Many, many years ago…
Berlitz Erdesparen checked his shiny gold pocket watch, trying to ascertain the current point in time without having to risk straining his eyes by looking at the sun for guidance. It was near dusk on a sunny, hot road in the center of Little Twister, the middle-aged man strolling casually down the street and trying his best to stay under the shaded areas of buildings as much as he possibly could. Putting the small golden trinket back into his pocket, Berlitz tightened his grip on his sizable suitcase and continued on his way towards the Crossfire Inn, where he had earlier booked himself in for a short little stay.
He was a fairly stout individual and dressed himself well, giving others the image of a stately and well-to-do businessman. He was not as rich as he outwardly seemed to be, but made enough to keep himself comfortable and was never in any serious debt or financial distress. Berlitz prided himself in his title as 'Professor of ancient neo-sapient history and archaeology', and it was his job and duty to gather and process as much information as possible, and bring light into such mysteries buried in the past. It was his reason for being in the seedy town of Little Twister in the first place, as he was following up a lead of information that spoke of buried ruins hidden somewhere outside of the town's radius. He had traveled all the way from the Eastern Highlands to see if this rumor was indeed correct, even going so far as to bring the remainder of his family along for the ride.
He had checked in with the main archaeological branch of the Little Twister university near the finer side of town to confirm that he did indeed belong here, then, after a long day of travelling to this remote frontier location, Berlitz was looking forward to a nicely brewed cup of tea with some biscuits, alongside the evening paper. His daughter Catherine would be in the Crossfire and waiting for him, probably reading up on some of the small little books she had brought with her from her home. Berlitz made a mental note to help her with her reading tonight, if he had the time. But before that, as soon as he got to his inn room, he would take off his boots and just relax. Smiling at that comforting thought, he picked up his pace a little and crossed the street, passing the Honey of Roses as he did so.
For what it was worth, today had been a pretty good day.
xxx
Not too far away from where Berlitz was walking, but also obscure enough to not be noticed, a small crowd of people had gathered on top of a nearby rooftop, five in all, just sitting around and doing nothing of particular interest. The day was near it's closing, and people were going home from their work (or lack of work), and likewise, to all people, dusk was the time of day for gentle relaxation. They had a better view from on high and could see the area around them easily, and along with that, it concealed their location from all the ground-dwelling people of the town and made them feel a lot safer. There were four boys and one girl, the latter sitting comfortably on the chimney with the youngest of the group in her lap. Beside her was an older boy sitting cross-legged near the top of the slope of the roof with his eyes closed, and not too far away from him another was on his back and lying upside down, so he was receiving a view of Little Twister the wrong way up. Finally, the last one was a little way away from the rest of the group, with his hands busy doing a menial little job involving a knife. They were just hanging out, as all children tend to do.
They were the Black Shuck Gang, and damn proud of it too.
The boy sitting the furthest away from the others was humming happily, and at the same time, carving something out of a thick chunk of wood. It looked to be in some kind of vaguely human shape, like a small featureless doll without much distinction. The boy was working on the head now, scraping away thin curls of wood every time he applied his small knife to the piece of timber. The curls were catching in the soft breeze and blowing away, which was a good thing because the boy at work didn't have to clean it up himself. The knife he was using was very sharp, and looked to be very well cared for, however the owner of the knife was young, seeming to be five or six years old at a quick estimation. He was dressed in raggedy street clothes, and was also barefoot, with slight scratches and healed cuts all over his body. He was also smiling, absorbed in his work. He was humming an old drifter song at the same time, but only knew one or two verses of notes, so he repeated them on a constant near-infuriating loop. The other boy who was lying upside down was quietly singing the words to the tune, at the same time keeping watch on their surroundings.
"The drought is down on field and flock, the river-bed is dry; And we must shift the starving stock before the cattle die. We muster up with weary hearts at breaking of the day, and turn our heads to foreign parts to take the stock away. We cannot use the whip for shame on beasts that crawl along; We have to drop the weak and lame and try and save the strong. The wrath of God is on the track, The drought fiend holds his sway; With blows and cries and stockwhip crack we take the stock away."
When the first boy stopped humming, invariably the second boy stopped singing. He held up the small doll a little, turning it around and inspecting it in the dusty light. It needed some nice doll clothes, but he didn't know how to stitch, only carve. That part was not his job anyway, but he was pleased on how the doll's shape had managed to turn out. Some buttons could be glued on to make eyes, and yellow felt could also be applied to create the effect of hair. A mouth could easily be drawn on too, and with the proper miniature clothing, the doll would be completed. It wasn't nearly as good as a store-bought china figurine, but still suitable nonetheless. He hoped that whoever he gave the toy to would properly appreciate it.
The group watch detected a little bit of movement coming from the street and rolled over to get a right-side-up view, pressing his hands down against the slightly aged wooden roofing planks and leaning forward a little for a better glance. Quietly, he watched Berlitz walk by the building with an involuntary pompous air, carrying with him two moderately heavy suitcases, the slight glint of gold from one of his pockets catching in the sun. The watch's gaze slowly followed Berlitz's movements until the middle-aged man was out of sight, then he released the tension in his arms and leant back onto the rooftop once more. Taking a few seconds to process this information, he turned around and looked at the boy furthest away from him, adding the final finishing touches to the wooden doll's body. "Missanga," Said the watch, "I just saw a big fat pigeon waddle by. He looked pretty expensive too." Pointing in the direction that Berlitz had taken, he added, "That way, see?"
Missanga looked up from his carving. "A dumb one?" He asked, his sharp knife glinting slightly in the sun.
The watch nodded. "By the looks of it. He had his hands full. How much dumber can you get, right? But I did see some gold on him, in his pockets, I think. He is going down the main road, you should check it out." Taking the advice, Missanga stood up, prompting the rest of the group to do the same. The gap between buildings was rather small and unnoticeable and it was no more than child's play for the small group of children to follow the direction that the watch had pointed out, jumping the little gap with ease, the youngest of the group having to be picked up and carried, however, because he was too small.
