Harbinger (working title) Chapter 1 Finished Version With Augmented Reality Anchors

Harbinger (Working Title)

By: Geoffrey Epstein, Chris Gregoria, Danny Shaw

Death is the one, inescapable fact of life that unites us all.

            Stray drew his arms and legs in, guarding his vital areas from the kicks. He’d been in a few scuffles before, and had learned how to protect the important parts of the body well, simply by shifting the rest of him to intercept the blow. But he was certain that wouldn’t help him now, as he took another kick to his stomach. He barely managed to block it with his elbow.

            He hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary; he had stolen some food from the convenience store, same as always. He made a small slip-up though, in the form of not knowing the area he was in well enough. As he walked out, and ran around the corner, hoping to duck into the alley and run for home, he made a turn in the alley that brought him into the middle of a drug deal. It was a very out-of-character slip for him.

They took the food he stole, threw it away, and proceeded to pound him.

            Stray, of course, was able to deflect most blows. Push a kick away from the stomach with an elbow. Block with a knee. The fetal position really did wonders to defend yourself if you knew how. But Stray was absolutely certain that didn’t matter. Given a few more seconds – maybe half a minute – the dealers would pull out a silenced pistol and end him. He was so sure.

            All Stray could think about was not wanting to die. About eventually finding a real home and maybe a girl. His 19 years as an orphan wasn’t enough of a life for it to end now. He couldn’t think past that. Then he saw the dealer reach into his pocket.

            That’s it. I’m dead. Stray almost wanted to call out “Goodbye, cruel world!” because that was all he knew the world to be. Cruel.

          Shiv turned to look at the beaten, bruised mess that was Stray. Even without the limping, it was clear that he was hurt. There were bruises up and down Stray’s arms and legs, and probably a few under his clothes as well. But Shiv smiled when he looked Stray in the eyes. His face was untouched. He had protected himself well, despite all the damage. Nothing vital was damaged, and he could walk the streets in long sleeves and pants, and no one would notice.

            “Nicely done,” Shiv said, as he got up and crossed the small distance to Stray. “Give me an arm. Let’s get you patched up.”

            “Yeah.” Stray tossed an arm over Shiv’s shoulders and hobbled his was over to a makeshift seat. After plopping dramatically into it, Stray tossed his pipe to the floor, and leaned against the wall behind him. Shiv half-jogged over to their stash of supplies and grabbed the medical kit, some disinfectant, and Neosporin; all stolen. “Thanks, Shiv.”

            “Don’t mention it. It’s what brothers do.” Shiv came back over to Stray, cracked open the kit, and went to work. He was skilled at first aid – they both were, really – since they have had to administer it to each other for as long as they care to remember.

            “Right.” Stray answered, looking up in thought. Brothers, huh? Stray sighed. “What do you think all the other kids are doing now?” Stray thought back to their old homes. Despite living with all those other kids for a year at a time, he couldn’t picture faces, and could barely grasp names.

            “Who knows? Probably found themselves nice foster families. Got into schools, lived normal lives.” Shiv finished up bandaging one bruise and moved on. In between he grinned up at Stray.

            “Not us.” They said in unison, and both chuckled.

            “Running away from the orphanage may have been the smartest thing we’ve ever done.” Stray said. Shiv nodded. “We can, at least, live the way we want to out here.”

            “Stealing to survive? Fighting thugs everyday? Making your own schooling using the library?” Shiv laughed. “We live the dream, my friend.”

            “Hey, at least we don’t have to put up with parents. What kid would laugh at that?”

            “At our age? Most.” Shiv answered. “Just one more bruise, unless you’re hiding a bunch under your shirt.” Stray groaned with the effort, but smiled and lifted his shirt. The front and back were clear of bruises. “You son of a bitch. There’s not a scratch or bruise on you other than your limbs.”

            “You know me well enough to know what to expect, Shiv. Or you should.” Stray said, putting his shirt back down. They both knew Shiv had never quite beaten Stray in a fist fight. Of course Stray hadn’t been able to beat Shiv either. Shiv would try his best to land good hits on Stray, but he was always able to deflect or block the blows with his arms or legs. Usually, he was able to redirect the blows, leaving Shiv off-balance. Shiv had only ever hit Stray in the stomach once or twice, and never in the head; and these were from the greatest feints of his life.

            Stray, however, despite his near flawless defense, couldn’t hit Shiv either. Despite Stray’s best efforts, Shiv would always manage to avoid his strikes at the last second. They both knew, though, that it was because Stray always hesitated before his attacks. He was never sure he could land the hit, so he hesitated before throwing it.

            Shiv finished bandaging Stray up, and put the kit away. Stray looked up at the darkening sky. “It’s getting late. I’m going to sleep off the bruises if I can.”

            “Yeah, you do that.” Shiv collapsed onto the ground into a crossed-legged sitting position. “I’m going to stay up a bit. Read that book you stole.”

            “Ah. Yeah, it was a good one too. The authors really knew what they were doing with it.” Stray laid down on the bench he was on. “Enjoy it.” He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the light aching from his limbs.

            “Sleep it off, man.” Shiv said. “We need to go get more food tomorrow.”

            “Yeah, yeah.” Stray said. Lovely.

            He drifted off.

            The next day went by quickly, as most do. Stray and Shiv got up late for themselves, almost midday. First things first, they needed to go “shopping” for some food.

            The two had a system for getting food. There were number of food stores throughout the city, and they knew they couldn’t hit the same one twice in a short time period. They’d be caught. So, they created a rotation that brought them back to a given food store about once every 4 months – 6 if they could steal a few days’ worth of food each time.

            After living on the streets for 8 years, Stray and Shiv had gotten incredibly good at stealing. They knew all the tricks, and used them well. Over the years, they both practiced sleight of hand, and were proficient at it up to a moderately high level. It made hiding the stealing easy.

