CHAPTER THREE: THE DANGERS OF STEALING HUBCAPS
When the exiles had been unceremoniously tossed out the Opera House doors, they all erupted into fresh paroxysms of laughter that left them all sprawled out on the ground like hysteric butterflies.
"Man, oh man," Mandy panted, doubling over and gasping for breath over his wet, choking laughs, "our finest hour! That was great, just great. You know, guys, I think I've found out what I want to do when I get a real job."
"And that would be...?" Setzer prompted, wiping his laughter-ruddied face.
"I'm gonna go around and attend bad plays--and then I'll make fun of 'em while I watch. I'd make a stinker funny. People'd come from all over to hear me diss the play. Me, Vardaman the Magnificent! "
"I'd pay for it," Benny grinned.
"Nonsense!" Lorenzo barked, slapping his hand on the ground. "Don't be stupid. What kind of person would watch someone make fun of something when he could do it himself? Nobody'd pay for it! Well, except for Benny--but this is a boy who once paid to see a flea circus, so I wouldn't put much stock in his opinion."
"Hey!" Benny shouted, "The man said the fleas were really hard to see, and that if the lighting wasn't just right--"
"By Starlet's garters! There are no fleas, you moron! That's the point!" Lorenzo retorted.
"Will you two shut up about the fleas?" Setzer demanded as he rose, deciding to tactfully cut off the truly philosophical conversation. "And Mandy, good luck in that little lifelong dream of yours. But look. The opera's almost over, and when the rich people come out, we'll be bringing home our asses in buckets if they catch us. Let's all go home."
"Good idea. Bye, guys. Have fun running away from the lynch mob." Lorenzo rose up, brushed himself off, and sauntered off towards his rented chocobo.
"I'm gonna go get a drink and mess around a bit," Benny drawled, rolling up leisurely, the others following his example. "Join me, Mandy? You deserve a drink. Girls for all."
"I'm game. With my brains and your beauty, what chicky could resist us? Le's go."
After the two had left, Setzer turned and addressed J.J., who was still sitting on the ground, idly sketching squiggles in the dirt with a stick: "You did good today, J.J. You're a funny guy."
"Thanks."
"We'd better get going. You want to ride back with me?"
J.J. nodded and clumsily hobbled over to his choc and mounted, Setzer doing the same. They headed towards the north, but they had not gone more than a mile before some children of about eight years or so dashed out, disregarding, in front of the riders.
As he wheeled his mount to a halt, Setzer noticed that the children were being trailed by a large, shaggy dog, looking rather excited and growling low in its throat, performing strange little pouncing motions at intervals. Closer inspection indicated that one of the children had something tied to a short length of rope which he was dragging behind him--and that something was squawking and beating feathers. It was a small pigeon.
J.J.'s mouth dropped open slightly and a small, almost inaudible whimper escaped his lips: "Setzeerr...can't you make 'em stop? I can't watch."
"Hey!!" Setzer shouted, riding forward and swiftly overtaking the imps. "Don't you kids know anything? That bird carries diseases...bad ones. Why, I once knew a guy who handled a pigeon once, and the next day he dropped dead. And that's not the worst. Pigeon diseases can make your eyeballs explode. They can make you go crazy, start flapping your arms, and eat bread crumbs off the dirty streets--Pigeonitis! You're all doomed!"
"Eeeeeeeee!" the children shrieked; the boy towing the bird dropped the rope and ran off along with his friends, which allowed the dog to pounce and start gnawing away. Setzer dismounted.
"Stupid dog! Get!" Setzer gave the mutt a good kick in the ribs, tugging on the rope and yanking the bird out of its jaws. Rover whined and scurried away after its masters, its tail in between its legs.
J.J. rode up and went over to Setzer; both boys stared at the bird. It was a plump, round thing sporting iridescent green stripes on its wings and a head covered with feathers of the same hue. The remainder of its body gray with some of its feathers tipped with white and black. Its tail and dorsal guidance feathers were ragged and wet with slobber; one wing thrashed feebly at the earth while the other one stayed immobile. It squawked feebly, its ruby-red eyes half-closed. Blood trickled out from several puncture wounds from the dog's teeth, and one leg was chewed up badly.
"Poor little thing, its wing's broken," J.J. whispered, reaching out, but his hand was slapped away by Setzer.
