Post by VirtueNco on Jun 6, 2016 11:18:45 GMT
1 - THE STREETS ARE NO PLACE FOR A CHILD
Scarlet City was always busy this time of night. Everybody had a place to be, though most would look away and hurry on if you asked them what it was they were headed to. The chances of any of their destinations being sanctioned by the law were slim, after all.
The people were poor, and poverty was a plague across the city. The rich sat in their glass palaces, scraping the sky and drinking in their ignorance, while the unfortunate scrambled in the understreets, looking up at the superhighways that blocked out the sun, reminding them of their unfortunate status at all hours of the day.
Suffering was rampant. People turned to crime faster than family in order to rub two pennies together. Theft and murder were as commonplace as food or drink. It was not safe to go out at night, yet everyone found they had to if they wanted to carry out their lives.
A nameless boy roamed the understreets, watching closely all those he passed. His feet as nimble as his fingers, this child knew exactly what he was searching for; a pot-bellied rich man or two foolish enough to travel this far down without proper protection.
This was life for the boy. The best way to keep himself alive was to take what he could, whether those he stole from needed it or not. Although not the best pickpocket in Scarlet City, this boy was at least skilled enough to get by.
Up ahead, he spied a prime target. Some pompous fool in a business suit was blissfully traversing the sidewalk, apparently unaware of where he was. The man’s wallet stuck out like loose tooth in his back pocket, tantalising the boy with its lack of security. Swift as a songbird, he crossed the street in order to pass the businessman, staring nonchalantly at the faded neon signs on the buildings he passed. Just as he expected, the man paid no mind to the child. Perfect.
As he passed the man, the boy tripped himself up, crying out in fake surprise. As he landed on the hard concrete, grazing his knee a little, the boy grinned to himself. He heard the man stop. Bait and switch.
“Are you okay, son?” the man asked, clearly at least a little concerned. The boy said nothing, just forcing a tear from his right eye. He’d practiced and performed this act plenty before; it was second nature to him at this point.
“Here, let me help you up,” he said, bending over, “Shouldn’t you be at home? The streets are no place for a child.”
The boy shook his head, looking at his shoes.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven years, mister.” the boy answered, making his voice sound timid and weak.
“That’s far too young to be out here on your own. Don’t you know the streets are crawling with awful people?”
The boy let the man get close, ready to pick him up off the ground, then turned, smiling.
“Don’t you?” he laughed, waving the man’s wallet in his face. The fool had fallen for it all the way through. Before the man could react, the boy had disappeared down the street. He could vaguely hear his victim swearing behind him, which only made him laugh harder.
‘A job well done, I’d say,’ he thought to himself, sitting in the dark to look through the wallet’s contents.
A dark shadow loomed over the boy as he tried to read the name on the credit card he found within his prize. Looking up, a gruff man was standing over him.
“Thief,” the man accused, his voice deep and intimidating, “I should turn you in. Come with me, you little shit.”
The boy wailed in protest, but the man was far stronger than he was, and his leathery hands pulled him by the arm along the understreets. Before long, they had arrived at the police station, their walk filled with silence. The boy knew there was no point in struggling - he wasn’t exactly going to escape, nor would anyone care if they saw him.
The man pulled inside the station and sat him down, speaking to an officer standing guard.
“This little thief was pickpocketing people in the street. Saw it with my own eyes.”
“I’m sure you did, sir,” the officer replied, “but he’s just a boy. We have bigger fish to fry.”
“Do you know who I am? I could have any number of you and your lazy friends laid off within the hour, if I so wanted.” the rough man answered, furious. “First, you let the understreets grow this vile, then you won’t even take responsibility for the lawbreakers you’ve breeded. Scarlet City has really become a cesspool.”
“I’m sorry, Senator Briante,” the officer knew exactly who was speaking to, but he still had policies to adhere to. “I’m not authorised to take children into custody.”
The senator sighed. “Can you at least tell me where I can find his family? I’d like his parents to know what it is he spends his nights doing.”
The boy was about to reply, but gave it a second thought. He was clearly in deep trouble as it was, and speaking out of turn would probably only make it worse. The officer pulled a device from his pocket and half-heartedly used it to scan the boy’s face. The screen returned a negative response.
“Stupid device. This is why we need the extra budget grants,” he said passive-aggressively to the senator, “How are we supposed to clean up this city when nothing works?”.
The senator just rolled his eyes in response as the officer tried scanning again. Another negative. A third scan yielded no different response.
“I hate to say it, but I don’t think we have a file on this boy. He must be an orphan, probably lost his parents to a gang or something. Tell me boy, what’s your name?”
The boy thought for a moment, before realising he didn’t have an answer. He’d never really thought about it before, but it was a little strange.
