Author's Note
.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ
Warning: Mentions of violence, insensitive language, references to sexual assault
Love youuu 💗
HOUSE OF REFUGE, 1897
The plan they'd devised the night before had been set into motion, beginning with Grim sitting directly in Sayers' immediate line of site upon exiting the examination room. He was counting on being selected first, but even if he wasn't, each boy knew whoever was picked had the task of knocking the doctor out cold.
Everyone was secretly relieved when it was Grim.
And once Sayers was out and the keys were stolen, they could unlock the schoolroom door and creep out into the empty hallway.
From there, the plan was to split up in groups and get to the board meeting. If they were to get caught, they wanted to make sure the guards couldn't get them all. If they were spread out, it would create the illusion of disorder, chaos, and uncertainty. That there were other dangerous criminals about, loose, and waiting.
As much as the guards enjoyed beating the boys while they were locked up, it was an entirely different story when they were roaming free. When the boys weren't in their cage, wielding weapons and unleashing their rage, the guards were terrified.
And that's what Jack had planned on. The only problem was, they didn't know where the meeting was taking place in the whole of the Refuge.
The sound of Jack's breathing echoed off the cold walls of the small, dark corridor as he, Grim, and Doc made their way along. The light came from a single window at the other end of the hall, and as Jack listened more closely, he realized they were approaching a different wing. The sound of babies crying grew ever louder.
They'd been wandering around for about ten minutes – their movements through the reformatory now seemingly directionless.
"Where are we?" Doc asked, unfamiliar with this part of the Refuge.
"Nursery ward," Grim said matter of fact.
"Snyder keeps babies here?" Jack scrunched up his eyebrows.
"Not many," Grim replied. "They don't stay for very long."
Jack still didn't understand. "But why would he bring in babies?" He tried to laugh but Doc and Grim's exchanged look of unease quieted him.
"He ain't bringing 'em in," Grim said simply. "Reckon they're born here."
"Some of the girls come in pregnant," Doc clarified for Jack, filling in where Grim clearly wasn't comfortable. "And some get pregnant in here, I guess. The babies get sent to the Children's Aid Society once they're weaned."
Jack nodded, peeking at Grim who'd sucked in his cheeks and stared straight ahead. "He doesn't let the girls keep them?" Jack asked, looking away. "That's…awful."
"Yeah, it's real sick," Grim said coldly without eye contact.
Jack stepped on something with a splash, jerking back as he realized it was a puddle of unidentifiable liquid. It looked reddish in the soft light.
"Watch your step," Grim advised.
Jack looked over at him, bewildered and despairing.
"That looks like blood," Doc said.
Jack gaped. "Are you sure?"
"You should know what blood looks like by now," Doc replied.
As they continued along, Jack noticed a trail of blood droplets down the rest of the hall. They followed it to a door at the end of the corridor, sliding it open. As Jack peered into the narrow closet, a body fell out of the darkness and on top of him, knocking them both to the floor.
Jack yelped, struggling to push the unmoving mass off him. Grim and Doc hurried to help, rolling over the guard who was beaten to a bloody mess.
Doc checked his pulse and shrugged in confusion. "He's alive. Just knocked out. But he's bleeding bad," Doc said, tracing over the blood pouring from a wound in the guard's temple.
"Doc," Grim pulled the boy back by his shoulder gently, shaking his head. "In this case, I think it's okay to do a little harm. Leave him."
"Who did this?" Jack muttered, recognizing the guard as the one who'd punched him during the first dormitory riot.
"I don't know," Grim said after a beat, and then he scrambled to take the guard's baton.
Jack moved against the wall, looking around the corner to see if the coast was clear. Suddenly, a thundering of boots echoed down the hall and a guard rounded the opposite corner – behind the boys.
"Hey!" The guard yelled, making all three practically jump as they turned around.
Jack was unknowingly holding onto Grim's arm, and Doc was still bent over the unconscious guard's bloody body.
"Uh, hello," Doc uttered, trying to keep his voice steady.
"What the hell is going on over here?" The guard looked from the unconscious man to the boys.
Jack swallowed. "Nothing," he said quickly. He managed an apologetic smile. "We found him like this. It's kind of a crazy story, really. You see, we were just—"
Smack.
