth over speed, but if going unnoticed failed, ditching the identifying outer layer of clothing would give her an advantage for disappearing into a crowd. Her heart rate was already elevating as the teenager worked on psyching herself up. Leaning against the wall of an alley, she went through her mental calming process as she enjoyed the shade, her thumb working in circles over a polished mediation stone in her pocket.

With her heart slowed, Scrap pulled up her hood, making her already debatable gender even harder to discern, and slipped out into the people filling one of the many sidewalks of New York City. It took a skilled eye to pinpoint potential targets, something she'd been learning both from older pickpockets and, the more dangerous, trial and error since she was thirteen. Cell phones were a damn blessing. A distracted pidgeon was easy to pluck, so they were the ones she gravitated towards. The second skill was spotting where the valuables were kept. Tourists had a tendency to pat the pocket their wallet was kept to check it was still there. A simply biscuit drop worked wonders for them, but with such a crowded street, it was more difficult to follow such a target, spot the pocket, and judge the weight and size needing to be replaced.

No, today was a day for quick slips. The streets were populated enough that shoulders brushing and light touches as people guided themselves around others was not uncommon and wouldn't warrant much alarm. Just in two loops of the street she'd managed to snag four wallets, a pocket knife, a blackberry. Scrap didn't like using cards. They were too easy to tract and cameras were becoming more common place. Leave that to thieves with more resources or dimmer wits. Hitting pockets were more likely to get her cash or something she could hock. A quick snack from a purse was a bigger gamble. She could get something worth something the wallet or a cell phone or be stuck with a useless notebook, makeup pouch, or manicure kit. Being able to spot high quality bags was the key. Like the one in front of her.

Standing at the crosswalk in a crowd of a dozen people, blue-green eyes spotted the Hermes designer bag. Scrap was, by no means, an authority on handbags and a decent fake would fool her, but even a fake Hermes could market over five thousand. A quick glance down the back of the woman carrying it revealed that accessories weren't the only place she spent stupid amounts of money. Her tongue swiped over her drying lips. Damn, she wanted that bag, but it was too high risk. Maybe she would follow her for a little bit and wait to see if a better opportunity presented itself.

Hanging a little further back, it was a challenge at times to keeps tabs on the petite woman, but luck was with her so far that day. Here's hoping it hangs around... The waif's silent prayer was answered when the woman stopped at a cafe. She even had the added extra fortune that she elected a seat outside under the shaded patio. While she waited, Scrap's hand slipped back into her pocket to fidget with the smooth stone--it did wonders to keep her from chewing her nails and helped focused her mind. The purse was sitting on the edge of the table, it had been since she sat down, but the thief was waiting for a distraction. The delivery of her drink would work perfectly.

Scrap moved into the patio area like she was heading for a table on the side of her target's. Just as she was passing, timed with the waiter setting down her precariously filled mug, her slender fingered hand grabbed the in a fluid motion. Her plan was to keep moving calmly through the tables of the outside area, then turn the corner when she reached it, but any indication that someone noticed something amiss, Scrap would be bolting around that corner, ditching her over-shirt at the first opportunity, and running like her life dependent on it.

Sonnet Matsuda  

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

643

@scrap

Sonnet had spent some time picking out her outfit that morning. It was rare that she had the time to do so, acting as a Lieutenant in the Yakuza was considerably more than a full-time job. Even so, occasionally she got something close to a day off. She could relax a little, let her hair down, so to speak. It had been due to be an extremely warm day, so she'd dressed accordingly. A blue summer dress, shoes that were totally inappropriate for her day job, and one of over a dozen designer handbags. The Hermes wasn't the most expensive she owned, but it was one of her favourite.

If Sonnet had been the average owner of such a bag then the attempted theft might have gone differently. She might not be all too high up in the Yamaguchi-Gumi, but she was one of the chief lieutenants in New York, a metahuman, and very good at her job. That and her father had once held the role of Ojiki. What remained of her inheritance was not unlimited, but it left her able to satisfy her more expensive vices. She didn't go in for the drugs or heavy drinking that characterised her subordinates, preferring to find her thrills in expensive fashion houses than in the bottom of a bottle. Although her enhanced metabolism meant that it took an awful lot of alcohol for her to even get tipsy, leaving her with a slightly skewed perspective on what constituted heavy drinking.