“Don’t have one, sir.”
“What do you mean, ‘don’t have one’? Surely your parents called you something before you went off on your own?”
“Don’t remember my parents. Been on my own for as long as I know.”
“How on Earth did you survive the understreets alone?”
“Not totally alone. I’ve got friends. Just nobody I can really rely on.”
The senator breathed in harshly at the words being exchanged. It was a little sad, he had to admit.
“Officer, I have an idea.…”
Their voices hushed. The boy watched the adults discuss with whispers, unable to make out all but a few words.
“...it should be fine. Who would object?”
“You people won’t do your jobs after all….”
“I’m sure you can…”
Before long, the two had turned back to the boy. The senator stepped forward.
“I am a senator for the council of Scarlet City, trying to work on cleaning up the understreets. You can call me Mr. Briante, or just Davinter if you like. You have no home to go back to, correct?”
“Th-that’s right, sir- Mr. Briante. Why do you ask?”
“The streets are no place for a child,” Davinter said, unaware that he was echoing the boy’s earlier victim, “I’d like to take you in and give you a good home. Make sure you’re safe. It’s the least I could do to make up for my privilege, after all. You should be going to school, not picking pockets.”
“I, uh…” The boy hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to take this information, but honestly anything was better than going back out into the streets, unsure of what each day would bring. Before he could mull it over, Davinter continued.
“We’ll have to give you a name, of course. You can’t just be a nobody for the rest of your life.”
The boy smiled. He’d made up his mind.
“I’ll come with you, Mr. Briante sir. If you have food, I’ll be grateful.”
The senator chuckled.
“Of course you’ll be fed properly. Trust a boy your age to think first of his stomach.” he turned to the policeman, still standing behind him. “I trust we can leave?”
“Sure, Mr. Senator. He has no file, so there’s no papers to sign. Do what you will.”
“Thank you,” said the boy in a small voice. He’d not known this sort of kindness before.
“You need a name. Let’s come up with one…”
The boy nodded.
“I had a brother, a good man. He died a couple years back in a war far away from here. His name carried with it an air of prestige you won’t find anywhere down here. It would suit you, you know, remind you of what you could become with the right education and upbringing.”
The boy smiled, the story of this man’s brother touching his heart ever so slightly. Noting his new ward’s joy, Davinter finished his sentence with a grin.
“What do you say? Shall I call you Orlando?”
Scarlet City was always busy this time of night. Everybody had a place to be, though most would look away and hurry on if you asked them what it was they were headed to. The chances of any of their destinations being sanctioned by the law were slim, after all.
The people were poor, and poverty was a plague across the city. The rich sat in their glass palaces, scraping the sky and drinking in their ignorance, while the unfortunate scrambled in the understreets, looking up at the superhighways that blocked out the sun, reminding them of their unfortunate status at all hours of the day.
Suffering was rampant. People turned to crime faster than family in order to rub two pennies together. Theft and murder were as commonplace as food or drink. It was not safe to go out at night, yet everyone found they had to if they wanted to carry out their lives.
A nameless boy roamed the understreets, watching closely all those he passed. His feet as nimble as his fingers, this child knew exactly what he was searching for; a pot-bellied rich man or two foolish enough to travel this far down without proper protection.
This was life for the boy. The best way to keep himself alive was to take what he could, whether those he stole from needed it or not. Although not the best pickpocket in Scarlet City, this boy was at least skilled enough to get by.
Up ahead, he spied a prime target. Some pompous fool in a business suit was blissfully traversing the sidewalk, apparently unaware of where he was. The man’s wallet stuck out like loose tooth in his back pocket, tantalising the boy with its lack of security. Swift as a songbird, he crossed the street in order to pass the businessman, staring nonchalantly at the faded neon signs on the buildings he passed. Just as he expected, the man paid no mind to the child. Perfect.
As he passed the man, the boy tripped himself up, crying out in fake surprise. As he landed on the hard concrete, grazing his knee a little, the boy grinned to himself. He heard the man stop. Bait and switch.
“Are you okay, son?” the man asked, clearly at least a little concerned. The boy said nothing, just forcing a tear from his right eye. He’d practiced and performed this act plenty before; it was second nature to him at this point.
“Here, let me help you up,” he said, bending over, “Shouldn’t you be at home? The streets are no place for a child.”
The boy shook his head, looking at his shoes.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven years, mister.” the boy answered, making his voice sound timid and weak.
“That’s far too young to be out here on your own. Don’t you know the streets are crawling with awful people?”
The boy let the man get close, ready to pick him up off the ground, then turned, smiling.
