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Just a randome story I have been working on lately. Let me know your thoughts bellow!!
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The sounds of sirens filled the night, and broken glass shimmered red and blue like shards of ice scattered across the floor, but the burglar was already well away from the scene. As the cops were pulling into the jewelry store parking lot, he was huffing and puffing in some back alley, admiring his score. His old man always said he was a washout, a no good bum, and he was certainly right, but with a bag full of goods like this even a no good bum could get something to eat. Dear old dad could think on that as he lay in his grave, feeding worms.

The man in the alley was nothing special, just another piece of trash that got washed into the gutters, some regular Joe Shmoe who caught a run of bad luck and started taking whatever he needed. He was nobody at all, and not much good at anything but robbery. But before he was a nobody, he was just a kid named Jackie Wurthers.

As the vermin crawling through the alley looked on, Jackie sorted through his winnings. He was so engrossed with his ill-gotten riches, he didn't even notice the man leaning on the wall at the far end of his alley. The stranger was wearing a black suit with a crisp white shirt, a red tie, and was drinking a glass of red whine, looking for all the world as if he belonged in some upscale resort, not in the city's underbelly. His skin was the color of copper, his hair was like coal, and his eyes, grey as morning mist, were watching the jewelry thief like a snake might watch a mouse.

"That's quite a collection you've got there," He said in a smooth, flowing voice, even toned, polite, and foreboding. "Though, if I know your type, it's not near enough." He took a sip of the wine as Jackie turned with a start and cursed in surprise. The burglar pulled a knife from his pocket, and brandished it threateningly, but the stranger seemed not to notice.

"Who the hell are you? You want a piece of this you can just forget about it man." The stranger took a step forward, and despite himself Jackie took a step back. A small chuckle escaped the stranger's lips, no doubt amused by the thief's false bravado.

"Oh have no fear on that account; I have no need for your money. In fact, I have a proposition for you. A way for you to make much, much more." Jackie looked nervous, but there were dollar signs in his eyes, and the knife was lowering. "That's better, my friend. You may call me Vincent. I do hope you accept my offer." His smug grin never faltered or changed as Jackie put up his knife.

"Well, whatever you've got to say, I'll hear it. Name's Jackie."

Vincent's smile widened. "Oh I know who you are, Mr. Wurthers. I know you're a homeless, desperate man, and a very good thief. You have nothing to lose, my friend, and stand to gain quite a lot if you agree to do as you say. The world shall dance in your hands when we are done." Vincent walked to the end of the alleyway, and beckoned Jackie to follow him.

"To put it simply, I am in a bit of a contest. If I defeat my opposition, then there is little in this world that will be beyond my reach. However, I can not compete alone, for every one of us must have a partner. That is what I need from you. The goal is to kill or capture all others."

"Wait, what? I may be a robber, but I ain't no killer!" Jackie stepped away, turned and ran toward the alley. Just as he got up to speed, he slammed into a barrier of some sort. When he looked, nothing was there, but he put up his hand, and felt a wall where he saw nothing but air. "What in the hell…"

"Exactly, my friend. I am just coming from there actually. My rivals will be here soon, and if you want the promise of safety from them I am your best bet. If we win, I will make you the richest man in this world." Vincent was standing over him now, offering a hand to pull him to his feet. Jackie just sat for a moment, feeling as if the blood had frozen in his veins.

"And… and say we lose? You expect me to get killed for you? Fat chance of that, buddy." Despite his brave words, Jackie made no move to rise. Deep in his heart, fear was eating at him, slowly. "What do you want from me, eh? Are you going to steal my soul or something like that?" The demon just smiled.

"Oh, because that is such a valuable thing to you? Look at yourself, Wurthers. You're just a thief, a vagabond. You are nothing, but I can give you the world on a platter. So, if we don't win, you really have nothing to lose. You have no life, your soul is wasted on you, and not worthy of me in the first place. Take my hand, Jackie, and make yourself something. Or I'll leave, and you can get back to lying in the dirt, being meaningless. I'll look for you among the ruined corpses filling the streets once the others arrive."

Jackie was afraid, more afraid than he'd ever been. The terror was choking him, killing him. He wanted to close his eyes, go to sleep, to go far away inside his head and realize this was all a hallucination. He opened his eyes, and those grey, misty pits wee still drilling into him. Jackie too a breath, and thought hard, going over all the reasons he needed the money, and all the reasons he wanted to make this being go away. He thought for a long while, and then he had his answer. He reached up, and took Vincent's hand.

Vincent smiled wickedly, and pulled him up, squeezing hard. Jackie had to cry out as sharp claws dug into his arm, drawing blood. Vincent drew his hand away, and the blood continued to flow. It flowed out of Jackie's arm, off of the demon's nails, and began to swirl and slither in the air. Slowly it formed words, like a floating scroll with no parchment. On and on the blood flowed, until Jackie was feeling so lightheaded he couldn't read the words. When it was written out, Vincent clapped his hands and it vanished.

