Sorry for the delay folks! This chapter took way longer than I had intended. Sit back, enjoy, and comment!
Welcome to the Concrete Jungle
The gears slowly ground to a halt as the descending lift made its fourth stop. Though dozens of passengers had boarded on the top level, successive stops had thinned the crowd down to barely a handful. Gone were the men and women in suits, ties, and clean dresses. Those still remaining on board looked shabby and grizzled, apparently too poor to look after themselves properly. As the door slid open with a harsh metallic screech, the lot sluggishly filed out, making no attempt to hide their fatigue.
"And this is our stop."
Nicholas followed Sammy out and paused at the sight that greeted him. The scenery before him was surprisingly peaceful, though hazy and smelly; large factory buildings dominated the cityscape, surrounded by rows of drab apartments. Unlike the frenetic pedestrians at the upper level rush hour, what people he could see around looked lethargic and defeated.
"This is not the undercity, is it?"
"Nah," Sammy laughed. "This is only the last factory level. We got a bit more to go before we reach the undercity. And a small trip after that to get to our turf."
"But how are we actually getting there?" Nicholas asked, puzzled. "The lift doesn't seem to go any further down. Is there another one around we can take?"
"There is, but that one is used by the city government to send down food and supplies to the undercity. No one can use it, 'cause there's actually a penalty for undercity people moving upwards without a proper permit."
"Then how come you're out here? I'm guessing with a job like yours, you would need to spend quite some time in the upper levels."
"Oh, there's always a way, though the government likes to claim otherwise," Sammy chortled. "Gangers like me just use sewer lines or abandoned subway tunnels to get up here. And with the right price, the security guys just overlook those few people slipping in and out. Besides, it's not that we're permanently settling in the upper levels or anything."
Looking down her watch, she let out a little sigh. "Hmm, today's Monday….which means the sewers are gonna be flooded for the next twenty four hours or so. I guess we'll just have to use the chute, then. Now, if you'll just follow me-"
"So how long have you lived in the undercity?" Nicholas asked as he followed Sammy down the street.
"Let's see….as of today, two years, five months, and twenty-four days."
"That's it? That means—"
"Yeah~ Technically, I'm not actually from around here, you see" Sammy replied. "I was born and raised at a place called Mossdeep City in Hoenn. You know where that is?"
"But that place is really far away! How come you ended up in Shadowgrave, of all places?"
"Well, after my parents split up, I decided that I was old enough to strike out on my own, and give my dad some private space while I'm at it. Then I traveled for some time, drifting from place from place….until I somehow ended up here," Sammy ended with a shrug. "I guess that's the best explanation I've got."
"Then why here?" Nicholas frowned. "Why don't you just live in the upper levels where everything's so much nicer and safer?"
Sammy chuckled and gave Nicholas an amused look. "My, my. You are a one curious little boy, aren't you? Questions after questions just pouring outta you like a waterfall…."
"Wouldn't you be, if you were in my position?"
"Eh, good point. Well, first of all, there's that whole excitement thing. I mean the undercity can be very dangerous—believe me—but still, how often do you get to make a living taking scandalous photographs while staying one step ahead of the law? Oh, you have no idea how thrilling it is~"
"You mean just like the time you were thrown in jail or chased down by the police? You didn't seem too thrilled behind bars…." Nicholas muttered sarcastically.
"And yet, you happened to come by like a miracle and spring me out at the last minute! Now that is what I call an adventure of a lifetime…" Sammy said dreamily. "And then, there are the people."
"What about the people?"
"It's just that after some time, I've come to notice what a terrible lie this entire city's been living in! Down in the undercity, millions struggle in poverty while the rest of Shadowgrave just ignore them and pretend all's good and well. After knowing all that, I just couldn't stand idly by and do nothing! Luckily, I happened to befriend a few like-minded gangers who happened to be on a mission in the upper levels. Next thing I know, I've been offered a place among them down in the undercity, where I can realize my goal of helping the needy and make a few bucks on the side."
"That's….quite brave of you," Nicholas said incredulously. "And I thought gangs weren't that much into charity."
"Oh, most of them aren't," Sammy replied. "But we're different. Our duties also include protecting our neighborhood, helping the residents, and making sure that the provisions are distributed fairly among all of us—and here we are!"
Nicholas looked around expecting to find a staircase of a sort, only to realize Sammy was clambering into a garbage chute sticking out of a building wall.
"You're kidding."
"It's not as scary as it looks. Besides, this thing hasn't been used for a long time, so everything's clean," Sammy said cheerfully. "Just think of it as a long playground slide."
With an excited whoop, she disappeared down the chute in a flash. Seeing no other choice, Nicholas climbed in awkwardly only to balk at the dark tunnel sloping down before him. Panic and vertigo seized him as his imagination began to play several scenarios involving his gruesome fall to death.
"Maybe I ought to wait for a while," Nicholas muttered to himself nervously. "Calm myself down a little first…."
His pokeball suddenly popped open, and Nicholas found himself staring at Sneasel standing next to him.
"You're not supposed to pop out whenever you want, you know," Nicholas frowned. "Why don't you go back in—hey, w-what are you doing?"
Sneasel slowly raised his paw high with an evil grin.
"No, don't you dare! I'm commanding you—"
THWACK!
Nicholas went tumbling headfirst down the garbage chute screaming, closely followed by his gleeful Sneasel.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Sammy smiled happily as she stood over Nicholas. "Your Sneasel seemed to have enjoyed it more than you did, though."
"Screw….you….both," Nicholas moaned as he lay crumpled face down on top on a pile of cardboard boxes, which thankfully cushioned his rough arrival. His Sneasel was leaning against his prone body, purring contently and grooming itself.
"Ah, well. You'll get a hang of it eventually. At any rate—"
Sammy stepped off to one side and swept out her right arm in a dramatic fashion.
"Nick, welcome to the undercity."
Nick gaped at the scenery before him as he scrambled onto his feet. Though he had often pictured the place in his imagination many times, not even one version came close to what he saw now.
A cityscape of decrepit buildings, ramshackle hovels, and half-demolished ruins stretched as far as Nicholas's eyes could see, bustling with thousands of people. Used to the orderliness of the upper levels, the squalid conditions here came to him as a shock. Garbage and debris littered the streets; buildings were covered with grime, soot, and graffiti; even the people looked slovenly in appearance, wearing drab worn-out clothing and in many cases, rags. It was as if a shantytown had been haphazardly put together on top of a bombed out city.