All five of them leant down against the next roof now, leaning over the edge, unconsciously lining up in order from smallest to largest. Missanga was somewhere in the middle. Berlitz was still making his merry little way towards the inn, sublimely ignorant of the many eyes at his back. The glint of gold from his pocket continued to catch in the sun every few seconds, and the group of children watched it like a hungry hawk sizing up it's prey. The biggest and strongest boy in the group spoke up, his low and slow voice slightly hindered by his large and powerful frame. "What number are we gonna work up on this one, Boss?" He said in a slow drawl.
"Something to take advantage of his inability to use his hands, I believe." Said the watch.
"Can I help?" Inquired the youngest one.
"No, you're too young." Said the female amongst the group.
"Well…" Said Missanga, thinking about what the others had said quietly, a hand on his chin. "How about we try the good 'ol fashioned hit an' run on him? That should work, don't you think? And if we have a problem, then we can all have a crack at it, eh? What do you say?" He turned towards the large boy sitting next to him, dwarfing everyone else with ease. "I'll need your help for this one, Mongo. Swanky, Cammie and LD, you're all support. You'se all know what to do, just do it like we've done before." The little boy grinned. "Let's take this old codger for all he's got!"
They all nodded at his direction, in agreement to Missanga's plan. Two of them jumped carefully off the roof into the small alleyway running along the side of the building, landing on a few waiting crates and then hopping down those to reach the sandy dusty ground. The other three dispersed along the rooftops, one heading in a certain direction while the other two took their own. Getting into position only took about a minute or so, and when they were ready, it would be time to begin the game. Mongo and Missanga kept to the back-alleys behind the buildings, the smaller of the two stepping into the sunlight enough to keep a general idea of where Berlitz was in comparison to their own location. Quite sure of their success, their plan began.
xxx
Berlitz politely put his suitcase down and tipped his hat at the deputy sheriff as he sauntered by, even though the lad barely even seemed to be out of his teenager years. The tin star he wore over his heart was still brand new and shining, and the youth still had the tiny little scars on his face caused by horrendous pubescent acne from many years ago. The law enforcer nodded back to him and continued on his way, most likely heading back to the sheriff's station no more than a few little blocks away. His patrol must have been completed without mishap. Berlitz smiled and picked up his suitcases again, taking a second to balance himself again, because the load was rather heavy for a man like himself, with no past requirements of him to increase his strength. He was almost at the inn, only a block or two away.
"HELP ME!"
He heard a child scream. It was high-pitched and obviously frightened, but it was the light tenor tone of a little boy, sounding to be only a little kid, no more than eight years old at the most. The old professor tensed and looked around for the source of the cry, wondering where it had come from. His ears weren't as good as they used to be, but he could have sworn that the sound had come from directly up the road, straight ahead. He didn't put down his suitcases and kept on walking, wondering what was wrong. This was a dangerous town, that was obviously true, but who on earth would get it in their minds to frighten small children?
"HE'S GONNA GET ME!"
Somebody screamed again, coming into view. A little boy was running down the street like the hounds of Hell were after him, constantly turning his head to look back behind him, where an even larger boy, a hulking brute of a child was close behind him, ten or twenty paces away. The expression on the bigger boy's face was a mask of seething rage, raw primal anger and fury, his large meaty fists clenched into thick hammers perfectly capable of beating the frailer boy black and blue. The larger boy said something obscene to his prey and mentioned how horribly he was going to destroy him, involving both a crowbar and a large chunk of cinderblock. The small boy squealed again in terror and pumped his legs faster to get away from his enemy, his breathing tearing and harsh. Berlitz watched them approach like a casual observer, vaguely telling himself that he should probably be getting out of the way.
But Berlitz was too late. The small child, too frightened out of his mind to watch where he was going, only focussing on getting as far away from his enemy as possible, collided with the middle-aged professor and nearly knocked him over, Berlitz just having the stability to stay on two feet. The boy bounced off his stomach and fell flat on his behind, his head spinning like a carousel. "Oh dear, I am so sorry." The professor said, taking the little boy's thin hand and hauling him back onto two feet. A small cloud of dust had risen when the boy had fallen, but it was settling when he looked up, fear bright in his icy blue eyes.
"Ohgeezi'msosorrysirbutigottagoorhe'llkillmenicetomeetyoubye!"
He was off like a shot again, hardly missing a beat. The larger boy passed Berlitz without a second glance, too caught up in his rage to slow down or even acknowledge the kindly old professor. Turning, he watched them run down the street like the entire world was ending. Children certainly were marvelous creatures in the way they could summon up such stamina at will. Berlitz chuckled a little, hoping that the small boy managed to get free. Still, his business was different to them and he had better be on his way to the inn. Patting his pocket again to find his gold watch and check the time, Berlitz suddenly froze.
And understood.
"My watch!" He cried, "That lad just took my watch!"
xxx
Missanga and Mongo were laughing like a bunch of merry idiots who had just robbed Fort Knox when they turned a sharp corner and disappeared into the shadows of a nearby alley, leaning up against the wooden wall of a general store and panting like they had won a marathon, the laughs mixed up with heavy breathing. Grinning, they high-fived each other, successful in their mission. Slowly and carefully, Missanga reached into his pocket and pulled out the beautiful glimmer of authentic gold, made in the shape of a stately pocket watch. He also had an expensive-looking wallet too, probably filled with plenty of money. "The tourists here… are so… so goddamn stupid!" He giggled, his sentence punctuated with steadying gasps. "Mongo… your angry face is… getting better… every single day!"
"So's your scared face!" Mongo replied, euphorically triumphant. "Man, it looked like you were gonna crap your pants at any minute then! We should become actors, huh?" Leaning over, doing this easily because he was much taller than Missanga, he got a good eyeful of the charming glint of gold. Mongo held his breath. He had never seen anything so-expensive or shiny in his entire life. It was beautiful. The littler boy turned the watch over in his hands, noticing an engraved bit of text on the back. He couldn't read and had no idea what it meant, but he did know somebody who could, and he'd ask him about it later.
