Running From Sin City
Yay! My first chapter story! Read. Review. And please enjoy!
I dedicate this chapter to ComixFan1224, Saoirse Waveglow and Skyler-A-Teloiv. You guys are awesome!
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans or Little Miss Marker, that's a Shirley Temple film. I also don't own the Monte Cito. That belongs to the show Las Vegas.
Chapter One: Little Miss Marker
Las Vegas. The city whose lights dazzle tourists, enticing them to cross the threshold from the stiff nine to five workaholic aspect of life to a place where one can be carefree, kick off their shoes, loosen their tie and don't give a damn about uptight bosses breathing down their backs. A place where one feels a thrill when rolling the dice, hearing the bells of slot machines and saying, "hit me."
However, Las Vegas was christened with a certain nickname because that thrill one feels can be both addicting and costly. If one isn't careful, they'll quickly discover the reason why Las Vegas is named "Sin City". Koma Anders was one such person.
In a smoke filled room, at the bottom of the Monte Cito, Koma and her boyfriend Rocky Mason were playing round after round of poker and they were losing round after round of poker. Delirious with the alcohol that flowed through their veins however, the couple didn't care.
Their dealer was a man of average build. His eyes were a steel gray and he sported a thick mustache. There was a thin line of a scar etched over his narrowed right eye. He gathered the large pile of chips that awaited him and said in a heavy Russian accent,
"That's enough for tonight I believe. I'll collect what you owe me in the morning."
However, the couple wanted to play more. Koma pouted.
"One more round?" She drawled in an alcohol laced voice.
The dealer scoffed. "You have no money left to bargain with." Koma thought for a moment trying to come up with a remedy for this little predicament. She smirked as an idea came to her then leaned over to Rocky and said in a slurred whisper,
"Miranda." The Miranda she was referring to was their daughter, a little girl of eight and the result of a drunken night at some party they'd been to. The only reason why they'd kept the baby was because they were too poor to afford an abortion and because Koma refused to go through with the procedure, afraid of what damages it could do to her good looks. Miranda had inherited Koma's black hair and shared her parents' indigo eyes.
Rocky raised an eyebrow. "You mean that kid we got in the hotel room?" Koma rolled her violet eyes and nodded.
"We don't need her," Koma continued whispering. "After all, we said she was a waste of time." Rocky considered this, and then consented. He turned to the dealer.
"Hey, what if we offer up our girl?" Obviously no one had any morals for the dealer gave a twisted smile and said,
"She'd make an excellent lap dog." Koma grinned then purred,
"Do we have a deal?"
The gambler gave out the cards. "Last round," he stated. "Winner takes all!"
Around two-thirty in the morning, Koma and Rocky stumbled into their hotel room, bleary- eyed and struggling to keep one another upright. Rocky was singing softly "Don't cha". The couple had lost their final round. The gambler, whatever his name was, said he'd send two of his associates to collect the winnings at nine o'clock sharp.
Koma cast a look in the direction of the second bed and at the small lump nestled underneath the covers. Miranda must've been in a deep sleep, for she usually awoke to say good night. Koma had never been the motherly type, but couldn't quite place the pang she was feeling as she watched the covers rise and fall signifying her daughter's breathing. Koma would know what that feeling meant and realize the mistakes she made when dawn came.
Sunlight filtered into the small hotel room awakening the sleeping Koma. She glanced at the clock with narrowed eyes and noted that the digital numbers read five forty-five. Reality hit Koma with the force of a sledgehammer. In a little over three hours some thugs would be taking her daughter away to the slime ball they lost all of their money to. Koma grimaced, she was the slime ball, and X'hal only knew what that man's definition of a lap dog was. (A/N: Well what do you know; I guess Koma does have some morals after all.)
Koma reached over and shook Rocky awake. He groaned and said,
"C'mon babe, it's too early for this." Koma gritted her teeth and shook her boyfriend harder.
"We're getting out of here," she said.
"Why?" Rocky asked as he forced his eyes open.
"Because I don't want those thugs to place their filthy hands on my daughter. That's why," Koma replied.
"So where are we supposed to take her?" Rocky asked as he pulled in his tattered jeans.
"I'm working on it," Koma muttered as she went to go wake Miranda.
"What are we supposed to do after we take Miranda someplace safe?" Rocky asked while watching his girlfriend heft their still sleeping daughter. "Lay low then take her back when everything seems safe?" Koma shook her black locks.
"We're not taking her back."
"Why?" Koma shot him a quizzical look.
"Since when are you so caring?"
"This is how I am when you wake me at quarter to six in the morning." Koma rolled her eyes before saying,
"We're not taking Miranda back because we can't take care of her. Let's face it, we're not parenting material."
Placing the now groggy Miranda in the backseat of their old, beat-up Volvo, Rocky and Koma left the hotel and glided onto the highway. "So where are we going?" Rocky asked as he glanced at the rearview mirror.
"Jump City," Koma replied.
Rocky frowned. "But the only family you've got there is…"
Koma nodded as she finished, "Kory."
When the digital clock in room 517 of the Monte Cito read nine o' clock, a series of knocks resounded through the room.
A gruff voice barked, "Open up." Outside the door were three men. The one who spoke was tall with a shock of thick brown hair and a goatee. Another one was as wide as the first man was tall and balding. The last one was the man who Koma and Rocky lost all of their money to as well as their daughter. The door opened to reveal a sour-looking maid who stated,
"The occupants of this room checked out at ten after six this morning."
"Did they leave any money?" The dealer growled. The maid shook her head.
"What about the girl?" The taller lackey inquired. Again, the maid shook her head.
Letting out a roar of anger, disbelief and frustration, the dealer whipped out a pistol and fired three shots. Letting out a silent cry, the maid collapsed onto the floor, dead. Her hazel eyes took on a blank stare. "No one double crosses Ares," he hissed. Giving a bitter smile, the dealer reached out and closed the door on the fresh corpse.
Note: okay these isn't long, but trust me, it looks a lot longer when you're typing this up on Word. No, I don't own Don't cha, but I do own a copy of the cd! To all Blackfire fans, don't hate me! This is just for the chapter! She will be different later on, a little ooc perhaps, but still good ol' Koma! Please review! Any flames will be used to fuel Starfire's starbolts.