Manny wandered through the alleys of the slums, he was looking for someone or more accurately their hiding place.
This person wasn't known for physical strength or an imposing presence. In fact, quite the opposite. He was meek, ingratiating, and easily overlooked, a shadow in the of the slums. Yet, his influence stretched farther than most.
Manny had first encountered this individual not long after meeting the kids. The man's peculiar nature had struck him immediately. His skill set was unique: information gathering. Every whispered secret, every scrap of gossip that fluttered through the streets found its way to him, thanks to his network of "rats."
The rats weren't a formal group. They were just a collection of street kids, born into the slums and desperate enough to scrape together coins by any means.
They had structure, but no symbol, and no identity. They simply existed, scurrying about the city, always watching, always listening. This man, their handler, paid them generously for the secrets they uncovered.
Manny found him eccentric, to say the least. The man always seemed to know more than anyone should. But in the slums of Starfallen City, knowing things often meant the difference between survival and death.
All morning, he had felt an unshakable tension, like the air before a storm. It gnawed at him, the sense that danger could strike at any moment.
His greatest fear wasn't the danger itself but failing to act first. That was why he was here, why this was his first move: finding Toothless, the info broker, before the people who would inevitably come looking for him did.
But Manny wasn't entirely sure what he intended to do once he found the man.
Trust was something he rarely extended, and Toothless was no exception. The broker held too much information, on Manny, on the kids, on countless others, and that alone made him a potential threat.
Yet Manny had no intention of harming him. On the contrary, they had always been on decent, even great terms. But in the slums, business and friendship were worlds apart, and Manny knew better than to blur that line.
His distrust wasn't personal. It was precautionary. This wasn't just about survival; If worse came to worst, lives were on the line, and he wasn't willing to gamble with those odds.
Manny's thoughts steadied as he arrived at a shabby street lined with ramshackle stalls. Vendors hawked their wares, shouting over one another in an attempt to sell their miscellaneous items, most of which Manny was certain were scams.
But he paid them little attention. His focus was on the crowd, carefully scanning the passersby while trying to avoid attracting notice himself.
It didn't take long for something or someone to catch his eye.
A young human boy, no older than ten, stood near the edge of the street. His torn blue jacket hung loosely over a thin frame, his worn-out sneakers scuffed. Black leather pants that seemed far too big for him were cinched at the waist with a torn out belt. But it was his behavior that drew Manny's attention. The boy's gaze darted around the street, sharp and attentive, as if he were cataloging everything he saw.
One of Toothless's rats, Manny thought, his lips tightening. He didn't approach right away, instead watching carefully to confirm the boy's purpose. After all, in the slums, appearances could be deceiving.
The boy spotted Manny too, his body tensing as if ready to bolt, but recognition stopped him in his tracks.
Manny didn't hesitate, closing the distance quickly. He grabbed the boy calmly but firmly, steering him into a nearby alleyway where the bustle of the street faded. Once they were out of sight, he let the kid go.
"You recognized me, didn't you?" Manny asked, his tone steady but pointed. "So you should know I'm good friends with your boss."
The boy, unfazed, adjusted his torn jacket and looked up at Manny with an unbothered, deadpan expression.
With a resigned shrug, he reached into his pocket and tossed three brozen coins at the boy.
The coins glinted faintly in the dim light, each one stamped with the image of a six earred person, his sharp features, pointed ears, and spirited gaze captured in elegant detail. The figure's vest, crafted from what appeared to be silk, was a clear emblem of nobility and wealth.
The boy caught them deftly, his expression instantly brightening. "Oh, three Gelos! Not bad. The rumors are true, you're a real nice person, sir!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.
Manny rolled his eyes. These kids were always quick to butter him up, and while he knew it was largely insincere, he couldn't help appreciating their resourcefulness.
Over the years, his occasional need to find Toothless had made him a familiar figure among these street kids. Bribing them had become a routine, though whether they would still help if he didn't have a good relationship with their boss was anyone's guess.