Grim had bludgeoned the guard over the head with the baton in a matter of seconds. His knees buckled and he fell to the floor, joining his colleague.
"Jesus," Jack breathed, staring wide-eyed at Grim.
Doc winced, looking away. "Grim, was that necessary?"
Grim shrugged, stepping over the second guard. "He'll be fine. Just a headache when he wakes up. But we're wasting time. Come on."
Lion, Cards, Shakespeare, and Marquette drifted through the empty canteen, keeping an eye out and listening for any orderlies about.
Cards held a hand up, stopping the group when he saw a shadow of someone moving from the back kitchen.
Marquette pulled at Cards, urging them to hightail it out of there, but Cards didn't budge.
Lion slowly stepped forward, preparing to attack whichever staff member emerged.
"Lion, get back!" Shakespeare hissed, beckoning his friend away.
Mrs. Anderson appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron as she looked up – somewhat stunned to see them. She gasped, dropping the apron. "I…what are you doing in here? It's not lunchtime yet."
The boys glared back at her in absolute disgust, having heard from Jack about what she'd tried to do to him – and having individually been on the receiving end of her escapades before.
Growing visibly rattled by their stone-cold expressions, Mrs. Anderson chuckled nervously, smoothing her skirt. Realization seemed to dawn on her. "Wait a minute, aren't you supposed to be with Dr. Sayers? He's supposed to be minding you."
"He ain't gonna be doing much of anything for a while," Cards replied ominously.
Mrs. Anderson glanced into the hallway, then at the boys, and then specifically at Cards. Her eyes flashed fear as she began backing away. "You boys stay where you are. I'm fetching the warden."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Marquette said, blocking her path.
"You weren't going to tell on us, were you, Mrs. A?" Shakespeare asked in mock anguish, joining Lion's side.
Cards circled around to her other side. "We might get in trouble for that."
Mrs. Anderson shook her head, backing away in the opposite direction, sensing the imminent threat they posed. She bumped into Lion, giving a little shriek at his intimidating expression.
Lion stepped forward as she moved back, inching toward the other three now.
"Aw, what's the matter?" Lion teased, pretending to be offended. He kept walking toward her, and she kept backing up like a game of cat and mouse. "You don't like me no more? You sure used to. And Cards when he first got here. And Shakespeare last month. And Marquette, when was it? Two, three weeks ago?"
"Two weeks ago. Right after Camille visited," Marquette replied grimly, jolting Mrs. Anderson into whipping around to face him. Marquette tilted his head, glaring at the woman. "Such timing you have, Madame Anderson."
She began breathing heavily as the boys encircled her. "You keep away from me," she ordered, holding up her hands. She bat her eyelashes as she walked. "Please. I've been a better mother to you than your real ones ever could be."
The boys frowned, glaring back at her emptily.
"Only I know how to love you, please you," Mrs. Anderson went on, reaching out a hand to stroke Marquette's face as he flinched.
Quickly, Cards reached out and grabbed the woman's wrist, intercepting her touch on his friend's behalf. "Don't touch him. Ever."
Shakespeare picked up the apron she'd dropped, fiddling with the cloth ties in thought.
She wriggled her wrist out of Cards' grasp, rubbing it painfully. "Jamie, sweetheart," she fretted, using his real name. "I've always been good to you." Scrounging up a sultry smile, backing into the kitchen as they closed in, she added hastily, "And none of you protested when I was relieving you."
Cards considered this, shaking his head as he returned the sweet smile sarcastically. "That is curious, Mrs. A. Then again, chloral hydrate's a hell of a drug, don't you think?"
"But we ain't doped up anymore," Shakespeare said, stepping up behind her and shoving a chair forward so it hit her ankles. She flailed against the sudden impact, falling into the chair.
"And our wrists ain't tied to the beds," Lion said, taking the apron Shakespeare tossed him. He bent down behind Mrs. Anderson, wrenching her arms around the chair, and binding her hands tightly with the strings of the apron.
"Boys, please, I'm sorry," Mrs. Anderson pulled at her restraints, wrestling her shoulders, strands of hair falling in her face. "Boys!" She yelled, growing impatient. "You let me go this instant! I'll scream!"