The large gratings on the ceiling far above filtered in some sunlight, though nowhere nearly enough to provide adequate illumination. Instead, rows of poorly maintained street lamps lit the dark streets, casting pall shadows onto the crowds below. A faint smell of acrid smoke hung low in the air, as if something was constantly burning.
"If you think this is bad, wait until we're actually walking through the streets," Sammy said nonchalantly. "Our turf is actually one level below us, and the closest stairs are in the middle of the central plaza."
"You sure there's no other way around?" Nicholas whispered, his shock only starting to wear off.
"Just stay close behind me, don't do anything stupid, keep your eyes open, and you'll be fine. And I suggest you keep your Sneasel out until we make it to the stairs. Pokemon actually help stave off pickpockets and other unsavory characters lurking among the crowd." With a pop, Ombra appeared next to its trainer, eagerly wagging its tail. In addition, Sammy also took out and slipped on a small black armband with what appeared to be a small emblem stitched onto it.
"This is the mark of our gang," she explained quickly. "It's a silver wing, see. 'cause that's the name of our gang: the Silver Wings! It's best to wear this here so that the civilians will know not to mess with a gang member."
"Doesn't look much like a wing to me," Nicholas said as he studied the armband. "Kinda more like….a drop of snot."
"So sue me, Mr. High-standard. None of us are any good at sewing, so we just have to make do with what we have! Besides, everyone else seems to respect the mark."
"They probably call you Nose-wipers behind your back…."
"What was that?"
"Oh, nothing."
As tense as he was, Nicholas could not help but stare as he and Sammy walked through the shabby street. Many of the buildings standing either side of them weren't too tall, but he could still spot to the distance some larger buildings that would've been a mall or an office building at one point. Now, every habitable structure seemed to be used either as homes, shady stores, or street vendors peddling all sorts of junk imaginable. Dirty laundry hung from the clotheslines strung high above the street, and tattered flyers were plastered onto grimy telephone poles.
"This whole district is called the Thief's Bounty, the hub of the entire undercity. It's a perfect place to be if you want to sell something, buy something, trade information, gamble, drink, or indulge in all sorts of other vices," Sammy said. "I suppose you could call this the 'fanciest' place you'll ever see around for miles. The other two levels aren't as pretty."
"Pretty seems to be an overstatement," muttered Nicholas uneasily as he quickened his pace to stay closer to Sammy. In his wildest dreams, he had not imagined the undercity to be so crowded and…."lively." Raggedy pedestrians—many of them looking like homicidal criminals—milled around them, talking in loud voices, haggling with the shopkeepers, or lounging in the corners quite suspiciously. Shopkeepers and vendors displayed plethora of strange wares—from assortment of car parts to a pot of greasy looking stew—while keeping sharp eyes on the customer/thieves and hefting heavy clubs. More entrepreneurial individuals took to the streets, offering discounts and "bargain" deals to anyone willing to listen ("Need a new toilet installed? I have one just freshly gathered from the junkyard in a fabulous condition!"). Occasional small battered cars and motorbikes passed through with horns blazing, scattering people left and right. To his right, Nicholas saw a brightly colored neon sign advertising a gambling den, in front of which stood a gaggle of prostitutes soliciting the patrons. Small children ran barefoot squealing with laughter under the careful watch of their mothers. To Nicholas's amazement, there were even plenty of wild pokemon mingling with the people themselves, such as Rattatas, Pidgeys, and Spinaraks. No one seemed to be disturbed in the least by this bizarre cohabitation arrangement.
Fortunately, though several people turned to stare at Sammy and Nicholas, everyone seemed to be keeping some distance away from them. Nicholas didn't know whether the armband was doing any good, but knew that Ombra walking beside Sammy and Sneasel perched on his shoulder—looking very excited, for some reason—were better deterrents then a piece of rag.
Suddenly, a loud crash ahead of them brought Sammy and Nicholas to a stop. Two slovenly men came tumbling out of a nearby bar and onto their path, mercilessly pounding at each other and looking thoroughly drunk. The pedestrians quickly gathered around, transfixed and enthralled by the brawl.
Shouted curses and flying blood drops quickly rose to a fever pitch when something metallic glinted in one man's hand. In a flash, his opponent fell to the ground, gurgling helplessly as blood gushed from his cut throat. The man with the knife promptly staggered back into the bar as if nothing had happened. Nicholas stood in horror and shock, even as the onlookers quickly descended upon the dying man. A flurry of pulling and shoving later, the dying man was left only in his shabby underwear while the scavengers made off with his belongings.
"Sorry you had to see that," Sammy muttered quietly beside him. "One of the more unsavory aspects of living in the undercity….but again, I told you things could get dangerous."
Making sure her foot didn't touch the body, Sammy gingerly stepped around the bloody carnage. Nicholas, wide-eyed in shock, followed suit, briefly looking down at the man's face. His eyes were glassy and unmoving, quite dead.
"Oh, and one more advice," said Sammy as she cast one last backward glance towards the corpse. "If I were you, I wouldn't touch any meat products sold around here for the next couple weeks."
After ten minutes—though it felt a lot longer—they reached a wide open plaza, center of which lay gigantic set of stairs leading downwards. As tall and thick as a small apartment building, Nicholas knew at once that it would take at least ten minutes to walk down the colossal structure.
"Now I have to warn you, Nick, that while Thief's Bounty is no pushover, the lower levels of the undercity are in some ways worse."
"Normally, I would be terrified, but I think I'm finally getting a rough idea of what this place is about," Nick sighed in resignation as the pair recalled their respective pokemon. "Alright, lay it on me. So, what's down there?"
Sammy grinned widely.
"Why, gang warfare of course! As long as no single gang gathers way too much power for itself, we are free to fight and thump to our hearts' desire. Heck, what does it say when Thief's Bounty's officially designated as the neutral zone?"
"That we're about to walk into a slaughterhouse and I'm the cow?"
"Oh don't be such a baby."
The second level of undercity was as shabby as the one before it, albeit less crowded and calmer. Many buildings seemed to have been half torn-down and dilapidated, like empty shells left standing after all the valuable materials have been removed. Still, signs of life were everywhere—old newspapers covering glassless windows, smoke wafting from the makeshift chimneys….or a mob of thugs sporting mohawks and tattoos speeding by on a pack of rumbling motorcycles.