Another boy appeared and pinched the item from out of Missanga's hands, eliciting a startled 'Hey!' from both the large and small boy. This one was older than the both of them, and kept himself in an air of importance. Fumbling with the catch, he opened up the pocket watch and looked inside. The clock was a digital one instead of an analog timer, making it far more expensive than he would have originally expected. The gold was rather pure, though not spectacularly so, about twenty carats, and it's design suggested that it was rather old. The lid of the watch doubled as a picture frame, and a black-and-white photograph was kept behind a thin plate of glass, a picture of a little chestnut-haired girl, about three or four years old. The older boy blinked at it. "This is quite a find you have made, Missanga." He said, handing it back to his younger friend.
"You think so, Swanky?" Missanga replied, snapping the watch's lid closed with a thumb. He broke out into a smile. "We're gonna be eatin' well for months now on this! I know a place where we can cash this in right now! Let's have a party after! Yeah!" He hopped up and down happily, but then Swanky and Mongo each took a hold of his shoulders and pushed him down again, into the dirt. Mongo sunk down with Missanga too, biting his lip. "What? What's wrong?" He asked, confused.
Swanky crept to the edge of the alleyway and looked outside of it, onto the main road. After a few seconds of uncertainty, he turned back towards the two culprits and looked grim. "You had best hide your stolen goods and get as far away from here are possible." He informed them gravely. "The man you robbed is looking for you nearby, and he has enlisted the help of the deputy sheriff as well. He is coming this way. Get out of here now! You too Mongo, you are an accomplice!"
Missanga didn't miss a beat. "Okay then! I'm outta here!" He grinned.
And he ran right onto the main road, in complete view of everybody.
Slapping a hand to his head, Swanky groaned loudly. "Idiot. It seems we have no choice. Mongo, tell Cammie and LD to get into their support places. Tell them that Berkley is hunting Missanga again!" Mongo nodded and ran the other way, into the giant network of back-alleys behind each of the buildings lining the main road. Swanky heard Missanga yelp and the unmistakable shout of Berkley roaring; 'Stop right there!' in his cracked pubescent voice and groaned again. Missanga was smart, but at times he was just, well, a dumbass.
Stepping into the light and onto the footpath, he watched the chase begin.
xxx
Berlitz was not a very good runner but managed to keep up with the younger deputy sheriff on sheer force of will alone, leaving his two suitcases where they were and chasing after the boy that had taken his wallet and watch away. It was a lucky break that Berkley had not been too far away, and had heard his cry of consternation, running to his aid. For a short while they had lost all track of the little scoundrel, but as luck would have it again, he appeared on the main road again and made a mad break for it, noticing that the two men after him were not too far behind. Berlitz's breath came in great puffing gasps and he knew that he couldn't do this for long, his heart couldn't take such a strain.
Turning again, the boy ran into the market part of Little Twister where stalls and makeshift stores were set up, the entire area a jumble of stock, wares and stacked up creates. He ducked behind a pile of them, hoping for cover, and the two men followed him, swerving out of the way when the stack lost it's stability and nearly tumbled onto them, which would have give both men a very nasty headache. Recovering after a second, they caught a glimpse of the boy crouching behind a chicken stall and advanced on them, Berkley kicking a wayward mini crate away. Behind the pile, Mongo snapped his fingers angrily and growled. Even though he had managed to tip the crates over, he had missed the both of them. The large boy shot Missanga a sorrowful look and Missanga shook his head as a reply, he had tried his best and didn't make it, but that was okay. He still had a chance.
Leaping over, under and around various stalls, Berkley was the only one with the stamina left to chase the small thief and he left Berlitz there to catch his breath and calm his heart, panting like a parched dog. He was a rather lithe youth and had been taught to be a good policeman quite well by his father, and that meant that he had been trained for stuff like this. Missanga saw that his enemy had dwindled down to only one man and his heart felt a little lighter, hoping that that had increased his chances somewhat. Raising his fingers to his lips, he whistled once and prayed for the best.
Berkley was tackled to the ground by a furry mass of animal, a comparatively giant mongrel dog pinning him down and licking his face like it was made of the sweetest candy. It's grey shaggy fur smothered his face and stunk badly of stereotypical dog-smell, the animal's long bushy tail waggling hysterically and hitting him in the side. At first Berkley's sped-up mind thought that he was being mauled by some kind of wolf, but then he gathered his wits and pushed the animal aside, grumbling and getting to his feet. At once, as soon as it was touched, the dog stiffened like it had just been shot and keeled over onto it's furry side, whimpering pitifully and whining.
"Doggy! That man killed my doggy! How could you kill my doggy?! Why!?"
Immediately a child nearby burst into tears. Crying sadly, a young boy that was only a little older than a toddler stumbled over to the whimpering dog and flung himself into it, bawling. After a few moments, he started to howl in a tantrum mixed with mourning, a girl next to him getting to her knees and drawing the small boy into her arms. She looked up at Berkley with absolute hatred, stroking the younger child's hair carefully. "Ah nevah thought Ah'd see the day when a deputy goes outtah his way to kill an innocent animal and make a young-un cry! For shame! You mean, horrible man!"
Getting up and scratching the back of his head, Berkley was at a loss on what to say. "Well, I- ah, um… I'm sorry?" He garbled as an apology.
"Sorry ain't gonna cut it!" The girl screeched. "You just killed Iyosuke's best friend!"
Hiding under an expensive-looking rug, Missanga breathed out a sigh of relief and crawled out of the way, glad that Cammie, LD and Lucy were buying him some time. Their act was becoming better than ever, he had never seen Iyosuke put up such a stunning tantrum as a performance before. And Lucy, well, she was one of the best trained dogs Missanga had ever had the pleasure of knowing. His enemy was divided now, he was almost in the clear. Crouching low and stepping out from behind a crate, Missanga felt his heart leap into his throat when he nearly walked straight into Berlitz's field of vision. The old professor had caught his breath and was scanning the crowded marketplace area and looking for him, his greyish moustache twitching a little in annoyance.
In fact, the only reason Berlitz didn't see Missanga was because somebody had elbowed the small boy in the chest, sending him sprawling back into the shadows behind the crate again. He hit his head against the edge of the box and nearly cried out in pain, but bit his tongue just in time to save his own life. Swanky was now standing in front of the crate, rubbing the back of his neck and laughing forcedly like he had just been told a very droll joke, having just elbowed Missanga away. Oh good, Missanga felt a surge of relief, He's covering for me.
