The lights overhead flickered as the tattoo machine whirred to life. Tanya winced. Why did they always have to do that? Thankfully, Maria was a regular, and had already heard all her classic lines. “Happens every time I’m ‘bout to do my best work,” and “The electricity is as nervous as you are, eh?” were her usual go-tos.


    For a moment, the only light was the soft glow of the rising sun through the window behind her. Maria’s wheelchair was parked beside her, spoke shadows dancing across the counter and up the parlour’s back wall. Then, the power surged back, flooding the parlour with neon. The lights buzzed overhead as the Galaga arcade machine in the corner continued its jaunty tune, the scoreboard pulsating in time with Tanya’s name at the top.


    Maria reclined in the tattoo chair, feigning relaxation.


    “You all set then?” Tanya asked, her Cockney accent chiming through. She reached for her phone to turn the speakers up.


    Vibrations pulsed from each corner, the subwoofer filling her head with her favourite bassline. Tanya tilted the white lamp away from Maria’s face to rid her glasses of glare. This was going to be a long session so she wanted her friend to be as comfortable as possible.


    Maria scrunched her eyelids shut, her voice sounding as a squeak. “Yes. Make it count, I’m running out of skin space up here.”


    She opened one eye and stretched her legs with a small smile. Tanya knew she wasn’t kidding; this was the only spot left on her arms and legs. The neon lights of “The Wyrm and Needle” sign reflected off her metallic skirt like the glimmer of a CD. It morphed between words and strange scrawls as the light danced across the folds.


    Tanya rubbed Maria’s arm with alcohol wipes, their arms pressed together. The contrast between their tattoo sleeves brought a smile to her lips. Tanya’s were mostly witchy symbols: eyes and tarot cards and skulls. Her favourite was a hunter''s knife on her inner wrist in memory of her dad. Maria’s were all botanicals. At first glance, Maria’s tattoos looked delicate, but each one was something deadly—either poisonous or carnivorous. Whereas Maria’s full cheeks and lacy dresses brought a smile to the lips of old grannies, Tanya had enough piercings and edgy fashion sense to horrify the parents of all of her past partners.


    “You got one of those raids after this?” Maria asked. “The war craft one?”


    “World of Warcraft?” Tanya laughed. She peeled the back off the stencil.


    Maria swung round to point at her. “Yeah! That one.”


    The tattoo chair creaked as she moved. Tanya’s hand snatched out to steady it.


    “Oi, stay still, would ya?” Tanya smiled. “Yeah, it''s been a while with work bein’…” She trailed off. “Well anyway, I’ve been busy. Barely get time for games nowadays. I''m tryin’ a new character tonight, a Warlock.”


    Maria’s face was blank.


    “The summoner one—ya know—the lil’ imps.”


    “Oh yes! They’re so cute.”


    Only Maria would think they were cute.


    Tanya poised her hand to begin. “Right, I’m ready. You got this, mate.”


    Maria nodded, her fingers gripping the armrest. “Short-term pain for long-term squiggles, right Tan?”


    Their gazes met in silent agreement. The needle pierced skin, and Maria’s face tensed. Tanya''s eyes ran over Maria''s face, looking for any sign to stop. Maria nodded and Tanya continued the line. The gun buzzed up and down Maria’s shoulder. Tanya marveled at her heart rate slowing as she wiped away each smudge of ink. Maria wasn’t as lucky.


    “Ow, ow, ow, distract me.”


    “Sure, uh…” Tanya paused, scanning the shop before her eyes settled on the pile of letters on the counter. She focused on the familiar handwritten envelope, ignoring the red stamped URGENT and FINAL NOTICE on the rest of the pile. “Mum said little Tommy’s lovin’ college so far.”


    “Wow…he must be…so big now,” Maria said. She whimpered occasionally, taking deep breaths between each line.


