A little ficlet I wrote. Originally it was gonna be a kind of xover with DnD and the modern (ok semi-modern world). It was also an exercise in writing from a different perspective then my usual. Had fun, figured I'd throw it up. Next chapter was a second attempt at the same general idea.
I own nothing.
You can learn a lot about life as a kid. You learn more when you come to a realization on your eighth birthday that no one in your life cares about you. I was never all that smart compared to some, but I had an epiphany that day. My uncle and father figure for eight years had finally decided he was done 'coddling' me and letting me 'steal his hard-won bread'. The only reason I'm alive today is because I wandered into the kitchen for some water and overheard him mumbling to himself as he sharpened his dagger.
Thirty seconds later I was half a street over and still running like the hounds of hell were out for my blood. Thirty minutes after that I was curled up in a grimy alley shivering against a wall and wondering what the hell I was going to do next. Thirty hours passed and I was wiping the blood off my new tattoo, a small circle inside a triangle bisected with a simple line on the left side of my neck, and a new member in one of the many packs of children that made up London's 'Rat-packs'. A 'Hallow' to be specific.
London is one of the shining, not literally but figuratively speaking, examples of humanities innovation at it's finest. Magic and steam powering great multi-colored lights, large buildings and towers casting shadows over different parts of the city any time besides high-noon, with ever more wonders and horrors appearing every day as one mad mage or crazy inventor after another adds their particular flavor of insanity to the mix. Rich mages fly over the peaked roofs and around towers on their brooms and carpets, the streets can fill with well-dressed merchants or rugged adventurers, but underneath it all the 'Rats' scrape by in the sewers and slums.
Life as a 'Rat' wasn't easy, you brought home something of use every day or you payed for it somehow. Money, food, or equipment. Any of those bought you another day free of beatings. Some of the older kids occasionally took pity on us newbies and showed us a few skills from time to time. How to lift a purse and be gone for hours before the robbed individual ever thought to check, how to hide from the bobbies when they came through with their sticks and collars, how to open the lock on the grocers door so we could make off with enough food to fill our tiny bellies enough too suffer for another day.
The first couple months are the hardest on a 'rat', most are still dealing with the loss of their family. Needless to say most 'Rats' aren't running away from a life of luxury, course we had some like me who were escaping from an already tough home-life, but the rest were mainly orphans who's families had been ripped apart by one guild-feud or another. Sprinkle in some 'black sheep' or call-girls bastard from the odd noble family and 'Tahda', the Rat-Packs were born.
We would stake out territory's and wander from abandoned house to abandoned house within our zones. Swipe some food, lighten some pockets, break a few windows and then split for another area. 'Rats' rarely look out for each other any more then they have too, if you got caught by the bobbies no one was gonna come looking for you, and if you got sick or hurt no-one was gonna cover your share of the work for you. Luckily you usually could pick up more coppers sitting outside a tavern coughing up blood then you could steal anyway.
Most territory's were big, even the smallest being several square miles. They had to be to avoid the bobbies when they got in the mood for a 'Rat-round-up'. Any kid with ink on their skin was fair game and if you got caught you'd never be seen again. Us 'Hallows' usually had a decent sized territory, plenty of run down abandoned buildings to move around in and plenty of business around the area to keep making our quota's. We were guides, messenger boys, beggars and thieves. The kind of riff-raff that honest folk got queasy around, feeling guilty about not helping us but knowing if they did it would only end poorly for them. Since the size of our little family constantly changed our territory changed as well, growing or shrinking as required.
Once you got big enough the head 'Rat' would put a club, or if you were really lucky a knife, in your hands and you became part of their 'muscle'. I was almost ten before a knife was slapped into my hand and I was made responsible for helping police our territory from other packs. After that weapon hit your hands you learned a whole new set of skills or you died forgotten in a dirty puddle on some rarely traveled street. Children can be the cruelest things alive if put in the right mind-set.
I learned quickly that charging ahead was how you died the quickest, so instead I taught myself to hit from angles that most didn't think about. Let that dumb Red-spot 'Rat' wander a couple streets into our territory then drop a five pound rock on him from the roof, no risk and they usually had something on them to cover your quota for the day. They spent so much time watching the street anticipating a fight most didn't even see the rock before it squished their head.
A lot of us died, friends were hard to make when every day someone was keeling over with a split skull, or vomiting too much after eating something rotten; or just not waking up after a fever. Once in a while one of us couldn't bear it anymore and would take the easy way out, after the first few suicides you find it hard to get worked up over the next one. I survived because I had the quickest hands anyone in the Hallows had ever seen and reflexes to match.
