Disclaimer: I do not own Steamboy or anything related to Steamboy
Steamboy: The Rancour
Chapter 2: The Masked Man
'Where will the Rancour Warriors train now?' Kira shook her sister by the shoulders trying to keep her awake. She could not drag or carry Lily home.
'I don't know, Kira, I don't know,' Lily seemed confused as she looked the other way while she talked. She slumped back on the brick wall with Kira still shaking her.
The older girl would not budge when Kira pulled relentlessly at her arm. Lily was not large in stature; she was actually quite thin and tall, like her older sister had been. Only muscle from years of hard work weighed her down now.
Ray and his Grandfather came around the corner and watched the spectacle, Kira could see them from the corner of her eye.
'Where do you sleep, little girl?' Dr Steam asked gently, bending down on his old knees to be at her height.
'On straw,' Kira little face was set determinedly with the wind blowing her long brown hair around it. She would not give them the address of their house, she was not allowed too.
Ray now bent down too, 'He means, where do you live but judging by your face I don't think you're going to tell us. Is it far?'
Kira liked Ray, he could tell when peoples emotion changed, 'Quite a way, but still in Cheapside. I can't carry Lily.'
Ray nodded as Dr Lloyd spoke, 'Pick her up Ray. She can't go back to their house, she is too injured. I'm sure your Mother won't mind two strangers for awhile. Let's get moving.' Ray knew his mother was a kind woman and would not turn away a hurt girl.
Kira's face lit up quickly, she liked these people a lot. Usually when she dragged Lily home through the streets after a brawl people stared down their noses at her. It was scary, they were all so tall.
Ray could still feel the cold blood seeping through the girl's shirt and onto his arm when they arrived at his house.
'Oh my! What have you boys done!? Who is this?' his mother ran out of the house and onto the front path where they were slowly walking towards the house. Her apron was flapping in the wind and her hands were thrown above her head in distress.
His father came bursting out of the house behind her, 'Father what is this?'
'Calm down Eddie. Ray and I will tell you all when we have attended to this poor girl,' his Grandfather put a hand on his sons shoulder and guided him inside.
Emma came rushing out towards Ray, 'Ray, Ray! You're back!' She stopped dead in her tracks, 'Who is this?'
Ray followed her gaze down to the girl in his arms, 'Someone who needs our help.'
'Why is she in man's clothes and who is the little one?' Emma looked at all of this with much confusion and disdain.
'I don't know, you'll find out soon,' Ray was annoyed and avoided the question; his burden was becoming very heavy and the blood on his arms was drying.
They walked inside together, Emma now nearly as tall as himself, stared at Lily the whole way. His Grandfather talked in a low voice to his mother asking her to attend to the girl as she was badly hurt and that he would explain all later. His mother looked warily at the 'street rat' but obliged.
'Ray, you're bleeding,' Emma suddenly burst out pointing at the arm Lily's back was draped over.
Ray looked down at his arm as his mother ushered them into the room Emma was staying in. 'It's not my blood,' he said calmly.
As he lay Lily on the bed gently he caught Emma looking at his arm in disgust. His mother immediately started fussing around asking for water and some herbs. Emma ran to obey while the other boys stood around staring. Ray could hear his Father and Grandfather fighting outside about what was to be done. The small girl stood next to the door frightened, her hands behind her back. Her eyes were wide as she followed his mothers every movement.
'All boys out of the room please,' his mother's voice was quiet but stern. When Ray was the only one to start moving her voice was firmer, 'Ray, please take all the boys outside and make sure they are busy.'
Emma watched intently as Ray's mother removed the girl's shirt and bandage. She threw them without looking onto the jacket already lying on the floor. She carefully rolled the girl onto her stomach and began bathing her wounds with the bowl of water Emma held for her.
'Excuse me but is there a place where I could wash my sister's shirt, please?' the small child had already folded the jacket and put the girl's hat on top. Emma noted that her speech was rough but she had obviously been taught manners.
When Ray's mother turned around she became more timid, 'Just outside my dear. Ray will show you if you ask.'
'Thank you Madame,' she did a small curtsy and hurried out of the room.
'Nice child,' Emma nodded her consent and turned her attention to the lifeless form on her bed.
The girl looked to be about fifteen, only a year older than herself. Her dirty brown hair, so unlike her own long dark blonde, sat not in one wave like usual but in separate pieces, bouncing around her face. She could not see the girl's forehead, it was covered by a fringe that stopped just before her eyebrows.
Her eyes were closed but Emma guessed that they would be light blue like her sister's; she could already see that their eyelashes and brows were alike. Emma awoke from her pondering with a voice talking to her.
'Emma pass me another cloth, please. I hope the men are not burning dinner,' she was handed a bloody cloth as she handed over a clean one.
She resumed her relentless inspection, seeing every flaw. The girl's nose was nice although it looked as if it had been broken in more than one place. Her lips and chin were average, not prettier than her own.
Overall the girl could have been beautiful but the streets filth was smeared on her face and scratches and scars covered her arms and shoulders. Why then did Ray like her so? It is not fair, she thought as the green monster of jealousy clawed at her insides.
Ray watched as the boy's played in the yard; the blueprints still running through his head. At first he did not hear the voice or feel the tug on his sleeve.