    “Yeah, he is. I wanted to give him a proper shot, ya know?” Tanya tried to hide her smile, but she knew she was failing miserably. She thought back to the pile of bills. “Well, I do what I can, don’t I?”


    Tanya paused to refill the ink. The edge of the boy’s face was beginning to take shape. She’d been excited for this one all week—ever since Maria told her it was inspired by the story they’d thumbed through as kids until it fell to pieces: “The Little Prince.”


    Maria let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. She smiled and pointed to her first tattoo, a semicolon. Tanya had a matching one. “We’ve come a long way since our days in Brighton, don’t you think? Back when you’d talk me into schemes like—”


    “Inventing magic fish bait,” they said in unison and laughed.


    “I just nicked some market beads and dyed pigeon feathers, then stuck ''em onto a regular tackle." Tanya grinned.


    She shushed Maria and snapped the rubber glove against her wrist with an exaggerated thwack. “We can have a natter after I finish the line work, yeah?”


    “Darn, foiled again...” Maria drifted off, staring over Tanya’s head towards the speaker.


    Tanya had tuned the radio out until now, but something in the announcer’s voice pulled her focus. As her trance faded, the dull ache in her wrist returned, along with the low buzz of the radiator.


    “Residents around the UK have reported sightings of mysterious black creatures. Described as shadowy and elusive, these beings have been seen on the edges of major cities, prompting both fascination and concern. Local officials have launched an inquiry—though, so far, no concrete explanations have emerged. Authorities are urging caution as they continue to investigate these unusual occurrences—“


    “Huh,” Tanya said. “Bit weird, innit? You reckon it’s real?”


    “You haven’t heard?!” Maria exclaimed, “There’s been reports like this all day, strange sightings, weird thefts, and unexplainable mysteries—Laura thinks it’s someone playing a prank on the BBC—”


    The bell chimed and the conversation lapsed. Tanya turned the music down.


    “Sorry mate, I’m booked all mornin’.” She smacked her hands on her jeans and turned around.


    His hair was shaved almost to the skin, he towered over six feet tall, and even his muscles had muscles. A leather jacket clung to his broad frame, the orange snake on one arm marking him as an East-End Adder. A few more filed in after him, all bearing the same mark. She’d never met him directly, but everyone in Whitechapel knew of him. He was known as Adder, and he was the reason kids in this area didn’t go out after dark. For weeks, his lackeys had been showing up at all hours, pressuring her to pay protection money she couldn’t afford.


    No, not now.


    Maria stiffened, gripping her sleeve until her knuckles blanched. Her breath hitched in shallow pants, as if even breathing too loudly might draw their attention.


    Tanya bounced her knees, readying to sprint. If she ran at them first, Maria might have a better chance of escaping. Maria fumbled, pulling herself onto her wheelchair with shaking hands. She knocked the ink caps over. Tanya wanted to help, but she wouldn''t risk taking her eyes off him. Standing at 5 foot 4, Tanya knew no amount of dyed hair, tattoos, or piercings would convince these thugs she was a threat. Her only chance was speed.


    “I assume you know who I am,” Adder said. His voice caught her off guard—posh and smooth, a stark contrast to his rugged look.


    Her stomach knotted, but she forced herself to exhale like nothing was wrong.


    “Who wouldn’t?” Tanya replied. “Let her go, an’ then we’ll talk.”


    A figure moved behind her. She recognised his two face-framing dreadlocks and the scar down his right eye. He’d come in alone last time, full of fake pleasantries and thinly veiled threats.


    Tanya nodded towards the man with the dreadlocks. “I already told him. I can''t afford it.”


    Tanya glanced over her shoulder. Maria’s face was pale, her expression locked with tension. She gripped her chair to steady her arms, but they still shook uncontrollably.


    “Here, I’ll give ya everythin’ I got if you let her go.” Tanya lifted her palms and moved toward the counter.


    Adder smiled, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head. He held up a hand, stopping her in her tracks. “I don’t need your pennies. What I want to know is why you’re the only one on this street not paying on time.”


