WAR: What Is it Good For 8 (Patreon)

The Sunday night air tasted like victory.

At least, it would if he knew what that tasted like. Accurate or not, that was the kind of BS you said when you were high on life and grinning hard enough to look like a Joker goon. 

Sweat still cooling on Kenneth's skin, the tired teen couldn’t help but wear his wide on his face as he walked up the broken sidewalk to his house. Good kind of tired, though. 

He’d never thought feeling this damn tired could feel this damn good, even. 

A thick spatter of his own sweat mixed with about five other big-ass brolic motherfuckers one after the other wrestling him into the mat to tire him out was making his windbreaker clammy against his back.

As ugly as that felt and sounded, Ken knew he couldn’t even get himself to care about none of that if he tried. All of that would go away with one good shower and a load in the washer. Nah, this was a deep earned ache that had settled into his muscles, exhaustion that felt right.

This what that runner’s high shit feels like, prolly. He had no idea, considering he didn’t like cardio, but he figured it had to be the closest thing possible. Hours. Spent hours down in that creepy church basement.

And he came out of it feeling like a whole new person.

The last little bit of his chakra after hours and hours of training and sparring and wrestling buzzed low and warm in his gut, the grin on his face going nowhere at all. This stuff… man, it’s better than smoking.

But it wasn’t just the chakra, it was the whole experience of it all.

Seeing the church in what passed for bright daylight in Blüdhaven, actually meeting the fucking psychos dressed up in black vampire-hunter tac-gear; well, it just made everything feel less like a fever dream and more like a life he could actually live. Finally got some answers. 

More than that…

He flexed five fingers on one hand into a tight fist. Finally, got some power.

It was everything he needed to clear his head.

Too bad it only lasted right up until he put his key in the lock.

The sound hit him from the other side of the door. Noises he couldn’t make out well enough to pick up words from, but still that familiar ugly rhythm that made the good feeling in his chest tangle itself all the way up into a cold heavy knot. Yelling. 

It wasn’t Harry’s usual drunken belligerence either. And it definitely wasn’t Ma's normal low weary sighs either. This was different. Sharp. Sober.

Which is somehow a whole lot worse.

Kenneth pushed the door open, new wood not even squeaking like normal; he was surprised no one had picked up on that yet even, both Ma and Harry too busy and/or drunk to even notice a whole replaced door to the front of the frickin’ house somehow. 

Sounds about right. The sixteen-year-old just shook his head slow and let himself inside the house, taking a few careful footsteps. The shouting had gone quiet but he could still feel it somehow; when they were getting into it, the house always felt like a pressure cooker. 

Something that just made everything come off tense.

His thoughts slipped off his mom and her husband, both of them quickly forgotten, as his bright green eyes dropped to the couch in the living room, one little huddled shape trying to make herself invisible.

Cece.

His baby sister’s face was buried in a pillow, small shoulders shaking. 

…not doing this. His jaw tightened, Kenny’s exhaustion burning as his anger squeezed it tight into a hard little lump to use as fuel. Time to be the big brother.

"—doing this shit and blaming everyone else since you got fired!" Ma's voice was frayed at the edges, barely even steady as Ken snapped his head up to look back at the kitchen. About to snap. 

He frowned to himself, walking into the living room and even closer to the back-and-forth. How long they been at this?

One hand patting his sister’s head as he made his way past, Kenny walked to the kitchen doorway, and just stood there for a minute watching the two of them go at it; Ma by the sink, arms crossed tight over her chest, knuckles white. Harry leaning against the counter, face all twisted up but one thing stood out. He's sober. 

"I was doing my job!" If looking at him didn’t make it clear, the way his voice came out sharp, clear and heated told Kenny all he needed to know. 

Not a drop today. Good job, Officer White.

"Being a drug dealer with stolen evidence is not your fucking job, Harry!" Madelyn shot back, voice cracking like glass under pressure. "That's not what a cop does! That's what a piece of shit with a badge does!"

Kenneth’s eyes rolled so hard, he was surprised his Sharingan didn’t grow wings and fly. They still on this? Really? Harry had gotten fired five years ago, like a little after their honeymoon and the man still hadn’t gotten a new job that lasted longer than a couple months since then. 

