Micah Yena d9 -fin-

M i c a h .


"I'll fight fatigue I'll fight for you
for everything that we've been through,
I'll take your hand, I'll carry on,
I've been weighed down for far too long. '"

Micah fixes his hair in the reflection of a shop window. It is dark, and the streetlamps have been on for some time. The bags under his eyes are black as sin, as black as his hair. His lip is still swollen from the scuffle he got into earlier that night. This is not the life he chose, but it is the life he has. He is lean muscle stretched over a wiry frame. He has to be. Tonight he is stalking prey. The sack slung over his shoulder is nearly full, but he needs something else. Just one more item. He has found his mark.

The necklace glints in the moonlight, and he can tell that it is worth something. It adorns the neck of a young woman that should know better than to walk these streets at night alone. Her loss will be his gain. It will put money in his pocket and food on his table. He passed her going the other way, but he is her shadow now. Silver and gold has ever been his Achilles heel. He should be satisfied with what he has in his bag, but he isn’t. He can’t be. There is too much at stake for him to pass this up.

He bares his teeth, tying the bandanna around his face before taking off. He knows a shortcut that will put him five minutes ahead of her. And then it will be a waiting game. He doesn’t wait for long. He pounces as she passes, callused fingers gripping the shirt of the young woman and pulling her into the alleyway, a hand covering her mouth before she can scream as he slams her against the wall.

”Don’t,” he growls, holding a shiv against his victim’s neck. “I’m going to take your necklace. Let me, and you walk away from this intact, alright?” The girl nods frantically. He smiles darkly, unhooking the latch behind her beck and stuffing the jewelry into his pocket. Silver. Should fetch a good price on the black market. He glares at her, before removing the shiv from her neck. His hand follows a moment later and then he’s running, leaping over a fence, shimmying up a drain pipe and vaulting from roof to roof.

He can hear her screaming for help somewhere behind him. By the time a peacekeeper arrives he’ll be long gone. Eventually he arrives at his home, and climbs in through the window. The adrenaline has long ago worn off, and he is tired, so, so weary. He sighs, heading in to the bathroom to wash the dirt and blood off his knuckles before the noise of coming home wakes Percy from his sleep.

Times have been hard since their parents died. Life in district nine can be brutal, violent and short. They were caught in the crossfire the last time the gangs in the area had a turf dispute. Victims of an uncaring world. Micah had had to grow up fast after that, because his brother needed him. He has a job at a canning factory, but it barely pays enough to keep the lights on. He makes do, and supplements their needs however he can.

Though he hates the gangs for taking their parents, he’s certain that sooner or later he’s going to have to start working for one of them. Petty thievery just doesn’t cut it anymore. He leaves the bathroom, the sack still slung over his shoulder. His brother is awake now, even though it is past midnight. Eager to see the bounty.

“Hey Percy,” he says, ruffling his younger brother’s hair before dumping the contents of the sack on the table. Two watches, and a ring he is hoping is real gold. And of course, the silver necklace. He will take them to the pawn shop tomorrow. What really matters is the food. 

With the money he made from the last few items he pawned, he has brought home a bag of apples, a dozen cans of soup and half that of sardines. A loaf of bread. A coveted jar of peanut butter. It should last them the week. He has learned to make it stretch, even if it means he won’t get to eat as much as Percy.

But what are big brothers for?

“Eat up, it's you and me against the world bud,” he says, putting his boots up on the table. An apple finds its way to his mouth and he bites down hard with a satisfying crunch. “You and me.” He is sure Percy suspects what he has been doing with his nights, but if it bothers him, he has yet to say anything about it.

Micah grins, baring his teeth like the wolf he has become.

He’d die before he lets anything happen to Percy.

Even if it is just the two of them. 

What is a wolf without a pack?