People flashed past me as I ran, hell bent for leather through the busy streets. Darting in and out of vendors, asari matrons, and the odd volus or three, I panted, clutching my stolen prize to my chest. I could still hear him pounding behind me, closing the gap, but I knew he wouldn't catch me, not this time. He moved with an impressive speed and grace, but I was faster still. I waited, counting my steps until . . . there. Darting to the left, I slipped through a tiny gap in the crowd, my small form giving me the advantage over my pursuer. Out of sight, I doubled back around the busy market, a sly smile tickling the corners of my mouth as I watched him scanning the street.
I heard his curse from my hiding spot between two stalls and chuckled as he turned full circle, showing me his face. Kolyat. I knew his name from watching him sign it so many times on my arrest forms. A young police officer, striking out in the world to stop people like me; people just trying to get by without starving. Sometimes, I found myself wanting to shake him, to tell him to catch the real criminals and leave us duct rats alone.
Not much point to trying to explain what life was like under the boots and beneath the notice of the good, respectable folk. I'd have better luck explaining dry to a fish. I looked back at Kolyat. Does he know what it's like to just want to survive? No, he didn't. Not him. If he's been hungry a day in his life, then I'm damned gold hanar. My stomach rumbled as if to emphasize the thought, and I wrapped my arm around my waist, not wanting the too-loud sound to alert anyone to my presence. When the pain of the emptiness inside me passed, I let out a soft breath, remembering what it felt like to not be hungry. I used to be like him . . .. I know his type. Spoiled little rich kid that thinks he knows better and that the world farts happiness and shits chits just for him. He'll learn . . .. One day he'll see, just like I did.
When the aquamarine and black drell finally left, his coat billowing around him, I ducked out of my spot and hurried across the street. Entering the maze of back alleys and deserted streets as darkness fell around me. I took the long way, just in case. The leaking of the sewage pipe greeted me, almost cheerful in a disgusting and sometimes irritating way. Waking up with that ringing in my head . . . ugh. I tossed a glare at it, before skirting around a pile of trash, peeking inside to see if there was anything useful. Nothing . . ..
The businesses around the area were getting good at hiding and disposing of things that we could steal and it made life even harder. Without the scraps of food or clothing normally found in the waste, we were suffering. It's not like we're hurting anyone taking from the rubbish. Wouldn't they rather we take stuff from there than inside their precious buildings? Shaking my head, I jumped over a huge crack in the pavement, taking three hopping steps to the left to avoid another broken pipe then danced to the right, dodging the crazy homeless guy that took a swipe at me.
"Hi, Brian!" I called once I was out of range. Muffled screaming met my greeting and I sighed. "Nice to see you too!" Glancing back at his festering pit, I watched him shuffle back like a hermit crab. Walking a little further, I found home. If you can call an old, broken down shuttle a home.
Shaking my head, I knocked on the metal door. One tap to the left panel, two to the right and five in the center, alternating between hollow sounds and harder, shaper ones. . My stomach rumbled at the smell of the bread, but it wasn't for me. I'd eat when they had full bellies. As full as I can get them anyway.
"Hey, it's me, open up," I whispered through the small hole we used as viewing window. "I got some food." I held up the half loaf of bread like an offering from the gods themselves and soon enough, several grubby hands reached out and pulled me into the shuttle. Welcoming calls and hugs were given, mostly from a ball of energy and flying blond curls, and the door closed behind me.
Looking around, I tore the bread into small chunks and handed it out, watching them stuffing it into their mouths. Stick signed pigtails, a comical picture as the krogan made his sign for me, then pointed to the bread and his mouth. His brows dropped a little before he jabbed me in the ribs with a finger. May, you need to eat. You're getting too thin.
I shook my head. "I'll eat tomorrow, Stick. You're on guard duty tonight, you need it more," I told him, patting his shoulder. I sighed as he took a bite from his bread, his stomach growling as he chewed slowly and handed the rest to Duck. He can't keep this up . . ..
I stepped past Jar'ak, the seven year old vorcha who huddled around his bread as if he expected me to steal it. He growled at me as I patted his back, able to feel the thick weals of scar tissue that still criss-crossed his pale frame. I ignored it. At least he wasn't still throwing me to the ground anymore. Patting his head, I moved to sit in my corner.