She stopped for a light lunch, it would be her second that day, and likely not even that light. Another benefit of her enhanced metabolism. Or disadvantage. She could eat vast quantities of food and never gain a pound. Several people had expressed jealousy, but it also meant she had to eat frequently or risk her ability starting to feed off her own body.

We come back again to Sonnet's non-average qualities. Her quick, suspicious eyes, and her knack for picking the dishonest out of a crowd. Likely because she was one of them. That was why she spotted the suddenly disappeared handbag early enough to work out who had taken it. She was almost too shocked to give chase. There weren't many people stupid enough to try and steal from the Yakuza, and her dress ensured that her tattoos were visible. Although most would not recognise the true significance of most of them, she would have thought someone daring enough to make such a pass would at least have that experience.

The person walking away from her was doing so swiftly, but not so swiftly that it would draw undue attention. The… boy… it looked like was taller than Sonnet, perhaps five and a half feet tall, and very slender. Young then, even though Sonnet couldn't see the face of the thief, something about the way they moved and their slender form suggested youth. Their clothes looked second-hand, ill-fitting and rarely washed. They were wearing their hood up despite the warmth of the day, probably they'd ditch the hoodie once they were round the corner which they were rapidly approaching.

Ah.

Sonnet finally snapped out of her moment of contemplation, clawing the shock back and refocusing it into anger. She stood slowly, raising a hand as the waiter returned with the bottle of wine she'd ordered. In her clipped, mechanical voice she instructed him to keep it chilled, she would be right back. There was no reason to rush, after all, it wasn't as if the urchin could outrun her.

She might not be tall, and therefore lacked the long-legged strides of many women wearing heels, but she was a natural gymnast and had no problem keeping her balance, even in the tall heels as she began to walk after the thief. There was no need to alert him too soon after all.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

The thief would have had to be blind not to notice the ink on the woman's skin. Unfortunately, the Yakuza were not a group she'd gotten familiar with yet, so she didn't recognize the patterns as threats. She had glanced over them for other gang markers, but most groups she avoided didn't have the cash for the sort of swag this foreigner was sporting. Another downside of dealing with the dregs.

No immediate shouts of alarm or scrambling followed her departure, giving Scrap a false sense of security as she left covered patio and turned the corner. Her heart was still hammering from adrenaline, even as she could feel the build of excitement at the success. Holy shit, she couldn't believe how smoothly that went. A few steps past the corner and she broke into a run, clutching the purse to her stomach with one arm. Just because no one had noticed just then, didn't mean they wouldn't soon. The more space she put between them and herself, the better.

Darting down the first alley she came to, the teen paused long enough to hold the stolen bag between her knees as she peeled her hooded shirt off. Then she was moving against, stuffing the discarded clothing into the next trash can she passed. With the payday she was going to see from this purse, she could afford to leave it behind and just buy a new one. Sweat had the tank top underneath sticking uncomfortably to her back, but she didn't have time to worry about that. Running a hand through her short, brown hair, Scrap continued on the path down the alley at a quick pace to exit on the other side. Get a few more blocks between herself and the scene and she'd be able to really breath free.

The waif couldn't help but start thinking of all the ways she could spend the money. Obviously, it wasn't smart to count ones ducks before they hatched. She had to find a buyer for the thing first, but she had a handful of promising contacts she could start with. The absolute first thing would a be a surf and turf dinner from one of those fancy ass restaurants that didn't even want her standing on their street, let alone coming in for take out. They would just have to deal if she was a paying customer.

Still, even as she got further away--almost to end of the alley now--there was a prickle of unease creeping up her spine. Why would there be? The lady was hardly going to chase her down in those ridiculous heels.

Sonnet Matsuda

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

306

@scrap

Sonnet rounded the corner in time to see the thief darting down an alleyway. She picked up her own pace, moving with surprising speed despite the heels. She hit the corner just in time to see him shed his hooded shirt, tossing it into a trashcan. They didn't pause beyond that, but they also didn't look back. Whoever this guy was, they were a pro, they'd barely even hesitated to remove the shirt, it had only taken them a few seconds, and they hadn't taken the risk of being recognised. They were practised.

Unfortunately they also started running. Sonnet could run in heels, but on treacherous ground like this she was taking the risk that she would fall. That and the extra height the thief had meant that he would probably out pace her once he realised he was being chased. She frowned, she hadn't intended to use her power today, no matter how convenient it made things. Things always seemed to conspire in this way. First it was ex-military Heroes, now it was thieves determined to try their luck with a Yakuza Lieutenant.