"Don't! That thing's swimming with disease."
"But Setzer, look at it," J.J. cried.
Indeed, as he looked upon it, Setzer couldn't help but feel his heart wrench with pity. He was not an animal lover by any means--he was allergic to cats and hated dogs--but he loved birds, always had since his early childhood. There was just something about them that appealed to him. These creatures were not consigned to the surly bounds of earth, as most animals were; they were perfectly liberated by their ability to fly, go where they wished, see things that no animal could, not even most other winged things. Insects and bats and the majority of flying monsters never could fly so high as an eagle. They were not obligated to do anything and could roam at will, free from care. They were the freest creatures Setzer knew of. How he craved that license! And nothing was more tragic to him than to be laid low from such a height, to have freedom stripped away. The pigeon was filthy and pestiferous, true, but it did not deserve such malicious treatment--no living thing did, in Setzer's opinion, and he could not bear to see this poor creature in such a condition.
"Oh, all right, all right," he conceded. "I'll get it."
Setzer doffed his coat, pulling out a pair of gloves from its pocket as he did so. He put on the gloves and gently placed the wounded bird on the coat, wrapping it up in its folds. He then lifted the pigeon, to weak to make any further resistance, and brought it up to eye-level.
"Okay, bird, listen up," Setzer declared with a glare. "I'm doing you a reeeall big favor. If you mess up my best coat, I swear, I'm going to kick your bony feathered butt all the way to Zozo. I'm already going to have to dip this thing in disinfectant just because it touched you--don't make it worse! Do you understand? Good."
As he made his way back to his mount, the youth heard the soft sound of laughter from behind; he whirled around and frowned at the grinning J.J.
"What's so funny?"
"You. Talking to a bird," J.J. answered innocently.
"Ah, cram it," Setzer muttered, hoisting himself up into his saddle, taking the reins in one hand while cradling the pigeon in the crook of his free arm, "Just for that, you get to play nurse."
"No," J.J. shook his head sadly as he mounted. "I wish I could, but my mother hates pigeons. She'd throw it out."
"Do you think mine's in love with them?" Setzer demanded, but he amended when he saw J.J.'s face, "Okay, okay! I'll keep it until it gets well. But let's stop by Doc Lee's place first. He'll patch up this little guy better than we could. He's just as good with animals as he is with humans."
"You know, J.J.," Setzer spoke up again as they continued their ride back, "birds are the best of animals, the very best. They're beautiful creatures, and useful to boot. Just look how well-made they are!" He patted his choc on the shoulder, loving the rhythm of its moving muscle under his hand, and jerked his head towards the pigeon. Setzer also loved birds from a scientific point of view as well as aesthetic, and he loved watching and talking about them--he even had a special hill outside of the town that was perfect for bird-watching. He used to take his friends there, but they did not share his enthusiasm, and they laughed at his inevitable ramblings and conjectures, never listening. Except for J.J.--J.J always listened and always seemed interested, even though the speech was almost always the same.
"I mean, they're works of art," Setzer plunged forward, "They're beautifully adapted for flight. Take this little guy. His bones are hollow and light, they don't weigh him down, and they're arranged so intricately. He's got great and powerful chest muscles because they're the ones that actually allow him to beat his wings with enough force to take off the ground. And his feathers! They're all arranged that each one has a different function. Some keep him warm, some are used for balance, others for flying. And as for this choc,"--he gave the big bird another pat-- "his wings are too small and useless to get him to fly, but he's got lots of muscle and strong legs. They're great runners, and don't need to fly. Except for the black chocobos. Those can fly, but not very well. Their bone structure is lighter, you see, and their wings are much more well-developed. This guy doesn't even have primaries, but the black ones do. And the blackies are usually smaller, with shorter legs, and their much more aerodynamic--very sleek and thin. We're too heavy to ride 'em. And the big ones are so wild that nobody can touch 'em. I heard that once, way back, people could ride the black chocs, but not anymore; they're too rare and wild. Gods, I wish that wasn't so! I'd give anything to fly, just once. Everything's just so free and unspoiled up there; a guy can do just what he wants. The land is boring. You can't do anything fun. But up there, I'd be having a hell of a good time. Do you think that humans'll ever be able to fly, J.J.?"