"Excuse me, sir!" Swanky called out to Berlitz, briskly walking over to the old man and forcing Berlitz's attention upon himself, trying to give Missanga a chance to escape. Taking the professor's arm, he turned Berlitz around carefully so that his back was facing where Missanga was, and his gaze safely away from the crate and it's hidden guest. Now all Swanky had to do was keep Berlitz's attention properly diverted. "I cannot help but notice that it looks like you are searching for something! Maybe I can be of some assistance to you?"
"Yes, that is right." Berlitz agreed, nodding. "I am looking for somebody. Have you seen him? He is-"
"Is he a young, thin looking boy?"
"Yes."
"About six or seven years old?"
"Yes, that's right!"
"Green hair, all messy and with shabby clothing?"
"Indeed!"
"Runs a lot?"
"Yes!" Berlitz cried, "Have you seen him?!"
"Nope!" Replied Swanky with a devilish grin. "Never seen him before in my life!"
Berlitz felt like screaming. Swanky rubbed his chin, cocking his head to one side. "I have noticed something, though. You seem to be lacking a watch. Do you want to buy one of mine?" He opened his dark grey jacket wide, smiling mischievously. Berlitz blinked, trying not to splutter. He had expected him to have all kinds of different watches pinned to the inside of his jacket, like a black market dealer, but instead his jacket was bare. He didn't even have any watches to sell. Swanky looked down at his open jacket and then he blinked a few times. "Somebody stole all my watches! They are gone! Oh dear! Oh my! Sir!" He grabbed Berlitz's arm. "You have to help me find them again, please sir! They are my livelihood!"
Behind them, Missanga was trying his best not to collapse into a fit of sniggers, finding Swanky's acting to be beyond hilarious. Damn it, you are a fucking smartass, Swanks! Standing up carefully, Missanga crept away from the crate, in full view of everybody. Taking careful and calculated steps, he began to sneak away from Berlitz, knowing that stalling the old man would not last forever. He had to fight back his laughter again when Swanky began to accuse Berlitz of stealing his watches and threatening to call his solicitor, but then, just when it looked like he was home free, somebody clubbed him over the back of the head with a dead fish and he fainted.
Berkley stood there, holding the dead fish in his hands, smiling triumphantly. A few moments later, the fish vendor kicked him in the shin and took back her wares, leaving the deputy sheriff moaning and hopping up and down on one foot. Missanga was lying comatose in the street, and all the other children were nearby in the area, watching what had happened quietly. Berlitz turned around and blinked, seeing his pocket watch and wallet lying beside the boy, having fallen out of his pocket when the boy had hit the ground. "This boy is under arrest for theft, evasion of the law and disrupting the peace." Berkley muttered, grabbing the boy by one arm and lifting him up. He didn't meet any resistance, he must have been truly unconscious.
"Oh dear…" Murmured Swanky. He whirled around and pointed in a random direction. "Everybody… SCATTER!"
They each disappeared in their own separate ways.
And Missanga was alone.
xxx
Half an hour later, the boy had woken up, but was none too pleased by his dreary surroundings.
The green-haired boy watched Berlitz eerily through the iron bars in his prison cell, his blue eyes like a glacier of ill intentions. In all truths, the boy was barely out of his toddler years and only a little lad, but he had fought like a crazed tiger when Berkley had thrown him into his cell, like he was being slated for a hanging, then and there. Now, he was just sitting calmly on the bench screwed to the dingy wall, in a cell that stunk of tobacco and urine. Berlitz's nose crinkled at the stench, it certainly wasn't a very nice place to be, especially for a little boy. He had been stripped of everything dangerous beforehand, the deputy sheriff having found a long and sharp switchblade in his pocket, some small razor blades in a leather satchel, a bag of powdered moss fungus poison, a metallic medallion, and half an eaten candy bar. Those items were now resting on Berkley's desk, except for the candy bar, which had been thrown in the bin.
Berkley ushered Berlitz into a nearby chair, but the professor saw that the boy's eyes were still trained intently on him, making him feel slightly uneasy. He had been given his golden pocket watch and his wallet back, but didn't like the idea of them being stolen all over again. Berkley wandered over to his desk and liberated a clipboard from it's bottom drawer, the archaeologist noting that it bore many sheets of written-on paper of varying ages, as could be told from the yellowed quality of some of the pages, and the coffee rings huddled in nearly every corner of the margin. Berkley cleared his throat. "Before we begin the questioning, would you like a cup of tea, sir? This may take a little while, and I'm obliged to offer you something because you are required to stay until the hearing is done."
Berlitz shook his head quietly, turning down the offer because if the room smelt so unclean and bad, how terrible would the tea turn out to be? He really didn't want to find out. Immediately after this, the boy in the prison cell got up and flung himself at the prison bars, grasping onto them like a primate in the zoo. His smile was imp-like, but also quite wicked and nasty. He put his face against the bars and glared at Berkley with spite. "I know!" He chirped as innocently as possible, then changed his tone so that it sounded like he was describing something incredibly delicious. "How about a nice warm cup of get me the fuck out of here?! Mmm-mmm! Sounds delish!" And after saying this, the boy removed one hand from the bars and flipped the bird at both present adults, summing up his feelings on being captured amply. Berlitz slightly narrowed his eyes. Where did children pick up these things, he wondered.
Glowering, Berkley flung open the doors to the prison cell and ripped the young boy away from the bars, forcing him onto the unfurnished wooden plank of a bed. Putting pressure on the kid's neck, he couldn't really do much more than squirm now, and curse. "Shut up, you miserable little turd!" He flung the clipboard with the notes onto the bed next to the boy. "You're gonna stay here for a while, you hear me, boy? We've been looking for you for a long time! Twenty counts of theft, arson, vandalism and domestic violence! And those are only the recorded ones! You'll rot, I say! Rot!" The boy let out a rebellious squawk, at the same time spitting out a word that a six-year-old definitely shouldn't be aware of. Even Berlitz turned slightly red.
