A Dreadful Routine

With a deep sigh of defeat, Cymbeline trailed out of the abandoned alley and went on about her everyday life. The usual scaring off some hooligans from certain blocks that gangs wanted out of their streets.

Despite the alien hazard and dreadful situation on Earth, people still joined gangs and became the bullshit part of it, instead of trying to help their fallen planet and become better.

Earth being entirely regarded as the ruins and an indigent planet of the galaxy. A reason they're mocked and belittled.

A fact that pissed Cymbeline off even as a kid because she'd constantly get bullied and picked on by the non-human children in primary school.

Alien kids that'd either visit Earth or lived there for some time because of two particular reasons. One; their relatives' involvement with a human Omega. Two; a punishment that their parents would give them for being little fuckers.

Luckily, she'd always beat the shit out of those suckers and won them in fights with a huge smug on her bloodied face, which her mother had scolded her for. A victory she considers a triumph for her kind and planet.

Something she wouldn't ever let any alien bastard get away with insulting her own kind. Those fuckers were as arrogant as they come and needed a humble beating.

As Cymbeline continued to walk, she hid her goodies in the inside of her black sweater that had a small pocket and secured its safety from any mistake of it falling out.

Hidden and protected from exposing her illegal activities and deeds. Her disclose interchange with a dealer from the black-market.

Dealers that prefer to be known as the Negotiators or Senders of their buyer for safety reasons against the galaxy's law.

An underground business that provides products and services for those in desperate need of helping their loved ones or help themselves in fulfilling their dirty secrets.

At that, Cymbeline clenched her slender fists, recalling the interaction with the mysterious-looking dealer she faced minutes ago. Especially knowing the position he held in his work field.

Each dealer being in particular positions and groups in the black-market business.

The black-market has different categories based on how wanted they are and for what products they sell, but dealers are ranked by how much they bring to the table and how good they are at what they do.

For example, there are four colors that categorize the products they sell and the criminalization status. Each color signifying the seriousness and extreme value of the product they illegally sell or make against the galaxy's law.

Black: the trafficking and auctioning of omegas being sold to the alphas OR non-omegas (any species) that are sold off for various reasons.

Red: warehouses in charge of the production and supply of the black-market; various groups of workers producing and creating all the products and drugs.

Orange: forbidden products such as strong drugs being exchanged by the person. Particularly, suppressants and scent-blockers being sold off to alphas and omegas.

Yellow: confidential information being provided by an anonymous person or personal information being leaked to an anonymous individual. Also, giving free content or advertisement about the black-market on the low; connections.

The dealers' rankings are ordered from the highest to lowest as the bestsellers; S-Class, A-Class, B-Class, and C-Class.

Of course, there's more shit to the black-market list and their organization, but Cymbeline only gave a fuck about the valuable information that concerned her; the two distinct bottles of pills keeping her masked and protected.

'What am I going to tell mom now?'

Her eyebrows furrowed as she bit her lower plum lip out of bad habit at the overthought of her mother's future excessive actions.

Cymbeline couldn't help but frown at the image displaying in her head.

Her mother fidgeting at the slightest sound and interaction with anyone associated to the alien warriors securing the remains of Earth's perimeters.

'She'll only worry and become more paranoid with any little thing. More than she already is. If only dad were here to help ease her stress.'

She frowned as she continued to chew on her pink bottom lip, but not enough to cause a bruise or a gaping lip.

At some point, after a couple of turns and a few laps in the abandoned area of a neighborhood corner store, Cymbeline stopped by the entryway of the brick structure and paused.

"Kee, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Cymbeline called out.

"Shit!"

A young boy's voice cursed as he kicked the trash freeloading on the concrete ground and slowly revealed himself.

Hesitantly, he walked out of the shadows in a slumped and disappointed manner as he scratched the back of his head with an annoyed look.

The sun's beaming rays of light revealed a short boy with a bronze complexion that shimmered magically in any source of illumination and vibrant platinum blonde hair styled in a nice buzz-cut he referred as the 'gangster look'.

What caught the eye was the glowing orange marks across his forearms, which gave the illusion of magma dripping down his small physique. Plus, his cat-like eyes matching the color of the blazing marks imprinted on his beautiful skin tone.

A majestic crossbreed being. Created by a two beautiful entities; a human woman and an alien fucker.

'Tsk. For Astraea's sake, not again.'

Cymbeline mentally hissed. Another day of torment for her.

The little twerp's name is Keegan. A brat in her barely existing neighborhood, who's constantly following her around like a lost puppy, claiming to be her sidekick and right hand.

