It had been a bad night to be out. The rain hadn't been much of a surprise. The sky had been a gray mass for the last few days just waiting for the perfect moment to come crashing down, which is precisely what it had done the evening prior.
It hadn't made my job any easier of course, not that I was one to complain. If it meant the possibility of coming any closer to finding Luke, I'd do what I have to. And besides, sniffing around the Hornets also meant helping my own. If that wasn't a two birds, one stone situation, I didn't know what was.
I found somewhere to hunker down for the night, a common spot of mine, thankfully out of the rain's direct path. A steady flow from the roof above me made for an irksome patter right beside where my head rested, but at the very least, I wouldn't wake soaked and with the chills.
Then again, I wouldn't end up waking at all as I never would have actually fallen asleep, instead feeling a presence by my side out of some intrinsic sixth sense before shooting awake and finding my hand instantly shooting for my waist band where my shiv waited, instead finding my wrist snatched before it could move even a foot. No.
A leg kicked out, hitting nothing but air. Fuck! This spot was safe! It always was!
I kicked again, this time striking something, pushing whoever it was away, giving me enough time to try and crawl to my side, arm still reaching for my waist band, fingers brushing the hilt of the shiv before a familiar voice whispered out in a ragged voice, "Fuck's sake, Reek."
It was indeed a voice that I recognized.
"Match?" I asked, into the dark, turning around now to try and get a line of sight on the shadow crouching in the rain, my eyes finally adjusting now to grant me sight of the boy's familiar scar across his face.
"Yeah, asshole," he grunted. "You have to kick so hard?"
So it was him. At the very least, that explained how he knew where I was. So this spot is still secure. Still, however, another question was raised. What the hell is he doing here? I looked him over, considering the possibility that I was still dreaming, but no, he was very much real. "Sorry," I said, putting my hand back to my side, no longer over my shiv. "You just scared me like that, sneaking up on me."
As my eyes further adjusted, I became enabled to notice more than just his distinctive facial feature, but also the positioning of his body, a hand on the back of his head, as though holding something in place. What the-? He seemed hurt almost. "Match," I started. "You alright? You look kinda-"
"I'll explain later," he growled. "I need to get back to the Den. Now."
"Why?" I asked, wondering just what it was that would make such a retreat to the Den so important. Was he being hunted? Was it Hornets? Or was he really hurt that badly? And then there was the matter of why he came to me. Traveling the streets alone was idiotic, sure, but, why me? It made sense for literally any other Rat aside from me to be the one to go with him, namely Shaalin. The hell is going on here? "Where's Shaal-"
"Look, would you just stop asking questions?!"
I nodded, weakly muttering, "okay."
He sighed, perhaps a part of him considering he'd have an easier time getting me to go along with whatever it was he was doing by giving me a better reason aside from fear of being yelled at again to do so. "It concerns Fluke."
And he knew just what it took to get my attention. It was almost sad how well he knew me.So maybe I wouldn't be getting sound sleep tonight.
I pushed myself off of the ground, still trying to reclaim my senses, wondering just what it was that was going on here, but little of it concerning me so much as however Luke was involved.
In no time I was up, now beside a Match who was now fully visible to me in the night, quite considerably worse for wear. Whatever it was that was going on, no part of me suspected it was good, all the more inclining me to get us across the slums and to the Den as quickly as possible. I needed to know what was going on. I need to know what this has to do with Luke.
There was a reason behind traveling in pairs on the street, especially at night. During the day, it stood to reason that there were enough people constantly on the move throughout the slums that none of the gangs would try anything. That wasn't to say that everything came to a standstill at night, but at the very least, there were far fewer prying eyes, which, while sounding like a good thing, also meant it was as good a time as any for a mugging or a beating. The more I looked at Match, the more it stood to reason that he'd learned that the hard way. But what was he doing? What happened to him? All were questions he refused to answer, saying he would only speak once we were back at the den, and so we traversed the narrow alleyways in silence, the rain, albeit chilling to the touch, helpful in clouding whatever little noise we made.