            Today was as easy as always. They went in to the store, grabbed their usual items, consisting of smaller canned goods, two small loaves of bread, some deli meats, and some drinks. They packed everything away in backpacks stealthily, and no one was the wiser. Following that, they simply walked back out the entrance instead of out the exit. They operated separately in the store, and reconvened a block or so away.

            The heist went off without a hitch. After dropping the food off at their home, Stray and Shiv went to the library. They spent a lot of time there reading. Learning. They both knew that they would have to be booksmart, not just streetsmart to live the way they do, and they were determined to keep up their studies.

            They both were as smart, if not smarter, than people their ages. Stray had even won a trivia night at a local restaurant chain on his own. He got every question right, topping every other 19 year old in the place, even the college students. Shiv didn’t like trivia as much, but he was capable of understanding the current and leading papers and journals involving most of the sciences. Physics was of specific interest to him.

            Having spent several hours in the Library, Stray decided around 7 that it was about time for dinner. He pulled Shiv away from a new Physics journal on ballistics and air resistances, despite his fit of complaints from Shiv. They went back to their home, ate dinner, and just relaxed the rest of the evening. They played cards for a while, read some more books, sparred. Shiv tried to learn how to throw knives, or in his case sharpened bits of scrap, and was beginning to make some progress after months of trying. Stray, his bruises no longer causing him problems, took the pipe he had grabbed in the previous night’s beating and practiced wielding it. He took surprisingly quickly to the movements and ideas in the book he took out of the library on sword technique.

            As Stray practiced, he felt good about his movements. He was confident in his ability to fight with a weapon like this. I really might keep this…

Engine stirred and looked around his room to notice the same four barren walls he had woken up to every day for the last 12 years. He was a young man, nearly 21, with a burly build and softer features more befitting a man his age. He was strewn across his bed, choosing to remain in the odd contortion that clearly came from a very good night’s rest. “I’d rather wake up in a random alleyway than have to spend another month in this hell hole.” He uttered as he found the strength to sit himself up. Of course it wasn’t the worst of living situations. He had a nice bed and a small television, and there was just enough room for him to stretch his arms about the full length of his wingspan without punching the walls, if just barely.

Rising from his bed, Engine took a few steps towards a small window against the back wall of his loft and stared out at the monolith of a building that stood across the street. “You just keep covering that wide open blue sky; you won’t tower over me forever.” He said as he rubbed his eyes and slid his hands down his face. “Welp, gym time!” He immediately perked up and bolted out the door. He was able to work up to a full sprint rather quickly on his way; at the pace he was going, he may as well have been mid workout already. Without skipping a beat he rushed through the door. Overly fatigued gym goers dropped their weights or slowed their cardio to stare as Engine ran right up to his favorite machine and proceeded with quick repetitions adding more and more weight with every pump.

“Geez that guy doesn’t slow down does he?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s actually gotten faster.”

“That’s insane!”

 “You’re telling me. He comes in here everyday and makes the rest of us feel awful, I can never figure out how he does it.” Engine glanced over at the two who were gossiping about him but quickly shook his head and turned his attention back towards his workout. The pain of fatigue was clear on his face but anyone could tell that as he continued, the more he did, the harder he pushed himself. It was as though instead of tiring out, he actually received more stamina with every expenditure of energy.

“No limits, not even the pain will stop me.”

Despite the excruciating pain he was in, he still found the energy to sprint back home. Just then his cell phone rang.

“Engine.” A deep voice called out.

“Ha! Had a feeling you would call back by the time I finished warming up.” Engine replied with a smirk, but his eyes were stone cold.

“You will be receiving a picture of a warehouse on the west side of the city. Go there and crush anyone you find. No questions, just swiftly carry out your orders.” A look of contempt came across his face. He swallowed heavily and did not respond assuming that his silence would suffice for obedience. “Do not disappoi--” Engine slipped his phone back into his pocket before the voice on the other end could finish. “The other side of the city huh?” He took a deep breath and faced the opposite direction. There was a serious look on his face as he stared down the empty street before him. “That’ll take me fifteen minutes tops.” He stomped his foot hard against the concrete ground beneath him, gritted his teeth, and took off.

 “I hear they’re sending the little engine after us.” A tall, thuggish looking man called out through a dark vale to his companions in an uneasy voice. He had just finished placing down what seemed to be a heavy crate in the corner of a large and dimly lit warehouse. This cowardly thug of a man, and his five companions, were all wading about the dark warehouse with powerful, automatic armaments slung around their necks and gripped tightly in their unstable fingers. Though they all knew they should be wary of the crates that they had taken such care to acquire, the majority of them were feeling a burning desire to run from this place and never look back.

“Haha, I figured if any of us had heard about it, he’d already be here beating us down, eh Frankie?” A second man called back to the first. They were standing at the center of the warehouse back to back, not but a few feet from each other. They were carefully watching the front entrance from corner to corner.

“Pff, the Engine? So what if they are sending him?! I say bring it! He’s nothing but an obedient little dog. Anyone spineless enough to jump on command the way he does should be an absolute pushover!” A scrawny gunman angrily screamed from behind. He was positioned more towards the center of the warehouse and was the only one who was armed with more than just an assault rifle. He was laying down at the top of a steel frame that barely reached one story off the ground. His left eye was fixed into the scope of his sniper rifle which he had trained on the entrance of the warehouse at about the height of a human head.  

“Hey! Watch what’chu sayin’ bout Gin! I hear...even dem other scions got trouble fighting him.”

A decidedly older looking thug turned towards the other three; he had been guarding the back entrance. Next to him was a much larger and younger looking thug who, despite his age and size, seemed very timid. His demeanor was that of concern and his eyes seemed to stare for miles. He turned his head away from the back entrance slightly in acknowledgement of his partner’s logical concern.