A little, warm body curled into my side and I looked down. "Hey, Duck," I whispered, stroking the little six year old girls lank, dirty hair. I frowned at the locks. "Look at this hair! Guess we're gonna have to take some times tomorrow to wash it, huh?" I asked, nuzzling her forehead.
"May, are you going out again?" Duck asked, looking up at me. Her wide, blue eyes met mine and I nodded. She whimpered as she squeezed me tight, her frail arms wrapping around my waist. She buried her face into my neck. "You'll come back?" she asked, her voice trembling. "What if . . .."
"He won't come back, Duck," I told her, holding her tight. "I promised, right? He's gone and he can't hurt you again." I raised my hand to the scar that ran from my forehead to my chin. It was worth it, I thought, watching as the others curled up next to one another. Arik and Marlina lay on one side, cuddling for warmth and comfort and I smiled. Totally worth it.
I kissed Duck's forehead as I lay her down in my little corner. Pulling my old blanket over her, I took her covers as well, making sure she was extra warm without me to cuddle. "I'll come back, I always do," I promised, tucking her in tight. "Get some sleep. Stick is on guard duty tonight, so you'll be safe until I come home." I glanced over at the huge, silent krogan in the corner, and he nodded at me. I raised a questioning brow and gestured to Duck. He'll wake her if her nightmares come back, I thought, putting trust in him.
Once she settled, I looked down at myself, noting with some disgust that I was a mess from running through the keeper tunnels before. Sighing, I pulled off my outer clothing, showing my body. I poked my ribs as Stick had done earlier, absently noting the fresh set of graze scars from escaping Kolyat a few days ago. Shaking my head and ignoring my hollow stomach, I pulled on my only other set of clothing. I slipped my legs into the worn, black jeans, fumbling with the broken zip for a second, before tugging my tank top inside out to hide the dirt. I checked the hole under the left arm, worried I'd torn it further. Thank god . . . I don't have time to find another.
Sighing again, I shook my head, trying to clear my worry. On my feet I wore a ragged pair of black combat boots with odd laces and over the whole thing my pride and joy, a gift from the kids I looked out for; a leather half jacket that fit me as if it'd been made for me. One more run tonight so they can eat in the morning.
Nodding to Arik, the small salarian cuddling the asari, I sidled past, trying not to disturb them. I took the comb from the makeshift shelf. I brushed it through my short black hair, wincing as several of the teeth broke off and snarled in the locks. Need a new comb too. Tugging the sharp bits of plastic from my hair, I tied it into my trademark pigtails and left the shuttle, listening as Stick locked it down behind me. I hesitated, then knocked twice, two rapid beats of question. Four beats and a scratching came back. Locked down, May. Be safe.
Reassured, I took off at a low, loping run into the streets. I slipped into the shadows, taking comfort from their masking presence, unafraid of them as others were. They welcomed me as I welcomed them, and I used them to slip through the alleys out of sight. Planning my targets, I kept silent, my breathing slow and even. Drunk people; easy marks for my nimble fingers. I never stole off people who couldn't afford it, or those with families of their own to feed. I only ever took from the rich people on the citadel, and the best place to find those people is where the rich go to play and congratulate one another on their wealth.
Silversun Strip . . .. People there gleamed with diamonds and rubies, but I don't want their gems or fancy furs; too hard to fence. No, my target was their smaller goods. They all carried so much wealth as if it meant nothing, not even thinking about how expensive their solid gold buttons were, or how easy they were to cut from their jackets and sell. Unless I get caught.
I pushed away the thought, focusing again. So many of them ordered meals and got distracted, leaving their purses and coats lying around; things I could take and sell, or use if they fit any of the kids, that was all I needed. One stupid person. I needed a good haul tonight or we'd suffer for it as my last few stints had me going home empty handed.
People knocked into me, already drunk and distracted, easy marks for me now. No one noticed me and no one bothered to say sorry as I was knocked down, trying to find the perfect score. Damn it. I got to my feet and slipped behind a table, hiding myself from sight and setting up my little outpost. Okay . . .. I watched several asari women fluttering their hands and preening like peacocks, their brightly colored dresses glittering with gems. My hands itched, eager to begin my work and I glanced around. Clear. Slipping out of my hiding spot, I entered the crowd and began pilfering, mumbling apologies as I picked pockets and tugged jewelry off wrists with a flick of my fingers. You didn't see me . . .. You never see me.