J.J. sighed and regarded Setzer patiently. The sky was another one of his obsessions, and the other boys gave it the same amount of respect as they did Setzer's bird fixation. How many times had Setzer dragged the group up onto the hill on a clear night just to look at a bunch of stars? More than they cared to remember. But J.J., as always, took it in stride and said nothing; he even actually enjoyed those times. Setzer gave him a lot more stimulation than most people.
"Well, if they ever do fly, then you'll be the first person up there, I'll bet," the large-headed boy answered in his lazy fashion, casting his eyes up to the sky.
"Hide and watch, J.J, hide and watch," Setzer laughed. "Hey, I've got a proposition. Since I'm being such a nice guy, taking care of this stupid bird, after I get sneak him into the house--dad's always drunk on the couch and mom won't be home-- give him some food, see that he's cozy, can I stay the night at your house? My parents will go nuts when they heard what we did today."
"Sure. My folks don't mind. They know I never actually pull the pranks, I just watch."
"You certainly helped us this time," Setzer reminded.
"Ah, but I didn't ruin it. That was Mandy, all the way. We'd love to have you."
"I'm in your debt. You're a good pal, J.J."
"Seems I can't be anything else."
Setzer snorted and urged on his chocobo, speeding towards Jidoor before their feathered friend lost too much blood and died. There's nothing in the world so vile as a dead pigeon, and Setzer didn't want to ruin his coat.
*************
For a few weeks, Setzer wisely stayed very low-key in his doings. As had been expected, word of the opera stunt had spread around the city, and the upper echelons were quite upset about the desecration of the arts-- it took a whole week for the uproar to die down and dwindle away.
Of course, Dulcina and Ponzo found out about their son's part in the whole affair. Secretly, Setzer suspected later on in life, they were both extremely amused by the news, but neither showed it on the surface. Instead, Setzer was called upon the carpet and given a fine lecture on the respect of aesthetics, accented many times by the fact that he deserved a beating. And beat him they did. Ponzo hauled his son off by the ear to the front yard, Dulcina marching in tow. When they got there, Dulcina reached up into a tree, pulled down a thin, supple twig, commanded him to bend over, and let him have it. The beating was not so much painful as it was embarrassing for Setzer; he was being whipped, which hadn't happened to him in years, in broad daylight for everyone to see--people actually stopped in the street to point and laugh.
Thus chastised and mortified, Setzer did not meet with his fellows for a while. No doubt they had all gone through similar punishment. But when they did finally congregate about three weeks later, near the summer vacation's close, the boys began to discuss the usual matter: revenge.
During that summer, an affluent man named Ruadh (few people ever knew whether this was the first or last name; Setzer himself never found out) had moved to Jidoor from Vector, the capital city of a small empire on the Southern Continent. In actuality, Ruadh had a double-citizenship: he still belonged to the Empire, but had been drawn to Setzer's hometown by the lure of its refinement and elegance. It was like a summer retreat; Ruadh had tired of Vector and wanted a change of surroundings. So he came with a small bodyguard of Imperial soldiers and settled right in.
Setzer never knew how Ruadh treated those of his own ilk. The man could have been downright decent sometimes, for all he could figure. But the boy immediately hated Ruadh the from the very moment he even heard of his existence, let alone seen him.
It started like this: Dulcina's employer Owzer was celebrated for his fine art collection which was almost like a small museum of the best paintings from all over the world. Sometimes he would sell the pieces that no longer interested him. Ruadh came to the connoisseur's mansion one day as a prospective buyer, where he was met by the secretary (Dulcina), who politely told him to wait a few moments before Owzer granted an audience.
As he waited, Ruadh began to make passes at the middle-aged but still quite pleasing to look at secretary. When Dulcina rebuffed him curtly, he started snapping the most vile insults at her, calling her, amongst other things, a gray old puffed-up, priggish has-been of a harlot. Dulcina never spoke of the incident to her family, but Setzer found it out several days later when he met one of Owzer's stewards on the street and became engaged in idle conversation. The man blurted out the entire story, and Setzer immediately summoned an emergency meeting at The Scarlet Hart, where he informed the other boys of the crime.