    Tanya’s jaw tightened, uncertainty curling in her gut. She knew the answer—some were sinking into debt, others had partners with better jobs. No one could afford it, yet the price kept climbing. One missed payment and Tommy was out. She wouldn’t let that happen.


    Tanya pointed at a neon sign on the wall: Remember, you can always ask for a break.


    “My customer wants a break. Please step aside.” Arms crossed, she stood her ground—with far more confidence than she felt.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Adder smiled and stepped out of the way of the door. Maria lurched towards it and Tanya thrust some cream and a dressing in her lap as she passed, murmuring “Tell Laura from the florist not to come ‘til I call.” Maria nodded and didn’t look back.


    “How many payments have you missed now, hm? How many warnings?” Adder approached the table and gestured for his men to sit on the sofas by the entrance. “You see, people are starting to ask questions. Why isn’t she paying? Does that mean it''s safe if we don’t? Is Adder going soft?”


    No one was crazy enough to say that, not really. She’d not told a single neighbour either. She wasn’t about to argue either way.


    Tanya flipped the sign to closed. She exhaled, steadying herself, then turned.


    The men spread out across the shop. Two giant thugs, that appeared to be brothers, were sitting on the creaking sofa by the wall and speaking a language she didn’t understand; it sounded Indian, maybe Bengali or Hindi. The man with the two dreadlocks framing his face circled her, inspecting the signs. His boots dragged along the floor behind him, leaving marks in the wood. The last, the shortest of the lot, a guy barely 5 foot 5 with an undercut, found the arcade machine. He leaned over it with a crazed smile. Something about the way he clamped his hands on the controls disgusted her. All of them did, circling her like vultures. She’d convinced them before. She could do it again.


    “I’ll get it to you. Monday?” She bit her lip. She’d need a miracle to pull that much together.


    His face hardened.


    “Sunday? No, Saturday?” She blabbered days, holding up her hands.


    Monday would be hard enough. Maybe she’d have to get a loan this time. She’d sworn she’d never get one again after seeing the interest last time, but any way out was worth whatever promise she had to make.


    Dreadlocks approached, each step measured. Tanya stepped aside to give him space, but he didn’t pass her. She couldn’t read his face. Her heart raced. She took another step back, but he shot out, gripping her arm with surprising force. She jerked, ready to cuss him out—but something cool and sharp pressed against the small of her back. At first, it didn’t register as anything more than a cold pressure. Then she felt the tip cutting into her skin.


    His knuckles brushed against her back and she flinched. She could tell from the drag of skin down her back that it wasn’t even a large blade, but there was something about the force he pressed it with that made the air heavier. She tried to move away, but his grip tightened, urging her forward into the store. Undercut closed the blinds. The store was different now. The neon lights that once were cosy reflected an eerie, alien glow against the leather jackets. Shadows pooled in the corners.


    She stiffened, fighting to control the shiver running down her spine. It had never been like this before.


    No, they mean it. Oh god, they’re gonna make an example outta me.


    The knife stayed firm against her back. Dreadlocks’ fingers twitched, drumming a slow, deliberate rhythm against the hilt. His breath was too close, his words a low murmur against her ear. “What will it be, princess?”


    One of the brothers ripped the landline from the wall. The cable snapped with a sharp crack. Something in her gut tightened, a creeping unease that spread slowly, like cold water rising around her ankles. She felt her phone in her pocket and hovered over it instinctively. But she knew before she even tried, there was no point. They’d take it from her the second it left her pocket. And then what? Even if she called for help it was unlikely there’d be enough proof to arrest them.


    The blade’s edge was barely grazing her skin, but her thoughts lagged.


    Think. Think. How can I pay ‘em?


    She took a deep breath and puffed her chest out as Dreadlocks'' other hand crept from her arm down to her waist. She used all of her self-control not to hit him or scream.


    Tattoos.