“I don’t give a damn! We’ve been on countless heists and have almost nothing to show for it. I can’t put up with it no more, I want out!” The sniper pulled his face away from his scope in frustrated excitement and screamed at his comrades.

“You really think stealing from the origins is the best way to do that? Gin could easily kill us if we’re found” The timid fifth man, who generally liked to remain quiet cautiously joined the conversation. As he trembled with fear at the thought of what his companions would do to him for questioning their methods, he felt a hand on his shoulder that sent a cold chill through his body as he jumped slightly and turned his head.

“Haha that is a riot! Could...will...at this point fellas, there ain’t much of a difference between could and will. Kind of like how there’s not much difference between your guns, and my fists.” The foreign hand clenched into the fifth man’s left shoulder. With a whimsical grin on his face, the man known as Engine stepped forth from the shadows.”

“Stop Gin!” Frankie stepped forward and readied his assault rifle. “Gin, I don’t want to shoot you…b-but if I have to…I will.”

“Fire as many bullets as you want; my fist will eventually find its way to your face. Trust me!” Gin sunk the fingers of his right hand deeper into the timid thug’s shoulder and pulled back on him jerking his torso, and the barrel of his gun, straight into Gin’s clenched fist. He continued through the motion and threw the thug to the ground. Before he could even turn to spot the older thug to his left, Gin instinctively had his left elbow up and his fist pulled in. He swung from his elbow and released his joint as the side of his left fist collided with the older thug’s face taking him out in one strike.

“Ah.” Just then, Gin let out an enervated grunt as a sniper bullet grazed the nape of his neck; the scrawny sniper’s aim disrupted by fear from the vicious speed of the takedowns he had just witnessed. Gin paid no mind to the sound of his blood spattering on the ground or the searing pain in his neck, a sensation he was rather used to, as he took a deep breath and quickly stomped forward preparing to stampede towards the other three men. They had already begun firing wildly. Their empty bullets casings clanged against the floor and their bullets whizzed every which way; their fear causing their aim to falter.

It did not take long for Gin to reach the two thugs who stood in the center of the warehouse. His movements seemed fiercer and his breathing more hurried than when he had first arrived. His pace of breath was so quick it seemed almost constant as more and more bullets scraped through his skin. His heart beat was so quick and powerful, it could be heard without placing an ear to his chest. As he reached Frankie, their eyes met. Gin’s were completely dilated and there was an absent look on his face. There was a loud crack as Gin ripped his fist upward into Frankie’s jaw and the powerful uppercut knocked Frankie off of his feet. The second thug was beginning to scramble away but before Gin could follow he felt the butt of a sniper rifle crack against the back of his head. The sniper had jumped down from his perch in an attempt to stop the powerful Engine who took the blow full force and quickly thrust his right foot into the side of the sniper’s leg shattering part of his femur and tearing several muscles in his knee. In that moment, Gin’s torso wrenched back as a bullet finally managed to find its way through his body. His heart pounded but he did not fall, in fact, he calmly walked forward towards the shooter.

“Gin, l-let’s talk about this okay? It don’t have to be this way. Why you gotta listen to them huh? They aint done good for no one!” The shooter called out in a panic, frantically attempting to ready his gun so that he may save his own life. Gin was too far away to catch him with a lunge and had since lost some of his momentum from his decrease in movement speed. Gin’s heart continued to pound and his limbs jerked every which way like enraged animals that needed to be wrestled to the ground. He stayed silent and pulled a cestus out of his back pocket as he continued to advance forward. Gin placed the cestus over his hand and clenched his fingers to ensure the fitting.

“Fire.” Gin called out.

“You want me to kill you?”

“Just fire.” Gin’s eyes were fixed on the barrel of the gun. The man before him was completely shaken, so much so that he could barely stand. He closed his eyes tight and pulled the trigger. The barrel of his gun was wobbling wildly as the bullets sprayed out, not one of them was heading towards their intended target. Gin took a deep breath and then impatiently thrust his shoulder into the path of a stray bullet. He screamed and felt adrenaline surge through his every cell as he leapt forward and struck the next bullet flying at him with his cestus. The force of Gin’s movement brought him close enough to send the bullet straight back through the barrel of the shooter’s gun. The step forward also put him in range to kick the gun out of the shooter’s hands before the shrapnel tore him to shreds. As Gin kicked the gun away, he fully extended his leg towards his enemy knocking him into the back of the warehouse wall. Gin looked around at the utter chaos that he just created. Five unconscious or otherwise completely immobile bodies, the ground covered in more of his own blood than that of his enemies, and a few large crates off in a corner marked with an odd symbol that looked like two black and red sickles.

“It is done.” Gin picked up his phone and reported the success of his mission.

“Good engine. Now why don’t you go get yourself a nice refreshment...on us.” The deep voice from before replied from over the phone and started to chuckle as Gin hung up the phone.

“Of course it’s on you; when isn’t it?” Gin walked out of the warehouse and headed back towards his loft stopping at a convenience store along the way. As suggested to him, he was looking for a nice refreshment to cool down with after his intense ordeal. The store was fairly empty save for the clerk and two young looking boys in the back by the canned foods. One boy had his nose in a physics book and refused to look up. The other boy was checking soup labels.

“Eh, they don’t have the kind we like man, let’s go check somewhere else.” Gin noticed one boy calling to the other as he walked towards the area where the drinks were. He chuckled inside when he heard such a childish comment and looked backed towards them as he reached into the fridge for his favorite soft drink.

“All right yeah, let’s go,” said the boy holding the book; he never looked up as he started to walk away. He clenched the book between the thumb and index finger of his left hand and turned the page using his thumb. Gin noticed the boy’s free arm stretch back towards the canned soup his friend had just put back as he swiftly pocketed it.