Standing up from the aged chair he was sitting in, Berlitz cleared his throat and held up his hands, in a warding gesture. "I'm sorry officer, but I just feel that I should offer my opinion on this. The lad is just a child, don't you think you're being a little harsh on him? I have gotten my watch and wallet back from him, and I do not want to press any charges. I want to say that I disapprove of your method of juvenile discipline. Throwing a child in jail is not going to help him at all. If anything, all it will do is fuel his already apparent contempt for the existing justice system in this town."
Berkley looked blankly at Berlitz, taking a small amount of time to process what the professor had just said. The boy went considerably limp and did the same, raising his head up from where it had been shoved against the wooden bed and blinking a few times. Berlitz then noticed that the kid had very icy blue eyes, making him appear far more innocent than he really was. The deputy finally spoke, loosening his hold on the boy momentarily. "You are… not from around here, are you?" He asked.
"Wow! Fuck-face here is so smart, ain't he?" Snickered the child saucily, bearing a grin like a small mischievous devil. Both his hands were pinned against his back by Berkley's hands, and the deputy forced them even further down at the remark, making the boy's spine ache somewhat. This didn't discourage him though. "Why, he's a regular gen-i-us, taking two whole years to catch 'an keep me!" His parochial southern accent hindered his pronunciation of some words, forcing him to sound them out loud. "An' you'd better give me back my missanga soon too, 'else it's robbery! It's mine! My missanga! Mine!" He started to squirm again, the possessive thoughts making him launch a secondary protest on his capture.
Berlitz nearly smiled at the boy's snide and somewhat amusing remarks. Luckily, he caught himself in time. "I believe," He began, "That this is a very crime-ridden town. There are many people here that are… contrary to those who are law-abiding citizens. I have also noticed that you are considerably understaffed and lacking the proper facilities used to contain such men. Keeping the boy here will waste valuable resources and a perfectly functional prison cell. Do you think that a few minor crimes come before ones that adults are committing on a more severe scale? I advise you to save your time for somebody who directly threatens his immediate environment. This offender that you have here is clearly a minor and not responsible for his actions. I think a warning would be more appropriate than incarceration." Berkley began to open his mouth but Berlitz cut him off. "If you disagree with me, then I must ask you a question. How much is the child's bail?"
The deputy sheriff wilted. "Five hundred gella." He said.
Berlitz nodded and took out his checkbook, cutting Berkley a check. Before he gave it to the other man, though, he walked towards the prison cell and knelt down enough to be at the correct level with the boy, unconsciously putting his free hand into his pocket to protect his golden watch. The boy stared back at him evenly, his cold blue eyes inquisitive and even a little curious. Berlitz put a hand over his mouth, smoothing out his greyish moustache. "Lad," He said, "You want to get out of here, don't you? Nod if you agree with me." Hesitantly, though eventually obediently, he nodded slowly, trying to avoid hitting his chin on the wooden surface beneath him. His unkempt mop of hair got into his eyes, so he blew away his fringe with a well-directed breath. The professor continued. "Well, I am sure that the only way you will be able to get out of here is through my goodwill. Will you promise me that you will behave?"
The child paused, thinking this over. Then, he crossed his eyes and blew a raspberry at the older man, halting abruptly when Berkley twisted the small child's wrists to an incredibly painful degree, his action of rebellion become a simple cry of pain. His entire body tensing from the motion, he went totally limp a second after and lay quietly on the wooden platform, mangy green hair hiding half of his face. Berlitz immediately feared that Berkley had forced the child to black out from the pain, until he took in one deep breath and said in a quiet and defeated tone; "…Okay. I'll be good."
"Jolly good." Replied Berlitz with a smile, straightening up and adjusting his dark green cotton coat. "I have always said that everybody deserves a second chance. Good lad." He set the check down on Berkley's desk and the deputy sheriff took his hands off the boy's back, the child shaking him off and leaping off the wooden bed like it was coated with a thin layer of poison. He stood up and brushed the dirt and dust from his clothing like they were made of spun gold, putting on such overbearing airs. But now that Berlitz could get a good look at the lad as he was standing still, he noticed at once how small and weedy the boy looked physically, definitely an underfed boy, and with the disorderly way his grass-green hair was kept, he looked a little more like some kind of forest sprite than a regular human child at all.
Berkley sneered, not liking this turn of events at all. It had indeed taken both him and his father two whole years to get their hands on this thief, and as soon as they had caught the brat, he had to let him go? It wasn't right, and if he did, then his father would kill him as soon as he got back from his rounds. However, if the bail was paid in full, he really had no choice but to let the kid go, as all of his offences, numerous as they were, were still only minor ones, just as the middle-aged professor had said. It was like refraining from squashing a bothersome fly that had gotten stuck on flypaper, no matter how badly he wanted to kill it. But, like he had thought before, he really had no choice in the matter. Roughly grabbing the boy's shoulder and pushing him forward, he frog-marched the captive out of the small and stinking jail with revulsion, hooking the iron-barred door's bottom with the toe of one of his boots and pushing it backwards, so the prison door swung closed behind him. He kept a strong and firm grip on the boy though, in case he got it in his head to escape prematurely. "The next time I catch him his sentence is six months, you know." Berkley muttered, annoyed. Then he let go.
The boy seemed to launch himself into life and sprung towards Berkley's desk, grabbing with a rushed determination at all his stuff lying on top of a few scattered pieces of paper. The first thing he went for was the strange metallic medallion, then he scooped up his small sharp knife like he had lost it for a hundred years, and finally he just crammed what was left back into the pockets of his raggedy trousers, pushing them down deeply so they wouldn't come out again. Like a small agitated rabbit he looked back at the other two men, as if he was a piece of prey being hunted by invisible figures far too close for his comfort. He looked at the door. It had been left slightly ajar. Berkley noticed this and stood in front of it, impeding the child's egress. He folded his arms. "Your bail's been paid. If you're gonna leave, then you'll be leaving with that man." With the nod of a head, he gestured to Berlitz. "Boy, listen to me. The next time you're caught, you'll be doing your time with the adults, understand?"
