The dust laden wind slipped between buildings and down the street, peppering the perpetually pale and dirty streets with yet more dust. The blazing sun high above warmed the heads and necks of those unlucky enough to stay beneath its glare for longer than the minute or so it took to hop from an air-conditioned car to an air-conditioned building.
A few cars scattered through the short parking lot before the squat building. While most buildings nearby were busy with customers searching for books or clothes or school supplies, this particularly dreary building was void of shoppers. "Red Mesa Orphanage." The sign held quiet and faded over the entrance of the quiet and faded building.
A car clear of dust, perhaps due to its origin being of the inner city where the dust upon the wind was too heavy to reach, parked near the sad old building. Its red metal pelt glared in the sharp light. Its growl dimmed into a low purr, which soon tapered off. Three doors popped open. The driver pulled himself out of his seat, taking care to set his dark gray top hat down to replace him. A breeze mockingly hot ruffled his expensive suit and his curled mustache. He looked to the two who had climbed out on the right side of the car, his best friend as well as a trustworthy crew member.
The ginger man that stepped from the passenger seat messed with the collar of his shirt, which quietly ruffled itself in the breeze that tugged at it and his handlebar mustache. "Reg?"
"Just keep a look out, you two," Reginald said with a lofty wave of his hand as they walked. "We have everything we need, but anything can change."
The black-haired lady that followed shut her door and walked with pride by Reginald's left, his right side being taken by Right Hand Man, the most loyal member of the Clan and most trustworthy, in Reginald's opinion. Well, it couldn't be opinion if it was fact.
Carol stated, "Why a kid, though? We can recruit a teenager fresh out of high school if you're looking for young. I don't know why; most recruits are already at least in their twenties. For a reason."
"Howie Howitzer has been showing potential. We need a good kid to compete," Reginald stated. "I'm Mr. Suave's second in command–" Reginald put down the disdain he felt at the simple statement. "–so, it's my job–and thus ours–to get a viable recruit. What better place to find a child uninterested in the law than a place like this?"
His friend gave them a short, hardly visible nod. "It's true what they say about those kids," said Right Hand Man, his English accent only slightly thicker than Reginald's. "'owie will not live up to 'is name, but this one will."
Carol scoffed but made no further objections. Instead, when Reginald opened the door to let them into the ragged building, she put on a soft smile and took Reginald by the hand, intertwining her fingers with his. When they were within earshot of the receptionist, she whined, tears welling in her round blue eyes. "Oh, look at this place, Dear! It's simply awful!"
The lady at the desk looked up at them, though the motion was slow and her eyes dull. "Who're you?" She looked him over, her eyes lingering on his well-groomed suit.
Reginald stopped by the front desk, smiling. "Raymond Smith. This is my wife, Camilla, and my brother, Hoyt. We have been waiting for some time."
The woman at the desk started, but quickly composed herself. "One of those foreign types? What're you doing out here?" She interrupted herself before any of them could speak. "Kids are out playing, just got home from their last day of school. Who're you?"
Reginald bit back a sigh and repeated his introduction. For a while, the only incompetence he had tolerated and thus thought about came from their current leader, Terrence Suave. But incompetence and slowness could come from anywhere, he supposed. What he expected from some ho-dunk in the middle of nowhere claiming to be part of New Mexico was nothing too high to begin with.
The woman shot one last look at Carol and then Reginald's "brother," who was giving her a hard, impatient stare, before looking under her desk and sifting through papers. A few excruciatingly long minutes later–did these people live in the 20th century? Was there no computer or tablet they could use?–her head poked up from under the desk and she sat up straight. She set the stack down and flipped through a few pages. "Raymond and Camilla Smith?"
He put on a charming smile. "Yes."
"We are," Carol, who had long since dried her crocodile tears, agreed.
The lady at the desk looked at them and then her papers. "It says you live in… Santa Fe, New Mexico? You don't sound like those city types."
Carol chuckled. "Hon, Brits never lose their silly accents. But we do live in Santa Fe."
"We have for years," Reginald agreed, albeit a little more sharply than he intended.
Surprisingly, the woman huffed and gave her a short nod. "Right. Well, come with me, I suppose." She pushed herself up from her desk and hobbled down the hall.