"You're sorry?" Lion almost laughed, giving her a look of incredulity. "Do you know how fucking guilty you made us feel? How ashamed? Like it was our fault? Snyder gave me the worst beating of my life when he caught you in my bed!"
Shakespeare shook his head, his arms folded tightly – he looked like he'd kick the chair over any second. "What about Jack, huh? Did you say sorry to him?"
Mrs. Anderson stared back at him blankly – her expression unreadable. She didn't say anything.
Marquette grabbed a small dish rag off a hook and shoved part of it in her mouth to muffle her – though given that it was Marquette, the act was somewhat gentle and practical rather than sadistic.
Mrs. Anderson stared up at all four inmates in fear, panting hard, and screaming against the rag.
Cards rolled his eyes. "We ain't gonna hurt ya. You just stay nice and quiet in here," he muttered, walking to the door with the others.
Lion gripped the door handle, giving her one last bitter look. "You make me sick."
The door slammed closed, leaving her stranded in the dark kitchen.
Rails, Crazy, and Tide were sweating despite the winter downfall outside. Crazy panted as he stood over the maimed jailor, holding the long metal pipe he'd come across, the top half wrapped in old newspaper to act as a silencer when he bashed the man's head. The newspaper was stained with blood.
Just minutes ago, where they stood in the solitary confinement block, the jailor had followed them down, hearing noises.
The jailor of the solitary inmates – a mustached, ex-naval man – spotted an open, creaking cell door in the distance of the dark block. He paused and called out.
"Who's there?" He shouted, carrying his lantern toward them to see. "Show yourself immediately!"
No response.
The jailor walked down a corridor and through a slightly narrower space. It looked the same as the main block, but somehow more suffocating. It also sounded a bit different, with a dim, vibrating buzz in the background from the factory above.
Out of the shadows from one of the open cells, Crazy expertly grabbed the newspaper-wrapped pipe, tossed, and caught it once, and stepped out in front of the jailor.
"Extra, extra, you son of a bitch," Crazy muttered with a half-smirk before swinging the pipe and bashing him over the head in one fluid motion.
The jailor's eyes crossed as his legs gave out, sending him crashing to the ground. Crazy struck him again, and the man's eyes closed.
Tide grabbed the ring of keys from the jailor's belt, eyeing a few littler boys – no older than twelve – in separate cells. They appeared to be the only ones in solitary.
Fiddling with each key, Tide finally found which one opened the cells, freeing the children who were both shocked and thrilled by what Crazy had done to the jailor.
Crazy wiped the jailor's sprayed blood from his forehead, meeting one of the kid's frightened eyes. He took a step toward the kid, and the small boy screamed, turning around, and sprinting to the stairs with his friends.
Rails caught up to them, blocking their path. He shushed them with a finger to his lips, and the boys immediately quieted, breathing hard.
"You boys go back to your dorm," Rails said in a low, calm yet threatening voice. "We were never here. Got it?"
They nodded, giving another nervous glance at Crazy, and ran past Rails once he stepped aside.
"Yeah, you're welcome!" Crazy yelled after them, looking more like the murderous maniac the kids saw him as.
Tide kicked the jailor's boot. "The hell are we supposed to do with him?"
"Leave him here," Crazy shrugged.
Rails grinned. "I've got a better idea."
The boys hurried up the basement steps several minutes later while the jailor lay unconscious, locked in a dark solitary cell. His clothes had been removed and thrown at the other end of the corridor. And Rails had even grabbed two rats by their scruffy necks, throwing the squealing creatures inside.
"Hey, you two! Hold up!" Mr. Caldwell shouted, spotting two boys near the front vestibule. "What is the meaning of this? Where are you boys supposed to be?"
As he got closer, he saw the two were hunched over something – or rather, someone. Two someone's.
A guard's lifeless body lay on the floor – his throat cut.
Another guard's legs were kicking, spasming against the floor before going completely limp. One boy was straddling the guard's body, stabbing at his chest with a screwdriver. The other boy was robbing the first guard's pockets of weapons and keys.
Mr. Caldwell froze, gasping in fear, and dropping his truncheon to the floor. It clattered against the linoleum loudly.