She sighed, then fixed her vision on a spot a little further up the alleyway. She didn't need to be able to see somewhere to teleport there, but she did need to have it fixed in her mind. Hence having to be able to see it in this situation. She hadn't visited every single alleyway in New York after all.

There was a gentle sound like that of an inhalation, and Sonnet vanished, reappearing about three feet in front of the hurtling teen, close enough that they couldn't possible avoid them. Sonnet made that avoidance a lot harder by snapping out a fist towards the thief's face. The diminutive lieutenant wasn't exactly known for her mercy in the circles she moved in.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

With the sounds of the street left behind, the clicking of heels of pavement reached Scrap's ears easily. She was halfway down the alley when she heard them, just a few steps before they stopped. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the woman in the blue dress standing at the other end. So, she had been noticed and followed, but as she predicted, there was no way the heels could keep up. Elation filled her chest at this confirmation of success. Sure, the pigeon had seen her and would likely call the police, but tracking down one street thief in all of New York? Good freaking luck with that.

The look back had only been brief, so the waif didn't see when the foreigner disappeared. The sudden appearance in front of her was startling to the say the least, but the only reaction she was able to give besides a widening of her ocean blue eyes was to jerk herself to the right. It wasn't enough to avoid the thrown fist, but it clipped her cheek bone inside of cracking her square in the nose. Her balance thrown off by both the attack and the attempt at avoiding it sent the thin would-be boy careening into the wall. Hitting the brick hard enough, the breath was knocked from her, the teen was still stumbling from the momentum. A movement that finally stopped when she collided with a some trashcans, falling into a heap with the knocked over metal receptacles.

"Fuuuuuck." Was the only coherent thought she managed to articulate in the form of a pained groan. Several parts of her body hurt, but the most alarming was the ache coming from her skull. Had she hit her head? Even though all of that, Scrap had managed to hold onto the purse, but there was no way in hell she'd be getting up to run in time to escape this lunatic. Who knew the tiny woman could fight? In the hopes that she would just take the damned bag and leave, the teenager offered it up in the air. "You win. Here's your prize." So much for that steak and shrimp dinner.

Sonnet Matsuda

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

473

@scrap

Sonnet was surprised at how quickly the thief reacted. It was rare someone could even partially avoid such an attack from her. The punch succeeded in it's purpose however as Sonnet's target stumbled and collided with the wall of the alleyway. Their fall was 'cushioned' by a small collection of metal trashcans. They went down with him, several losing their lids and spilling contents across the floor of the alleyway. Sonnet took a dainty step back to avoid the spillage. These shoes were designer too.

The sound of clanging metal rolled off the walls of the alleyway, climbing until it escaped through the thin strip of blue sky above. It was quickly drowned out by the sounds of the city around them, as most things were. No one glanced into the alleyway, nobody cared.

Taking several steps towards the thief, Sonnet snatched the purse from his grasp, opening it to inspect the contents. Everything was there, phones, purse, makeup, keys. It was just about everything you might expect to find in a woman's purse, with the possible exception of two phones. Although there were lots of careers that provided their employees with a work phone. Sonnet kept digging however, as there was more in the purse of value, at least in this moment.

The click was somehow at once louder and quieter than the falling trashcans had been. The evil black device in Sonnet's hand was clearly a handgun, and it was something she most definitely should not have been carrying in New York City.

She stayed where she was, just out of reach of the thief. Her ability meant she could escape most situations, but it did not rule out being caught by surprise. She certainly wasn't going to let the thief to that a second time. Instead she levelled the gun at the man's face…

No.

A kid's face…

Sonnet hesitated. She hadn't been able to see the thief properly from behind. She'd thought them young, perhaps their twenties. She'd been wrong. This… this was a kid. A fucking kid had tried to lift her purse.

A kid…

The black pistol hadn't wavered, but a war was being fought behind Sonnet's eyes. She'd unofficially joined the Yakuza at not much younger than this… girl. She hadn't been lifting, others had done that, the street kids. Sonnet had been lookout, helped her dad with paperwork, always somewhere out of the way.

"Get the fuck up."

Her voice when she spoke was flat, with that strange mechanical quality you only get from learning English as a second language. She spoke quietly, and the red scar at her throat worked in an ugly manner, betraying the fact that she couldn't speak much more loudly than she already did. She put the gun away.

