Black Lagoon Fan Fiction ❯ Survival ❯ Survival ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Never once in their short lives had Hansel and Gretel ever paused and wondered if what they were doing was wrong. They didn’t believe there was a point in it. They did what they had to do to survive, and surviving was the top priority in life.

Humans are born with the survival instinct, the urge that tells them to keep running, keep pushing, and keep shooting. Do anything you need to do in order to survive. A cornered rat will still fight, even as the last breath escapes from its body, all in the name of survival.

They didn’t have parents, at least, not anymore. They did once, at some time they had a mother who carried them in her womb, safe and protected. At least until she left them at the orphanage. She didn’t even properly name them. The horrible man who ran the orphanage had nicknamed them Hansel and Gretel.

They both wished they could have pushed that man into an oven, laughing as the witch burned, finally paying for all the sins he had committed in his lifetime. That day never came though. Instead, they were left to suffer through whatever crossed that horrible man’s life.

The tasks had been laughingly simple at first. Cook dinner, scrub the bathroom floor, keep your face clean, and cut your nails so you couldn’t scratch anybody. Simple, even expected tasks for orphans.

Then the tasks had begun to change. Stay silent, don’t scream, don’t bite, take your clothes off, smile for the camera; nobody wants to see two brats crying. They had been forced together, trying to avoid noticing the camera, trying to still the shaking in their shoulders, trying to stop the tears from falling.

They did what they were asked to do, because it was the only way they could survive.

Soon, they themselves began to change. Gretel no longer cried when she was asked to remove her dress, she no longer winced or gasped at the crunching noises a bat made when it made contact with flesh. She just stayed silent and still, the tiniest of smiles playing on her lips. Hansel no longer shied away from his sister’s touches, he no longer felt sick when blood splashed across his face or clothing. He just grinned, darkly pleased.

They don’t remember when they had begun to switch, trying on the other’s gender for a change and both playing their roles perfectly. Soon they were no longer two separate beings; they were just one person, always together. Neither of them would ever be alone in this world.

Before long, the terrible man began to grow wary of them. Both of them could see the doubt in his eyes when he looked at them, he was scared of what he had created, though they couldn’t blame him.

That night when everybody had fallen asleep, they quietly went from room to room, putting everybody out of their misery. Including that horrible old man, who cried and begged for forgiveness, only to be met with twin smiles and small giggles as he had his throat slashed. Even if they didn’t burn him in an oven, he paid for his sins.

They couldn’t hide for long and without help, they would surely die on the streets, but neither of them cared in the least, and when a mafia boss expressed interest in them they were almost tempted to turn him down, but the urge for survival won out. Before they knew it they we’re cleaned up, put in matching outfits and given new weapons.

That’s how they had ended up here. Toying with that Russian women’s subordinate, listening as he begged for his life, promising he wouldn’t tell anybody about them. Gretel’s lips brush against Hansel’s collarbone and he can feel her laughing against his skin. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and in the dark room; he hears her whisper, “Deal the final blow, brother.”

And he does.

They had always done what needed to be done. They never questioned it; they had no time to do so. They ignored the people who told them that they were going too far, they both knew there are no boundaries when fighting for one’s life.

All there was, all there has ever been, is the need to survive.