Granted, Bludhaven was shitty for a job market, but the man had no excuse for getting fired from four different security positions in sixteen months, because… c’mon, that’s just self-sabotage, bruh.

"It's how the job gets done! You wouldn't know, you're just a glorified pill-pusher!" Harry's hands gestured wild, almost knocking over the empty Jameson bottle on the counter. Of course there's a bottle. "You think it's all clean rooms and clipboards? It's dirt! It's scum! You gotta get your hands dirty to clean the damn streets!"

Yeah, real clean. Ken nodded slow. Selling evidence to dealers. That's some real hero shit right there.

"Oh, I’m just a pill-pusher. You’d know all about pill-pushing!”Harry jabbed a thick finger her way. “They weren’t fuckin’ pills and you know that god-damn well.”“Yeah, what do I know? I’m just a pill-pusher! A pill-pusher who pays the mortgage on this house!" Ma fired back, taking a step forward with her chin jutted out. There's the Irish coming through. "A pill-pusher who keeps a roof over your ungrateful, unemployed head! A pill-pusher who works eighteen hours on her feet so her daughter can have food in her stomach while you're out... just blowing what little we have on cheap whiskey and self-pity!"

"You bitch!" Spit flew from between Harry's clenched teeth, two syllables a guttural harsh of a snarl as his mom’s words hit the man right where it hurt the most. 

In the pride.

"Oh, I'm a bitch now?" His mom laughed in a way that let him know immediately there wasn’t nothing funny around for miles. "I’m the big old blonde bitch keeping your ass fed and a roof over your broke-ass head! What do you know bout some hard fuckin’ work, Harry White?"

Go for the nuts! Hit him again!

"The fuck you m-you don’t know shit about me! Don’t even fuckin pretend, bitch! Ain’t a fucking thing you ever wanted from me other than money!” The snarl came right back as Harry huffed and roared, the man damn near ready to buck. 

“Wh-what money!?” His mom shouted back, actually looking more confused than angry.

It was a good question, especially for someone who hadn’t held a stable job since Kenny was eleven years old.

Harry didn’t even bother to pretend like he was going to answer that, though, as the man just barrelled on with his own grievances. “You don’t know shit about my life, know shit about what I think, shit about my work even!”

"I know you weren't even smart about it!" She wasn't backing down, not this time; whatever Harry had done to get her blood up, Madelyn King wasn’t looking to put it back down. About fucking time. "They caught your stupid ass because you're sloppy! Because you got greedy and stupid and thought you were untouchable! Trying to be a kingpin and all you came out looking like was the fucking idiot you are!"

"I had it under control!" Harry's hands were gesturing wild, knocking over the empty coffee mug sitting on the counter. Sure you did, champ.

"Under control? Under fucking control he says? Where’s your job, Harry? Your pension? You can’t even find your fuckin’ boxers on a good day!" His mom took a step forward, chin jutted out in that way that meant she was on a roll and you either got out the way or met her head-on. "All you do is make my life shit just like yours!"

The shift in Harry's weight made Kenny twitch, Sharingan nearly fighting its way to life as his heart roared its anger.

Even as Kenny pushed it back down, chakra and eyes both, the teenager didn’t miss the way Harry’s hand went up, thick fingers curling into an even thicker fist. 

The flicker of fear in Ma's eyes pushed it too fuckin’ far.

He moved without thinking, suddenly in the middle of the kitchen as one hand shot out, clamping down on Harry's wrist like a half-pair of handcuffs. The last dregs of chakra in his system flared to life, leftover energy from a day of fighting muscleheads in a church basement, giving him more than enough strength to do what he needed to do. Harry spluttered, shock and anger clear in his eyes, and tried to pull back. Anger gave way to confusion when his arm didn't budge.

Kenny’s voice came out low and quiet. "You better not."

The ex-cop just looked down at the hand on his wrist, then back up at Kenny’s eyes, flinching back as if he was seeing his stepson for the first time in his life. "Who the fuck do you think y-"

"I said," Kenneth's voice dropped even lower, anger still raging as he fought to keep his eyes from flickering red, "You. Better. Not." Stay green. Stay normal. 