Wow, they’re not actually going to take that are they? Gin thought to himself. The other boy replaced the soup can on the high shelf with his right arm and swept a can from a lower shelf into his pocket with the left. There is no way they’d get away with this. Gin observed in amazement as he paid for his drink.

“C’mon bro, I’ll race you home!” The taller looking boy called out and ran ahead of the one who was holding the physics book who had placed the can between the pages that he was holding with his thumb and index finger.

“No fair, you got a head start.” The second boy swatted at his brother’s back side playfully with the book - but it actually concealed the soup can sticking out of his brother’s back pocket. Just like that they were gone.

Gin cracked a huge smile as he walked towards the door to leave. “Smooth, boys. Very smooth.” Gin headed out and walked on into the night.

             Stray finished a swing with a minor flourish, testing the weight of the pipe in his hand. The balance was a little off center for him, but it would do. He made a mental note to replace it with a better one if he could find one. But, still, for now, this would suffice well enough. He turned around, just in time to see Shiv throw a sharpened bit of metal into a piece of scrap wood. The makeshift knife struck home, hard, embedding itself in the wood.

            “Nice throw.” Stray walked over to the board, checking the backside of it. The blade stuck out about an inch from the back. “Damn nice throw.”

            “You looked nice and comfy with that pipe, too. Gonna keep it?”

            “I’m definitely considering it…”

            Stray swung the pipe around again behind him with a nice little flourish to double check the balance. The sound of metal on metal vibrated about the air and Stray felt a sudden stop in his swing. He swung around to look behind him at what he hit.

            “Nice pipe there kid, it suits you well.” Standing before him was a fairly large man. His hair was cropped a bit short, and he had a slight beard. His hands bore cesti and he had used it to parry Stray’s swing. “I really dig the whole street rat thing you boys have going on. Not to mention the way you snuck out those cans of soup was amazing. I couldn’t believe such a cheeky tactic would ever work. You two have a serious gift.”

Shiv shifted in his seat. He was positioned to be ready for a fight, if need be. “And just how’d you find out about that?”

“He was there.” Stray called out. “I remember you; you went to grab a drink and were covered in wounds when you walked into the store. I take it you saw our whole rouse then?”

“That is a possibility. Like I said you boys have talent. No ordinary person would have kept up with your sleight of hand, but it takes a lot more than simple tricks to fool a pro.”

“A pro, eh? What’s your name?” Shiv said mockingly.

“My name’s Gin, pleasure to meet you.” He turned and gave a mock bow, but his eyes never left Shiv’s. His shit-eating grin didn’t budge either.

Stray moved his pipe back, and swung it to his side in a sweeping motion. “Do we need to worry about you?” He asked Gin. His whole body was ready to take action, like a coiled spring.

Gin stretched his neck this way and that. It cracked once. “Beat me in a fight, and I’ll tell you. We can even fight two on one.” Gin assumed a fighting stance; it was an odd one that Stray hadn’t seen in any of the martial art books he had read.

“Are you a street brawler?”

Gin barely moved. “Could be.” Shiv was now standing a bit behind Stray. He had fire in his eyes, and Stray was able to tell from the way he moved he was excited to fight. Stray rolled his neck, and brought his pipe up to a defensive stance derived from Japanese Kendo, wielding it like a sword.

Gin made the first move. It was a right hook, and Stray just barely managed to see it coming. He backed up away from it, but felt a strong impact in his stomach. The hook was a feint. The thought only barely registered as he backed up further. He brought his pipe back up to defense, and readies himself, watching Gin hop from foot to foot with a small grin.

“I see now.”

Gin tilted his head to the side, curious at what Stray meant, but wasn’t given much time. Stray felt some object whiz past his ear and make a beeline toward Gin. Without a thought, Stray charged after it, swinging the pipe in from a low diagonal, making an upward sweep. Being just behind the projectile should give him the advantage.

Sure enough, Gin was slightly off balance from avoiding the thrown item when Stray’s attack glided in. The pipe collided hard with Gin’s side, and Shiv hit him with another metal shard in the arm. Suddenly, Stray felt as though something was wrong. He moved back as quickly as he could, and was right. A punch swung less than two inches from his face. He nearly tripped, stumbling backward. Gin took the opportunity to try to pound his face.

As Stray flinched, something within him kicked in. He moved slightly to the left, and knocked Gin’s arm downward with the pipe. The force threw Gin off balance, and from the look on his face, he clearly wasn’t expecting such a move. Stray grabbed the pipe like a rod, and punched Gin twice in the stomach with it, then smacked upward under the man’s chin with the other end.

Stunned, Stray backed away. Shiv followed the assault with two thrown metal scraps. They hit the left and right shoulders respectfully. Stray slowly backed up. A hard smash to the chin with a steel pipe should be more than enough to incapacitate anyone.

“That was good. Very good.” Gin straightened, and removed the two metal scraps from his flesh. Blood flowed out from the two puncture wounds. Stray felt scared, for the first time in a long time. It was a comfort to him that street fights were on equal terms. Even a street urchin had the chance to get lucky in a fight with a gang member. But here, that comfort was gone. He knew he had no chance against Gin. The knowledge of that sunk deep into his bones as he watched Gin smile while assessing the damage that should have kept any normal man on the ground.

Gin stroked his jaw, rubbing away the pain from the pipe uppercut. “Right then. You did much better than I would have guessed, kid. What’s your name?” He was looking at Stray.

“My name is Stray. Or at least it’s what I call myself.” He answered. Gin nodded, and turned to Shiv.

“And what. Are you Knives?” He asked with a cocky smirk.

Shiv gave the most shit-eating grin Stray had ever seen. “Shiv, actually. Nice try though.”

Gin shook his head with a small chuckle. “Right then. Stray and Shiv. Are you boys interested in a little fun? Something a bit…bigger than what you’re probably used to.”

