and were almost more made of patches than the original leather. Of course, the fact that they seemed to have been passed down from her oldest brothers through to her for more than a decade did not do her any justice either.
Her yellowish-white hemp shirt did little to enhance her image, having been her father’s once, a long, long time ago. The elbows were patched, and several spills had never quite come out.
With a sigh, Mylene attempted to brush something, anything off her shirt as she neared the counter of the inn she was staying in. She was out of money, in fact, she had been for two days. She had had no baths of any kind, leaving what was visible of her perky, youthful form smeared with dirt in places. After a brief fight with a ruffian, she had ended up in a pile on the ground, thus making sure that even her face was stained by dried mud and dirt.
Beneath it all, there had once been a girl of promising beauty. Wavy dark brown locks of hair would have framed a youthful face with healthy round cheeks and pale blueish-grey eyes and a smile accompanied by slight dimples. Now, the image of the youngest Quinn girl was quite simple: Urchin.
A brief conversation with the innkeeper quickly turned unpleasant, and left her in the hands of a bouncer who spared no comfort for her, chucking her out in the street almost face-first. It was then that the young girl saw Anita for the first time. A woman not much older than Mylene, but obviously one far more in control of herself and her life than the dirty youngster sprawled on the cobblestones.
“ Heard y’need a job, shorty,” said Anita matter-of-factly.
Mylene quickly managed to compose herself, putting arms and legs against the ground, pushing herself up as she sized up her would-be savior. “Yeah, I do. Whatcha got?”
Anita looked somehow both out of place and completely at home here, in the middle of the poor quarters of town. Black, solid, almost soldierly boots clung loosely to her feet and lower legs, the necks covered up by pants made of almost midnight-black hemp. A smooth leather belt with a barely dented, square metal buckle peeked out under the hem of a black, long-armed shirt that was left open enough to show some cleavage. The woman had short black eyes and hair, cut just above her chin, and the face of a sultry killer.
She gave Mylene another brief look neglecting to answer the question with anything more than waving for the girl to accompany her. They were an uneven pair, one taking long, quick strides, the other having to pad along at a near-run. “What’s your name, shorty?”
“Mylene Quinn,” said Mylene, already panting slightly as she hurried along.
“ Think we’re gonna stick with shorty, Mylene Quinn. Y’can call me Anita,” said Anita, again in a matter-of-fact tone, one that left her young companion with a tinge of anger mixed into her feeling of budding hope. She continued scurrying along next to the determined black-clad woman, following as they turned a corner and suddenly found themselves in an abandoned, darkened alleyway.
Mylene slowed over the course of ten steps, putting her hands at her sides as she half-yelled at Anita’s back. “Hey, where are we going? I don’t have anything to rob, in case you’re blind or something.”
With a brief roll of her eyes, the black-haired woman turned, sending an annoyed look to the rascal behind her. “I’m SO glad you told me, shorty. Why, with your majestic appearance here I was, thinkin’ you carried around a couple gold bars at LEAST,” hissed Anita, her tone practically dripping with sarcasm.
“ Hey, fuck you! You’re the one taking me into an alley without any explanation,” Mylene shouted back, stepping up to her opponent, seething for a moment. Her eyebrows shot upwards as the woman in front of her changed behavior in a heartbeat. Her eyes took on some joyous warmth as she placed a black-gloved index finger against Mylene’s pale red lips.
“ Listen, shorty. I got a job
Her yellowish-white hemp shirt did little to enhance her image, having been her father’s once, a long, long time ago. The elbows were patched, and several spills had never quite come out.
With a sigh, Mylene attempted to brush something, anything off her shirt as she neared the counter of the inn she was staying in. She was out of money, in fact, she had been for two days. She had had no baths of any kind, leaving what was visible of her perky, youthful form smeared with dirt in places. After a brief fight with a ruffian, she had ended up in a pile on the ground, thus making sure that even her face was stained by dried mud and dirt.
Beneath it all, there had once been a girl of promising beauty. Wavy dark brown locks of hair would have framed a youthful face with healthy round cheeks and pale blueish-grey eyes and a smile accompanied by slight dimples. Now, the image of the youngest Quinn girl was quite simple: Urchin.
A brief conversation with the innkeeper quickly turned unpleasant, and left her in the hands of a bouncer who spared no comfort for her, chucking her out in the street almost face-first. It was then that the young girl saw Anita for the first time. A woman not much older than Mylene, but obviously one far more in control of herself and her life than the dirty youngster sprawled on the cobblestones.
“ Heard y’need a job, shorty,” said Anita matter-of-factly.
Mylene quickly managed to compose herself, putting arms and legs against the ground, pushing herself up as she sized up her would-be savior. “Yeah, I do. Whatcha got?”
Anita looked somehow both out of place and completely at home here, in the middle of the poor quarters of town. Black, solid, almost soldierly boots clung loosely to her feet and lower legs, the necks covered up by pants made of almost midnight-black hemp. A smooth leather belt with a barely dented, square metal buckle peeked out under the hem of a black, long-armed shirt that was left open enough to show some cleavage. The woman had short black eyes and hair, cut just above her chin, and the face of a sultry killer.
She gave Mylene another brief look neglecting to answer the question with anything more than waving for the girl to accompany her. They were an uneven pair, one taking long, quick strides, the other having to pad along at a near-run. “What’s your name, shorty?”
“Mylene Quinn,” said Mylene, already panting slightly as she hurried along.
“ Think we’re gonna stick with shorty, Mylene Quinn. Y’can call me Anita,” said Anita, again in a matter-of-fact tone, one that left her young companion with a tinge of anger mixed into her feeling of budding hope. She continued scurrying along next to the determined black-clad woman, following as they turned a corner and suddenly found themselves in an abandoned, darkened alleyway.
Mylene slowed over the course of ten steps, putting her hands at her sides as she half-yelled at Anita’s back. “Hey, where are we going? I don’t have anything to rob, in case you’re blind or something.”
With a brief roll of her eyes, the black-haired woman turned, sending an annoyed look to the rascal behind her. “I’m SO glad you told me, shorty. Why, with your majestic appearance here I was, thinkin’ you carried around a couple gold bars at LEAST,” hissed Anita, her tone practically dripping with sarcasm.
“ Hey, fuck you! You’re the one taking me into an alley without any explanation,” Mylene shouted back, stepping up to her opponent, seething for a moment. Her eyebrows shot upwards as the woman in front of her changed behavior in a heartbeat. Her eyes took on some joyous warmth as she placed a black-gloved index finger against Mylene’s pale red lips.
“ Listen, shorty. I got a job
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