That hand-eye coordination was what moved me up from 'muscle' to 'herding', keeping an eye on the younger kids and marking them off as they brought in their quotas for the day. I never kept anything for myself, you can only pay for that mistake once, but it opened up one of the few doors available to a 'Rat' who wants to live more then a few years. I met with the Head Rat and the representative of the local Guild who let us live and do business, for a healthy cut of course. I was a lucky 'Rat', fast hands and more honest then the next three combined. Because of that I was allowed to meet Sirius Black, and that is where my life really began.
/=-=-=-=-=-=-=-/
"Top wants to see you Lightning."
I had heard Teary as he dashed down the hall towards my room. He was one of the kids I had taken under my wing more then most but he had more then repaid me for the investment. He had become one the of 'muscle' a few weeks after me and ended up scouting and watching my back. I showed him the ropes and he had taken more then one club or stab for me since. Once I started my current job of 'herding' he was allowed to work with me.
"Blondie is gonna need some of that paste from the herbalist. Her fever doesn't look like it's gonna break otherwise." pushing away from the small pile of rags that made up Blondie's bed I met Teary's blue-eyes with my own.
"No problem, I'll have Two-toe and Smiles pitch in with me. Two hours and we'll have it." he was going to be bigger then me, already creeping past me in height even though I had a year over him in age. Brown hair, ragged like all of us, fell to his shoulders and his ratty clothes still hung loose on his thin frame.
"Have Little Hand keep an eye on her once he gets back." I slipped past Teary on my way out the door and heard him mumble a response to my request.
Our names were picked in an effort to keep new kids from feeling left out. The day you got tattooed a couple of the older boys would look you over and pick out a name for you. I got mine for the lightning bolt scar on my forehead, Teary had been crying during his own inking and the name stuck.
We were holed up in an old warehouse for this week, the main floor of the building was littered with pallets of rags or stuffing that made up the beds of our little Pack. I had one of the small rooms since I was working to keep a couple of my little 'Rats' on this side of life, the rest of my runts were working double so everyone's quota could be made but none had complained yet. Raking my shaggy black hair out of my eyes I made sure to watch my step as I crossed the floor and started up the stairs to the managers office that Top had taken over.
Passing a couple more Hallows who were lounging outside his office as guards I knocked on the battered wooden panel and waited. Barging in on Top was a great way to get killed out of hand, he was twitchy and if he even suspected you heard something he didn't want you to know you ended up in the gutter bleeding to death before the day was out. There was some shuffling before Tops gruff 'Come in' rattled through the door. Grabbing the squeaky handle I pushed into the room and glanced around.
Top was there, all six feet of muscle and grit of him behind a battered desk littered with small stacks of coin. His black hair was chopped short, though still ragged looking since none of us could cut hair worth spit, and his features were more brutish then anything. He was never kind, but he was never abusive either. What Top wanted he got, and as long as he got it he was fine with ignoring his 'Rats'. The last Head would never have let me get away with buying medicine for my charges, so I was more then happy under his leadership.
Our guild representative was also present. A skinny, weasel like man who carried a rapier openly on his hip and wore a disgusted expression every time I saw him. He dressed in fine wools and boots, mostly in dark shades. We called him Weasel and he showed no interest in actually giving up his real name or giving us a different monicker to use.
The third figure I had never seen before and had my muscles drawing tight even as I laid eyes on him. A hooded cloak shadowed his face and a dark shirt, vest and pants tucked into soft boots. His arms were crossed as he leaned back against the far wall and I could feel his eyes boring holes through me. My fingers twitched towards the dagger tucked into my waistband as the man jumped a little after I cleared the door.
"You called Top?"
"Guild wants to look at you." He grunted in reply, waving towards Weasel and Hood. That made me nervous.
The guild bought all the girls that ended up in the 'Rats' as soon as they turned thirteen, or started growing noticeable female bits. Top let them be sold because if he didn't the guild would just take them off the street for free. Most of the girls then ended up working as maids, servers, or in brothels. Boys would sometimes be sold as well, and for generally the same duties. This quickly pushed my nervousness into outright paranoia.
Sucking in a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds I made a few tentative steps towards the two Guild men. Hood pushed back off the wall and in two steps was less then a foot from me. Gritting my teeth I jumped when his hand gripped my jaw and roughly pushed my head from side to side. I could feel his eyes scouring my features and had to hold back a whimper. Hood towered over me at this range and I couldn't stop my left hand from inching closer and closer towards my dagger.
"How old are you?" His voice was smooth, an almost melodic quality to it that would have soothed most people. Right at this moment, with his hands still gripping my chin, it wasn't helping me calm down in the slightest.