Stray and Shiv looked at one another, speaking through looks.

What do you think?

I don’t know if I buy it.

Yeah, me either, but what have we got lose? Literally.

True. But we know nothing about this guy.

That’s my only problem, too.

Do we trust him?

Shiv shrugged.

Stray turned back to Gin, and produced a coin. “Heads, we’ll go with you, tails, we don’t. Fair?”

Gin laughed. “I like your style, boys. Go for it.”

Stray flipped the coin into the air, grabbed it, and smacked it onto his hand. He revealed it. “Heads. Looks like you have company, Mister Gin.”

“Please, Gin is fine.” He nodded. “But anyway, come to Rizzo’s tomorrow. I’ll meet you outside in the front.”

Shiv strode up to stand beside Stray. “Rizzo’s? You mean-?”

“Yeah. That crazy expensive place.” Stray finished. “What time?”

“Would six work for you two?” Gin shifted his weight from foot to foot.

Stray and Shiv nodded in unison. “We’ll be there. Don’t be late.”

“I could tell you the same thing.” Gin said with a snicker. “Come with an empty stomach. You won’t be sorry.” Having said that, Gin turned on a heel and stalked off. Out of nowhere, he stopped and turned back. “Oh right.” He threw Shiv’s scraps back to him, landing them neatly on the ground in front of him. “You can keep those.”

Shiv looked down at them to find the blood cleaned off. When he looked back up, Gin was gone. He turned to Stray. “You sure this is a good idea?”

Stray covered a yawn, heading back toward their makeshift home. “Not at all.”

Shiv yawned too, following his brother. “God, we’re just fucking brilliant, aren’t we…?”

Stray chuckled a bit as he laid down on his blankets. “We’ll live. We always do.”

The next day, Stray and Shiv both awoke a bit before dawn. Without much else to do, they both yawned, got up, and stretched. The two took a can of stolen corned beef hash and cooked it over a fire in a frying pan. Stray had gotten rather good at cooking over the years, and he was pretty proud of his ability to do so.

After eating, they went their separate ways for various chores. Stray went to a department store to “pick up” a few things. Shampoo, soap. Basics, mostly, although he did pick up a new frying pan. Shiv decided to go back to the library to finish the journal he had started the previous day, as well as look into knife throwing techniques. He had told Stray that, despite hitting Gin’s shoulders with the knives, he had hoped to hit more vital areas. He needed to get throwing technique and aim down better.

Stray had shrugged, and sent him on his way.

After checking out the department store, Stray headed back to their home. After practicing with his pipe for an hour, he changed out of his sweaty clothes, wiped himself down with a damp cloth, and put on fresh clothes.

Stray looked down at himself and laughed. Shiv and him both had an odd choice in clothing. It was quite literally whatever they could get. Of course, lifting clothing was the first thing they had learned, and it was the easiest – take the target, put it on under your clothes in a changing room, walk out. They had not once been caught stealing clothes, despite being caught with the other stuff occasionally. Although, it had been a few years since they were last caught.

Stray checked the battery-powered clock they kept; it was just after 5 now.

“Right. Party time.” He said, and headed to meet his brother and Gin at Rizzo’s.

When Stray showed up he was still 10 minutes early, but Shiv was already waiting. Stray sighed; he had checked out the journal and was still reading it.

“Really? Really?” Stray said, walking up.

Shiv merely shrugged without looking up. Stray rubbed his forehead with another sigh. When Shiv was involved in something he knew it would take more than a small interruption to bother him enough to so much as look up. And his focus on the journal was intense – he could see it in his eyes.

Resigned to waiting for Gin in silence, Stray leaned against the wall to the restaurant, simply people watching. He felt such detest for the people coming in and out, that he could barely stand it. They were clearly filthy rich, and they knew it, too. They were all the type that would pay a stupid amount of money on some youth formula that was clearly a lie just because they could. Stray hated them. They never knew anything about a hard day’s work.

“Hey boys!” Stray was pulled out of his grumbling to himself to Gin’s call. “You guys ready for dinner, or what?”

Stray yawned, now in a bit of a bad mood. “Yeah. Are we actually eating here?” He nodded back to Rizzo’s. Shiv had yet to look up from his journal.

“We sure are. The food here is great. And so is the price!” Gin walked over to Stray, threw an arm over his shoulder, and pulled his head close to whisper. “Especially when you dine and dash.”

After Gin let him go, Stray laughed. “I see! I see!” He gave Shiv a quick kick. “Dinner time, Shiv. Let’s go.”

Shiv gave a grunt, closed the journal, and stashed it in a large cargo-pant pocket. “Good, I’m hungry.”

“He speaks!” Stray said, turning back to Gin. “Let’s go.”

Gin led the way inside the large building, and Stray had to force himself not to look around. The place was a typical up-scale diner, like any you’d see in a move. It was almost so typical that Stray would have placed money on a bet saying it was used as a movie set at least once.

A hostess met them just inside the door, and Gin asked for a table for three. The hostess was accommodating, and went to check on a table for the three of them. Stray only just then noticed that, while he and Shiv weren’t really dressed well for this, Gin was. He was wearing a stuffy looking blazer and dress pants, and collared shirt, and everything.

The hostess came back, and led the group to a set table, leaving them with menus. Having taken a seat, they all had water poured for them, and Stray nearly got sick looking at the menu. The cheapest thing, a bowl of Manhattan Clam Chowder, was 25$. Stray sighed, looking for something that wasn’t too expensive.

“Don’t worry about price, boys. I got it.” Gin said, with a grin. They sat for a minute, each deciding what they wanted before Gin called a waiter over. He ordered a lobster and some shrimp as an appetizer. Shiv ordered a rack of baby-back ribs, the ones that came with a BBQ dry-rub. When it came time for Stray’s turn, he ordered Filet Mignon; he found it hard to deny a classic – especially since he had never had it before.