'Sir, Sir. Your mother told me to ask you something,' the girls eyes pleaded with Ray's.
'What would you like to ask?' he bent down so he was her height.
'Where can I wash this, please Sir?' she held up the blood spattered shirt.
Ray sighed, 'I'll take you there if you promise me one thing.'
'Promise you what, Sir,' the girl was confused, she hadn't done anything wrong or had she?
'Not to call me sir. Call me Ray,' he could see the girl pondering this; he swore her little brain never stopped working.
'Ok, Ray,' she finally decided. He stood up and offered a hand. The girl did not budge, Ray shrugged his shoulders and led her to the metal tub.
Ray filled the tub talking all the while to the girl. She remained silent as he found the rack and a brush. Questions about her and her sister poured fourth from his curious mouth as he found some soap but still she remained silent.
'Do you need some help? Will you ever speak?' he asked as he kneeled next to the scrubbing girl.
'I don't need any help, but thank you. I will speak only what I wish to tell you, if you slow down your questions,' she said determinedly, looking coldly at Ray and then down at the shirt again.
'What is your name?' he would start off with easy questions. This girl did not trust him.
'I am Kira. My sister is Lily,' her words were clipped.
Ray ran his fingers through his hair, 'How old are you?'
'Five years younger than my sister, who is fifteen,' the brush was working slowly at the crimson shirt.
This young girl's high voice and height was deceiving; she was really a headstrong girl, who was polite but did not speak plain enough for a girl her age.
'Where is your family?' Ray asked carefully.
The girl took out a soapy hand out of the red water and pointed, 'Church.'
Ray rocked back on his heels as if he had taken a blow, 'I'm sorry.'
'Why should you be? It is my family, you did not know them,' the girl did not seem effected by the fact her family was dead. Maybe the harsh rat race of life had pushed all memories from her head. Ray did not know, nor understand. He would be devastated to lose his family.
'Where do you live?' Ray could hear yells of "Arrr, me hearties!" outside and the sound of wood clashing against wood. They boys were fine.
'Cheapside. Over a shop on the main street,' he could see he was not going to get any more from her about that subject.
The girl was closed and did not trust anyone except for maybe her sister. Years on the street of harsh reality can do that to anyone, Ray thought, but she is too young; too young to be like this.
'How long has your sister been working?'
'Since she was, let's see, if I'm ten,' she held up some fingers and counted, 'Since she was nine.'
'That's not too bad I suppose. I think the shirts clean, what do you think?' he asked timidly not sure whether he wished to know more about their past or not.
'Do you have a line where I can hang this, please Si…Ray?' she wrung out the shirt hard, she was not at all weak for a ten year old.
'Follow me,' the black raven of night was slowly spreading it wings.
'What are the Rancour Warriors you were talking about before?' in an instant Ray knew he had asked too much.
The girl remained silent as she had every right to.
They were just heading back to the house when Mother called them in for dinner.
The black masked man slid around in the shadows of the alleyway. He hoped that the youth at the station was telling the truth, if not his blood would be spilt tonight just like the others before him. It would be a pity really, the boy reminded him of what he was at that age. He would spare the lad.
The stairs to the small room above were rusting slowly. The door at the top once might have been elegant but it now hung crookedly on its hinges; its wood splitting from corner to corner.
The lock was old but probably still worked, his pick would make short work of it. He leaned close to the lock, his ear pressed against the door. The night was cold and the wind made his black shirt flutter in the wind. The hair thin pick moved around in the lock, guided by an expert hand. Finally he heard a small click.
Standing up he pressed hard against the door expecting it to move away freely. It did until it hit a chain attached to both the door and wall.
'Damn,' he swore under his breathe. The leader of the Rancour was more aware of how valuable her life was than he thought.
Against ever secret fibre in his body he gave the door a mighty kick. If they hear me it doesn't matter any more, they are as good as dead anyway, he thought. The chain was wrenched from the door taking massive pieces of splintered wood with it. There was no other way he could possibly get in. The windows were high and barred.
The Masked Man came forward quickly but silently, his pistol pointed in front of him. The house was silent, too silent after a door was just kicked down. The Rancour Leader had proven herself to be smart so far. She couldn't give up now could she?
The large room he entered was bare but for a stove, small table and two chairs. He wondered if he had the wrong house. Surely the Rancour Leader would have more than this? The only other door led to the bedroom.
'No where to run and no where to hide,' he whispered to himself, he would laugh if he could but it was not safe.
The handle slowly turned and the door gave way easily to reveal a bed of straw. A torn and patched blanket was draped over the top of the bed with a bulge underneath. It moved up and down, rhythmically breathing. It's just too easy, he told himself.
Foot over foot he crept towards the bed on the floor. He pulled back the blanket quickly and aimed his pistol.
A gunshot sounded in the night air. A long howl followed.
A/N: Sorry if there are no breaks between places, I put them there but they don't seem to show up. If you are confused by this chapter it will all be explained later. Please R&R.
Please criticize if you don't like something because it helps writers a lot, but I am only a teenager writing in her spare time.
Therefore the next chapter might take awhile to be posted, sorry.
Note: The author may have changed history in parts to suit her fictional story