"How far is this turf of yours?" Nicholas asked nervously.
"About five blocks, if we take the shortcut. We have signed deals with other gangs, so we can pass through their territories, provided we do not cause any trouble."
The pair spent the next twenty minutes or so navigating through the messy streets fortunately without being challenged. About three blocks down, however, Sammy suddenly stopped.
"Huh, this is rather strange," said Sammy as she scanned both sides of the street. "I don't see them anywhere."
"See who?"
"We're on the intersection between 54th and Evergreen Avenue right now," she muttered absent mindedly, her eyes still searching the vicinity. "This place actually belongs to the Mavericks, a gang we're on friendly terms with. At this time of day, there should always be at least a couple of them making patrols around the neighborhood. So why don't I see any of them?"
"They could've skipped the patrol today," Nicholas offered. "Or maybe they're sick. You can't go around when you're sick."
"Nah, I've known the Mavericks for some time now, and trust me, they're not the ones to just abandon their usual routine. Besides, an entire gang going down with some flu? Highly unlikely."
The shabby tenement buildings stood silently by as Sammy and Nicholas advanced warily down the road. The sound of their footsteps seemed louder than usual in dull silence. Windows—the ones that were still intact—were shut tight, and the shop windows with shuttered. Nothing else moved or made any other noises. In fact, everything was quiet; too quiet….
"Sammy," Nicholas whispered urgently. "Where's everyone gone to? There are people living around here, aren't there?"
"I've noticed, too. Be on your guard. Something's not right—"
As on cue, a large shadow suddenly detached itself from behind the corner. Several more figures came sauntering out in the open, their heavy footsteps ringing against the concrete pavement. In seconds, Sammy and Nicholas found themselves surrounded by five burly teens whose intentions could not have been more apparent.
Though many people Nicholas had seen at the Thief's Bounty looked dangerous, the boys he faced now simply exuded menace and savagery. Two of them wore their hair in greasy Mohawks, while the rest were closely shaven to the scalp. All were dressed in various assortments of shabby clothes, but they all commonly sported green armbands with flaming skull emblems placed over two crossed scythes.
The expression on their faces was that of a little boy who had just opened up his birthday present.
"The Reapers!" Sammy hissed in alarm.
"The one and only," one of the teens drawled lazily. "It's nice to know our name has spread so far and wide 'round here." His comment was met with a round of sniggers from his brutish friends.
"What are you frakkin' retards doing here?" Sammy shouted angrily. "In case you haven't noticed, this is not your turf!"
"Oh, but it is, little girl!" The teen sniggered. "What, you haven't heard? The Mavericks are no more! We thumped them good, yes, we did. In fact, you might even find some of them down in the sewers….or what's left of them, anyway!" With that, the Reapers broke into a loud insane laughter that sent chills down Nicholas's back.
"All right, look. Obviously, we've made a little mistake entering here without notice. If you won't mind, my friend and I will be leaving now."
Sammy turned, only to find her path blocked by another Reaper.
"What's the hurry, little girl? Don't you wanna stay here and play with us? I think we should play a little….game we can enjoy."
"Yeah, but we would enjoy it more than you," another teen laughed stupidly, revealing his blackened teeth.
"You psychopaths make me sick," Sammy spat. "All of you freaks can just go to hell!"
Laughter cut out at once, and the Reapers' smiles crumpled into cold glares and snarls.
"The girl's got a dirty mouth," the boy intoned in a low and menacing voice. "I bet we can find a better use for it soon enough."
"Not before some thrashing," another joined in. "This is our turf, and that makes them trespassers. And we know what we do with trespassers…."
Each of the Reapers took a Pokeball from their sides. Nicholas noticed with alarm that each of the boys had not one or two, but three pokeballs in his possession. Even if he and Sammy pulled their teams together, they were grossly outnumbered.
"Don't think we're afraid of you," Sammy growled defiantly, although Nick saw drops of sweat breaking out her forehead. "And don't think you can get away with this, either. My friends are looking all over for me, and they'll know if I'm in trouble."
"I don't see them here," laughed the Reaper. "By the time your precious pals get here, there won't be anything left for them to save…. And there's nothing you and your pale shrimp of a friend can do about it!"
"Oh, really?"
The Reapers whirled around to see two teenagers casually sauntering up the street. The older of the two was a tall, wiry girl with olive skin, hazel eyes and long mud-brown hair. She wore a dark purple sleeveless vest without a shirt underneath, grey and lavender striped tie, grey shorts, and a black belt with a silver buckle slung across her hips. Though the girl was not wearing any shoes for some reason, she looked quite comfortable walking barefoot.
Her companion was a younger boy looking to be around Nicholas's age, with brown hair that extended past his ears and blue eyes with some gold tint in them. He was wearing a grimy gray shirt, a black leather vest, black skinny jeans, a worn pair of sneakers, and a pair of fingerless gloves.
Sammy let out a loud sigh of relief as her face lit up.
"Magda! Chase! Oh, boy, am I glad to see you guys!"
"You should be. You've been gone for an entire week!" said Chase—the younger boy—with a smirk. "We were beginning to think you ditched us and left town~"
"I kept telling him there was no way you would do something like that," Magda sighed. "Then we just figured you got into trouble like you always do. And now, I see you've managed to find one yet again. Oh, bravo."
"How about a little less sarcasm and more help?" Sammy shot a peeved glance. "We can do the bashing later at home, 'kay?"
"Sure. Now to business, then….," Chase turned to face the glowering Reapers.
"All right, numbnuts," he called out in an unbelievably bored manner. "I know you've been enjoying yourselves, but it's time for us to heading back. So why don't you just haul your asses back home and do something useful for a change, like learning to read?"
"I'm going to crush you, kid!" a Reaper roared angrily. "In case you haven't noticed, there are five of us, and only four of you!"
"Yeah, yeah, so glad you know how to count. But seriously?" Magda cocked her head in amusement. "You five Grunts against two Lieutenants of the Silver Wings? I suggest you think this through before you do something incredibly stupid."
The Reapers suddenly looked rather uncomfortable, to Nicholas's surprise. Their leader, however, remained defiant.