The food came in fairly short order, and the three chatted about nonsensical things while they waited. Gin asked them about their lives; what they had done up till now. Despite warning Gin it was a sort of sap story, he still wanted to know. So, as their food was placed in front of them, Stray and Shiv began to tell the story together.

           

            The two of them had been orphaned at an incredibly young age. Neither remembered when, if they ever even knew. Stray’s first memories were all of orphanages. He only vaguely remembered, but he was sent from orphanage to orphanage, never being adopted. When Stray was seven, he met Shiv, who was six at the time, and they became good friends. Of course, it’s easy to become friends at that age, but Stray got in the habit of watching out for Shiv like an older brother. Again, Stray was moved to another orphanage, but this time, Shiv and a few other kids were moved with him. They stayed at that home for a year – much longer than most. When Stray was 9, he was moved from there, but Shiv wasn’t.

            About 6 months later, Shiv showed up, and it was around then that Stray had first gotten the idea to run. And a month later, they did. The two of them took a chance when the kids were all supposed to be napping. The worker watching them went out of the room for something, and Stray woke Shiv, and they escaped from a window. They ran and never looked back. Stray was 10, Shiv was 9.

            They immediately took to begging and pleading for money, and got enough to skirt by for the first year. After that, Shiv suggested that they steal what they need – and they did. Both boys took to stealing fast, as though it was natural. They only ever took essentials; clothing, food, water, basic living supplies.

            This continued for 8 years. Stray and Shiv decided to stick by the convictions they started with. They didn’t steal more than necessary. It was survival, nothing more.

           

            “So, that’s it, huh?” Gin said, pointing his fork at Stray. “I expected more. It was rather….mundane.”

            Stray swallowed his bite of Filet Mignon. “It’s life, Gin. It’s not exciting.” He took a breath. “Still though, we’re free. Our lives are led by our own decisions – no one else’s. That’s something that we’ve learned the real value of on the streets. We don’t need permission to do anything; we just live.”

Stray took another bite, watching Gin. Something in his eyes changed. They took on a darker look, but Stray couldn’t figure out why. Gin stared down at his food for a few seconds, the same dark and longing look lingered in his eyes as he poked at the lobster with his fork.

“Longing for the taste of freedom, huh? I can understand that. Living life on your own terms – is there any other way to live?” Gin stated as he looked up and a sharp color returned to his eyes. “It would be nice if circumstances could always lend themselves to allow that which we want most.” A somber tone entered his voice and he looked back down at his plate.

“Well circumstances wouldn’t always be in our favor. We couldn’t allow them to separate us ever again.” Shiv replied after swallowing a large mouthful of ribs and wiping barbecue sauce off his face with his sleeve.

“The streets can be dangerous though. What were you even thinking? A couple of young boys like you should’ve taken shelter in the orphanage. A bed to sleep in, three square meals a day, in another couple of years you would’ve been free anyway.” Gin replied

“No! We couldn’t stand it anymore.” Stray sat up and retorted. “Living in the orphanage was obviously the safer choice, hell we know all too well that it was the sane choice…but it wasn’t what we wanted. We wanted to stay together, and no matter what we had to do to make that so, we were prepared to do it.” Gin stared into Stray’s eyes and quickly noticed the fire burning within them. He relaxed back in his seat, crossed his legs, and threw his arm around the back of his chair resuming his usual, laid back demeanor. Gin wouldn’t admit it, but he was in awe of their overwhelming conviction and fearlessness.

“Haha, that is quite a story boys; no wonder you’re so street hardened already.” Gin leaned forward and casually reached for another helping of his meal after a hearty laugh.

            The conversation died after that. Gin, who had been the one asking questions, stopped altogether. The group finished their meal in peace, and Gin requested the check. He pulled out his wallet, fingering through bills. It was Shiv who broke the awkward silence.

            “That was delicious, Gin. Thanks for treating us.”

            Gin stopped, looked up, and laughed. “I’m not treating you two. We’re all pulling our own weight here.” He picked a couple of bills out of his wallet and held them up. Stray and Shiv answered with a laugh; it was Monopoly money. “Getting out of here is on your own strength. If you don’t leave by the time I pay, I’ll tell them you won’t pay. Good luck.”

            Stray and Shiv both stood. “Bathroom – sorry Gin.” They both apologized with smiles on their faces, making it look as friendly as possible. Gin just smiled and waved as they walked off. As they turned the corner toward the bathroom, Stray was looking for security cameras, while Shiv watched the employees. The cameras, despite being numerous in appearance, weren’t a problem. All of the cameras were the same make and model – that was simple enough to see. However, Stray noticed only 3 of the 14 had the recording lights on and blinking. And, not only were most of them off, but their facing left a zigzagging path to the door open.

            Stray sighed when he noticed Gin, who had a grin on his face.  He turned to Shiv, who was still keeping tabs on workers. “He’s testing us.”

            Shiv was startled out of his concentration. “What?”

            “He’s testing us, Shiv.” Stray said again. “Eleven of the security cameras are turned off, with a clear cut way to the exit. However, it also takes us straight by the two employees watching the room, as well as the hostess desk.” Stray could see Shiv’s eyes darting around, taking in the new situation. “We need a plan, quick.”

            “Can’t we just walk out? As long as we’re not suspicious, there shouldn’t be-“

            “Shiv. Our clothes. We were probably taken as suspicious as soon as we walked in. Didn’t you notice the two watchers keeping an eye on our table?”

            Shiv looked down at himself. His clothes, as Stray said, weren’t up to par of this place. He wore a flannel shirt over a plain white tee, and jeans. Really not upper-crust material. “Right…what then?”