It did not take very long for them enter a small room made smaller by clutter that could be considered furniture and décor if one had never seen real décor and instead read about it an old story book. Everything from fake plants to magazines cluttered end tables while scenic landscapes of deserts and coastlines choked the beige, floral wallpaper peeling in places.
"Wait here," commanded the woman without looking back at them before vanishing through one of the doors.
Carol let out a short sigh through her teeth, ripping her hand out of Reginald's and sitting down. "We're really choosing a kid from here?"
Reginald found himself in one of the hard-plastic chairs that spawned in waiting rooms. "Yes. I know it's a good idea. But we can move to different places if we don't find anyone promising here."
Right Hand Man sat beside him, looking to the door from which they entered. He was rather calm, but just as relaxed as an underpaid employee who'd fallen into a tiger pit. Reginald couldn't fault the man; places like these were way too underfunded, making them prime targets for criminals and thus prime stakeouts for government.
The next door from their exit opened a crack. Reginald didn't turn around, but both he and his right hand looked back out of the corner of their eyes. A few children, fourteen to fifteen, stacked up on top of each other to get a good look at them through the two inches of space between the door and door jam. One was a blonde boy staring at them with wide green eyes. Below him, the two others looked up at the taller boy and the door shut.
"Pretty intimidating."
"That guy's so tall!"
"Dude, they're loaded. Someone'll be set for life."
"Not if they get-get killed or something! They could be, like, criminals or businessmen or politicians!"
"Dude, they can't be in the Mafia. Didn't you hear them talking? Only Americans and Italians are in the mafia. That's what all the cop shows say."
"I can't live with a politician, dude."
"Yeah, they'd have to take his picture, and everyone'd get turned to sto–ow!"
Carol put a hand to her mouth to stifle a snicker.
"Shhh! They can hear you, stupid!"
"Fuck! Oh no. What if they don't like cursing? What if they complain to her?"
"Oh my God, if they're politicians they curse a lot, anyway."
Then, all three voices raised in groans. "Ugh, get out of here, twerp."
"…"
"Well? Shoo! No one wants you here!"
Reginald put on a sour expression. Ah, yes. Kids could be absolutely evil to each other.
"Aw, Jerry, don't talk like that! C'mon, Henry. What do you want?"
"…"
"Mason, you're stupid. No one wants that creepy kid here."
"He's not creepy…"
"He steals literally everything he sees. Hey! Step back, weirdo!"
"Shut up, Jerry. Hey, Henry…" Mason's voice lowered even further.
A few seconds later, the door creaked open. A kid younger than the lot, twelve, perhaps, slunk out from the door. The thin little thing didn't look back once as he approached the adults. His scruffy clothes complimented the hopelessly messy curls on his head ensnaring dirt and dust, probably from the wind though some most likely came from the ground as well.
"And who are you?" Reginald asked, forcing a small bit of cheer into his voice.
The boy looked up at them with owlish eyes but stayed silent. He rocked on his feet and pointed back.
He looked up at Right Hand Man and pointed more insistently, this time tugging the hem of his thin jacket. "What do you want, kid?"
The boy pouted. Then, he bolted, running for the end of the hall where the boys huddled. He didn't quite get there as Right Hand Man grabbed him by the forearm quicker than lightning. The boy let out a little yelp and instantly looked back.
"What do you–"
The boy held out a phone, eyes still on his feet.
"–'ave, boy?" Right Hand Man raised an eyebrow and pocketed the piece of technology.
Reginald couldn't help but feel a little impressed. He hadn't seen the boy take anything. In fact, he hadn't seen him do anything than attempt to get their attention.
The door on the opposite end of the hallway opened. The woman's smile immediately turned into a scowl. For a moment, Reginald was afraid she was going to snap at the man holding Henry hostage. "Henry Stickmin, what do you think you're doing?"
"Stealing," he mumbled, his voice monotone.
She started to speak, glanced at the adults, and then pointed back the way she came. "Go to time out. We'll talk about this later."
Right Hand Man let go. Henry slunk past her, head retreating into his shoulders and feet scraping the ground like a beaten dog. Her arm twitched, but the woman managed to not raise her hand to smack him. When the door shut, she cleared her throat and smiled. "I'm sorry about that. You know boys. Gets into all kinds of trouble." She chuckled and went on, "Anyway, I just wanted to talk to you for a little while about the home life! We love all of our children dearly and we believe they all deserve the best homes. Here, let's sit down while we talk."