"We're not backing down! We may be Grunts, but we're not cowards!" the teen growled, though his hands were starting to shake visibly.
Chase merely grinned. "Suit yourself. We'd love to give you guys a fight, really, but….this is neither the time nor place for it, so I'll just make this really simple. Kibo, hypnosis, if you please—"
A shadowy form swiftly rose from the ground behind the teenagers. Reapers turned, only to find a Haunter emitting purplish rings of energy towards them. In a flash, all but one of the Reapers hit the ground, fast asleep. Their leader snarled and raised his pokeball, only to be seized by the neck and lifted off the ground by an angry looking Nidoking.
"I suggest you choose your next move very carefully," Magda drawled. "My friend here doesn't like sudden movements, and believe me, you don't want to get on his bad side."
The Reaper blanched, and quickly replaced his pokeball back to his side. With a nod from Magda, the Nidoking deposited the teen roughly down to the ground.
"Now, run back to your boss, and tell him….the Silver Wings won't take kindly to attacks on any of its members. If there are, there will be consequences, understand?"
The Reaper quickly scrambled to his feet and bolted, leaving his compatriots still crumpled on the ground. Magda and Chase both burst into a loud laughter.
"Whew~ Thanks, guys! Hate to imagine what would've happened if you didn't show up," Sammy said brightly, running up to give her friends a tight hug.
"Yeah, we know we're awesome," Chase smiled back. "In the future, just make sure to take the Winchester Boulevard instead when coming back from the upper levels. And don't go by the Redwall Court, neither."
"It's true then, what those morons said?" Sammy's face darkened. "The Reapers have really taken over this place."
"Oh, you have no idea," Magda sighed. "For the past few weeks, the Reapers have become aggressive for some reason. They've taken over not only here and Redwall Court, but the 47th and the Broadview Street as well."
"The Mavericks, the Dusk Raiders, the Rocket Boys, and the Black Roses," Chase added, shaking his head. "That's four gangs wiped out in two weeks. There's something strange going on here. The Reapers shouldn't have this much manpower or resources to expand this quickly."
"What happened to those defeated gangs?" Sammy asked with wide eyes.
"Oh, the Reapers absorbed most of them," Magda replied. "Others fled the area, and a few of them actually shacked up with us. They're really shaken up though. Apparently, the Reapers hadn't been too gentle with them during the takeover."
"Of course, now Ibrahim's all tense, now that those bullies are encroaching on our territory. He's making us travel in squads, and increasing the patrols around the neighborhood. Still, we just can't afford a full-scale gang war at the moment, not with our funds on the low," Chase wringed his hands. "It's a pity. My team sure can use a little workout."
"Anyways, just be careful not to wander around too much from now on," Magda muttered. Her gaze now turned to rest on Nicholas. "Now then….who's your friend?"
"Oh, where are my manners?" Sammy laughed merrily. "Magda, Chase, I'd like you to meet my new buddy, Nick! Nick, this here is Magdalene Hernandez—"
"Call me by my full name and I'll ground you into paste," Magda murmured as she continued to eye Nicholas suspiciously.
"And this is Chase! Both are very good friends of mine, and among the best trainers I've ever met!"
"You flatter me, Sammy," Chase grinned wryly as he too studied Nicholas, though in a friendlier manner than Magda. "Say, how did you guys meet?"
"Well, I was actually locked up in jail—" Sammy started.
"Heh, you were in jail? I guess that explains the delay," Chase shrugged.
"And then out of the blue, Nick comes barging into my cell block after dodging those stupid police officers and sprang me out! Just like any good little boy should~"
"I told you, not to call me a 'little boy'!" Nicholas pleaded exasperatedly.
"Hey, at least you have it easy. She used to call me 'squirt' when we first met," Chase muttered.
"Anyways, it turns out Nick's on the run from the police, and needed a place to hide out. I, being an honorable lady, naturally invited him to tag along down here."
"If he's looking for comfort, that was a terrible idea," Magda said "Where's he from?"
"Huh? Ah, well….um….that's a very good question," Sammy turned to Nicholas, looking embarrassed. "Where are you from, Nick?"
"Um, I—I'm from—," Nick fumbled, painfully aware that the two teenagers were following his every move.
"Wherever he's from, he's definitely not from around here for sure. Otherwise, he would've been dead a while ago," Chase said slowly as he circled Nicholas and looking him over. "Look at the bones on him! I've seen more muscles on a pidgey."
"Kinda looks cute….only if there was more meat on him," Magda chortled. "What, there's not enough food for you up there?"
"I have some kind of….condition, ever since I was little," Nicholas said hesitantly. "I can't move around too much. The doctor said it was bad for my heart."
"Oh, condition, shmudition," Chase snorted. "You'll want to be fast if you want to stay alive down here. You'll see."
"Guys~!" Sammy interrupted. "Can't you see you're flustering him? He looks tired already! Why can't we do this later someplace else?"
"Sure, it's dangerous to stay in this area too long anyway," Chase nodded. "We should head back to the den for the proper debriefing. Still, I've gotta warn you, Sammy, Ibrahim won't be too happy that you let a complete stranger we know nothing about tag along. There will be questions…."
"Nick's not a stranger! We escaped from jail together and fought the police, and if that doesn't break the ice between us, I don't know what will," Sammy replied indignantly. Magda just shrugged.
"Right….at any rate, we can't afford to be so trusting, especially not nowadays," she turned towards Nicholas. "Nick, or whatever your name was. I'm afraid we'll have to search you."
Nicholas raised his eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"There's nothing to it. It's just a protocol, in case you might have anything dangerous or illegal that could get us in trouble as well," Chase extended his hand out. "I'll need to take your backpack. And kindly place your hands on top of your head for a full body search."
Nicholas acquiesced reluctantly, feeling very uncomfortable while Chase rummaged through his backpack and Magda gave him a thorough pat-down—taking a suspiciously long time to do so.
"Hmm, some cash, food, flashlight, first aid kit….you haven't given much thought into packing, have you? You are sadly underequipped to go on any sort of extended run," Chase muttered.
Magda suddenly stooped towards Nicholas's waist looking surprised.
"Hello, what do we have here?"
Before Nicholas could do anything, she snatched his Pokeball off his belt and held in up in the light.
"Hey, give that back!" Nicholas cried indignantly.