"Now tell me why you thought that was a good idea."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

With the offered purse snatched from her grasp, Scrap brought that hand to her aching head, touching the tender spot on the back gingerly. Yeah, definitely cracked it at some point. Probably on her way to the alley floor. Another groan escaped her as she mentally tallied what all was hurting. Nothing seemed broken, so that was a relief. 

When the distinctive sound of a gun cocking echoed through the corridor, the color she'd gained from her run drained from the youth's face. Her heart leaped into overdrive and wide ocean blue eyes locked onto the weapon. Surprisingly for a thief and street kid, this was only the second time she'd ever stared down the barrel of a gun. It was just as nerve wracking as the first time. Scrap tried swallowing, but her mouth had gone dry. How had this gone from the luckiest break she'd had, well...ever to the worse possible outcome? Shouldn't have gotten greedy. Shouldn't have hoped for anything more than just enough to survive. How fucking stupid of her.

The woman's command was met with some confusion, but she complied, keeping her hands half raised where her would-be victim could see them. Was she going to march her somewhere more secluded before offing her? The teen felt ludicrous for wishing she was wearing something in better repair. Clothing that wouldn't immediately scream 'street trash' when they found the body. Would they even bother looking for family? This was not the first time she'd had such thoughts, but they never got any easier. She pressed her lips together in a stubborn line, refusing to let the prickling behind her eyes progress any further as she squared her shoulders and raised her chin.

Then the foreigner lowered the gun. Even went as far to put it back into her bag. Relief flooded the teenager and her knees threatened to buckle. Her question threw Scrap off guard. She'd expected the woman to shoo her off. Tell her to get the fuck out of her sight before she changed her mind. She shrugged defensively, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Didn't think you could catch me in those heels." The corner of her mouth quirked. "And let's be real, if you couldn't do...whatever it was you did, I would have gotten away." It was just her luck the lady was a damn meta and with such a power.

Now that the immediate danger was over--even if it was just for a moment--Scrap could admire just how fucking cool this lady was. The teenager rocked on her toes, looking like a child who'd just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "Sooo...if you aren't going to shoot me, can I go?" She pointed with a thumb to the alley exit.

Sonnet Matsuda

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

274

@scrap

A brief surge of anger flashed across Sonnet's face at the suggestion that she might not be competent. The fact that it was her own fault for wearing heels completely skipped by her. She spent a lot of time being underestimated and doing so was a sure-fire way to rouse her ire. Admittedly her fuse didn't take much to set off, but that spark in particular seemed quicker than most others.

The thief should have been taller than her, but the heels Sonnet was wearing put her at a greater height. Despite the assistance they leant her, the Japanese woman undoubtedly had the greater presence in the alleyway. She ignored the child for the moment, instead inspecting her knuckles where she had caught the girl's cheekbone. She frowned in irritation, there was a good chance they would swell, effectively making her manicure that morning pointless.

She glanced up at the girl's question. "Go?"

She turned the word over in her mouth as though it had somehow slipped through the net in class. "No, I don't think so."

She looked the kid up and down. Her clothes were cheap, and clearly hadn't been that good quality to begin with. Even so, she'd had the guts to try and steal a purse from a Yakuza Lieutenant, she hadn't broken down when she'd had a gun pointed in her face. If anything she'd attempted to stare Sonnet down. Most of Sonnet's own chinpira wouldn't do that.

Cocking her head in amusement and curiosity, Sonnet stepped back from the would-be thief. "You're either really brave or really stupid. You have no idea who I am do you child?"

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

Despite what the woman thought, Scrap was not stupid. She noted the flash of anger her words caused and it appropriately cowed her. Making a mental note that cheekiness did not go over well with this individual, she ducked her a head a little and she flashed an apologetic smile accompanied by helpless shrug. It was the truth, though. Somehow she doubted this stranger would like being lied to. Still, let's not piss off the lady with the gun.

The teenager knew as soon as the woman glanced up carelessly from her hand that leaving was out of the question. Great. So what the hell did she want? An apology? Groveling? Scrap took a steadying breath, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in her cheek and head. She could be rid of them in a few seconds, but was hesitant to show her power off in front of strangers. Not since the last time gained her the unwanted attention of a local, lowbrow gang.