A rude and disrespectful, but adorable brat she considers a younger brother. A smart Alpha kid with a bright future unlike herself.

"So, are you going to answer my question? Or do I have to beat you up to a gory pulp for you to answer me?"

In truth, she already knew the answer.

Keegan simply huffed in vexation and turned his face away from her direction. A look of someone getting caught and not getting their way.

"Tsk. How long are you going to keep this up?"

Cymbeline sighed as she pinched her small, pointed nose at the childish antics of his becoming a daily routine for both.

A bloody habit.

"Not until you let me see you kick some ass! Only then, I'll leave you alone!"

He announced proudly, with both of his arms crossed and a huge smug look on his adorable, punchable face.

"Well, following me ain't gonna cut it."

She stated with a hand on her hip and a raised eyebrow at the kid.

"Oh, come on! Let me just join you this once! Please, Cymbeline? I promise I won't interfere with your work! I'll be good!"

He desperately begged with pleading hands as he attempted to persuade her to let him join her on her everyday hustle.

It wasn't the first occasion he followed and watched her every move. Daily seeking an opportunity to join in what he liked to call her 'fun'.

Little sucker has been keeping up with the same tactics of his for several months. It amazed her how determined he was to trail after her nonstop, just for the sake of wanting to see her in action.

"And what would your mother think if she knew you were there, hmm?"

She retaliated with both hands on her hips this time.

A minor mistake of hers caused their dreadful daily routine. Miscalculating her surroundings by thinking nobody would be there except the three males she'd confront that fine morning.

Of all days, he took a shortcut that early morning to school and caught her in combat as she just finished beating up the three punching bags she got paid to hunt down.

"Who said she has to know? My lips are sealed shut. No worries of a snitch cause snitches get no bitches."

He imposed with a huff as he quickly turned his head to the side.

Shortly, he turned his head slowly back to her with a grin of mischief as he opened his snotty trap (mouth) again.

"Not unless you're the snitch."

At that, she scoffed and raised an eyebrow at him with crossed arms.

"Who knows? Maybe I am?"

She amused with a shrug, which only made the boy freeze in horror.

The thought of his mother giving him an earful scolding once he got back home after his exciting 'trip' with Cymbeline terrified the living crap out of him.

"Hey! Come on, Big Bro! Don't be like that!"

He yelped as he latched his short figure onto her taller one and gripped her slender arms for dear life.

"Then go back home and leave me alone."

She said with a straight smile and pushed the grimy midget off her.

As much as she adored the kid, she didn't want to involve him with gangsters or any kind of criminal activity.

He had a promising future ahead of him and needed someone like her to make it come true by protecting him and keeping him away from the thug's life.

It was the least Cymbeline could do to repay his mother's act of kindness and moral support she showed them throughout the crucial years of war as a child.

A repayment she'll never forget.

In a swift motion, Cymbeline turned around and made her way out of the place as he tagged along beside her.

"You know..."

He began as she glanced his way and noticed the mischievous expression on his face was no longer visible.

"There was a warrior who tried following you, but I covered your tracks before he could even get the chance."

He spoke with seriousness in his voice and contained sharp eyes as he kept a weather eye on the area.

"Where at?"

She asked as they both continued walking and kept a straight face.

"Only at the first layer of the barbed wire fence that keeps us out from roaming around here."

He informed and put his hands inside the pockets of his black dragon design demin shorts that went with his white T-shirt.

"Anything else?"

"Nope."

Shortly, they both made it to a blind spot of the second layer of a barbed wire fence he mentioned and went through a damaged part of it that created a small hole for dogs to crawl under it.

The location Cymbeline went to meet the dealer at and the past others, contains a double layer of barbed wire fences that prevent people from entering or getting out of the town they lived in.

The place being a non-secured area where the galaxy's warriors can't protect. More like they chose not to protect it and purely renounce the place.

There are specific selected towns across the continent that are guarded and secured by the galaxy's League Warriors. Refugee camps and bases for civilians.

Of course, you're more than welcome to live outside of those camps, but if you do, you're on your own in every sense; food, water, shelter, protection, etc.

Outside of the walls are where a bunch of gangs and dangerous types of lunatics reside. Consistently fighting for their turf and territory they own.

However, not all gangs are as bad as they seem, which is why Cymbeline is still out here breathing and working her ass off.

Doing countless jobs for them and earning vast money for it.

Not to mention, it helps that she knows her way through the system and the outskirts of the refugee base. Gaining a respected reputation and name in the gang community.

A substantial factor she needs to survive. Especially as an Omega in hiding.