            Stray’s thoughts shot through several possibilities, each one being just short of working. They could each distract a watcher with a question, but that would still leave the hostess. They couldn’t sneak out a window or something – it’d be too obvious. Plus, the fact that Gin was testing them was something Stray couldn’t let go; his pride wouldn’t allow it.

            As Stray was watching, something clicked. There were waiters walking around the floor with water pitchers and such, keeping tabs on each table’s meals.

            “Screening.” Stray muttered. Shiv turned to him, then looked back out at the room, then back to him with a grin. “Those roaming waiters have the perfect path. They’ll screen us perfectly if we time this right. The only one left is the –“ Just as Stray was about to say the hostess was the only problem, she called the next group for a table. “Go!” He pushed Shiv’s back, and followed after him.

            They walked nonchalantly, but had to keep a perfect pace. Roaming waiters blocked the view of the two employees watching the floor as Stray and Shiv made their way out. A turn here and a turn there kept them out of the cameras, and the screening kept them obscured. And as they approached the front desk and the screening broke, the hostess, preoccupied with seating the next table, walked past them. The group following her took over the screen; they got out.

            Stray and Shiv laughed a bit, once they were on the sidewalk outside. They turned and immediately walked half a block away. One lesson they had learned early was to not hang around. It gets you caught.

            Not even five minutes later, Gin walked out of the restaurant. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked relaxed as he looked around. Stray waved him over.

            When he walked up, he was laughing. “I can’t believe you two. You made it out of there without a problem. And even going as far as screening? Damn, you two are good for your age.”

            Just as Shiv was about to reply, two men came out of Rizzo’s, looking up and down the street. Stray, Shiv and Gin all ducked into the alleyway that Stray and Shiv had gathered by. The men cursed and went back inside. Shiv and Gin laughed.

            “Gin, how did you set all that up?” Stray asked. Gin turned to him, a questioning look on his face.

            “Huh? What’d’ya mean?”

            “Eleven of the fourteen cameras were turned off. It left a specific path to the entrance.”

            “I didn’t set anything up. I just wanted to see how good you two are.” He chuckled.

            Stray gave Gin a deadpan look. “Seriously…?” Gin just nodded. “Then their security is shit. It was too easy to get out.”

            Gin shook his head, his grin still in place. “I really like you guys. We should do this again.” Gin idly stretched his arms, stretching one across his body, the other pulling it taught, and then vice-versa.

            Stray and Shiv eyed each other for a moment. Shiv shrugged, Stray shrugged back. “Sure. You know where to find us. Just drop by when you’re looking for us. We’re out most of the day, but at night we’re home.”

            Gin nodded. “You got it. For now, let’s say we’ll meet again in three days, same time. We’ll have dinner at Nuovo Grill, this time.” He yawned. “Good?”

            The boys eyed each other once more, in silent agreement. “Done. We’ll see you then, Gin.”

            “Good, good.” Gin stretched his legs out quickly then grinned again. “Right then. See ya.”

            With that, Gin headed down the street one way, and Stray and Shiv headed the opposite way. Their home was a 45 minute walk from Rizzo’s – nearly half way across the city. They walked, joking with one another the way guys do, smacking each other after each failed pun or joke. The whole way home, they both had smiles plastered to their faces.

            The next two months were spent the same way the rest of their lives had been, with one exception. Every few days, Stray and Shiv met up with Gin for dinner, or for a movie, or some other random hang out. Never once did Gin make them pay for anything – he covered each and every bill; he didn’t even make them steal or sneak around again. It turned out to just be three friends hanging around.

            Stray and Shiv were happier than they had been in years. They hadn’t had a good friend in ages, and they both missed human contact. Sure, they had each other, but they also knew that would never change. Brothers weren’t quite the same as friends.

Yet, in the back of his mind, Stray knew it wouldn’t last. Gin wasn’t the first friend they had made after running away, and he probably wouldn’t be the last. However, none of them ever stuck around. Eventually something would happen that would separate them. The first time, it was parents who found out their child was hanging around homeless thieves. Then, it had been getting caught. There had been a number over the years. And then there was Jack.

Jack had been the last friend they made before Gin. Stray sighed whenever he had thought about him. Stray was around 15 at the time. Jack was 14, the same age as Shiv. They had been doing much of the same stuff they did now, but none of them were too smooth at playing off mistakes. And when they made one – a big one – the three of them found themselves on the wrong side of a gang. It was a simple street gang, but they didn’t take kindly to being seen during a B&E. They had chased down the three boys, and beat them senseless before giving up and leaving. Stray and Shiv were badly beaten, with a few broken bones and the like, but Jack was beyond repair. One of the men had kicked his face so hard that he lost sight in one eye, and some strange liquid (not blood) was seeping from the socket. Stray and Shiv also knew he wouldn’t make it through the night based upon his breathing, which was ragged and painful for him. He had likely punctured a lung with a broken rib.

            The brothers were right – Jack didn’t make it. He died before the hour was up. They hadn’t had a friend since then. They weren’t actually avoiding the issue, but rather had more or less lost interest in friends. They had learned the hard way that they don’t last. Especially in their kind of life.

            However, Gin had seemed to overcome their lack of interest for now, and even seemed to be capable of staying around with them. And it made Stray and Shiv, both, happy to know someone who didn’t seem likely to just vanish.

            Almost two months to the day when they had met Gin, the three had set up a meeting by an old mom-and-pop pizza place for dinner. However, even after waiting an extra half hour passed the decided upon meeting time, Gin hadn’t shown up.

            “What do you think, Stray?” Shiv said, leaning back against the pizzeria’s wall with a yawn. “You think he’s just running late?”

            Stray looked up and down the street again. Nothing. “Probably. He’s been a bit late before. There was also that day when he was called for work during dinner.”

            “Ah good point, good point.” Shiv glanced back into the eatery, hungrily eyeing the pizza. “Stray, I’m gonna need food soon, or I’m going to ransack this place and steal a pizza.”