"Fine. Then I'll just won't get caught again, huh?" He stuck his tongue out at Berkley and grinned impishly, knowing that he was immune to the law for this tiny little period of time. Berlitz put on his hat again and picked up one of his suitcases, handing it over to the young boy. Then he picked up the other, so that he was carrying one, and so was his young companion. The child looked down at it, then up at Berlitz in question. The suitcase didn't feel too heavy, it must have only been filled with clothes or something. "What?" He asked, uncertain. Berlitz had already gone out the door, so the boy followed him, carrying the suitcase as well. Berkley watched him leave, then sighed, going back to his paperwork. He was already dreading the conversation he was going to be having with his father later on.
Closing the door behind him, the boy was now outside, in the dusty dusk air. The sun was still visible over the horizon, preparing itself to set. There was still a little bit more time before darkness fell. Hoisting the suitcase up with his thin little arms, the boy strode up to the older man waiting at the edge of the road, his own suitcase sitting in the road next to him. The professor's hands were in his pockets, probably as a defense against any further pick-pocketing. "You young-uns should be more careful of the law, especially in a place like this." He observed, his greyish moustache hiding his smile. "Now, it will be getting late soon. You should really be getting back to your family. However, if you so have the spare time, could you help me carry these cases back to my inn room? I am not as spry as I used to be and an extra pair of hands would be appreciated."
Smiling as well, but for a different reason, the boy closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Berlitz's suitcase, amused. "What a stupid old man." He said out loud, to nobody in particular. "I just robbed the shit outta him, and now he wants me to carry nearly all his stuff? You're stupid, old man. What's stoppin' me from running off with what I have here now? No matter what's inside, I reckon I could get a good price for it from the right kind of people." He stepped away from the professor, looking down the long stretch of road. It seemed to be an easy getaway, and he already knew that Berlitz was not fit enough to outrun him.
Berlitz didn't stop him. He shrugged. "It is up to you, I suppose. You are free to do what you want, whether it breaks the law or not. I just believe that one good deed deserves another, and considering that I paid your bail, I am entitled to a little menial help if I wish it. Running away with that suitcase will not satisfy any contempt you may hold towards me, as it only contains my daughter Catherine's belongings, not my own. If you wish to run, then run. If you wish to lend a hand, then do so. But do not remain undecided, because indecision is stagnation."
The child stood firm. "I'm gonna run." He said, but made no move to do it.
The professor didn't move either. "Go." He replied, and pointed to the long road running away from them. Still, the kid didn't run. Finally, he decided against it. This old man was hard to understand, but interesting nonetheless. And, even if he didn't like to admit it, he had paid for his bail, and for a child, five hundred gella was a hell of a lot of money, the kind of stuff that children dreamed of. That merited a little goodwill, didn't it? Turn back to the professor, the boy sighed, setting the suitcase on the ground. Berlitz took this as an act of submission. "What is your name, lad?" He asked.
Rubbing a smudge of dirt from his face, the boy blinked at the old man a few times, thinking hard about giving his real name or not. If his name became known to the wrong people, then bad things could break out. But, he had the feeling he could trust this man. He had put five hundred gella and an entire suitcase on his own trust, maybe he should do the same.
After a pause he said; "My name's Clive. Clive Winslett."
xxx
The Crossfire Inn wasn't really that far to begin with, but by the time both Clive and Berlitz walked through the thin wooden doors of the building, Clive's thin little arms were aching from the strain of carrying his small load. It had started out light at the beginning, but his lack of strength in his arms had gradually taken it's toll. He was dragging it as he entered with the professor, the older man not looking to strained at all. Of course, Berlitz was easily four or five times older than he was, and much stronger too. Letting out a breath, Clive dropped the suitcase on the floor and loitered around impatiently as Berlitz spoke to the elderly innkeeper, a wrinkled old woman with crooked yellow teeth and sunken eyes. She gave Berlitz a key and pointed up towards the second floor with a gnarled old finger. Nodding in understanding, Berlitz motioned to Clive again and ascended the staircase, expecting the boy to follow.
"So Clive," Berlitz said as he walked up the staircase, one step at a time, keeping his free hand on the handrail, "That is a fairly uncommon name, from the old dialect, I recall. It means cliff-tops, does it not?"
"I dunno." Clive replied, a little short of breath. He was actually climbing the staircase backwards, using both his arms to haul up the suitcase with him, unable to help the loud thumping noise as it hit each individual wooden step as he pulled it. The old innkeeper was looking at him unkindly, finding his shabby clothing and rough accent to be distasteful. Clive ignored this. "My big brother named me, but he didn't tell me what it meant. I don't use it much anyways, just when I'm dealin' with grown ups. My real name's Missanga, because I was called that first of all." He smiled briefly. "It means good luck!" He said.
They both reached the top of the stairs, and from there, they could see a moderately long corridor with doors on either sides of it's body, and each door had a number on it. Berlitz checked his key. It seemed that his room was number seven, which was only a few steps away. Passing his other suitcase to Clive, he fit the key into the lock and turned it, hearing a tiny click which meant the door had been unlocked. His daughter Catherine was probably already inside, as he had left her outside of the inn earlier in the day in order to meet his colleagues on the other side of town. He had instructed the innkeeper to give Catherine a spare key. Pushing the door open, he went inside. Clive waited outside, because he hadn't been invited in yet, and he didn't really want to go inside in the first place.
"Catherine?" Berlitz asked when he went inside, looking around the small inn room. It was moderately furnished and filled with the necessities of life, beds and chairs and a table, with a bookshelf off to one side, and a window just above one of the beds. There was enough room to walk around in, and another doorway lead into a small private bathroom. Some pictures were hanging on the walls, basic watercolour paintings of landscape scenes. It was pretty good considering the amount of money he had paid, that was for sure. It would do nicely for the time he was to be spending here, seeing that he couldn't afford to rent a house with the salary he was accumulating each year. Turning back to the open doorway, he looked back at Clive who seemed to look a little bit skittish at where he was. "Do not just stand there like a totem pole." He said kindly. "Come on in, lad."