"Hey, I think I know this jerk," Benny mused after Setzer had finished speaking, "Ruadh, his name was? Hmmm...I remember! A few days ago, me and Mandy were walking down the street, minding our own business, when this prick--he was going the other way-- with two bodyguards in funky-ass armor comes right at us. They didn't even move off to the side! They just barreled over us. Made me lose my balance, and I accidentally shoved Mandy right into the gutter."
"It took my mom a whole afternoon to scrape the mud off," Mandy appended.
Lorenzo brought his fist crashing down onto the tabletop and nearly yelled, "That tears it! When that motherfucker insults a lady--he's gone too far! We've gotta strike back. Reprisals, gentlemen!"
"You've insulted lots of gals, Lorenzo...you certainly aren't doing it for chivalry, let me tell ya," Benny grinned, giving the outraged youth a nudge. Lorenzo raised his hand for punch, but Setzer restrained him.
"Lay off, Ben-wah," Setzer admonished. " 'Enzo's right. He can't get away with it, and he isn't going to. But we're not going to egg his house--that's letting him off too easy. We need to stick to him where it hurts. What would hurt him the most?"
The boys sipped silently at their drinks (J.J. had tea) for a few long moments as they brain-stormed, when J.J. finally spoke up quietly.
"I think I've seen this Ruadh's carriage before. It is loaded with wells and bistles, and it has shineous gold hubcaps covered with jewels. He was boasting about them as I was passing by, saying how great and expensive they were. He was very proudsome of them."
Setzer's deep hazel eyes lit up with the fires of vindication and a smile formed on his lips. "Well, then Ruadh's going to be quite surprised when he finds one day that his oh-so-precious hubcaps have just vanished into thin air. What say you, gentlemen?"
"Let's throw them into the river," Benny suggested.
"Pawn 'em," spoke Mandy.
"Piss in them," Lorenzo said, spitting viciously at the ground.
Setzer laughed heartily at this advice before looking pointedly at J.J. and ordering, "You know what to do. Tomorrow you'll ask around, find out where he lives. Then find out the soonest time when he'll be gone from the house--without taking the carriage, of course."
Lorenzo gave a harsh, mirthless laugh as he cracked his knuckles, and his voice sounded like a message of doom.
"Let's teach him not to screw with us."
*************
Two days passed. J.J located Ruadh's house and had gleaned a riding schedule from a boy who worked in the rich man's chocobo stables. Ruadh actually had two carriages, the golden hubcapped one for riding in the city, and another less elaborate one, for excursions in the countryside. Ruadh also, without fail, took his family on joyrides across the surrounding plains once every week.
On the third day, which, J.J. reported, was the allotted day for the trip, Setzer led his comrades into the northern district; every one of them concealed assorted tools underneath their clothes.
The chocobo stables/garage was located behind Ruadh's lavish, gargantuan mansion, and they were enclosed behind an iron-barred gate. The boys positioned themselves on top of a neighboring wall where their view of the back gates was unobstructed but at such a distance that they wouldn't be noticed when the carriage rolled out.
After about an hour of waiting, the doors of the garage burst open, and the coach rumbled past. The youths scrambled down the wall and halted in front of the gate.
Mandy, with a little difficulty and a lot of pushing, squeezed through the bars, and, using a hairpin, unlocked the latch. Setzer and the other three moved in, taking care not to jiggle or jar the rather creaky gates, and soon they reached the garage. Setzer pressed his ear up against the wooden door, listening for any indication of human movement, but all he discerned was the faint warking of chocs. He nodded, and Mandy used his magical hairpin to unlock the door.
Cautiously cracking the entrance open, Setzer peeped in and the apparent lack of humanity was confirmed. All he could see were chocobos in their stables, and, at the very back of the building, was the coveted carriage.
The quintet silently surrounded the cart, taking the precaution not to disturb any chocobos on their way. They brought out their tools: screwdrivers, jacks, wrenches, even a hammer or two--you never knew when you needed one--and proceeded to dismantle the wheels, Setzer, Mandy, Benny, and Lorenzo working individually with J.J. as the watchman
Mandy's size turned against him now. The boy was not very strong, and he had a devil of a time getting the recalcitrant lynch-pins out of his wheel. J.J. abandoned his post to give assistance, intending to return as soon as the pins were out. Everyone was totally engrossed in their work.
"What the hell are you doing?!!!"