"Relax, I'm just looking," Magda released the pokeball and whistled softly when the white light materialized into Sneasel. The black weasel pokemon looked around in confusion and began to bristle and growl at the sight of strangers.
"A Sneasel? Not something you see just walking around here. A little rare for a boy like you, isn't it?"
"It was given to me," Nicholas said defensively. "As a birthday gift."
"Birthday gift or not, what kind of a teenage runaway carries his pokemon in an expensive customized pokeball?" Magda rolled the minimized pokeball between her fingers, brushing her thumb over the silver inlay. "Quite a fancy design you have here. Is this real silver?"
Nicholas remained silent, unwilling to further complicate the situation any further.
"I'm sorry, but we'll have to hold onto your pokeball and backpack for a bit, until you can tell us your full story." Magda said as she pocketed Nicholas's pokeball. "Your Sneasel will have to stay out for a little while."
"Well, whatever the case, I'm sure we'll find out the truth soon enough. Ibrahim has a knack for making people spill the beans. Come along then….we'll go see him right now." Chase then nudged his head towards the wary-looking Sneasel. "And tell your little buddy to stand down and fall into line. We'd hate to have our team pound it into submission."
Sneasel snarled at the comment, but backed down sullenly at a look from Nicholas. Sullenly, it swiftly clambered up his arm and sat on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry if the guys made you feel uncomfortable with all the search and questions," whispered Sammy as they started down the road. "But trust me, they don't like the interrogation as much as I. It's just the protocol, you know. "
"It's fine. I'm cool with it," Nicholas muttered back, even as his uneasiness grew. Would he be forced to tell the whole truth? If then, what will they do to him? And if they ever discovered he was a fugitive wanted by a rich nobleman….
Nicholas closed his eyes and desperately prayed that the undercity gangs did not have the concept of reward money.
Twenty minutes or so passed before Nicholas noticed some changes in the neighborhood around him. The street he was in was still grubby but showed some signs of being taken care of, and many people went on about their usual businesses in small shops or taverns.
"This is our turf, Nick. See how nice it is?" Sammy said cheerfully as she popped in another piece of gum into her mouth.
"The Reapers usually live on extortions and outright pillaging, so most of the businesses on their turf go bankrupt quickly," Chase added. "But here, we just let the people do their things. The more money they make, the more protection money we get in return."
"The tour can wait later, folks," Magda said. "First we settle our business at the headquarters."
The "headquarters" turned out to be nothing but an old concrete and brick building standing up the street. It appeared to have been a small motel of a sort at one point, though the sign had long been worn away. Still, Nicholas could see how the spaciousness of the place would serve well as a meeting hall for a gang. The four teenagers pushed aside the murky glass doors and entered.
The interior was no fancier than the outside, though there was some atmosphere of coziness and security. Old couches, a large coffee table, an old video game set, and a battered TV sat in the lobby, and through the side door, Nicholas saw a long wooden table large enough to seat two dozen people or more. His attention was broken as several teenagers appeared in sight, some coming down the stairs, others from nearby doors, all alerted by their entry. Happy hubbub broke out as the Silver Wings recognized their compatriots.
"Chase! Magda! You guys brought Sammy back!"
"Welcome back, Sammy! Did you take a lot of good pictures?"
"What took you so long? What happened?"
"You won't believe what happened while you were away—"
"Who's that with you? Is he a new member?"
Magda raised her hand, and the chatter died away instantly.
"All will be explained soon," She said calmly. "Call everybody down for a general meeting, at the usual place. Where's Ibrahim?"
"He's out back at the courtyard, reviewing the orders from the Sharma Guild," a voice piped up.
"Can somebody run ahead and tell him we're here? Thanks."
Nicholas was quickly herded into the hallway ahead, flanked by Sammy, Magda, and Chase. They were closely followed by a dozen other gang members, with more joining during their progress. In no time, he found himself at the courtyard, a dimly lit concrete lot with chain link fences, several benches, and two basketball hoops at each end. Several boys were shooting hoops, but stopped as they soon as they noticed the arrival.
A teenager ran up to Magda from the other end of the courtyard.
"He says he'll be out in five minutes."
"Tell everyone to take their seats."
The crowd dispersed and spread out on the benches forming a wide ring around Magda, Chase, Sammy, and Nicholas. After several more arrivals from the building, Nicholas found himself surrounded by about thirty or so gang members all chattering softly, their gazes fixed on them.
"You look nervous," Sammy leaned over and whispered.
"You think?"
"Don't be," she gave a reassuring grin. "Ibrahim can be cold sometimes, but he's really caring and understanding. Anyways, if anyone should be nervous, it should be me. I messed up a big assignment, after all."
Nicholas was about to reply when a door at the end of the courtyard swung open. The teenagers fell silent at once as a single individual made his entry. There was no doubt that this was Ibrahim he had heard about.
Nicholas could see at once why Ibrahim was the leader. Ibrahim was a young man seemingly in his mid twenties, with short dark curly hair, piercing dark brown eyes, and light brown skin. His firm jaw was covered with short stubbles. Though he was not too tall, he was lean and tightly built, carrying himself with confidence. His appearance was modest, wearing an old leather jacket, black shirt, gray cargo pants, and sturdy boots. Still, there was something about him that commanded people and stole their attention. A brutally honest but fair man, Nicholas thought, like the ones found in the military.
Ibrahim stopped at an arm's length from them, his thumbs in his pants pocket as he looked over the four teenagers before him. His sharp gaze settled on Nicholas, who could not help but flinch a little. His eyes lingered on him a bit longer, but suddenly shifted away to Sammy.
"You're late."
His voice was low, but firm and deep. Sammy gave him a sheepish smile.
"I'm really sorry, Ibs! I had the photos and all, but they caught me and threw me in jail! I was there for two days…."
"Then I take it that they took your films as well?"
Sammy nodded nervously, and Ibrahim sighed.
"Sammy, you may be one of our top earners, but that doesn't give you the right to be so careless," he slowly started. "Those films cost money, and someone needs to pay for them. Yunis has already chewed me out for being late on the last month's payments. We can't risk running up a deficit, especially not now."
"I know, Ibs, I'm really sorry~" Sammy made a typical puppy face. "Forgive me?"
"You already know I would," Ibrahim gave a small crooked smile. "But this time, we can't go over this so easily. The costs for those films will have to come out from your personal emergency funds."