"Well, now that all of that is settled, follow me." Vincent turned, walked to the wall of a nearby building, and touched his hand flat to the bricks. Where the wall had been, there now was an open doorway, dark as midnight. Vincent stepped through without a glance back. Jackie hesitated for an instant, and then followed.
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First section done, more to come, see you all soon!

Part two incoming. As a heads-up, these first few parts will each be focusing on a different team of characters, sort of explaining their dynamics as a team. Parts 1-4 art like this, to be exact. I feel the ability to know who's who, and to switch off on who to root for, will make up for any tedium.
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Another night, another back alley, another piece of human trash struggling to survive, picking at food in a trashcan as the rain comes down. She's ten years old, thin as a rail, and by now she can hardly remember what warmth felt like, but at least she was out of the orphanage.

She had never known her parents, never known home. All she'd ever known was the orphanage, and it had been awful. The caretakers were all either cruel or neglectful, it was scarcely ever warmer than outside, but the worst part was the older kids. They would beat her, grab her, anything they felt like. With nothing else to do, no other way to release their anger, they had always turned to the younger kids to make them feel strong.

The worst had been Eddy. He was fifteen years old, and depraved. He had beat her the most, and he'd always smiled. He behaved like an angel whenever the caretakers were around, but he was a demon. Satan himself. The week before she ran, Eddy had begun to carry around a switchblade, day and night. When she thought of him and his knife, she could almost forget how bad it was on the streets. Nothing could ever be worse than that orphanage.

The rain was coming down even harder now, soaking her to the bone. She huddled close to the was with a chunk of stale bread, and was about to drift off to sleep when a sound at the opening of her alley roused her. Footsteps in the rain, and a vice humming a tune. Her blood ran cold as she heard it, and she poked her head out to see. There he stood, walking into the alley, tall, blonde, and smiling, holding his switchblade.

"Hey Eden!" He called out into the dark. "Come on out! You had your fun, we aren't mad! Just come home now, We all missed you!" She wrapped her arms around her legs and began to cry. She had nowhere to hide, and he was getting closer. Suddenly he was there in front of her, smiling. "There you are. Now get up!" He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her to her feet. She struggled and sobbed, and at last broke free, running to the end of the alley. She tripped and fell, lying in the rain as Eddy strode over to her.

"That was stupid, Eden." His voice was dead serious now. He kicked her hard in the ribs." You know you could get yourself hurt, running in the rain like that!" He kicked her again and turned her around, putting his knife to her throat. "I was just going to bring you back quietly, but you just had to run, didn't you? Oh well, now I get to have my fun."

" Don't...Eddy please! Just don't…don't!" Eddy shook her by the shoulders and made her be quite. "Eddy why are you doing this? What did I ever do to you?" He just smiled and ran the tip of his knife over her arm, and across her stomach, trying to decide where to put that first cut. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a broken bottle on the ground, but she couldn't hope to reach it with him holding her down.

More footsteps at the mouth of the alley, heavy, plodding steps. The both turned to look, and what they saw made them gasp. He was huge, standing there at the mouth of the alley, rain flowing off him. He stood well over six feet tall, maybe seven, and he was big even for his size. He had a broad, brutal face and strange tattoos on his arms where his sleeves came short. He took a step toward them. "Rise," was all he said, and just like that Eddy was back on his feet.

"Wha-what do you want? I swear I wasn't going to hurt her!" Eddy was panicking now, and she was free. All the better for her. If he was busy with the big man, he couldn't watch her. The man as well was distracted it seemed. He looked down at Eddy with an unreadable face."

"Save your lies, little man. I know you are violent. I do not care." He had a voice like a thunderstorm. "I have a deal for you, one which may allow you to put that violence to use." Eddy took a step forward, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Agree to my offer, and no one will keep you from your desires."

"What deal?" Eddy asked, his voice thin. He never got his answer. It was just then that she struck out, broken bottle in hand. A second later they were on the ground, and she was on top of him, watching the blood gush from the wound in his throat. He was gurgling and shaking, trying to speak, but his words drowned in the red flow. As the light faded from his eyes, all she could think of was that she would never be tormented by him again.

Then she noticed the switchblade stuck into her stomach.

She turned over, and the pain shot through her body. She realized now the big man was watching her. His face was different now. Somehow softer. "Child, that was foolish. That wound will kill you."

"I… I…don't want to die. Please, just.." Every word was a struggle. The big man was kneeling beside her now. "Help me. Please help me." She didn't know if she was asking him or someone else. It was him who answered though.

"I can save you, but there is a cost. I am seeking help, little girl. It will be hard, but if you do what I say, I will save you." He drew out the knife, and she winced in pain as it slid out of her. "What is your name?"

"Eden," she choked out. "I'm Eden. I'll do anything. Please." He took her hand then, and she felt a burning sensation in her stomach. She looked down as the wound closed, and across the ground, her blood was slithering, crawling. It formed words, a contract. Then the big man clapped his hands and it was gone.

"I am Mark," he said as he lifted her to her feet. "From this moment forward, Eden, you are my partner. What is it you want, more than all else?" She needed a minute to think on that.

"I want to be…Safe." Mark laughed and nodded.

"That I can do, Eden. Come with me." Together, they walked off, into the night.