The amused glint in her dark eyes reminded the waif strongly of a cat toying with a mouse. At her inquiry, Scrap's eyes roved over the woman's tattoos again, but she still didn't see any she recognized. Just because she wasn't stupid didn't mean she didn't make stupid choices sometimes. "No, I don't. You don't have any gang tats I recognize. But I'm guessing from your fancy fair, gun, and general level of confidence you're someone powerful and dangerous." There was no flattery to her tone, just pure facts based on her observations like she was describing how venomous a rattlesnake was.

She ran a hand through her hair, looking resigned. "I'm down in the slums with the lowly thugs. Don't have much occasion to deal with...criminal royalty, if that's what you are." Of course, there were gangs in New York City that didn't have lowly thugs, which would explain her lack of experience. Fuck. She probably wanted to teach Scrap a lesson. Send a message out to any other pickpocket on the street. Her heart rate kicked up again. "So, I guess we can go with stupid. Sorry?" She wasn't really sorry for trying to rob her. More sorry she was caught, but the most sorry that this foreigner was who she was....whoever that was.

Sonnet Matsuda

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

440

@scrap

No, the child wasn't totally stupid. Although clearly they were one of the very lowest dregs of New York's seedy underbelly. One of the rats that scurried about trying to feed from the scraps left behind by bigger predators. Sonnet glanced around at the alleyway as if recognising it. "Well I suppose I am outside of my territory, it's nice to get away on a day off."

She hadn't quite anticipated chasing down a wannabe thief on her day off. In fact she'd planned a much more relaxing day, only part of which had been spoiled. After all, she still had the handbag, and a bottle of wine chilling back at the restaurant. Thinking of the restaurant reminded her of the gnawing hunger in the pit of her stomach. She could go without eating for a little while longer, but it was always an uncomfortable experience for her. Knowing how she might end up if she didn't eat always added a little urgency to the need to eat.

Normally she would have just shot a thief then and there, or at the very least broken a few fingers. To spare someone who had crossed her was distinctly unlike her. Maybe spending too much time with Tank was getting to her. Him and that ice Hero, Glacia. Sonnet frowned, she was spending way too much time with Heroes, albeit completely under the radar. Today she was in a strange mood. A very strange mood. It would have been the work of a moment to punish the thief. She could be gone from the alleyway so quickly that no one would ever work out who it was had shot the urchin in broad daylight. There would have been no consequences. No earthly ones anyway. She'd seen Father Mathias again last night…

And she was hungry.

That was it.

She looked the child up and down again, taking in their undernourished exterior. It didn't take her long to make up her mind, and she gestured sharply back the way they had come. Not that she was intending to risk her shoes in the murky puddles of the alleyway.

"I'm hungry."

Without further warning she reached out and grabbed the girl by the shoulder. There was a faint gasp, and the universe turned inside out. They reappeared in the mouth of the alleyway, Sonnet stepping back quickly in preparation of the inevitable retching that followed the first few trips with her. The nausea had never affected her, but apparently it receded after a couple of minutes. Sonnet began to walk back to the restaurant, pausing with a pointed look until the waif caught up.

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

What lovely, vague information. Scrap still had no idea who this woman was or what organization she belonged to. This not being her territory wasn't exactly helpful. More importantly, it seemed that she interrupted her off time. Great. She wasn't dead yet, thankfully. As grateful as she was to be alive, annoyance was starting to creep up as the foreigner was taking her time in deciding what she was going to do with the thief. Idly, Scrap wondered if she had the ability to regrow body parts....

Her sudden declaration left the waif blinking in confusion. The hungry state made sense, considering Scrap had interrupted her lunch, but why tell her? If she was expected her to apologizing by buying lunch, well, she was going to be left disappointed. That bistro was way out of her league and this high fashion lady didn't strike her as the McD's sort. Before she could voice her uncertainty, the woman had hold of her, nails biting into her skin through her thin shirt. Opening her mouth in protest, she was left taking in a shuddering breath after her senses flipped in on themselves, leaving her dizzy. About two seconds after the world righted itself her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch. Stumbling to the side, the girl braced herself on the wall as she bent over. The only worse than throwing up, was your body trying to throw up when it had nothing to give, leaving her dry heaving.