Then, they were sitting, and they were talking. And talking. And talking. The woman had a lot of breath in her, that was for certain. Still, they had long since memorized their "jobs," "skills," and "backgrounds." Criminals in the Toppat Clan were very unlikely to gain permission to adopt, after all. Still, didn't she read all this in the paperwork Mac Dandy spent hours filling out?
A bell chimed through the building. Her head snapped back toward the door on the other end of the hall and then back to them. "Oh, it's dinner time! The little ones should be eating. I've talked for so long, I'm so sorry. I'll go talk to the ladies and see if we can meet after dinner. Do you want to join us?"
"No. No, thank you," Reginald denied, attempting not to think about what atrocities they would see if they approached the dining hall. When she left, he said, "We can talk to Mr. Thicc later." The thought of flying back to the ship and having a juicy steak or heavy bowl of stew and a side of corn and carrots and… "We won't be here much longer," Reginald reassured them.
"I 'ope not," Right Hand Man commented, again staring at their exit. Then, as if he could sense the uneasiness he was perpetuating, he continued, "It's steak night."
Carol groaned with a dramatic roll of her eyes, "Oh, please don't. I haven't eaten all day. Breakfast goes so fast when you're chasing down two meat heads tripping over their tails to break as much protocol as possible as fast as they can."
Reginald watched the door the boy, Henry, and then the headmistress used. He turned back to his best friend. "That Henry boy. How did he do it?"
"No idea," the man relented. "Must've got 'is 'and under my coat when 'e tugged at it. Stupid kid. 'E's got some skills, though."
Carol gave him a flat look. "Do you think just because some little brat tried, and failed, to steal from you, that makes him Toppat material?"
"The kid's got skills for an eleven-year-old," Right Hand Man argued, his voice gruff but not raising an octave. "With the right training, 'e should be valuable."
"Possibly," Reginald agreed. "We need to check with the other kids. Maybe he'll be there."
Carol stuck in, "Do kids in time out get to meet people who might adopt them?"
Wordlessly, Reginald took out his phone and checked through his e-mail. Five more orphanages to go if this was a bust.
"Hello?"
They looked up from their quiet, agitated scheming to see the woman in charge of the children, or so they assumed. "'Ello," Right Hand Man responded.
The headmistress hummed, "Dinner time is over, and the kids get another couple of hours of play time before bed. Would you like to see them?"
Reginald got to his feet first, though it wasn't as if Right Hand Man and Carol were reluctant to move, either. "Yes, we would. How many are there?"
"Oh, we have about two dozen little bundles of sunshine living here," she informed them as they walked, pushing through the door at the end of the hallway. "Most of them are little tots, but there are a few teenagers milling about here. I'm sorry, our eldest are a little shy around adults. But they'll warm up!"
They entered one of the larger rooms in the buildings. More of the obnoxious floral wallpaper covered the walls. Natural light from the large window, mostly obscured by pink and yellow curtains, warmed the large room made small by people and objects. A few tables, some squat and colorful and others taller and sterile gray, spotted the north side of the room, while buckets and chests of toys bristled along the eastern wall. Children, ranging from a petite four-year-old girl to a lanky sixteen-year-old boy, peppered the room. Aside from a young teen boy who sat cross-legged with about four small kids around him, they tended to stay with their age groups.
As the door opened and the headmistress led the three foreign faces inside, all eyes turned up to meet them. The headmistress hummed and clapped her hands together. "Good evening, children~! This is Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and Mr. Smith. Now, go back to playing, we'll all get to talk and have a really nice time, okay?"
The kids went back to what they were doing, for the most part. The trio of young teen boys shuffled further toward the emptier northeastern corner. The boy with the kids patted the younger ones' shoulders and called their names to grab their attention.
Indeed, they were able to get around the room, and talk to the various kids there. Though many were rather shy, they still did talk. Unfortunately, they were all too… something. Timid, disinterested, and frankly too young to tell were a few things prevalent with them.
"Oh! Sorry, Mrs. Smith!" The boy covered in little ones sucked in his breath. "Come here, Amelia! You can't eat people's clothes, it's bad!"