    She scoured their visible skin for gang tattoos. Maybe she could barter, and even if it went wrong it would put something sharp in her hand. One of the men on the couch ran his hand through his hair, there was some symbol on his wrist but it was small. She could do better.


    “I can do you a deal,” Tanya said, louder than she needed to. She crossed her arms, her gaze shifting to the logo on each jacket. “The snake’s your thing, yeah?”


    Adder nodded, tilting his head.


    “I don’t see no East Adder Tattoos on you, nothin’ really showing you lot off.”


    A heavy silence enveloped the room, stretching her nerves taut. Adder paced up and down, studying each polaroid photo on the wall next to him. She’d never been so grateful for those pictures.


    “Hm.”


    “You deserve somethin’ flashy. Custom design of course—free of charge. Big pieces for the lot of ya. That would cover most of what I owe. If you like it, I could do the rest of your group—simple-like—show you guys are in charge.” She rambled, masking the shake in her voice.


    The silence was suffocating.


    “Design something, then I’ll decide,” he said, pulling off his leather jacket. The others raised their eyebrows and exchanged looks. Under his long shirt sleeves was uneven red skin. He passed her his jacket and she inspected the swirling orange snake embroidery.


    Dreadlocks pressed the blade harder, it nipped at the soft skin on her back, somewhere above her tailbone. “No funny business.”


    The brothers on the couch exchanged a few words in their language. One laughed, a low, throaty sound, his eyes flicking up at Tanya. The other stared at her without blinking, a sharp, intense gaze.


    She reached for a pencil to sketch with. Dreadlocks grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close, his body pressed behind hers and for the first time, the knife properly cut her skin. Clenching her nails into her fists, she stifled a gasp.


    She hesitated, the weight of his presence heavy on her back before finally meeting his gaze. His eyes were deep brown with neon blue reflections. “If you want me to do your tattoos, I need to move around.”


    He paused for a moment then let go of her shoulder, satisfied to follow her with the knife.


    She took a steadying breath, grateful for the sliver of space.


    It’s just a tattoo Tan, you do these every day.


    She grabbed some transfer paper. Her fingers quivered as she slipped a few sheets away from the pile.


    The snakes on their jackets were identical aside from the number of fangs. Adder’s had two fangs whereas the others all had one. She’d need to change the design to fit different placements. Adder would be trickiest. She assumed he’d want it visible but his arms were unlikely to make clean enough lines.


    She began designing snakes for each of them. For Adder, a looped snake around his neck with the face in the centre of the back of his neck like a third eye. She spent the longest on his design, working out how to best place the tattoo to avoid his scars.


    The brothers tossed their jackets aside, muscles shifting under their shirts. They chatted easily, their banter feeling more like a coffee shop than a hostage situation. With each laugh booming around the shop, she flinched. For a while, she pondered how to curl the designs around each other, trying to avoid giving them a strange section of each other’s snakes. That’s when she got it—two wriggling snakes. Each would be a mirror image of the other on the brothers’ large biceps. If they interlocked their arms, the snakes would curl around each other.


    For Dreadlocks she drew a chest piece, a coiled-up snake ready to strike with a chipped tooth, mimicking the shape of his knife. She focused on the drawing, trusting her memory of him. When she did look up, it was only a glance. She didn’t want him to catch her and look back.


    Finally, for Undercut on the arcade machine, she designed a lower arm piece. The head of the snake would reach onto the hand with large swirling eyes to hypnotise its prey. Undercut leant in closer to the arcade machine as she referenced him, his fingers tapping the buttons with a rhythm that bordered on frantic. When he lost, he slammed his palm against the machine, the loud thud breaking the quiet tension. His eyes returned to Tanya, and the mania in them mirrored the snake in front of her.


