[This story is complete and being edited.]
Armed racing is Atropellado's deadliest and most profitable sport. And wherever there is profit in Atro, there is crime.
Gervassio Blaze has left his most prized possession - ownership of the armed racing f...
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Andrew Gloxinia's hand was large over his daughter's, her tiny fingers dwarfed by the fatty gums of his sweaty palm.
"Keep up, Rose," he grunted every time she stumbled over her own feet.
"Yes, father."
The clamminess of his hand made it harder to grip, but her father held on tight enough to yank her behind. Rose couldn't feel her fingers anymore, but she knew better than to complain.
The spat between Isaac and her father earlier that morning was still fresh in her mind.
"With all due respect sir, Rose is much too young. The girl has just lost her mother-"
"Don't you dare talk to me about my wife and what we lost, Corbyn! I know exactly what this family has lost, more than you know!"
"I apologize, sir, I do, but when I was hired, Rose became my sole charge. The girl needs time to-"
"Not another word, Corybn. She's coming with me for business dealings and that's final. The time for her to learn has come..."
Rose hadn't eaten much. Isaac not being privy to her eavesdropping earlier tried to dress the trip up as spending some one on one time with her father. As soon as they were out of the mansion, her father's personal guard surrounded them like an impenetrable wall, and it limited her vision regarding her surroundings.
After a lengthy ride, they arrived at a heavily gated and ominous building.
"Where is this?"
Under normal circumstances, her father jumped at the opportunity to quench his daughter's curiosity to crime family related questions. This time however, he was short.
"I will explain later. Keep your chin up."
"Yes, father."
The elevator was akin to a rusted steel box. It shook terribly. The decent downward sounded like a passing freight train, sparks snapping and metal screaming. Rose huddled closer to her father who gave her a look of warning as she put more weight on him, and already, he was walking with a cane. Not because his legs were of any trouble, but he'd been putting on some pounds since losing her mother. The plunging crate was dark and hot, the suited and armored bodies around them only heightening her claustrophobia.
Feeling the air growing thick, Rose's eyes sought her father's like a lighthouse in the fog. He gave her no such comfort.
"We're here," someone announced. Everyone was so tall and no one ever bothered to look down at her. Most of her father's men she could identify by the stubble under their jaws rather than their actual faces.
The elevator stopped with a rough hop, and the girl stopped herself from stumbling. Her father had never let go and it would have been a nasty sprain on her shoulder had she fell.