Setzer shouted and jerked his head up, cracking his head on the wheel well of the carriage; he staggered up into a standing position and, through the bright lights flashing before his eyes, he faced the owner of the voice: Ruadh.
The other carriage had broken an axle a small ways outside of town, and the man had taken one of the chocobos back to retrieve a replacement, only to find five hooligans dismantling his prized coach.
Now Ruadh stood before them, a small, thin whip, used mainly on chocobos, grasped in one of his hands. He was tall but stocky, and the great, hard-packed muscles of his sloping shoulders and big forearms rippled underneath the cloth of his jacket. It was a cruel, bearish body, and his face was sloping and stern and extremely angry.
The other boys got up and huddled around Setzer, staring with some defiance at the owner of the stable, a little frightened, but mostly feeling horrendously sheepish. They hadn't been caught at a prank in years, and they were embarrassed and annoyed at themselves for allowing themselves to slip up.
"What in the name of all the gods were you doing?!" Ruadh demanded again, fixing his small, beady eyes on Setzer, stomping a heavy booted foot on the ground.
"Well, Sir, we--" Mandy stammered, but whatever his response was going to be, he didn't get the opportunity to finish it.
"Shut up, you little ape! I wasn't talking to you!" the man shouted, uncoiling his whip; Mandy jumped back a few feet, almost as if he was anticipating the sting of the wicked metal bit at the end of the leather.
"Don't call him that," Lorenzo shouted back, raising up his fists a little. The whip hissed as it struck, but the red-headed boy somehow managed to duck, and the bit passed over him, striking Benny in the shoulder instead, cutting through both coat and shirt, giving the skin an ugly scratch. Benny yelped and clasped his good arm over the small wound, looking with rabbit eyes at the now-terrifying man before him.
"Mind your tongue, boy," Ruadh snapped in a loud voice. "Where I come from, if a boy talks back to his elders, his is whipped. You people need to acquire some manners. Gods, you kids have got nerve! Trying to steal my property out from under my own nose. You little thieves need to be sent to a reformatory."
Anger and fear churned violently in Setzer's chest as he stepped forward and said in a voice that sounded much braver than he was feeling, "Stop it! I'm the one who put them up to this. I'm your man. Leave my friends alone."
Ruadh coiled his whip as he regarded the seraphic boy with an amused grunt. "Ahh, I know you. You're that little lad Setzer, aren't you? They say that you fancy yourself quite the gambler."
"I don't fancy I am such...I know," came the rather heated response; Setzer tilted back his head and slitted his eyes truculently, but the only thing he received for his bravado was another laugh.
"Same here. You've got spirit, I'll admit that. But it won't help you much in prison, my boy. I'm going to press charges of attempted theft and breaking and entering on all five of you, and trust me: I will win."
Setzer felt sick to his stomach; the other four boys paled and bit at their lips fearfully. Visions of the bleak brown walls of the reformatory school and the stone ones of the town prison flashed before their eyes. Knowing this man, he'd almost definitely seek to put them behind the latter.
"I don't want to go to jail," Mandy whispered almost inaudibly; a small tear trickled down the side of his nose.
"Listen," Setzer managed to speak calmly over the lump forming in his throat, "it looks like we both fancy ourselves the gamblers. Correct?"
"Lad, I've been playing cards longer than you've been alive," came the laughed reply.
"That so? Well, then, I'm sure you'll love this. My friends and I will replace your hubcaps and shine up your carriage for you. We'll even clean out the choc stables if you want. But here's the deal: how about we play for these hubcaps of yours? Since we both want them, I think that a good poker match would be a very enjoyable way to settle our differences. If I win, I get your hubcaps. If you win, you can turn me in. But leave my friends out of this. I'm the one who put them up to this. They just followed my orders."
Ruadh struggled to resist this offer, but he was a true gambler at heart. He could no more turn down a card game with such stakes than stop himself from breathing. Setzer amused him greatly. This little urchin obviously hadn't a clue about what he was getting himself into.
"All right," the ursine man relented, "we'll have our game tomorrow morning , ten o' clock, at the Peacock Plume. You know where that is?"
"Of course," Setzer responded, a little insulted but greatly relieved.
"Very well, then. I'd put those hubcaps back if I were you, my boys--your ringleader isn't carrying them off today, and bloody likely won't tomorrow. You've got your own tools, I see. That's convenient. Now get cracking."