Soon enough, it was the same routine of entering the den, now made all the easier, or at least, safer with the two of us. Match demonstrated far more significant difficulty squeezing through the tight spaces that I'd come to learn to navigate like the back of my hand, but notwithstanding, in time, we were finally out of the rain, its constant clatter still able to be heard to the naked ear, however, as we climbed within, descending beneath the ground into what little excuse for solace we had in this city, this one hopefully destined to last longer than the others.
Down here, however, the silence was palpable, masses of sleeping bodies scattered across the floors in whatever smalls nooks and crannies they could find, stirring in response to our movement, some even momentarily waking, but all, for the most part, remaining sound asleep, happy for what little rest they could get. I recognized their forms as I stepped over them: Ai Chen, Gama, Trip, Halaor, and many others, all perfectly at peace, myself not daring to wake them. That made only one of us, however, as Match seemed far less inclined to make their comfort a priority, rushing past them, taking care with his footing where he could, but otherwise disregarding it completely.
It was clear he cared little more for reaching Miro as quickly as possible, who, upon us descending deeper into the Den, seemed to still be awake.
It was difficult to see just what Miro had been up to prior to our approach, Match giving me little time to discern what it is Miro seemed to be reading before calling out, "Miro!", certainly now waking the sad proportion of the Den's current inhabitants who had been within earshot. Miro snapped to attention, his eyes instantly drawn to the source, to the two of us, where Match stood, asserting his position in this moment, demanding to be heard before declaring, "We need to talk."
Halaor, who had been nearest, was already on a knee, sharpened stick in hand, raised directly to Match's back, clearly not yet having made the distinction between friend or foe, requiring Miro to raise a hand, dissuading any further action, something that took a good amount of composure given how started he seemed by Match's entrance himself.
Miro turned to match, then the gradually waking masses of the Den. Behind the initial surprise was an immediate understanding that, whatever it was Match had come to say, it wasn't good. I'd been quick to pick up on it as well, which, in all fairness, wasn't saying much given how little of an effort he was making to hide it.
Miro, noticing this, but also obliged to ensure that no form of a panic ensued, gave Match the cue to calm down, then announced oud enough for those stirring to hear, but not too loud so as to make any more, "Go back to sleep. Everything's fine here."
What proceeded then as he quickly approached us, pulling us further into his little corner of the Den and away from the others, was him harshly whispering to us, but Match in particular, "The hell do you think you're doing coming in like that?! It's the middle of the night and most of these people haven't slept in-"
"Shaalin is dead."
What?
Miro turned, and the expression on his face reflecting that selfsame question.
"What the hell are you-?"
Match interrupted Miro once again in the middle of him speaking, saying, "We were hitting their safehouse, same one pointed out to us, but…they got the upper hand and-"
"The Hornets killed Shaalin?" Miro asked impatiently, interrupting him, being met with only a nod. Shaalin. I'd just seen him a few days ago. His usual self, sure. Bitter, rude, but…alive.
Match wasn't done, however. No. He had something more to say, and he didn't hold back, continuing with saying, "And Fluke helped them."
It felt immediately as though a cold wind from the storm raging outside had somehow blown through the Den, which, of course, was impossible as I had closed the manhole shut behind me.
It took me a moment for his words to actually enter my mind. Perhaps they had seemed so ridiculous upon first hearing them that I'd simply failed to comprehend just what it was he had said. What?
Miro would ask just that very same question aloud to Match, seemingly just as shocked as I was, me not knowing however if it was in response still to Shaalin's death, or in response to it being Fluke that had been involved.
I knew which I was asking it in response to.
"You heard me," Shaalin said. "Went there to rip 'em off what with their attention being elsewhere as of late. Were in the clear too. Fuckers hadn't noticed a thing. Then out of nowhere, that shit shows up, cries 'Rat', and just like that, they have Shaalin, and Queenbee kills him right there."
What, I was still asking myself. The story he'd just told. It didn't make sense. It couldn't have happened like that. It couldn't have.
Right?
"Match," Miro said, still hushed, not wanting to attract any more curious ears than had 'already perked up, rising from their slumber on account of the commotion. "You're saying that the Hornets drew blood?"