"Alright, brat," Manny said with impatience. "I've got urgent business to deal with. Take me to your boss. Now."
The boy let out a playful chuckle and bowed theatrically, one arm extended as he gestured down the alley.
"Why, of course, my good sir! Right this way!"
Manny snorted at the boy's antics but followed him without hesitation.
One after the other, they slipped through the alleys, leaving behind the crowded slums and entering a sprawling garbage dump.
The air was thick with the stench of rust and decay, broken machinery piled high around them. The boy scanned the area carefully, his eyes darting around as they moved toward the far end of the junkyard.
There, nestled among the wreckage, was an abandoned warehouse. Its walls were riddled with rust, and the faint creak of loose metal panels swayed in the wind. Just as they began to approach, the Man froze, grabbing the boy to halt Him.
From a distance, a group of figures surrounded the warehouse entrance. The two crept closer, their steps cautious, taking care not to draw attention. As the figures came into focus, Manny's stomach tightened.
They were enforcers.
Clad in their signature black-and-blue uniforms, the enforcers stood in a rigid formation, their militant presence unmistakable.
Each one held a baton at their side, its metallic sheen catching the dim light. Emblazoned on their chests was the emblem of the empire: a Si-Ren, its design as intricate as it was menacing.
The creature depicted had the head of a human with flowing blue hair, its eyes sharp and otherworldly. The torso was adorned with the claws of a bird, extending into the lower body of a fish, its tail covered in shimmering blue scales that seemed to glint even on the flat, painted surface.
This symbol was no trivial design, it was a mark of authority that could not be faked. To attempt such a thing was to invite a death sentence, as those caught forging the empire's emblem faced swift and brutal consequences.
Manny clenched his jaw, his mind racing. The presence of enforcers here wasn't just a coincidence. Something serious was unfolding, and it likely spelled trouble for him, and for Toothless.
The little boy's pupils shrank in panic as he instinctively moved to rush toward the warehouse, but a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.
"L-let go! The boss is in big trouble!" he protested.
"And what's a brat like you going to do about it?" Manny replied.
The boy hesitated, then reluctantly crouched back down behind the wreckage. His small hands clenched into fists as he struggled to calm himself. After a moment of silence, he muttered, "I don't get it. The boss's location changes almost weekly, and hardly anyone knows where he is. So how did these bastards find him?"
"Because as much as we help you, we only do so because the boss treats you as a friend," the boy said, his voice trembling. "In these dirty slums, the boss gave us a way to survive. He took us under his wing. There's no way we could tell on him!"
Manny observed the boy silently.
"Who knows?" Manny shrugged slightly. "But there's one thing I can guess."
"What's that?" the boy asked
"Your boss has probably escaped already," Manny said with a furrowed brow.
"Huh? How would you know that?" the boy asked.
"If they'd already gotten Toothless, it wouldn't make sense for them to still be here, searching the place."
The boy blinked, the logic sinking in as he glanced back at the enforcers.
"Also, you need to leave this place," Manny said firmly. "I'll go check the warehouse and see what's going on inside."
"Let me come with you! I might be of—"
The boy's words were cut off swiftly by Manny's sharp tone.
"No. You'll just be a burden to me," Manny replied, his voice leaving no room for argument. "Thanks for your help so far, but you're free to go now."
The boy froze, staring at Manny in silence for a moment. He could sense the stern refusal that wasn't going to change no matter what he said. With a heavy heart, he gave a small nod, then turned and quietly left.
Manny watched him disappear.
His mind raced as he analyzed the situation. He planned to sneak in first, assessing the scene before making any moves. But if subtlety failed, he was prepared to let his pipe do the talking.
Though he often avoided confrontation with the enforcers, he wasn't afraid of them. Battles in the past had proven his strength, and he believed himself capable of taking on a dozen of them if it came down to it.
His resolve hardened as he moved toward the warehouse.