*A/N - Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. I decided to rate this fic K+. As far as I can remember, there is a slight curse or two, but nothing I would deem inappropriate beyond the equivalent of PG. If for some reason there is a complaint about this rating, please let me know and I will change it. As usual, I plan on posting Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story. Please R&R, it is much appreciated. Thanks -Nikki
Chapter 2: The Rogues
Mathilde left her family home the next day. She couldn't handle the pity from others or her own memories. Leaving was harder than she ever thought it would be. She picked the house clean of whatever might come in handy. She brought a few items for sentiment; Kenneth's reading glasses, Henry's favorite toy from when they were children, Samuel's old and long untouched apron from his homemaker days, her father's pocket watch that her mother had given him in celebration of their engagement and her baby blanket that her mother had knitted while pregnant with her. She was gone soon after dawn.
Within two weeks of moving towards no destination, she felt hunger for the first time. Mathilde had run out of both money and food. She nearly sold her hair, but remembered her father once telling her that it was just like her mother's and the idea soon left her mind. A few days later she was stealing in random villages, poorly at first, but soon her skill developed. She romanced her thieving by remembering tales her father would tell all his children some nights (when he didn't have to work the next morning) about a nobleman who would rob from the rich to feed the poor. She never tried to kid herself by comparison though; the only person she fed was herself and she had no problem with that.
Well over a year had passed and she had taken to thieving like a natural, she had been known for being a quick learner once upon a time. At least that much hadn't changed. In one town, Mathilde had nearly been caught through one small miscalculation that nearly landed her in jail. She had narrowly escaped and had captured some attention in the process.
A man not much older than her approached Mathilde after her daring escape. "Thomas." He introduced himself and shook her hand.
Mathilde shook it. "Dola." She waited and the silence bothered her. "So, what do you want?"
"Look, Dola. A couple of my friends and I have been watching you lately." Dola looked at him confused and transparently bothered. "We're impressed with your skill."
"I don't know what you're talking about." She denied.
"You happen to be the only thief in this area that I have ever seen follow a pattern, which I find more than unorthodox. On one hand, it's incredibly dangerous and can get you caught, but on the other hand it denotes a methodical mentality, and shows that if it has worked for you unfailingly that it must be thoroughly researched which I find even more interesting."
"What's the problem, Thomas? Am I on your territory? Do you need me to move on?" Dola hadn't spoken to anyone in months and felt her voice might fail her soon, especially with how uneasy conversation now made her.
"Not exactly. Look, my friends and I have banded together."
A group of thieves? Dola wanted to laugh, but let him continue. "We are smart, motivated and sick of frying small fish if you know what I mean."
She knew all too well. Sometimes ambition and motivation could be a weakness, propelling one beyond what they might be able to handle. "Why risk it?"
"At what point is it no longer a risk, but a necessary progression of action?"
Dola pondered that point. At what point does stealing for the day to day stop being necessary and start becoming monotonous and futile?
"So what's your big plan?" Dola always wanted the bottom line in her vantage point.
"Let me buy you a drink and introduce you to some of our members and we can talk." Dola nodded and followed the young man into a tavern.
They called themselves 'The Rogues' and they were motivated, meticulous and even a little malevolent. Dola was courted by the idea of joining a ragtag group of thieves, but waited a month before committing. She hadn't been near people, really near them in a year and she wasn't sure if she could adjust to something once second nature, now foreign and uncomfortable. What made her give in was the reminder of monotony and if she had to be honest, boredom. Maybe she could be in a band; it wouldn't be like the Dola gang, but she could try being a Rogue, wasn't she already?
The Rogues were a small group of seven, including Dola. Most of their members had specialties. Thomas seemed the head of the band, his two right hand men were Rich and Kent, twin brothers he had known as a child; they were very focused on stealth, some of the best pickpockets Dola would ever see in her entire life. David was a skinny orphan who was skilled with daggers and always carried some. Ed was considered the least talented of the bunch, but armed with a short fuse and lacking common sense he was for all intents and purposes, fearless. Kyle was the real problem child of the group, he was the second oldest right behind Thomas and treated the band as if it was his own invention; he was smart and easily threatened. He seemed to come from a wealthy background and was the reason they had an airship as home base (it was by no means sophisticated, but held the crew comfortably in between scores.) Kyle didn't much care for having a female member and used every opportunity to remind his fellow band members of this. Within three months of joining The Rogues, Dola's patience for Kyle's snippy insults had run out.