The world ballooned out into a long stretched-out second where the only sound was buzzing fluorescent light and their ragged breathing. Then Harry seemed to deflate, anger draining out of him all of a sudden as he stared back at mother and son as Kenny stood right in front of her.

The big man snatched his arm back, rubbing his wrist like Kenneth had burned him. 

Not like Kenny would care if he did, anyway.

"This is your fault," Harry spat, glare shifting to Madelyn. "Your crazy fucking kid; he's always been wrong in the head."

Wrong in the head. Right. Says the guy who got fired for dealing drugs.

"Get out, Harry," Madelyn said, voice dead and flat as roadkill. “Just… get the hell out.”

Harry stared at her, then at Kenneth, pure venomous hatred on his face. Yeah, look at me like that. See where it gets you. 

A half-dozen looks flashed across the man’s face, three different shades of anger making up half of them, but nothing left his mouth. His jaw moved, sure, but it’s like the words just wouldn’t come. Harry shook his head and just made a noise; halfway a growl, but mostly a grunt.

Without another word, his stepdad turned on his feet and stomped out of the kitchen. His footsteps were loud, each of them a yell of their own, but the sound of the door slamming shut a few seconds later was even louder; enough to make Cece jump on the couch.

Finally. Ken let out a sigh as he shook his head. House feels cleaner already.

Silence felt as heavy as anything else as Ma just stood there with her back to him, shoulders shaking. She's crying. Course she's crying. 

"Ma-"She whirled around on him, eyes wet and finger out, digit pointed right at his chest. “You.”Ken took a step back, suddenly nervous as both his hands went up; that finger suddenly feeling as dangerous as a gun. “Uh… me?”

"Where you been, Kenny?" she asked, voice muffled, shaking her head like it’d get rid of the tears as quickly as possible. "All day. You just... you been gone all day? Where? Doing what, even?"

The lie came easy, quicker than he expected too. "I was at the church. Volunteering."

Close enough to the truth, right?

His mom started finally wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Red-rimmed and tired, but something else there too. Suspicion. Ma's got good instincts.

"Don't lie to me. Not now. Not after... this."

"Ma, like… I’m not…”Those green eyes fixed right on him, red-rimmed but with a look motherly enough to make Ken throw his head back and sigh. Give me a break, ma. Like, for once. That too much to ask? 

Whether it was actually knowing him, weird mom instinct or just natural suspicion, his mom always knew his bullshitting somehow.

“Ma… being real, like really reaaaal,” he dropped his head back down and looked her right in the eyes, green to green, “Why would I lie to you…”Those green eyes only narrowed his way.

“...why would I lie to you like that?” He corrected himself quickly enough. “Like, about… about the church? Like, c’mon… why would I use that if I wasn’t there? Like…”

Really, a lie hadn’t left his lips yet, which said a lot about his mom’s intuition or whatever. I was at the church. Did he leave out some stuff? Of course, but none of that was relevant to the discussion in any way. What mattered was that he was not lying.

Besides, those were details that would have him sent to a psych ward, so no one really needed to get into that anyway.

"P-please… You’re a smart boy, a good boy,” she was almost pleading, Kenny fighting himself not to drop to his knees and beg her to stop sounding like this, “You can tell me anything, I don’t… just…" 

Ma cut herself off, a sigh leaving her along with whatever fight was left when Harry stomped out a few seconds ago. Kenny flinched at the sight of it, his mom suddenly looking tired, small and… old. "Look… Kay Kay, I’m too tired for this. I can't... I can't keep doing this. You come home beaten and bruised and you won’t even let me even do anything about it, and you’ve just been off all weekend and… I… I don’t what you want me to do right now… I just…"

Fuck… Ma, it’s not…

"I'm not lying, Ma.” His voice was tight with frustration as he stuck to the not-lie, doing his best to keep his mom out of the bullshit that was already on his head. Nothing at all to worry about, mother. I’m simply engaged in a little scuffle with some undead creatures of the night who seek my blood and I might have joined a Catholic cult of violence. 