Sammy groaned. "Ah, geez. Can't you just let me off the hook this once?"
"Would you prefer if I took it out from your candy money?"
Sammy gasped loudly as the teenagers around them laughed.
"No, please! You can do whatever you want. Just….please don't touch my candy money~"
"Alright. But seriously, I'm happy to see you back safe and sound."
Shooting Sammy another small grin, Ibrahim abruptly turned to face Nicholas, his expression hard.
"Who's this?" he asked softly, nudging his chin towards him.
"Oh, this is Nick, my new friend!" Sammy replied brightly.
"You know that's not what I asked."
"Sammy brought him," Chase spoke up. "Apparently, he's the one who broke her out of jail. Turns out he's wanted by the police, so she offered him to bring him along."
A low murmur broke from the watching teenagers, who suddenly seemed to be more interested.
"You invited a stranger down here, to our headquarters, just because you owed him?" Ibrahim snapped at Sammy, looking irritated. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"But, I—well….," Sammy looked flustered and embarrassed.
"You said he was wanted by the police! We could get in trouble for harboring a fugitive! And what made you think we had enough to feed another hungry mouth?"
Ibrahim paused momentarily seemingly to recollect himself. The tension was high in the courtyard, to Nicholas's great discomfort.
"So then, where's he from? What does he do?"
"I-I don't know—" Sammy muttered quietly.
"You don't know? You don't KNOW?" Ibrahim threw his hands in resignation. "Why am I not surprised….?"
"It's our fault, too, Ibrahim," Magda spoke. "We happened to be in the Reaper turf, and didn't have the time to do a proper interrogation. Thought we bring him here, and let you do it yourself…."
"Did you at least search him?"
"We did. I have his backpack right here," Chase said. "Not much in it, just flashlight, little money, food, first aid kit…."
"He was also carrying this," Magda tossed Nicholas's pokeball, which Ibrahim caught easily. "See that silver crest there, the eight-pointed star? I don't think this was easy to come by, nor cheap."
Ibrahim stood there, looking down at the pokeball and studying it intently.
"Well, then, go ahead and start the interrogation. Ask him the questions," he spoke, his eyes still on the object.
"Right you are, boss," Chase then turned towards Nicholas. "Well, Nick. You'll need to answer some questions. See, we tend to be very wary of strangers, especially ones not from the undercity."
"What about Sammy? She's not from here either," Nicholas asked.
"Yes, but she had proved her worth since then. Besides, she's not from Shadowgrave and so is uninvolved in the dirty business here. Anyways, this is not about her, it's about you," Magda replied smoothly. "So then, which level are you from? And why are you wanted by the police?"
Nicholas's heart began to race as all eyes turned to him. He could not risk telling the truth, otherwise all could be lost…. He had learned too much already about the importance of discretion earlier at the police station.
"The second level," Nicholas replied keeping his voice as level as possible. "My father was an alcoholic and abusive, so I ran away from home." He silently prayed for forgiveness for distorting the memory of his late father so.
"I didn't have time to pack much, so I needed more money. I tried to break into a fancy car, to take something from it. Apparently, it must've belonged to someone important, because the next thing I know, the police were all over me. They took me to jail, but I managed to get my pokeball out and evaded them. Then I met Sammy here, and…..I guess Sammy can tell you the rest."
"Where did you get your Sneasel sitting on your shoulder?" a voice interjected somewhere from the crowd. The weasel stirred at the mention of its name, looking a bit agitated.
"Answer it, the interrogation procedure is a communal business," Chase said.
"My grandmother sent it to me. She lives far away from here, in Johto."
"I thought you said earlier that it was a birthday gift," Magda interrupted.
"Yes….that's what I meant. She sent it to me as a birthday gift. Grandmothers are allowed to send gifts, right?"
A wave of faint laughter broke from the crowd.
"So why did she send your pokemon in a fancy customized pokeball? That thing looked quite expensive. Why give that to a teenager and not something cheaper?"
"Her letter said it was a family heirloom. And I don't know why she decided to give it to me. Perhaps she thought it would be a nice gesture…."
"You have answer for everything, don't you?" Chase grinned. "Either you are being quite honest….or you just have a knack for storytelling."
"So let me get this straight," Magda interjected. "You're a middle-class teenage runaway who happened to inherit an expensive heirloom worth a small fortune, who had bungled a car robbery and yet managed to elude several policemen and break one of us from jail?"
Nicholas nodded dumbly.
"Well, I don't like it," Magda scoffed. "There are way too many gaps in your little tale, for one thing. Second, there's something about you that's a bit….odd. You look too well-groomed and tailored, even for an upper-dweller."
"I'm telling the truth," Nicholas blushed. "If you want, I can repeat the story all over for you—"
"I recognize this mark."
Silence fell as all eyes turned. Ibrahim was coolly thumbing the eight-pointed star sigil, with a peculiar glint in his eyes.
"You do?" Chase asked incredulously.
"Yeah," Ibrahim spoke slowly. "From that social agency the rich guy set up….You're not from the second level." His eyes shot up towards Nicholas, giving him a cold, hard stare.
"You're from the spires."
Shocked gasps and chatters poured from the spectators, occasionally mixed with angry buzzes. Nicholas's heart sank as he felt the hostility skyrocket all around. Magda and Chase were looking at him with raised eyebrows and scowls; even Sammy was staring at him with wide eyes.
A well-built teenager with short spiked red hair wearing a gray wife-beater and baggy pants stood up from one of the benches.
"What are we waiting for?" he growled angrily. "That shrimp's obviously a spy sent by the nobles! I say we snuff him and be done with it!"
The teenager's words were immediately taken up by several others with great vehemence.
"Silence!" Ibrahim roared. "We may be a gang, but there WILL be order as long as I'm here. I won't have all of you resort to mindless violence like the damned Reapers!"
The racket died away as quickly as it came. The red-headed teenager sat down, looking sullen and angry.
"Now then," the young man turned his attention back to Nicholas. "Nick, if that is really your real name….I'm going to give you one more chance to tell the truth about who you really are. And I suggest you be honest this time, otherwise you'll find out the hard way that I have no patience for lies."