The little four-year-old girl who Carol had been trying to fight off perked up and waddled over to him. "Brother! She's shiny!"
The boy picked her up and grinned. "Sorry, Mrs. Smith. Amelia really likes shiny things. She's like a little goat!"
"Baaa!"
"I wanna be a goat!" a little boy at his side complained. Soon, all three other children were bleating.
Reginald nodded. "Ah, yes. I don't understand."
The boy explained, "Yeah, I'm James. This is Amelia, Richard, Holly, and Harry. Say hello!" Various hellos chorused from the little ones. "I've been here for about ten years. So, I've seen all these little munchkins come and some of them go! Oh, no! Harry, no!" James, upon seeing the six-year-old Harry run off, chased after him. "Put that down, Harry! Don't eat bugs!"
The only child that didn't directly interact with them was not currently there. Carol asked, "Why is that?"
The headmistress chuckled. "Oh, he's in time-out right now. You know how boys are. He's picked up a few really bad habits. But don't worry! We believe that all children are little angels, sometimes you just need to brush away little dirt to see those halos on their heads."
Her smile froze as they heard yelling in the hall.
One of the doors opened and in came a harrowed lady, her messy hair and sleepless eyes adding years that didn't belong to her. "Heeee… uh! Mrs. Bloodworth, I'm so sorry! I'll be ba–"
"Sherly!" The headmistress, Mrs. Bloodworth, hummed. "Darling, what happened?"
"Uh, well, I gathered up all the children here… and, uh… I left Henry in time-out." Sherly didn't look Mrs. Bloodworth in the eyes as she continued, "He didn't do anything wrong per-say, but, um… I can't, well, you know him. I can't, uh, find him."
The headmistress sighed through her teeth. "Then go find him, Sherly, darling."
One of the ladies piped up, "Did you try the kitchen?"
Another chipped in, "Or Mrs. Bloodworth's office?"
A third said, "I sometimes find him in the closet!"
A fourth put in, "I once found him in the back of the janitor's car." The first three gave her a weird look and she shrugged.
Sherly gave them a tired smile and thumbs up and moved back out. "Henry!" they heard her call, her voice quieting as she moved down the hall. "Henry, come out now and I'll give you cookies…!"
Mrs. Bloodworth turned back to them and was again smiling peacefully. "I'm sorry about that. Kids can make life interesting, hmm? Now, I'm deeply sorry about the wait and all that. I hope that you find your special little someone soon."
"No. The little one, Henry?" Reginald prompted.
Her smile faltered. "Oh, don't worry. We punished him. He's in trouble for stealing and he won't do it to you again."
Reginald shook his head. "Yes, well, my wife and brother agreed that we would like to talk to him. How long has he been here?"
The woman blinked, her smile momentarily lost. "U-uh, well, little Henry, um," she cleared her throat and chuckled. "I'm sorry, no one has ever asked about our little boy. He's been here, uh, nine years, I think. It's hard to keep track of so many children. I can check. But do you truly want to see him?" Her voice slowed down a little near the end.
Carol chimed in, "Oh of course! The poor little boy must just be troubled. Oh, my little brother was the same way. Trust me, we get it."
Reginald nodded. "Yes, precisely."
The woman hummed. "Well, I certainly would never bar a kid from finding their forever parents. I'll go grab him. Why don't you wait in the waiting area until I get back?" Mrs. Bloodworth left without a single other word uttered.
James helpfully chipped in, "Henry's been here for nine years. But, uh… he's also escaped eleven times. He's kinda nice, I guess, if you get to know him."
One of the teen boys called, "You'd know, gay boy!"
Immediately, one of the ladies nearby started chastising the boy, Jerry.
Right Hand Man shook his head a little and Reginald couldn't help a small sigh of resignation as they went back to the hideous little cell someone decided to label as a waiting room.
It wasn't long before the woman was back, smile brimming with joy, one hand clasping Henry's wrist. The boy struggled to keep up, his hand limp in her grip and his round, worried blue eyes on his stumbling feet. She stopped and he nearly jerked out of her iron grip. "Henry, this is Mr. and Mrs. Smith and, uh, Mr. Smith's brother. Why don't you get to know them a little bit? Don't worry, they won't bite." She patted him on the back to scoot him closer to them. Henry stiffened but didn't look back at her. Instead, he took a few mechanical steps forward where he didn't seem to bend his knees.