The two boys stopped their movements, slowly turning around to face Mr. Caldwell – blood staining their faces and uniforms.
Ever coordinated, Muggs and Alexei smirked at Mr. Caldwell, slowly standing up.
They marched over to him, looking crazed and excited.
Before Mr. Caldwell could say anything, Alexei bashed in in the face with one of the guard's billy clubs.
Mr. Caldwell cried out as he hit the floor. Shakily, he managed to blow his whistle.
A guard rushed in from down the corridor, and Alexei and Muggs exchanged a look, cracking their knuckles and staring right back at the approaching guard – preparing for the brawl that was about to break out.
Alexei strangled the guard while Muggs chopped him with a club.
The bloodied Mr. Caldwell raised his pistol, aiming it at Alexei's head and fired. It missed and landed in the wall behind him, narrowly grazing past Alexei's ear.
Muggs stomped Mr. Caldwell's face with his boot, and Alexei smacked another guard over the head as the man charged at Muggs.
Alexei and Muggs stood over the fallen orderlies, catching their breath, and looking around for more.
"Matthew?" A girl's voice squeaked shakily from behind them.
Muggs swung around, seeing his sister and three other girls at the opposite end of the hallway. They were going back to their dormitory.
Colleen looked from the two boys to the guards and Mr. Caldwell on the floor – beaten to bloody pulps. "What—" Then she noticed the two corpses.
Hanna and Masha screamed, sprinting to their dormitory – Masha had begun to cry.
Leah pulled on Colleen's hand, but the girl had frozen, staring up at her brother as he approached her.
"Matthew," Colleen echoed again, this time in a whisper. She observed the blood on him and Alexei, putting the pieces together slowly. The questions Mr. Ketchum had asked. The abuse she'd witnessed during their time in the Refuge. "All of you?" She whispered, understanding the whole dormitory must be loose somewhere.
Muggs didn't say anything.
Leah tried pulling on Colleen again, but this time the girl wrapped her arms tightly around her older brother, shutting her eyes as she buried her face against his shirt.
Alexei looked to Muggs who just stood there, emotionless, and unmoving. Slowly, as if completely foreign to the action, Muggs limply encircled his arms around the small girl.
The guard who was meant to be escorting the girls back their dormitory suddenly caught up, having not seen the boys and Colleen around the corner. He saw Leah, standing by, fidgeting nervously.
"Move your ass, girl," the guard said with a smirk, taking out a cigarette and a lighter. He placed the cigarette in his mouth, staring at Leah as he moved closer. "You little whores know what's coming once you get back there."
He turned the corner, finding Colleen and the bloodbath of dead and wounded guards.
The cigarette dropped from his mouth. He turned back to Leah, whose eyes were wide. "What the f—"
Muggs stepped out from behind the wall and slung an arm around the guard's neck, wrapping his other hand over the man's mouth. Alexei quickly emerged, taking the guard's baton, and abandoning the other one to the floor.
"You're coming with us," Muggs mumbled in the guard's ear, keeping a hand around his mouth.
Alexei handed him the screwdriver, and Muggs pressed it hard against the guard's temple.
From the opposite end of the hall, a herd of their friends rounded the corner: Grim, Jack, Doc, Fleet, Z, River, Atlas, and No Name.
Jack breathed hard, staring at the carnage. "Oh my God," he breathed.
"Are they sleeping with their eyes open?" No Name asked, tilting his head curiously at the bodies.
Forcing the guard along – more aptly, dragging the man – as he walked, Muggs gave Colleen a jerk of his head, indicating for them to go.
"Wait, please," Colleen stammered as Leah took her hand again. "Matthew, I'm scared—"
"Just go, Colleen, you ain't scared," Muggs said, struggling to hold the flailing guard. He dug the screwdriver harder, and the guard moaned, calming down. "Are you deaf, I said go! Now!" He yelled, frightening the two as they took off.
The others hurried over, careful to step over the fallen staff.
"You…" Grim stopped himself, glancing from Alexei to Muggs.
"What?" Alexei demanded as he caught his breath, blood caking his fingernails. Muggs narrowed his eyes, glaring at Grim.
"Nothing," Grim replied, turning to the others. "Let's get to that meeting."