"If you’re not gonna trust me on this one, like… just go ask the father. Ask him. Over at St. Jude, Father Keane knows me. For real, he’ll tell you."

His mom blinked, thick eyebrows mashing up in the middle out of nowhere. Something about the look of genuine confusion made the tears in her eyes look almost funny. "You know the father? At St. Jude's?"

"I know his name," Kenneth said, words careful and deliberate. "He knows me, yeah."

Ma stared at him for a long moment; nurse's eyes trying to diagnose him, like they could find the crack in his story, a tell on his face that would make it all fall apart. 

Finally she sighed, the sound all pure bone-deep weariness that made his chest hurt.

"Okay, Kenny. Okay."

That's it? No more questions? Kenneth stared back, blinking slow as his mom just walked up the stairs, all the fight gone out of her. He didn’t like the fact that he was at least a good chunk of the reason she felt like that right now. I gotta fix that…

Somehow.

He didn’t know how, but he was gonna make sure his mom felt better.

Easier said than done. His eyes stayed on her until she vanished around the corner, the sound of her door closing shut a few seconds later hitting his ears. Unsure of what else to do, Ken just stood there in the too-bright buzzing silence of the kitchen.

Alright… Finally, he walked into the living room where the real damage was waiting.

Cece was still curled on the couch, a tight little ball with a tear-streaked face that made him feel even worse than his mom’s whole situation had. She’s too little for this. Cece’s two big curly afro puffs were lopsided, one scrunchie having come loose, strawberry-blonde strands a wild halo around her small light caramel face.

He plopped down next to her, all his weight making the old lumpy couch groan like he gave it the People’s Elbow. He didn't say anything for a little bit as he just sat there with an arm around his little sister’s shoulders. 

It didn’t take all that long for her to say something but a minute of silence from a seven-year-old might as well have been a whole year honestly, so that wasn’t a good sign. "I wish Mommy and Daddy would stop fighting."

Daddy. The word hit Kenneth wrong, jaw clenching as he bit back the instinct to spit. He'd never called Harry that and never fucking would, even if his life depended on it.

Cece, though… Cece wasn’t even born when their dad had gone missing after that crash. "Me too, Cece," his own voice came out rough. "Me too."

A fresh wave of tears welled up in her big green eyes and Kenny just felt sick watching the whole thing. I can't fix this. 

But maybe he could do something.

Kenneth reached into his windbreaker pocket, fingers closing around the cold smooth silver of his brand-new pendant. He pulled it out, jewelry lying in his palm as he showed off the polished metal fan and red crescent moon above it; the thing managing to shine in the dim living room light. 

"Here," he said softly, holding it out to her. "I had this made. For you."

Cece looked at it with teary eyes wide with child's pure uncomplicated wonder. When's the last time she looked at anything like that? "It's pretty."

"It's magic," Kenneth said, the lie feeling more true than anything else he'd said all day. Maybe it is. 

She took it, small fingers tracing lines of the crest. "What makes it magic?"

Kenneth rolled his eyes. "'Cus it was made with love, bedbug. Just wear it already."

Cece giggled, a small watery sound that made Kenny laugh back, as she slipped the silver chain over her head, pendant settling against the collar of her cartoon pajama top.  A split-second later, his little sis threw both arms around his neck, small body warm and real against his. "I love you, Kenny."

Kenneth hugged her back tight, his own eyes burning. “Love you too, bedbug.” He held the little girl for a long moment, the both of them quiet in the living room.

After a few seconds, Cece pulled back first, sniffing the air. Her nose suddenly wrinkled with a cute disgusted look. "Ewww," she said, voice returning to something less sad for a seven-year-old. "You smell."

Course I do. "Yeah," he said, ruffling her big curly puffs. "Yeah, I prolly do."

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

House of Glass - 100 NPStand your ground against an abusive family figure.

Roll: [Best Friend – Lord El-Melloi Case Files] – 200

A magus the same age as you. You have 600 CP to build them, and 300 CP to buy them items. And they get a free Magic Crest. They are a trusted friend and companion from your past in this world, and will be more than happy to follow you to strange new worlds.

Nexus Points: 0