Almost a year ago, before so much had happened. An elderly woman was walking along the sidewalk, heading somewhere, when she received word from one of her workers that there was a homeless girl who was terrifying the locals because she liked to shoot anyone who upset her; in her right hand she carried a basket made of woven straw, filled with loaves of bread.
The elderly woman stopped at the entrance to an alley; the moonlight illuminated the alley and, inside, she could see a girl rummaging through the rubbish and picking out an apple that looked dirty and had several bite marks and wormholes. Yet without hesitation, the girl bit into the apple and began to chew it before swallowing it; the elderly woman, witnessing this, felt deep pity for her.
Without warning, the girl turned round; in her hand she was already holding a shotgun, which she immediately aimed at the old woman. "Wait—!" But before she could finish speaking—BANG—the bullet flew and the old woman dodged to the side.
"Calm down, I just wanted to give you something to eat," said the woman, pulling out a loaf of bread. The girl was wearing a red jacket, the hem of which was slightly torn; she had long, tousled blonde hair that almost reached her waist. The old woman knelt down and held out the bread to the girl, who looked very wary; she glanced at the bread before looking up at the old woman's face.
She quickly snatched the bread from her hand, then turned and crouched down; she sniffed it for quite a while to check for poison, before turning back and devouring the bread with gusto. "Would you like some more? I've still got plenty," said the woman before taking more bread from her basket.
The sound of her stomach rumbling was loud; hearing it, the old woman chuckled softly and held out the basket full of bread. "Take it all—you must be very hungry," she said, and seeing this, the girl grabbed the basket before running off—leaving the woman alone on that cold night.
The next day, as the old woman—who was none other than Mother—was walking home from the market carrying a brown paper bag full of groceries, her steps were halted by a gang of thugs blocking her path. "Hey, old woman, we won't beat about the bush—hand over your money now."
"But I've spent all my money on these," Mother explained, but they clearly weren't interested in excuses—all they wanted was money. The thug at the front pulled out a knife and pointed the blade at Mother's throat. "Oh, let's discuss this nicely, gentlemen."
"I don't like having to repeat myself—" Before he could finish his sentence—BANG—BANG—BANG—the sound of gunshots rang out clearly behind the thug; as he turned round, he found three of his buddies lying unconscious, their blood flooding the pavement. His eyes widened in shock, intensifying when he saw one of his friends' heads rolling towards the tip of his shoe.
Before he could scream, a hard object struck his chin, sending his feet off the ground, before the same object delivered a follow-up blow to his face, sending the thug flying onto the road; his motionless body was then run over by a passing car.
Mother watched it all in shock, and saw a girl with ruby-red eyes holding a shotgun in her hand; it was the stock of that shotgun that had been used to strike the thug. "…Is that your way of saying "thank you" for last night?" she asked, before the girl replied with a nod and ran off.
Seeing this, Mother immediately gave chase. "Wait!" she shouted as she continued to run after her. As she turned a corner, Mother saw the girl being spoken to by a man wearing nothing but a white cloth to cover his lower body.
Both of their eyes turned to the elderly woman who was panting heavily; the man glanced at the girl before asking, "Do you know her, Red?" Hearing her name immediately caught Mother's attention, and she broke into a smile.
"I'm not sure how to answer that," replied the girl called Red. It was the first time Mother had heard the girl's voice; she immediately walked over to them. The girl had expected Mother to say something about her actions towards those thugs.
She knelt down so that their eyes were level. "So your name is Red, is it? That name suits you perfectly," Red's expectations were shattered instantly and she gasped in surprise as Mother's hand reached out and stroked her hair. "Pleased to meet you, I'm usually called Mother Goose," she introduced herself before lifting her head, her dark eyes meeting those of the old man.
"Are you her father?" Mother asked; although they didn't look alike at all, it didn't hurt to check.
"No, I'm just a friend of hers," replied the old man. Hearing this, Mother withdrew her hand from the girl's blonde hair before standing up. "Do you have business with her?" the old man asked in return.
"Yes, I'll make this quick," said Mother before turning to Red, who appeared completely devoid of emotion; her expression hadn't changed—still that boring, blank face. "I'm the one who gives jobs to those special people known as Fables," she knelt down again before placing her finger on Red's chest, "including you. I can give you a job so you don't have to dig through rubbish bins for food."
Hearing this, Red tilted her head; she was confused by what the old woman in front of her was saying. "Your shotgun is special—you can summon it out of thin air, can't you? There are many people who have a weapon like that, and it's called the Everafter." Rather than helping, Red became even more confused by the sheer amount of information she'd received in such a short space of time.
Realising this, Mother smiled thoughtfully before standing up and turning back to face the old man. "May I take him to my place to discuss all this, sir…?" She'd forgotten to ask the old man's name.
"Admetus," he said, giving his name. "The choice is entirely hers."
"I'll go," Red replied immediately, and Mother was quite taken aback that her suggestion had been accepted so readily. "I don't sense any ill intent from her," she added, and that made Mother very, very happy inside.