Nicholas swallowed hard and tried desperately to slow down his heartbeat. The situation had made a turn for the worse; his attempt at deception had backfired and earned nothing but mistrust and enmity from the gangers. But Ibrahim did mention that the gang was low on funds….and here he was, a walking fugitive whose capture would worth a fortune. Between a rock and a hard place, as Wilbur would say; caught between two dangers—
"I'm going to guess….that you were a servant of a sort."
Ibrahim's firm voice shook Nicholas from his mental deadlock. He stared at the gang leader with surprise. Was it just him, or was Ibrahim offering a way out, of a sort? Nicholas found himself nodding hastily in agreement.
"I thought so," Ibrahim nodded. "No ordinary spire-noble would dare come down here alone. Comforts and safety are strong motivations for remaining there, no matter how desperate. And the Sneasel?"
"I stole it," Nicholas muttered. "My master's son was abusing it, and I just couldn't stand by to watch. I took the pokeball at night, and fled the spire. I guess that's why the police are after me."
"Besides, the treatment I received from that place was beginning to go downhill anyways," he quickly added. "I hated it there."
Everyone stared at him in silence until Ibrahim cracked a slight smirk.
"Well then. Was that so hard? I do understand your reason for deception, but down here, lying is never a good way to ingratiate oneself to a gang."
"He's obviously lying again," the red-haired teenager spoke loudly. "You can't trust those spire-dwellers, no matter who they used to be."
"And I say he's not lying," Ibrahim replied. "I've met plenty of liars, and this….Nick here is not one of them. At any rate, I could tell even without the pokeball he was not from the second level. He's just that bad at it."
Several teenagers chuckled, though the redhead did not look happy at all.
"But—"
"Are you perhaps implying that I'm wrong, Garret?"
"No, I…..of course not," the boy—Garret—muttered. "I apologize."
"Besides, if he were really a spy, why would he be carrying such a fancy pokeball that could compromise him?"
Many gangers responded with approving nods and muttered words of assent. Nicholas felt as if a great weight had been lifted off of him. He saw expressions softening among the teenagers; Sammy smiled and gave a thumb up.
"So then, Nick. We normally avoid associating ourselves with wanted fugitives. Attracting the attention of the police is bad for our business. Still, stealing from a spire noble takes guts," Ibrahim said. "We can respect that."
"However," he continued in a sterner voice. "If you were expecting to find hospitality down here, I'm afraid we would have to deny you. As you might have noticed during your trip here, everything is in short supply in the undercity. Even the gangers must work hard to secure what you might otherwise take for granted up there. Everyone contributes; no one quits. There's no such thing as a free meal, even for guests."
"I ask you this, then: why should we let you stay here and share our food? What can you do for us in return?"
Nicholas stood there flustered, trying desperately to make a mental list of his skill sets. Years spent reading suddenly seemed wasted and unproductive.
"Well, I-I can read—"
"Impressive, but we already have people for that," Ibrahim pressed. "What else?"
"I'm also good with numbers."
"Already covered."
"What's next, breathing air and moving limbs?" Chase joked. "You're listing off very basic things here, buddy. Do you have any special skills, like fixing machines or driving a vehicle?"
Nicholas mentally chided himself for the sheltered life he had led so far. In the spires, servants had been responsible for all the hard chores, while he had been content to isolate himself in relative comfort. Not that it was his fault, for his doctors made sure Nicholas avoided any sort of physical labor. Still, perhaps he could've….at least read up on some various skills.
"He said he was a servant," Magda interrupted. "I guess he could do household chores around here."
Ibrahim slowly nodded with approval. "I suppose. This whole place hasn't been cleaned in a long while. Besides, the neighborhood rank-and-file wouldn't do a proper job with the brooms."
"What if I learned whatever you do?" Nicholas asked. "You know, the gangers' trade?"
"You? Try our trade?" Ibrahim grinned wryly. "Do you even know what we do?"
"No, but based on my impression so far, it involves doing a lot of different tasks—."
"Tasks which all involve special skills, and LOTS of running," Magda finished. "Sorry, hon, but you don't look nearly fit enough for all that, much less to do plenty of mopping and sweeping."
"Appearances may be deceiving, Magda," Ibrahim said. "Who knows. You might perhaps have what it takes to be successful in our business, Nick….but we can't let you in that easily. Not without you proving yourself beforehand."
"But meanwhile, I suppose we could consider letting you stay here for a while, provided you do your job right. If you cause more trouble than you're worth, then it's off to the streets for you. I guess that should serve as a motivation."
Looking over the gathered teenagers, Ibrahim cleared his throat.
"Okay, then. Let's put it to a vote. All in favor of letting Nick stay—"
A little more than half of the gathered crowd raised their hands, including Sammy, Chase, and Magda. Garret and his friends, however, remained as they were.
"Appears we have a majority," Chase said cheerfully.
"All right," Ibrahim slowly nodded. "You can stay then. Chase, Magda, bring the boy to my office. The meeting is dismissed."
The teenagers began to disperse, noisy chatters breaking out at once. A few smiled encouragingly at Nicholas, but most simply did not spare him a glance. Heavy footsteps caught his attention, and Nicholas turned to find Garret glaring down at him.
"I'll be watching you, spire rat," he whispered menacingly. "Don't think your stay here will be comfortable….or long."
"That's enough for now, Garret," Magda firmly interrupted. "Off to your quarters."
Without further word, Garret sauntered off to join his friends lounging in the corner.
"You'll have to excuse Garret," Chase muttered. "He has…..an unfortunate history with the spire-dwellers. It won't matter to him that you used to be a servant, not a nobleman."
"If I were you, I would keep my distance from him," Magda said as she directed Nicholas to the far side of the courtyard. As the glass door shut behind him, Nicholas took one last backward glance. Garret was still standing there, staring at him with cold, unmoving eyes.
The "office," turned out to be nothing but a small room in the second floor, furnished only with an old desk, a metal cabinet, and a couple of creaky fold-out chairs. A single light bulb hanging from the ceiling provided a poor illumination. Ibrahim sat behind the desk, while Nick was seated on the other side with Magda and Chase flanking him. Sneasel was draped over Nicholas's shoulder fast asleep, snoring softly.
Ibrahim rummaged through the drawers and pulled out two folders, each containing a stack of documents.
"Chase, Magda, take these to the usual place, and tell the guys to have the figures done by tomorrow. I want to assess our budget properly before we take any more jobs."
"You want us to leave you alone with him?" Magda asked as she took the folders.