    Tanya was overcome by a wave of nausea as she finished. She stared down at her sketches, and the situation felt less real. As her hand dropped, every eye in the room landed on her. Adder held his hand out to take the tablet and she passed it wordlessly. The others remained motionless, watching his expression until he nodded, then crowded around to see their designs. Dreadlocks shoved her towards the group, blocking any chance to escape. Not that she thought she could outrun them anyway. The blade at her back seemed unnecessary, but he held onto it, clearly enjoying this.


    “You begin with me,” Adder said.


    Tanya’s tension eased, but she clenched her abs to force the bile back down her throat.


    Perched on the recliner, he stared down at Tanya, unblinking. “Tanya, is it? If you recount any of this, I will be forced to kill you and anyone you told. Do you understand?”


    Tanya’s mouth went dry. She nodded and busied her shaking hands with cleaning equipment.


    The room was thick with an energy that Tanya couldn’t place. With the blinds drawn, the parlour was bathed in neon light, casting garish hues across the walls. The only white light was the single spotlight above Adder’s head.


    She crept over, trying not to stare. His arms were a jagged landscape of twisting welts. Some scars stood raised and white, others darkened closer to dried blood. The texture of the skin had been irreversibly changed, rough and uneven, like leather that had been stretched too tight and then left to wither. His arms were taken over by the new rippling texture, fading into normal skin around his collar bones.


    She picked up her tattoo gun and switched it on, anticipation coursing through her. Again the lights flickered, plunging them into momentary darkness. Tanya’s heart lurched. Adder sat straighter.


    Dreadlocks pressed the knife into her back again. Tanya jerked her arms, the gun still buzzing. “It does that when I turn it on.”


    Dreadlocks eased the pressure of the knife as Adder leant back again. It pulled her focus to the wet bead of blood dripping down her back. She tried to ignore it.


    Adder went still, his breath slowing, and Tanya’s anxiety thickened. Every time the lights flickered, dread crept in—what if, when they returned, he wasn’t where she’d last seen him? His pleasant smile had returned, but she couldn’t shake the memory of the snarl in his voice when he threatened to kill her.


    She placed the stencil on his neck in two separate parts. Leaning in, the smell of cheap aftershave filled her nose. Up close she could see the fine blond hair growing through on his head and a faint scar on his upper lip.


    “This is the BBC News at Twelve. A man in the highlands claims to have developed a remarkable ability—the power to move objects with his mind. Residents of the small village of Durness—“


    Adder raised a finger in the air. “I prefer silence.”


    Tanya walked over to turn off the speakers manually—she didn’t want to lose her phone.


    While the arcade machine buzzed with Undercut’s game and the brothers whispered, her corner felt stifling with the silence of the unmoving Adder. Her heart sped up to fill it.


    She dipped the tattoo needle into the ink next to her, making a silent wish for her skills not to fail her now.


    Then she started the first line and her brain went silent. All that was left was the canvas before her and the buzzing of the tattoo gun. With each wipe, her heart steadied, and the weight in her stomach lifted.


    * * *


    Class Unlocked!


    Tattoo Summoner


    * * *


    Her grip tightened around the tattoo gun as she flinched, barely stopping herself from jerking back. The voice sounded clear—like a whisper just behind her.


    Adder let out a low “Hm?” Dreadlocks was still holding the knife but he’d pulled up a stool. He seemed content to just wave it menacingly rather than always having to stand behind her.


    “Uh, nothin’. It’s shapin’ up well.” She glanced around one more time before continuing, deciding it must have been a weird intrusive thought, probably born from the arcade machine sounds in the corner. Undercut hadn’t stopped playing it since she began the tattoo.


    Hours passed in what felt like minutes. The design wasn’t full colour, just a black outline with an orange glow around it. After adding the final touches to the orange eye, Tanya pulled away to admire her handiwork.


    * * *


    Ability Unlocked!


    More than Meets the Eye


    * * *


    She couldn’t ignore it this time. Shivers danced down her spine, the voice even louder and clearer. It was a low smooth voice, and it filled her head as if projected all around her.


    What the fuck’s goin’ on?