A little girl walked out of the bathroom, having been using the mirror above the sink to fix up her light chestnut coloured hair. She had put two soft red ribbons in her hair, and she was wearing a white and brown dress, with a red hem at the bottom. She looked to be no more than six years old, and as far as little girls went, she was adorably cute. Noticing Berlitz, she ran to him at once and jumped into his arms. "Daddy!" She cried happily. "You've come back! I missed you!" Clive moved over and with a great deal of effort, dropped both suitcases onto the bed. Absently he wondered why Berlitz didn't just leave them here when he had dropped his daughter off, but came to the conclusion that the old man was probably senile. Catherine watched the green-haired boy do this and looked back up at her father. "Who's he?" She asked.
"A thief." Berlitz answered calmly, with a smile on his face. "But an honorable thief, so I do not think he will take any of our things anymore." Clive stiffened at this answer, he didn't much like being called a thief, if anything, he preferred to be called a pickpocket. It just sounded more professional, and being called a thief was only a little more flattering than an insult. He let this slide though, the thoughts of a five hundred gella bail flitting through his mind. Berlitz let go of his daughter and lowered her to the ground again, fishing around in one of his pockets. "And I do believe that he deserves something for carrying my things all the way over to this room. For such a small child it must have been quite difficult."
"I don't want anything." Clive replied hotly, his honor as a pickpocket on the line. Then he realised just how dumb he must have sounded, because wanting Berlitz's things had been the very reason why he had been caught. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away from the professor and the little girl, inspecting one of the paintings on the walls. Vaguely he heard a soft scratching sound coming from outside of the window of the room, but was too busy trying to avoid the professor's gaze to dwell on this more.
"Thieves are bad people!" Catherine declared loudly, sticking her tongue out at Clive.
The boy ignored this too, though it was incredibly difficult. Berlitz pushed one of the suitcases on the bed aside and dropped a small quantity of coins besides it, adding up to no more than ten gella in all. It wasn't much, but it'd do. Clive looked at the money like it had come from some other planet, but didn't touch it. Was this a test to see if he'd steal again? If so, then he wouldn't touch it in a million years. True, he was a thief, but other people weren't supposed to know about it! "You can take it if you want, Clive." Said Berlitz. "You earned it."
A rustling creak come from the window, followed by a cut-off yelp and then a slight crashing noise below the building. All three of them turned towards the curtained window, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary at all. When they looked back the money was missing, having been taken by Clive the moment their eyes were elsewhere. Even if the money was legally being given to him, instinct told him to only take what he needed when people's backs were turned. He felt better about this somehow, the ten gella coins warmed by his hand, shoved deeply into his pockets. Catherine blinked at the window and then tugged on her father's dark-green coat. "Daddy, how long are we gonna be in this town for? I miss Humphrey's Peak already."
Berlitz patted his daughter on the head, smiling warmly. "Only until the end of this season, then we will be going home. This will be like a summer holiday for you, Catherine." The little girl got the idea and grinned, her little smile like fresh sunshine. Clive now recognised her as the little girl that he had seen in the photograph in Berlitz's gold watch, only looking a tiny bit younger than she had been right now. The green-haired boy edged towards the doorway, feeling very out of place in this happy family scene. Berlitz saw him go. "Yes, it will be getting dark soon. Go back home to your family, lad. I expect we will meet again, however, I hope it will be because of more pleasant circumstances."
Clive shrugged and left, raising his hand a little in a cold gesture of farewell. Closing the door again behind him, he felt a little unwell. Now that had been an interesting adventure, he reckoned, but he was also glad that it was over. That old man had made him feel weird, and he had been nice to him for absolutely no reason at all. Obviously he had never heard of the Black Shuck gang before. That was good though, because nobody knew and was meant to know that he ran it, and that the true bounty on his head was far greater than a measly five hundred gella. Not even Berkley knew, but he would know soon. Clive just had to wait a little bit, until he was a little older and stronger. Walking down the steps to the front door of the inn, he could see out of the front window that the shadows were lengthening as a cloud covered the dipping sun.
Go back to my family? What a weird old man…
He left without a word, and did exactly what Berlitz had said.
xxx
When Clive was finally released from the cruel grasp of servitude, he found himself skulking down the shady back-alley behind the inn a few minutes later, both his small hands shoved into his pockets, his head down and mumbling something quietly to himself, fiercely embarrassed at his undignified capture. He had prided himself greatly on the fact that he had never been caught red-handed before, and now that record, along with all it entailed, had swiftly and eagerly been flushed down the proverbial toilet. The few coins he had been given tinkled pleasantly in his pocket, making a silvery little sound, and he encircled his hand around them to prevent the noise from arising, knowing quite well that if he sounded like money, the chances of that money being taken away from him increased nearly tenfold. He figured that if he had to go through all that bullshit for a few measly coins, he was going to damn well keep those coins for himself.
And as soon as his thoughts turned towards the topic of mugging, the shadows in the alley seemed to shift and Clive was suddenly surrounded, the small boy looking up and staring intently at the largest figure right in front of him. He had to crane his neck up a bit, because the figure was far taller than he was. "Mongo," Clive said, taking a small step back, "Can ya move for me, please? I'm gettin' lost in yer five o'clock shadow." Somebody off to the side of Clive snickered, finding this funny. A few seconds after that, two more voices joined in with the laughter, and Clive cracked a crooked smile.
Mongo threw up his hands and moved away, chuckling himself. "Sorry, Boss, sorry," He laughed, "But I was havin' trouble seein' ya in me shadow." The sun emerged from it's place behind the clouds and bathed the alley in late afternoon sunlight, dissolving the shadows cast by the height of the buildings all around them. Clive looked around. They seemed to be all there, at least, all the human parts of their little group. But where on Filgaia was-
Clive lost his train of thought when something slammed him in the front and knocked him onto his back, the boy groaning when the back of his skull hit the hard dirt road. Something wet and slobbery started licking him all over his face and Clive felt a warm pressure on his chest, causing the boy to reach up and push the hyperactive animal away. "Lucy!" Clive spluttered between giggles, "St-stop it! Bad! Bad doggie!" He managed to pry the dog off his chest and wiped the slobber off his face with his jacket sleeve, not resisting when somebody took his other hand and helped him to his feet. Lucy leapt up and scrabbled at Clive's front, standing on her hind legs to reach him. When she realised that he wasn't going to start playing with her, she slid down and started to roll around in the dust, yapping happily.