"Yeah," Ibrahim grinned slightly. "I don't think he'll do anything, would you Nick?"
Nicholas just shook his head. Chase nodded and promptly exited the room, followed by Magda who closed the door behind her.
"I would offer tea, but unfortunately we don't drink tea down here. Tea is an expensive and ostentatious drink for the nobles," Ibrahim said. "Coffee, on the other hand, we have. Feel free to have a cup each morning at the dining hall."
"I don't like tea," Nicholas replied. "I've always wondered what's so good about drinking a cup of brewed grass."
Softly chuckling, Ibrahim stood up and opened the nearby curtain, revealing a wide view of the neighborhood. Even from the distance, Nicholas could see plenty of movements down in the streets below.
"Consider this as your orientation," Ibrahim said, pointing out the window. "Normally, we give a comprehensive tour of the neighborhood to the new members recruited from the outside, but since you're not an official member, I'm just going to make this short. You'll learn the rest in time."
"Out there, occupying the total area of four blocks-by-three is a district called Palmyrian Heights, our turf. Most of the people here work at the recycling and sewage treatment plants one level below, while a few own small businesses. This is also where most of our members come from, and where we draw most of the fresh recruits if necessary. It is our job to protect the inhabitants from the usual violence of the undercity, and they pay us small protection fee in return. It's a fair deal that benefits both sides."
"That doesn't really sound like what a typical gang would do," Nicholas said. "More like a job for a….neighborhood watch."
"It's because we're not," Ibrahim replied. "Ganger is a term of convenience used by the police to categorize us. What we really are is something more complex: Gutter Runners."
"Gutter….Runners?"
"Basically, a Gutter Runner is someone who does all sorts of jobs imaginable to make his ends meet in the undercity. Smuggling, blackmailing, scavenging, stealing, spying, delivering, you name it. Certain specific requests would come in from time to time, and we perform them with no questions asked. Legal or illegal, nothing is too much for us as long as it pays. We have only two rules: no stealing from the poor, and no killing. Some gangs aren't as scrupulous, though…."
"When we're not on any of those jobs, we venture down into the abandoned levels below us to scavenge whatever we can find there. It's a dangerous task, with all the gang rivalries and the prowling ghost pokemon. But still, the payoff can be enormous sometimes, since there is no telling what you might find down there. I don't think anyone ever knows exactly how many levels are below us."
Ibrahim cleared his throat before continuing on.
"Here in the Silver Wings, everyone is expected to behave responsibly, including the guests. There will be certain rules to learn, but the most important one is this—treat others as you would like others to treat you. There are little more than thirty members in the gang at the present, divided by ranks and talents. Most of us live here in the headquarters, but some have families in the neighborhood. They all join for different reasons; some—like Sammy—are looking for adventures, others—like Chase—are orphans without a place to call home. There are those looking to earn extra money for their folks, and occasionally a couple escaping trouble above," Ibrahim gestured towards Nicholas, "Like you. We never received any spire folks before though, but mostly runaways from the fourth and the fifth levels."
"The gangs around here," Nicholas asked. "Do they also perform similar jobs as you?"
"More or less," Ibrahim replied promptly. "Though Undercity gangs tend to operate with different agendas, we all compete for assignments and resources day and night. There are dozens of gangs spread across three inhabited levels of the Undercity, so the rivalry is intense. The Reapers are not the only vicious gangers around here, so I suggest you be on your guard and avoid straying far from the turf. Now then, any questions?"
"I think I got it all down so far," Nicholas said.
"Good. If you have any other questions, feel free to ask around. And on the final note, as a part of the gang protocol, we'll be holding onto your possessions temporarily. However, I'm afraid we'll need to confiscate this," Ibrahim held up Nicholas's customized pokeball.
"You're not going to take Sneasel, are you?" Nicholas asked, alarmed. Sneasel mewled incoherently in its sleep.
"Relax, even we are not that cruel. Besides, it seems to have bonded well with you already. I'm just taking the pokeball. Consider it as….your entrance fee."
"You can use this instead," Ibrahim reached inside his jacket and took out an ordinary pokeball, looking a bit battered but serviceable. "Besides, it's going to be dangerous for you to be carrying something so expensive like this in the Undercity. People down here kill for less expensive things."
Nicholas took the pokeball and lightly tapped it at the sleeping Sneasel, who promptly disintegrated into a flash of white light and disappeared into the sphere.
"You can take Room 402 for the time being. Dinner is always served at six, and you'll start your job tomorrow morning. I suggest you use the remainder of the day to rest up. Is that clear?"
Nicholas nodded.
"Thank you again for letting me stay here."
"Don't thank me, thank the gang. If they haven't voted for you, I would've kicked you out without batting an eye."
Opening the drawer, Ibrahim took about a small ledger. "You may go now. I have things to do," he said without looking up.
Nicholas attached his new pokeball to his belt and started to head out.
"I know you're still holding something back."
Ibrhaim's firm voice checked Nicholas halfway out the door, prompting him to look back with wide eyes. Ibrahim met his gaze with his own.
"However, I'm not going pry….I could, but I won't. Truths don't tend to remain hidden for long in the undercity anyway, with or without me."
"Then, how do you know you can trust me?" Nicholas blurted out before he could stop himself. "How can tell if I don't have any ill designs? Not….that….I do have….any."
"Like I said, you're a terrible liar. I can tell from the way you move, speak, and how your facial expressions arrange themselves that you are telling the truth about not being a spy or an assassin. Besides, some aspects of your story were truthful, were they not? Like being forced to flee from the spire…."
"They were," Nicholas muttered solemnly, memories of Wilbur's stand flooding him.
"And that look you have in your eyes; it's not that of a person with a hidden motive, it belongs to one who had suffered a loss…. And I know better than to poke about before that wound heals over," Ibrahim shifted his gaze back to the ledger and waved his hand dismissively. "You can really go now. I won't stop you again."
Nicholas left the office wordlessly, torrent of thoughts rushing through his mind at once. He knew he wasn't out of the dangerous waters yet, and that his future at the moment appears bleak and uncertain. Still, beneath the all the nervousness and worries, there was a firm knowledge that he had found people he could depend upon, with whom he might perhaps regain the peace and stability taken away from him.
If he had known what was coming to him, however, Nicholas would've known better than to be so optimistic.
R&R!