Once her stomach was done trying to turn itself inside out, Scrap took a shaky breath and stood straight again, albeit a little hunched from her now tender midsection. She wiped at her eyes to clear away the moisture caused by her body's strife before glancing toward the culprit responsible. The pointed look had the teenager taking another deep breath and shoving off the wall to follow. Talking about food and then making her sick? That was just cruel. 

By the time they got back to the restaurant, Scrap's stomach had settled enough for her nerves to return over her situation. For now, it was best to comply until she saw an opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge. How likely was she to use her power in front of so many people? Or shoot her? Being a criminal, the waif guessed not, but it wouldn't keep her face from appearing on yet another gang's hit list. How did she keep getting herself into these messes?


Sonnet Matsuda  

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

374

@scrap

The waiter spotted their return as Sonnet sat down, bring the bottle of wine she had ordered earlier. He hesitated as he saw who Sonnet was with. After all, the petite Japanese woman was clearly dressed in expensive designer clothes. Her companion on the other hand, clearly did not move in the same circles. If it weren't for the worn and clearly second-hand clothing then her thin and undernourished appearance would have betrayed her less fortunate background.

Sonnet waited while the waiter poured a glass of the wine, then sent him back to get a coke for her new dinner companion. She hadn't bothered asking what the girl would want, although she realised then that she didn't know the girls name. It seemed strange to her that she cared. Maybe she should ask Father Mathias about that. Or maybe she should stop seeing him, he was the reason she was adopting these strange and altruistic habits.

"I'm Sonnet"

She perused the menu for a moment, before sliding it across the table in front of the young girl.

"Pick what you want."

It would probably be some of the most expensive food the girl had ever eaten. Even if she had gotten away with Sonnet's bag and managed to sell it there was no way the manager would let her eat in his restaurant, she definitely brought the tone down. Sonnet allowed a faint smile to play over her features as she spotted said manager's face at the back of the restaurant. Maybe she wasn't being entirely altruistic.

The waiter returned with a bottle of coke and a glass, water beading on the outside of the bottle. He placed the drink before the girl, then glanced uncertainly back at his manager. Who simply rolled his eyes. By the time the waiter had turned back to Sonnet his professionalism was firmly back in place.

"Are you ready to order food madam?"

Sonnet sat forward, "Yes, I'll have…"

She then proceeded to order about half the menu, the waiter's ironclad professionalism beginning to struggle when she ordered bruschetta to go with it. With a strained smile he turned to go, but was halted by a cough. Sonnet glanced meaningfully at the street kid.

"Now take her order."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

Despite nearly every bone in her body telling her to get the hell out of there, she followed meekly behind the well-dressed woman, one hand gripping the opposite elbow as they moved between the tables. People were looking at them--well, mostly at her. Some with simple curiosity on their faces while others pursed lips in disapproval or wrinkled their noses like something smelled bad. Fuck, she probably did. At least she managed not to piss herself earlier. The teen sunk into the chair across from her captor.

Her attention was brought back to their table when the waiter arrived. The hesitation and once over he gave her was a final straw, pushing her self consciousness and embarrassment over to indignation and irritation. Blue-green eyes flashed in anger as she sat up straighter, her glare daring him to say something. She wasn't sure what she would do if he did, but the woman across from her was kind of bitchy and had a gun. So, her money was on her. Don't insult the rich lady with connections to some criminal organization.

The woman could have ordered her battery acid to drink and Scrap wouldn't have argued (some would say coke wasn't far from it), so she sat quietly as the waiter left to get her drink. Bright eyes darted back to the foreigner--Sonnet, apparently--when she introduced herself. That was a pretty name. She ran a hand through her hair, mussing the short locks even more. "You can call me Scrap." She should say something else. Nice to meet you? Who said that after trying to rob someone? Or to the person who nearly shot you in the head? She wasn't sure so she lapsed into silence again.

It was hard to not blink dumbly at being given the menu and told to pick something. Just what the hell was going on? Scrap forced herself to stop gaping like a fish, cleared her throat with a small 'thanks', and took the menu. She didn't know what half of these things were. It didn't help she had the reading comprehension of a middle school child. Luckily, never knowing where your next meal was going to come from meant she was not picky, so she just found something she was sure she could pronounce.