The dark-haired boy from earlier threw his arm around Clive's shoulder and leant into his side like he had lost his balance, smiling widely. "So!" He exclaimed, immensely pleased by something, "You finally let Berkley have his way with you, hmm? I saw you get beaten with my own eyes, and let me just say that you went down with both indignity and a lack of grace! Defeat by dead fish! Do not worry, my friend, we all still respect you and your talent, but…" He patted Clive on the back, "I am not going to let you forget that a poxy teenager and an old man beat you at your own game!"
Somebody reached a hand out and grabbed the dark-haired boy's ear firmly and pulled, causing him to yelp sharply and let go of Clive, having to lean the other way to prevent his ear from being pulled off. Meekly, recognising exactly who owned the hand, he went entirely limp to prevent any further injury upon himself. "Don't pester little Missangah!" Berated the young dark-skinned girl, twisting his ear slightly and making the boy cry out in pain. "The only reason why he was caught was because ya'll didn't stall that old man long enough!" The boy moaned out an apology and the girl let go, leaning forward to look at Clive more carefully. "So, Ah was wonderin', did you get scolded?" She asked, intrigued.
"Not really." Clive replied, absently rubbing the back of his head. "The old guy paid my bail and made me carry his stuff into his room, then he gave me some gella for the work. I'm just glad it was Berkley that locked me up and not his pops, 'else I'd still be rottin' in there right now." While Berkley was lenient with children and just about anybody else, his dad was the King Shit and never let anybody off the hook. Suffice to say, he was not well liked by the law-rejecting citizens of the town. Despite this, he was still an incredibly good sheriff and good at the game. Sometimes it had taken all Clive had to evade the older man's pursuit.
A little kid who didn't look any older than four years old tugged on Clive's clothes, beaming. "We saw yoo! We was watchin' yoo!" He smiled like a little cherub and ran behind the dark-skinned girl, peeking out from behind her side. He had light brown hair and blue eyes, and wore a pair of patched blue trousers and a tiny little belt, complete with a dirty and ripped white shirt. The little kid smiled again. "There was a man, and a girl, and a Boss!" He giggled, as if he knew all the secrets of the world and that they were all hilarious, and his own.
"Huh?" Clive grunted, "But I was in a second storey room, how did you'se all peep in?"
"Well," Said the girl bemusedly, "That part was easy. Mongo stood below the window, then Swanky got on Mongo's shoulders, then Iyosuke got on Swanky's shoulders, then they could see into the inn room." Clive blinked a couple of times, so that explained the weird noise he had heard coming from the outside of the window. He had been fleetingly curious about that a little earlier. "But then," She continued, slightly abashed, putting her hands behind her back, "We had a teensy little problem that Ah didn't really see coming."
"Mongo sneezed!" Chimed Iyosuke, removing his little wooden sword from it's place near his belt and holding it in the air, slowly dragging it down to represent exactly what had happened. "Then we all fell down! Swanky broke my fall, and Mongo broke his!"
"Yeah, well, it was only because the sun got in my eyes." Mongo retorted defensively, snorting. "An' the only thing that broke my fall was a pile of crates and the ground. My back is killin' me." Mongo was easily twice as big as any of the other people there, and no doubt as strong, but when he fell, he hit hard. Clive was just glad that he hadn't landed on the dark-skinned girl, or she easily would have been crushed half to death.
There was a short silence, the only noise being heard coming from Lucy, blissfully rolling around in the dust and panting happily. Clive started to walk down the alleyway, and Swanky got back up carefully, holding his hand over one side of his head to prevent his hurt ear from being harmed. The others followed him, and Swanky got into step with Clive at the head of the group. Clive was expecting him to ask some questions, and after a moment, he was not disappointed. "I should like to ask you something." He began, brushing the dust off the front of his dark shirt. "That man paid your bail, correct? Why on Filgaia would he-"
"You know, I really don't know." Clive replied, a little irritated because he was speaking the truth. He left his reply at that, not wanting to talk much right now. He had been in a supremely good mood only a few hours ago, and now it had been crushed and turned into dark confusion because of that annoyingly indecipherable man. He didn't really like the way that little girl had been looking at him either, like he was the scum of the earth. Well, technically it was true, but it still pissed him off. Absently he patted his dog Lucy on the head, the large animal walking happily with her master.
"Cold." Swanky said, folding his arms behind his head as he walked and sighing. "When we get back home I shall make you some tea. If you do not feel like talking I will just be quiet then, but before I do I just want to say that I saw that girl through the window. Do you think she is going to be staying here for a while? It might be nice to have somebody new to talk to. Besides…" He leant over to Clive a little and whispered. "Carmilla is not the most feminine girl I have ever met before…"
"Ah heard that! Ah don't know what fem-in-ine means, but by the Guardians-"
"Oh come on!" Swanky yelled, turning around and beginning to walk backwards to he could argue with the girl face-to-face. "You are just a dumb kid! What do you expect?!" He ducked a rock and snickered again, and Lucy dove for it like it was a bright red bouncy ball, holding the stone proudly in her teeth. Mongo was still at the back of the group and moaning about his back, and Iyosuke was poking it with his wooden sword like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Carmilla threw another rock, and this time it hit Swanky squarely in the face. However it turned out to be a dirt clod, and didn't damage him at all. It pissed him off some, though.
"That's it! I am going to get you, you little bitch!"
Lucy's ears perked up at the mention of the term, but the comment was not directed at her.
"Ow! That hurts, you meany! You're not supposed to hit girls!"
"And I suppose you are one?!"
"Yeah, and so are you!"
"Ouch!"
Clive sighed. If he were in a better mood he would have fuelled the fight on until one of them was crying, but he just didn't feel like it today. It felt like he had a headache. Lucy whined and nudged his side, licking his bare hand that had escaped from one of his pockets. The sun was setting and everything was getting dark. He could hear the hum of cicadas in the night. One of the children behind him started laughing, even though he was getting beaten up to a minor degree.
And Clive started to feel a tiny bit better, his empty stomach growing at the promise of dinner. With those ten gella coins he had earned, it would be enough to pay for a decent meal for all of them.
He guessed that, for what it was worth, and despite his feelings, today had been a pretty good day.