Standing in the tavern, she gulped down what was left of her ale and socked him square in the nose. She wasn't sure what he took longer to recover from, the punch or the shock; either way, when his pause wore off, he charged at her. Dola took him down in a minute, surveyed the reactions of the bar mates, turned to her incapacitated band member and spoke clearly with a jagged edge to her voice that showed she meant business. "Kyle, I can handle your snark and I can overlook your uselessness, but don't ever question whether or not I should be here. Some of us don't have a choice and I'm not going to take snobbery from a spoiled little rich boy who joins a band because his mommy and daddy told him 'No' for once. Clear?" Kyle groaned and wiped blood from his nose and Dola took it as enough of a reply for her.
After that, there was no question about Dola's right to be a Rogue, in fact, there was no question about Dola at all. She seemed to have a weighty backstory, but any time a member would get curious, they would remember the look of bloody shame on Kyle's face when he was publicly taken down by a girl.
A lot of what The Rogues did consisted of mugging rich individuals of their heavy and burdensome purses. Thomas was always looking for a better opportunity, a way to promote them beyond the image of the common thief. He always looked to Dola for consideration and she happily obliged throwing out an idea or two. There was always blackmail or fraud, maybe even ransom. Thomas seemed intrigued by ransom, but couldn't think of a subject.
After several months of fruitlessness, one day while walking down a crowded street, the band decided to brainstorm. Dola tired of the heat and mugginess of the city, pulled her bandana from her head and wiped her brow clean; she decided to unravel her braids in favor of pulling her hair back out of her face. Thomas looked at her casually. Dola couldn't have been more than 17 years old and to the untrained eye she was actually quite pretty; fair skin, expressive eyes and long strawberry blond hair. She was bound to gather some attention, maybe which was one option he had never considered. Almost at that exact moment, a young man wearing glasses and standing beside two large gentlemen bumped into her. Dola muttered an apology without looking at the man, but the man's eyes were caught in her direction.
Thomas watched the interaction with curiosity. He told Dola and the boys to go on ahead and he would meet them later. He followed the young man who seemed to have a small posse that shadowed him. Thomas stealthily staked out the man for half the day.
"Where in the hell have you been, Thomas?" Dola muttered cantankerously. "You ask us to brainstorm with you and then you just disappear for half the day? Does that sound like a leader to you?"
Thomas shrugged and said, "If I thought for even a second you were actually questioning my authority, we might have a problem." The shrug insisted a casual disposition, but the edge in his voice insisted that he would have no problem making due on that promise.
Dola tried to passively shake away that direction of the conversation, afraid to admit even to herself that sometimes Thomas scared her. "Well, what kept you?"
"I was devising a plan. I know you're not going to like it, but it could be our ace in the hole. Get the others." Thomas ordered.
"So essentially, you want me, a skilled member of equal worth to play the damn bait?" Dola choked out. "Bait? Are you shitting me, Thomas?"
Kyle from across the table snickered. "Who'd even want to bite?"
"Would you like a black eye to match with that broken nose?" Dola spit out. Kyle much to his own embarrassment stayed silent and subtly touched the nose that had never quite healed.
"I've thought about this Dola. Sometimes it feels like we're getting nowhere and I think it is because we've been so focused on strength and not strategy." He sighed. "I hate to even ask this of you, but Kyle is ugly enough as a man, as a woman he couldn't even bait a blind man." Dola chuckled as did the rest of the table. "We are a crew and sometimes we have to do some shitty things to progress. It's the same with most families."
In spite of herself, Dola choked on her drink. "Who said we were family?"
Thomas spoke casually. "Well, aren't we?"
"Look, I never promised that and I certainly never promised to put on a coat of lipstick and a dress so I could bat some lashes at a target." It just didn't seem right to Dola, even if it did make a little sense.
