Rise of a Queen

Chapter 1

   His nose is broken and it's not my fault.

Well ... maybe it is.

After all, I just punched the shit out of his face.

Oops.

The imposter stumbled to the side, hand flattened against his face while blood leaked between his fingers and dripped down his wrist in lovely swirls of bright crimson. Was it wrong for me to smile?

"Is that any way to show appreciation towards someone who just delivered, what some might consider, the best news ever?" His voice came out muffled behind his hand and he stared at me with a look of bewilderment, no doubt surprised by how hard I hit him, "Because on behalf of my nose, I think you should contemplate taking a few anger management classes. Next time, a simple 'thank you' will suffice."

"You must have me confused with someone who values being lied to." I told him, emphasizing each syllable with grueling hatred, "You're a fraud. And quite frankly, you're an asshole. So my sympathy for your face is rather low at the moment, but if it makes you feel any better, I think your broken nose actually compliments your personality perfectly; crooked as hell and twice as ugly."

Through the blood oozing down his face, he managed a curt chuckle that sprayed red from his damp lips, "Feel better?"

My grin became spiteful, "Much better. How about you?"

"Oh yes, I'm feeling peachy." He examined the damage to his face in the window beside us. When he saw the swelling around his nose already turning purple, he nodded in approval, "I have to give credit where credit is due, that was a solid punch. Then again, I'd expect nothing less. Dustin taught you well."

"Don't talk about him." I snapped.

"Why not?" He wondered, twisting his chin one way then the other to note how the bridge of his nose now thrust sharply to the side in an erratic curve, "He was my cousin after all, I believe I have more right to speak of him than you do."

Oh no he didn't-

"Of course, my bad. You're right. I forgot that faking your death and sitting on the sidelines while your father and your cousin get murdered, not to mention your gang getting blown to smithereens and your poor sister becoming an orphan, gives you the right to speak your mind." I stepped in front of him to block view of his reflection, gracing him with a miasmic smile that tarnished my very soul with its toxicity, "You must feel so proud."

He pinched together his fingers now stained red as though dipped in paint, "Funny, isn't it? How you've adopted my family once shunned by your own?" He noticed the way my lips twitched, "Didn't think anyone remembered that you're an outsider, huh? Well honey I hate to burst your bubble, but you little biker-wannabe act is getting old. You're not one of us. You don't belong here."

I bent forward to place exaggerated and obvious examination into the scar on his neck, the only remnants of an injury that should have taken his life nearly a year prior, "Seems to me that you don't belong here either."

His face dropped.

Yeah fucker, that's right, welcome to my show.

"Alright kid, fair enough, I forfeit to your superior skills of banter." He gave me a discourteous bow then without a single indication of flinching, he braced each of his thumbs on either side of his nose and cracked it back into place, "But the games end here. We don't have time for this."

I gawked in relative amazement at the skill he just displayed, admiring his now straightened nose. He reached into a nearby washing machine and pulled out a random piece of clothing that loosely resembled a t-shirt, pressing the material to his face to catch his blood and effectively ruining whoever's shirt it once had been. I scoffed at his crude behavior and he rolled his eyes, lifting the stained cloth into the air, "This is the least of our worries, we've got bigger problems-"