“Don’t you?” he laughed, waving the man’s wallet in his face. The fool had fallen for it all the way through. Before the man could react, the boy had disappeared down the street. He could vaguely hear his victim swearing behind him, which only made him laugh harder.
‘A job well done, I’d say,’ he thought to himself, sitting in the dark to look through the wallet’s contents.
A dark shadow loomed over the boy as he tried to read the name on the credit card he found within his prize. Looking up, a gruff man was standing over him.
“Thief,” the man accused, his voice deep and intimidating, “I should turn you in. Come with me, you little shit.”
The boy wailed in protest, but the man was far stronger than he was, and his leathery hands pulled him by the arm along the understreets. Before long, they had arrived at the police station, their walk filled with silence. The boy knew there was no point in struggling - he wasn’t exactly going to escape, nor would anyone care if they saw him.
The man pulled inside the station and sat him down, speaking to an officer standing guard.
“This little thief was pickpocketing people in the street. Saw it with my own eyes.”
“I’m sure you did, sir,” the officer replied, “but he’s just a boy. We have bigger fish to fry.”
“Do you know who I am? I could have any number of you and your lazy friends laid off within the hour, if I so wanted.” the rough man answered, furious. “First, you let the understreets grow this vile, then you won’t even take responsibility for the lawbreakers you’ve breeded. Scarlet City has really become a cesspool.”
“I’m sorry, Senator Briante,” the officer knew exactly who was speaking to, but he still had policies to adhere to. “I’m not authorised to take children into custody.”
The senator sighed. “Can you at least tell me where I can find his family? I’d like his parents to know what it is he spends his nights doing.”
The boy was about to reply, but gave it a second thought. He was clearly in deep trouble as it was, and speaking out of turn would probably only make it worse. The officer pulled a device from his pocket and half-heartedly used it to scan the boy’s face. The screen returned a negative response.
“Stupid device. This is why we need the extra budget grants,” he said passive-aggressively to the senator, “How are we supposed to clean up this city when nothing works?”.
The senator just rolled his eyes in response as the officer tried scanning again. Another negative. A third scan yielded no different response.
“I hate to say it, but I don’t think we have a file on this boy. He must be an orphan, probably lost his parents to a gang or something. Tell me boy, what’s your name?”
The boy thought for a moment, before realising he didn’t have an answer. He’d never really thought about it before, but it was a little strange.
“Don’t have one, sir.”
“What do you mean, ‘don’t have one’? Surely your parents called you something before you went off on your own?”
“Don’t remember my parents. Been on my own for as long as I know.”
“How on Earth did you survive the understreets alone?”
“Not totally alone. I’ve got friends. Just nobody I can really rely on.”
The senator breathed in harshly at the words being exchanged. It was a little sad, he had to admit.
“Officer, I have an idea.…”
Their voices hushed. The boy watched the adults discuss with whispers, unable to make out all but a few words.
“...it should be fine. Who would object?”
“You people won’t do your jobs after all….”
“I’m sure you can…”
Before long, the two had turned back to the boy. The senator stepped forward.
“I am a senator for the council of Scarlet City, trying to work on cleaning up the understreets. You can call me Mr. Briante, or just Davinter if you like. You have no home to go back to, correct?”
“Th-that’s right, sir- Mr. Briante. Why do you ask?”
“The streets are no place for a child,” Davinter said, unaware that he was echoing the boy’s earlier victim, “I’d like to take you in and give you a good home. Make sure you’re safe. It’s the least I could do to make up for my privilege, after all. You should be going to school, not picking pockets.”
“I, uh…” The boy hesitated. He wasn’t sure how to take this information, but honestly anything was better than going back out into the streets, unsure of what each day would bring. Before he could mull it over, Davinter continued.
“We’ll have to give you a name, of course. You can’t just be a nobody for the rest of your life.”
The boy smiled. He’d made up his mind.
“I’ll come with you, Mr. Briante sir. If you have food, I’ll be grateful.”
The senator chuckled.
“Of course you’ll be fed properly. Trust a boy your age to think first of his stomach.” he turned to the policeman, still standing behind him. “I trust we can leave?”
“Sure, Mr. Senator. He has no file, so there’s no papers to sign. Do what you will.”
“Thank you,” said the boy in a small voice. He’d not known this sort of kindness before.
“You need a name. Let’s come up with one…”
The boy nodded.
“I had a brother, a good man. He died a couple years back in a war far away from here. His name carried with it an air of prestige you won’t find anywhere down here. It would suit you, you know, remind you of what you could become with the right education and upbringing.”
The boy smiled, the story of this man’s brother touching his heart ever so slightly. Noting his new ward’s joy, Davinter finished his sentence with a grin.
“What do you say? Shall I call you Orlando?”