"I know, Dola, but you have to hear me out. I saw this guy walking around with a hefty purse and two brutes that escorted him all day. Money talks and it's telling me that this guy is worth more than a moderately successful merchant. He seems to be the son of a wealthy family. You know how much I enjoyed that brilliant ransom idea you came up with earlier." Dola knew manipulation when she saw it, he was trying to compliment her other contributions to remind her that they brought her into The Rogues for several reasons that didn't include being just a simple pretty face.
"I don't know, Thomas. I'm not too keen on what you're asking. For the time being, why don't you just continue to do some surveillance before we charge through on any plans? Plus, we need to research more before we push on. Okay?" Dola attempted a compromise.
"That makes sense, Dola, but just know I'm not giving up on this plan. I saw that guy watch you. Entranced is the only way I can describe it. In a quiet setting away from his brutes, we could really take him by surprise. That's all I'll say for now. Kyle, we'll watch tomorrow. Rich and Kent you guys take the next day. I want to see this guy from every angle, just in case one pairing misses something." Thomas spoke with finality and just like that the meeting was adjourned and Dola's dignity was up in the air, just because some rich guy couldn't keep his eyes in his skull where they belonged.
The two days had passed and Dola was chomping at the bit, she was hoping that the pairings had found something, anything to disqualify Mr. Nosy as a possible target. Maybe he was just playing as a messenger for a rich family and possessed no ties to them beyond temporary employment. Dola could finally have some luck, right?
Thomas sat them all down in the tiny quarters that were The Rogues makeshift office. "You guys, I'm proud to say that our stakeout was actually successful. It seems our guy, Kurt comes from a very wealthy family." Dola didn't even try to hide her irritated grunt of displeasure. Great, she thought, now she would have to attempt to seduce a man when she didn't even know how to talk to one. She knew her strengths and was comfortable with fighting, stealing even manipulation to a certain degree, but acting as bait, that wasn't her specialty. She never knew how to pretend to be weak and she certainly didn't want to start now. Dola was resigned to tell her band that she refused; this was something she was almost sure she couldn't accomplish anyway, so in the long run she was saying no for all of them.
The boys all looked at Dola with little concern as if they expected this reaction from her. "He's the second son. The Wainwright's are a well-connected, indescribably wealthy family with the means to cash out a fortune to retrieve a beloved son."
"I'll do it." Dola spoke loud affirmation before she could stop herself; it was as if her subconscious understood, before she did.
Each member of the crew turned to face Dola with varying levels of surprise, shock and complete bafflement. "What's the plan?"
Thomas nodded with an open mouth. "Um, okay, that was a lot easier than I expected." He looked at Dola questioningly. "I guess, I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and ask what made you change your mind?"
"That's old news, Thomas, we're moving on. What's the plan?" Dola pushed on ahead, unable to admit what she was hoping to accomplish from this plan.
"Um. Well, there is a social gathering that is supposed to take place in about a month; all we need is to get Dola in. Then we have her pull Kurt off into some corner, distracted and unaware that Rich, Kent and I are waiting for him. Ed and David, you guys are on standby with transportation for our getaway. So it is just a quick slip in and slip out. Thoughts?" Thomas finished.
A cough interrupted the brief silence. Every head turned to face Kyle. "Yeah, what about me?"
"You sit here, twiddle your thumbs and continue to be useless. That shouldn't be a problem, right Kyle?" Even Dola had to admit that she was being a lot more antagonistic with Kyle ever since she had taken him down publicly, but she couldn't help it, after all the attitude he pulled on her, it felt nice to give it back to him here and there.
"I wouldn't be so rude to him, Dola. Kyle is a very important part of this plan." Kyle couldn't help but nod smugly at Thomas's words, not wondering what they could have meant, until Thomas continued. "After all, you don't want to piss off your date for the party."
There was brief second of flabbergasted silence and then hell broke loose. "Wait…" Dola began at the same time as Kyle as he shouted, "What?"
Thomas didn't even try to hide his satisfaction at seeing them both scrambled and bothered. Before any complaints could be spoken, Thomas explained himself. "Look, Kyle this is going to be a nice event and Lord knows common street scruff like Dola and the rest of us won't be able to get in. I know better than anyone what your family's connections are." Thomas shared an intimidating glance with Kyle. "Now it is time for you to pull your strings to get both you and Dola in." It wasn't a question, it was a command.