"Hello there, Henry," Reginald greeted, smiling. "I'm Raymond. Mr. Smith."
"Hello," he mumbled, looking around at the trio, but soon focusing on Reginald.
Reginald introduced Carol and Right Hand Man. Henry said the same line.
The headmistress hummed, "I better check back on the kids. Have fun, and don't be rude, Henry! Look at them when they talk to you! He's a shy kid. I'm sure he'll warm up to you in no time. Won't you, little Henry?" She ruffled his head, grimaced as her fingers got tangled in his curly hair, and walked away with a few new strands of dirty hair in her nails.
"Sorry," he muttered, staring Reginald straight in the eyes.
"Right. Eh, how old are you?"
"Eleven. Sorry I took your phone, Mr. Hoyt."
Carol cooed, clasping her hands together. "Aren't you cute!"
Henry shot a wary glance her way and his voice quieted again. "Okay."
Some more time of questioning drew Henry out little by little, though any time Carol spoke a word he retreated again. Carol eventually stopped talking and stood up straight, stuffing one of her hands in her purse again.
Henry looked between them. He shuffled his feet, looked back, and then turned back to them. Then, he lowered his voice. "Hey, I know you're just talking to me to look good, but when you leave, could you open the lock on the gate?"
"Why would I do that?" asked Reginald.
Henry pulled something out of his pocket and offered it to Reginald. "That old lady locked up my scooter." Reginald started to take the waded up twenty-dollar bill, but Henry pulled it back, so it was out of reach. "Promise."
Carol chuckled, "That was actually kind of cute. I'll admit, I did not expect an eleven-year-old to try to bribe us today."
Reginald held up his hand. "No, Henry. We don't take bribes."
Henry thought for a moment and stuffed the bill back into his pocket. "You'll still open the lock, though, right?"
"James told us you escaped eleven times."
"You would, too!" Henry burst out. "It's crazy here! The only reason she caught me last time was because she booted my scooter. But I got the boot off." He glanced behind himself and clasped his hands behind his back.
Then, the door opened, and the woman was there again. "It's time for bed. I'm sure you three are awfully tired. So are you Henry. Right, Henry?"
Henry yawned obediently.
"Unless…? Did you have a nice chat?" the woman asked, wearing a cheerful grin.
"He is… sporting," Reginald agreed, sorely hoping he was using the right lingo.
Carol hummed, "He's a smart little gentleman."
"Oh, he's a very smart boy!" The woman agreed, patting Henry on the head. The boy flinched, as if trying to both duck his head and keep himself standing up straight at the same time. "Where are you staying? Do you want to come back in the morning or do you need to head home soon?"
Before Reginald could answer, Carol chipped in, "Don't we need to fill out more paperwork? I read that this wasn't it on the website."
The woman scoffed and waved her hand. "Oh, that silly website is very old. Don't worry, we have all the information we need. Little Henry is so lonely, and you three look like respectable people! I'm sure you'll make brilliant parents, and an uncle. See, Henry? Most kids only get a Mom and Dad! You should feel special."
"Okay," Henry mumbled.
Reginald looked at her and then glanced at his partner and friend. Right Hand Man stared right back, unmoving. Reginald smiled and turned back to the woman. "It will be nice to get back home tonight." Henry stared at Reginald.
Carol smiled at Henry. "Oh, isn't this just exciting! Our very first child! We are going to have so much fun together!"
The woman grinned wider. "Oh, good! I'm sure Henry is in good hands. Now, grab your things, Henry. And only your things. If any of the other kids 'los–er, just be careful you don't mix up your stuff with someone else's."
"Okay." Just like that, Henry was gone.
The woman led them back into the front area. From there, it was only a few minutes of signing a rather short legal document declaring their new status as the mother and father of Henry Stickmin Smith. Henry came back, a half-full backpack slung over his shoulders. A light blue scooter was folded and held over his shoulder. Mrs. Bloodworth trilled a "goodbye" as they left.