"T-twelve." I mumble as he finally releases my jaw and takes a half-step back.
"Almost too old, let me think." I could feel my worn shoes inching backwards and my left hand was wrapped painfully tight around my daggers hilt. I refused to let my panic show on my face, steeling my features in a neutral expression, no one feels pity for a crying 'Rat'.
"Forty." Hood finally stated after several tense minutes, I could feel my heart start to hammer at my ribs.
I was a good 'Rat', I was excellent muscle, and I was one of the best at watching over the younger Rats. I would be a perfect lieutenant in another year or two if Top didn't get paranoid about me trying to replace him. I had expected that path, planned for it since joining the Hallows. And now my dreams were crashing down around me as my life suddenly had a price-tag. Forty silver was a lot for a girl, most went for twenty to twenty-five. A young male 'Rat' could expect to pull fifteen, and I had never heard of anyone old enough to be 'muscle' getting sold.
At least he understood I was worth more then most.
"Not enough, Lightning is one of our best." Top grunted, fixing Hood with his glare. "He's already made me twice that in the last two moons."
I felt relief for a second, a crushing weight lifted just a fraction as my fate delicately swung from one possibility to the next.
"In gold." and the weight was back. I trembled even as Top choked out his hasty acceptance and greedily fondled the small bag that was tossed to him from Hood. "I'll take him now."
Like hell you will! My mind snarled, arm trembling as I waited. The second he touched me Hood would be bleeding out on the floor. Then his eyes flashed underneath the hood and I felt my arms dragged to my sides, dagger still clenched in my fist. The pressure wasn't painful, but it resisted all my efforts to move, like I had been encased in velvet-clad stone.
"I'm done here. I'll leave you gentlemen to your business." and with that Hood swept past me through the door, and my feet followed against my will as my dagger dropped to the floor.
/=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-/
I fought for what felt like hours. Each step I resisted with every muscle in my body, trying to throw myself under a carriage, off a bridge, I even started shouting when I saw a group of bobbies. My mouth was forced shut the second it opened and I was left raging against the world as my body walked quietly alongside Hood.
Streams of people parted around us, some looking at me with disgust, others pity. But none even paused or attempted to raise their hand. I was a 'Rat', whatever the man wanted to do with me I had obviously earned the second the tattoo on my neck was put there. If I wasn't panicking and begging any god I could remember for help I wouldn't have been surprised.
So we walked. We had passed the outskirts of the territory that had been my life for almost five years in the blink of an eye. As the outer walls of London loomed ahead I finally accepted my chance of seeing any of my Pack-mates again were practically non-existent. Even if I freed myself from whatever magic Hood had bound me with I would never make it back through all the twisting streets and foreign Packs territories without at least one serious incident.
That was the thought that calmed me. I was alone, completely cut off from any of the meager resources I had access to. It was humbling in a way to see how little my world had become.
At the gate Hood discretely passed another bag to one of the guards and we were ushered through, passing under the walls of the city that had always been my home. As we passed through the final barrier the world opened up before me, endless expanses of golden fields and small groups of cottages dotting them like freckles.
Hoods hand came down on my shoulder and my body tried to jump, but was blocked by the mysterious pressure again. He guided me along the wall until it's shadow finally swept over us.
"We're going home, Harry." he whispered, and then the world faded away and all I could see was endless grey and black shadows.
Before I could muster the thought to scream colors exploded back into being and I stumbled, falling onto a hard wood floor. A heartbeat later a pair of arms encircled me and crushed me against a firm chest. I flailed, swinging my fists with every bit of effort I had into everything I could reach. Those powerful arms just grew tighter until my struggles finally died off.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I could hear the choked emotions in his voice, one of his hands gently shifting through my dirt caked hair. Trembling from exertion I knelt, uncertainty holding my efforts to escape in check.
"I found you. I was looking for you for so long. They said you died but I didn't believe them, couldn't believe them." the hug returned to bone-breaking tightness as tears started to splatter against my face.
"Who are you?" I asked after the man finally cried himself out.
The hood was pushed back and a face exposed. Thick black hair and aristocratic features finally coming to light. A light growth of black hair covered his strong jaw and piercing grey eyes darted across my face before coming to rest on my own.
"I'm your Godfather. Sirius Black." anything else he was going to try and say was cut off as he choked back another sob and dragged me into another rib bruising hug.
Had potential which is why I wrote the next chapter, they don't quite line up but if I ever decide to continue this story it wouldn't be hard to mix them.
~SimplyWaters~