Thomas spent the rest of the night going over – in agonizing detail – the layout of the venue and where he and the twins would be waiting to intercept Kurt and Dola. Kyle was meant to leave once Dola and Kurt moseyed off to somewhere more private, and would meet up with Ed and David. Dola swallowed a sour feeling that she would have to work alongside Kyle, even being expected to walk in arm and arm; the only satisfaction she took from this information was confirmation that she was right in assuming that Kyle had no real value to The Rogues, minus an inherited pedigree from his mostly estranged parents. Now who didn't have the right to be there?
The bad news was far from being passed on to Dola as Thomas informed her that she would be spending even more time with Kyle as he instructed her how to behave herself properly and what habits might get her negative attention. Even if he was worthless, Kyle was still expected to teach her something? The idea made her laugh sardonically.
It took some pitching in from all the boys to afford Dola's attire for the night. Even though she was soured on the idea of wearing a dress, she obeyed. This was more important than a score, or respect for her common thief friends; this was revenge. It wouldn't make a difference besides making her feel a little better, it couldn't change things and she certainly wouldn't be able to rob them enough, but she could do something, even if it would only be a minor inconvenience.
Dola couldn't stop herself from volunteering the moment she heard that loathed name fall from Thomas's mouth. The Wainwright's, a rich to-do family that no doubt had no idea what she had suffered, what she had lost on their selfish journey to an extra dime. The thought made her sick. She almost didn't want to bring their son home; a dark part of Dola's soul thought that it would be so easy to collect ransom and then throw their son to the depths of the ocean. Would they feel even a fraction of her pain? She doubted it and quickly had to remind herself that she could not stoop to their levels, she could not steal a young man's life just because her father and three brothers died after being pushed beyond what was safe. The Wainwright's; the family that owned the mine, the slave workers who forced and demanded and took from their employees until the lights went out and 20 men died.
Dola didn't sleep the night she heard that name. All she could do was just lay and think about how it wouldn't be good enough, it wouldn't feel good enough; it wouldn't bring her family back.
The day Dola began working with Kyle was a long one, probably one of the longest days of her life. He loved making her feel inadequate. It didn't matter that she was already smart or that she was a fast learner, he still heaped on verbal abuse and insults. Dola wanted to beat the loving daylight out of the man, but knew he would turn away and take the one chance she had of any revenge no matter how unfit it may be against the crime that earned it; and now that she had tasted it, it couldn't be taken from her, she wouldn't allow it.
They were taking a break when Dola dug into her food. Kyle scoffed as if she hadn't been listening to a single thing he had said. "So," he spoke with some hesitance. "Where did you learn to fight?"
Dola looked up, amazed that Kyle seemed to actually want to talk to her, not yell or insult, but just ask a question. She tried to shake it off and didn't want to divulge much. "I was bullied a lot as a kid and I was lucky enough to have some tough people in my life who taught me how to be strong like them."
"Family?" It didn't seem as though he was trying to pry.
"Yes." She said matter-of-fact, not encouraging follow-up questions, but getting them nonetheless.
"You never talk about them. What happened?" Kyle spoke with no kindness, but pure curiosity.
"That's my business and I don't see why I should be expected to share with you. Just like how I don't ask about your family or how you got to be with The Rogues." Dola continued shoveling the food into her mouth by forkfuls.
"I noticed your reaction when Thomas mentioned the Wainwright's." Kyle spoke in muted fascination. "You see, you've already muzzled the reflex. You are smart, I can see that. So what, you trying to get back at every rich family because you grew up with nothing?
"I grew up with everything!" She barked at Kyle and then forced herself to take a deep breath, Kyle couldn't hide the surprise on his face and felt the curiosity grow tenfold. "Look Kyle, I don't owe you my story and you haven't earned your questions, so let's just get back to work and be done with each other as soon as possible, okay?"
"Fine by me." He muttered.
Dola sighed. It would have been better to start with nothing, than have everything and lose it in one fell swoop.