And that Luke was a part of it?
"Yes," Match said, answering both of those questions despite only one having been voiced. "That's what I'm saying."
"Damnit," Miro groaned. It was clear were her mind was, though I didn't understand that at the time. Despite it being the far greater concern, my mind was elsewhere, raking through every possibility of how Luke could have wound up there.
Wrong place, wrong time? I considered.
"Word's going to get out, Miro," Match said, their words being heard by me, but in no way understood. My mind couldn't have been further away from what they discussed.
"I know," Miro answered.
"They're going to demand blood in return."
Was Luke being held hostage? Were they coercing him to work for them?
"I know."
"You'll look weak if you do nothing."
"Damnit, Match! I know!"
Everybody's cool has its limits.
Is Match even sure it was Luke he saw? It could've been somebody else. It was a dark night, cloudy, stormy. He probably just missaw, misheard. Right?
"Are you even sure it was him?"
I had to ask. I shouldn't have, but I did.
Both of their heads turned to face me, a stranger from another world, so out of tune with what it was they were discussing, myself realizing it only then, the anger in Match's safe enough of a wake up call as any.
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
"Match," Miro interrupted. "Stop, he-"
"His boyfriend just helped kill on our own. You remember him, Reek, don't ya? Been with us for 2 years now, wiped your ass that one time you caught the flu and were stuck down here for a week. Remember him?"
Of course I did. He and Match had always been near brothers, never quite treating with with the same mutual respect, but they had been family. As much as they may have occasionally liked to poke fun at me, we still had each other's backs. How could I ever forget?
I didn't have time to answer, of course, before Match continued. "Or did you forget? That why you're so eager to defend your stupid loverboy?"
"Match!"
Miro was doing what he could, of course, but it could only accomplish so much.
"Fuck this! You take care of this, Miro, or we'll do it ourselves."
What is he threatening to do?
"You won't do anything, Match."
"And you will?"
Miro was silent.
He was demanding initiative. I finally understood it. My head in a daze as it was, it was a wonder I had realized at all. Blood had been spilled. The turf war had been bloodless so far, at least for the last few months. That was no longer the case. Shaalin was dead. There were two ways I knew this would go.
Equivalent payment.
Or war
And Miro understood that, better than I ever could.
"I will."
It was all that mattered to Match. His friend had been killed, and there would be payback. He would take it into his own hands if it came to it, we all knew, which was all the more reason for Miro to not waste a single moment in taking care of it himself.
"Good," was all the response that Match provided before stalking off deeper into the Den, leaving me and Miro there in silence.
What the hell just happened? Just a few minutes ago, I'd been asleep, and now, everything's falling apart.
"Reek," I heard Miro say next to me after some time had passed.
I turned my head, snapped out of my questioning daze to face him.
"If what he says about Fluke is true," he continued. "And it comes to war, he'll be on the other side of the line."
"But it won't have to come to war, right?"
Miro said nothing for a while, considering the likelihood of it all. All the Hornets had to do in order to avoid war was pay back in blood. Give us one of their own. The more I thought on it, the more the knot in my stomach tightened. Nothing good was going to come of this.
"If you can find Fluke," Miro finally continued, "and if you can convince him to come to us, all the better."
I can still make it work. There's still a way I can make this work.
"But if you can't, Reek, I need to trust you to remember whose side you're on."
The Rats, who'd protected me for 3 years, housed me, fed me, watered me, tended to me when I'd been sick. They were my family, and I knew they'd always be there for me.
Then there was Luke, the only person I had on these streets whose friendship I knew was not bought by any such thing as gang allegiance. Even when our interests hadn't coincided, I cared about him, and I knew he cared about me. So many times, he could have put my life in jeopardy with the information he knew, and refused to do so. The only person in this city I could trust to sacrifice a warm meal for me.
I didn't need to choose.
He wasn't the enemy. I would show them that.
"You can, I answered."
It was going to be alright, I knew. I was going to make it work.
Damnit, Luke. Where are you?