            Stray chuckled. “Relax. There’s a convenience store three blocks over we can go hit up for a snack.”

            Shiv nodded, then craned his head around Stray to look past him into a nearby alleyway. “We can cut through there, can’t we? It should go the right way…”

            Stray looked down the dark of the alley, and then shrugged. “Yeah, may as well. It’ll be quicker than going all the way around to the side streets.” Stray gave one more quick look up and down the road, with no sign of Gin. He sighed, as Shiv pushed away from the wall.

            Shoving his hands in his pockets, Shiv walked around to begin heading into the alley. He turned back to Stray just before walking away from the light of the busy city street. “You coming, or what?”

            Stray shrugged with still no sight of Gin. “Yeah, yeah, I’m behind you.” As Shiv began the walk to the convenience store, Stray fell in step behind him, walking lazily, his arms hanging by his sides.

            The walk was uneventful through the first block of alleyway. As they came to the second, Stray tapped Shiv’s shoulder. “The store is a bit further down the road.” He pointed to their left, where another alley stretched down, parallel to the main streets. “If we go this way, we can avoid the crowds on the streets.”

            Shiv nodded with a yawn and a shoulder roll. He turned on his heel, over-exaggerating the movements, and began walking down the second alley. Stray wasn’t far behind.

            Four buildings down the way, Stray saw a door spilling light into the alley. It was an odd looking red-tinged light that seemed somehow unnatural. Something’s not quite right… He grabbed Shiv’s shoulder to get his attention – he was walking while looking down at the ground instead of ahead.

            Just as his hand fell on Shiv’s shoulder, a loud thud erupted from the odd red-lit building. The sound got Shiv’s attention before he turned back to look at Stray. “The hell was that?” He whispered, the boy’s quickly turned to stare at each-other and their eyes widened. We should definitely get the hell out of here. They knew that they were both thinking it, and yet, something drew them forward. Perhaps it was a light of over-confidence that they had always felt flooding off of Gin - or maybe it was just their lingering, juvenile sense of invincibility that drove them to search for excitement; whatever it was, both boys felt driven to inspect the scene. They began advancing slowly towards the door. With their entire bodies pounding with each heartbeat, they slowly moved forward.

            As they approached, the red light burst out of the building, in a sudden flash. Even not being in it, Stray’s eyes burned as though someone shined a flashlight right at him as a prank. Then, just as quickly and suddenly as it happened, the light died back down to just its ominous glow.

            They snuck up to the door as quietly as they could manage, and crouched beside it. Peaking just slightly around the edge of the door, Stray quickly took in the entire scene before him.

            The odd glow was coming from a strange, elaborate pattern on the floor of the building, and the shine was much brighter on the ground itself. It gave off far less light than it seemed to glow with. Then, in the middle of the pattern – it was a circle, really – were two people. However, it took less than a few seconds to realize the one on the ground was likely not alive. There was far too much blood scattered about, leaking from a rather high number of blade-like cuts.

            The second person standing in the circle was hard-pressed to be called a person at all. To begin with, the “person” was floating a few inches off the ground. The man wore a long cloak, and there were no feet visible. However, a strange tail held the back end (or what Stray assumed was the back end) of the cloak up a bit. The tail was sort of thin, but also clearly reptilian. Scales covered the majority of the tail, but a few scales were missing. And those gaps in the scales revealed blotches of semi-rotted flesh. The over-all effect was rather disturbing.

            The warehouse was filled people, wearing varied degrees of clothing, ranging from nearly rags to well-dressed sport jackets and the like. Everyone was around the circle in the middle, facing inward to where the dead man and the floating thing were. The well-dressed men were nearer the center than the men dressed poorly.

            One of the men near the center spoke. “Etrüscian. We beseech you on the behalf of our Origin to grant these devout men your blessings!” He raised his arms in what seemed like praise. The cloaked figure raised its arms and a pulse of light emanated from its fingertips. The light was the same eerie red that covered the entire building.

            Some of the men further from the circle yelled. Some were in pain, and holding their faces while they screamed; others seemed to be excited, laughing maniacally.

            Stray leaned back, straightening himself. He grabbed Shiv’s shoulder. “We need to go. Now.” Shiv turned to face him. “I’m not going to pretend to know what’s going on here, but it’s not safe.”

            Shiv glanced back to the warehouse before turning back again. “Right.”

            Stray quickly and quietly moved back the way they came. He quickly dodged around the scattered items in the alley, making his way back to the Pizza place that they were going to meet Gin at. Shiv trailed behind him, also quickly making his way down the alley, right on Stray’s heels.

            When they made it out of the alley and back to the restaurant, Gin was still nowhere to be found. They sighed.

            “Still no sign of ‘im?”

            “Nope.” Shiv looked both ways down the street. “Nothing at all.”

            “Right. Want to head back?” Stray’s stomach growled. “Maybe get some food, too.”

            “Yeah, let’s.”

           

The two boys ran back down the alleyway the way they had come. Vito adjusted his eyesight, focusing on them. His eyes turned from the normal light brown to a blue-red mix, zooming in on the kids.

            As he committed the boys’ faces to memory, he brought a hand up to tap a button on his earpiece. Static crackled through it before a voice came over the mic. “Yes?”

            “Sir. We’ve got two boys fleeing the circle. They saw.”

            There was silence, a bit of static that came along with it. “Send a hound.”

            “Understood.” He clicked the earpiece off, and turned to the men behind him, and pointed to one. He didn’t even know the man’s name. “You. Go. You know your job.”

            The man nodded, and vanished suddenly. Vito grinned. “Invisibility. Nice touch.”

            He turned back to watch the boys run from the alley. If someone asked him, he’d say he felt bad for the two kids – but he didn’t. They got their noses dirty in something they should have stayed away from. Their deaths will be their own faults.