The girl's own surprise with how much Sonnet ordered was soon eclipsed by amusement at the waiter's face. Covering her smile with her a hand didn't do much to hide the mirth in her eyes. But jeez, how many people was this lady feeding? When instructed to take her order, the street waif couldn't help the little look of smugness. "The shrimp scampi, please." Just because he was rude didn't mean she had to be and at least she would be getting the surf part of her surf and turf dinner. Once he was gone, Scrap glanced back to Sonnet, her demeanor dimming as she was faced once again with questions about what was coming. Fingers played with the edge of the table cloth. "So, not that I'm ungrateful or nothin', but what's the deal? I tried to jack your shit--" The looks from dining neighbors at the profanity did not go unnoticed, making her drop her voice. '"--your purse and now you're feeding me? Is this a last meal sort of deal?" Cause if it was, she wanted some damn steak.

Sonnet Matsuda

[Sonnet Matsuda]

In the end everything collides

339

@scrap

The girl, Scrap, was clearly uncomfortable with the situation, the earlier smugness fading once she turned from the waiter back to the high level member of organised crime. In truth, Sonnet was enjoying the reaction that Scrap was eliciting from the other patrons of the restaurant. Sonnet usually received at least a few sideways glances thanks to her proudly displayed tattoos, but they usually cleared up when people clocked the designer handbag and shoes. That clearing up wouldn't be happening with someone as scruffily dressed as Scrap.

Sonnet quirked an eyebrow in amusement at Scrap's question. It was fair, she had spun the whole situation on it's heel in the space of a few seconds. Only a minute ago she had been holding a gun to the girl's face, now she was feeding her. Sonnet was confused herself.

"Wishing you'd ordered something more expensive? I can call him back?"

She took a sip of her wine, it was light, crisp, and very good. It should be, it was an expensive bottle of wine. Placing the wine glass back on the table, she refocused on Scrap, ignoring the occasional glances that the restaurants other guests kept throwing in their direction. She studied the girl's face. She looked hungry, clearly a street kid, and probably not attached to a gang. It was unlikely someone had put her up to stealing Sonnet's purse.

"No, I'm not going to kill you."

She didn't need to make any reference to the fact that she would kill the girl if she crossed her. It was implicit enough.

She rolled her eyes as she continued, driving Father Mathias out of her mind. "I'm trying to be a better person. Sort of…"

After all, she was still a significant figure in the New York City drug trade, along with several other illegal lines of work that the Yamaguchi-Gumi controlled. Being a better person would entail a far more significant change in life style than sparing and feeding one street urchin.

"I will offer you a deal though."

My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

► kaigra ◄

[Deleted]

On the plus side, at least the less than favorable attention she was getting didn't seem to bother her dining partner--in fact, if Scrap didn't know better (which she didn't), she would say that Sonnet was enjoying it. The street kid did not want to cause the woman any more trouble than she already had, mostly because she didn't want a repeat of earlier with the possibility of a different--and permanent--ending. Glancing around at the other diners again, the brunette had to resist the urge to stick her tongue out at them. What a bunch of stuck up prudes. It wasn't like she dressed like this on purpose.

Scrap's cheeks darkened at Sonnet's correct guess on her thoughts, but waved a hand as she gave a nervous laugh. "Nah, that's okay. So long as it's not my last. If it was, well...I'd like the chance to eat myself to death." Was that physically possible? She wasn't even sure, but dying on a full stomach didn't sound so bad. The relief in the wait for apparent, a puff of a sigh and sagging of her narrow shoulders. Even if she could hear the unspoken clause of 'not this time'. Scrap had zero plans to give her cause again.

The villain's reasoning was unexpected enough to have Scrap nearly gawking. Blinking wide eyes several times as she processed the information. At least she managed not to laugh as the absurd image of one of America's notorious, masked villains helping old lady's across the street and rescuing cats from trees. Sonnet did not look like she would appreciate being laughed at, even if it wasn't really directed at her, so the girl coughed into her hand then took a long drink of her soda to give herself a moment. "Ah, guess it was my lucky day then."

Then the other shoe fell. Maybe not such a lucky day. An offer from someone like this women wasn't usually optional. First The Ravager gang and now this. She got a reprieve from answering immediately when the waiter showed back up with bread sticks. Flashing him a smile, the girl took one and tore it in half. "Yeah? Not sure what you could want from someone like me...but I do owe you." As much as admitting such could be dangerous. She intended to nibble on the bread, but the salty and buttery deliciousness had her devouring the half in a couple of bites. She managed not to moan in ecstasy, but only barely.


Sonnet Matsuda