Then, they were outside. The long shadows hid their car from the dying sun. Henry hopped into the seat behind Reginald's–Right Hand Man's, now, as he drove–seat when they reached their car. He shifted uncomfortably when Carol entered and he looked out the window into the street, completely opposite of the orphanage. He gripped his backpack tight in his arms like any kid would a stuffed animal or small blanket. His scooter sat snugly in the trunk. "You didn't need to do this. I could probably get to Arizona on my own."
Reginald held onto his top hat, while Right Hand Man already put his back on. "What are you talking about, Henry?"
"You don't actually want me, right?"
"Actually, we had our own plans. You see, Henry, we came here looking for viable recruits for the Toppat Clan." Henry cocked his head a little. Reginald, with a bit of an exaggerated flourish, put his dark gray top hat back on. "We are Toppats! We're a clan of thieves who take what we want to make our lives better away from the meddling and rules of the government who thinks they know what's what better than we do."
Saying that Henry looked like a confused owl was a rather funny understatement. Then, a slight smile foreign to the boy's features creeped up on him. "Am I going to be an outlaw and a famous really cool criminal?"
"If you do well and you stay with us. You already show some skill. With training, no doubt."
Henry grinned, an action that disarmed Reginald. "Thanks Mr. Smith! I'm going to be the best!"
"It's 'Copperbottom.' Henry, we lied to that woman about a lot of things."
Henry's grin turned mischievous. "I did, too. Let's go, Dad! I wanna learn all about being a criminal! I'll be the best!"
"Reginald," Reginald corrected. "You will be raised by everyone here. We are a group of thieves, but the Toppat Clan is a family for life."
"Okay, Dad Reginald. Is Uncle Hoyt your brother?"
"No. Right Hand Man isn't."
"Is Mrs. Smith your wife?"
Carol chipped in, "Of course not."
"No, Carol is not," Reginald agreed. "She is a high-ranking executive in the Toppats, like myself and Right Hand Man."
Henry thought for a moment. "You don't have to listen to anyone?"
"Precisely!"
The drive from the orphanage to the outskirts of town was rather swift. Parked miles away from the small settlement was a large, seed-shaped pod with a window in the front. Henry stared at the object with unblinking eyes. Reginald was the first to get out, with Carol dawdling behind only long enough to pat Henry on the shoulder and disturb him from his frozen curiosity. Henry immediately got out and ran to Reginald's side. He started to grasp the man's jacket, but instead kept his hands to himself. He gave a sideways glance at Right Hand Man to whom he also walked quite close.
Reginald tapped a few buttons on the face of the pod. A section of the red metal with the glass pane popped open, revealing some room with seats, harnesses, and a panel of buttons and screens. Henry clung to his backpack and now his scooter, as Right Hand Man popped open the trunk for him. Henry glanced back at the grounded vehicle but entered the foreign machine without assistance.
The small space got smaller as all four people were now inside and the door shut.
Reginald asked as he tapped a few more buttons in the inside of the pod, "Have you ever been in the air?"
Henry shook his head.
"Well, we are taking this pod to the airship."
Henry's eyes went wide. "Airship?"
"That is where we live, and where you will live."
Henry's mouth moved, but no air escaped his lungs and thus no words were formed. Then, the machine let out a little shudder before launching itself off the ground. Henry clapped his hand over his mouth as he let out a squeal of shock and then quickly looked around to see who'd noticed. Of course, all of them did.
Reginald couldn't help the twinge of amusement and curiosity. After the initial shock, the boy didn't flinch as the ground descended far, far below them. Reginald had long since gotten used to the air, being in the Air Division since he joined the Toppats and having been on a few airplanes and helicopters even before then. That is, with his first time on a commercial airline being rather harrowing for a child. The stupid woman next to him successfully scaring child Reginald into thinking their plane would crash never failed to put a scowl on his face.
He heard a small gasp. The pod turned and there it was. The massive red aircraft hovered high above, four propellers keeping it aloft like a helicopter. The pod slowed and lowered into the top of the airship, where a panel just wide enough to fit the circumference of the pod opened.
The pod door opened. Carol left as soon as she could. Women. Henry took Reginald by the sleeve as they left. Maybe… Reginald should have left the adoption to another crew member. He wasn't going to see the last of the kid, was he? Though, if he was right, perhaps this would not be such a bad thing after all.