15 Fluke

The rain continued to patter down, one drop after another, never ceasing as I, like some mother bird protecting her nest, remained constantly aware of the single roll of bread in my pants, it more dear than my own life at this moment of time.

A life that may very well not last much longer.

I knew where we were. How could I not, after all, after coming here day after day, week after week, for years now?

The only difference was that I now did so empty-handed.

No. Not empty-handed. I had what they needed more than anything–proof of my intentions. I could have left, called it quits there. The Rats were on them, they may have won too, but I stayed. Damnit, I stayed.

And for it now, blood was on my hands.

It was still fresh in my mind, his blood rushing through the cracks of payment, flowing down the natural incline of the street towards the gutter where a pink stream would flow across Taisho's winding alleys as Shaalin's life flowed further and further away.

He's actually dead.

The Hornets spilled blood.

And I had helped them.

I didn't want to spend any more time thinking about it than I already was, but old habits die hard. Paying attention to as many moving pieces on the streets as possible has always been what'd kept me alive from one day to the next. It was for those exact reasons that I couldn't get Shaalin out of my head as we stumbled through the streets in the rain, en route for the Hive, none of us daring to let a single unit of the loot we carried go unaccounted for.

His face reduced to a pulp, the blood becoming one with the falling rain, all of it.

We'd shed blood.

And there were going to be consequences.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Danev asked when we'd finally made it to the Hive, tails between our legs, looking as though we'd just seen a ghost. "I was just about to leave to relieve you."

It didn't take long for Danev to notice the stash we held in tow, and that was the beginning of his realization that something was clearly out of line.

It was one thing I appreciated about him, even after it had cost me a good number of beatings in the past. Actions spoke louder than words.

There wasn't a second thought spared before he waved us inside, a curious eye following me as I passed as well through the threshold, and he blocked the entrance behind us with the help of Aden who was still on duty.

It was a sight I was not unfamiliar with as I entered, us still being held within the reception room where many a transaction between the Hornets and me would be conducted in the past. Everything that I currently witnessed was what I had snuck glances of before over Danev's shoulders.

We made no move to enter further within as the bookshelf was moved to block the entrance, Danev not yet having any idea what was transpiring, but likely figuring that it made no difference. The state we were in, he was right to assume the worst.

"What happened?"

It was a question of who was going to speak first.

It being me was out of the picture. I had no doubt that even if I sang high praises of Bee, they would only result in the opposite effect. I remembered Bee's words. I was closer to being dead than I was a Hornet.

It was thus between Bee and Saku. I wondered who between them even was in the better state to return a congruent answer. Saku still looked as though he'd walked straight out of hell while Bee, perhaps more disturbingly, seemed to be entirely unfazed.

"We got attacked."

So, it was Saku.

"Rats?"

"Yeah. They snuck up on us."

But they didn't, I thought. I warned you. I got that he was still out of it, but if there was going to be a detail for him to omit, why did it have to be that crucial bit?

"You two hurt?"

You 'two'.

"We're fine, but…but-"

"I killed one of them."

So Bee's turn had come.

Saku's head immediately turned to her as she said this, as did Danev. There was more disbelief in the statement in Saku's eyes than Danev's, despite the fact that the former had witnessed it himself. Danev's expressions was not one of surprise, but rather, concern. I wondered just how well he knew Bee, perhaps even better than Saku did. And Riu?

Bee continued. "Shaalin, I think it was. Their guy Match showed up first. Shaalin pulled up after; tried to get the drop on us."

But…

"But Fluke warned us. Managed to turn it around on them. They regretted it."

A flutter in my heart. It was not for being flattered. I could have cared much less for that. It was for having my being here justified to whatever extent it could. I'd seen the way that Danev's eyes had followed me as I'd entered, content to have me in the reception area where I'd been so many times before, but no part of him even daring to consider letting me any deeper within. Any reason he could have to reconsider that point, the better it was for me.

"And," Danev started, as though still trying to get the details concretely put in place. "And you killed Shaalin."

"Mhm."

So simple. No regret, no remorse. The serenity she displayed in how she spoke about it was terrifying, such an acceptance of what had happened–nothing I imagined I could ever hope to achieve.

It worried Danev too, but for reasons I knew to be different than mine own.

They had spilled blood, ending this otherwise dry conflict. Beatings, thefts, arson, that had been what defined this gang war up to now, but with a death…

"Get inside."

Then the struggle of interpretation. When earlier he'd addressed us, it had only been 'yout two', myself the additional one that had obviously been excluded. Had that changed? Had Bee's testimony of my contribution been incentive enough for Danev to conduct a recount?

"Danev," Saku started. "We need to talk about-"

"Get inside, get some sleep. Anything we need to talk about, we'll talk about tomorrow."

That was the end of it. Both having already set down their recovered loot from the stash house, left. I realized then that I still held mine, and endeavored quickly to set it down and let myself in before my being there could be questioned.

I thought I'd been quick, but not quick enough it seemed as a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I looked up to see Aden in the distance taking note of what was recovered from the stash house as Danev stood directly above me, looking down as a constable did a local troublemaker, wondering if today would be the day he settled things.

"She have to kill him?" he asked.

He's asking me?

There was no hiding the confusion on my face, prompting him to ask the question once more.

"Did she have to kill Shaalin?"

Already today, I had made more split-second decisions than I would care to admit. When I made a decision that could very well be the determining factor between life and death, I preferred to make a habit of not leaving it up to chance, and I had broken that rule two too many times today.

And the decision now, which answer I gave, I wasn't making the mistake of blindly deciding on what first came to mind once again.

"Shaalin attacked first."

"So she was just defending herself," he said as a statement as opposed to a question, perhaps wanting to believe it fact, waiting for me to say the contrary.

Defending herself? Maybe at first, but after the fifth, the sixth, the seventh blow to his head, no, it was something else.

I nodded, not staking my believability on a voice that, in my present state, would likely be unable to get through the lie unimpeded.

It was difficult to know if he believed me or not. I had no doubt that it would haunt me into the night back in the cell I was then sure he would drag me back to.

I still have my bread.

Danev turned to Aden, and I was sure he was about to order him to unblock the entrance to allow for my walk of shame back to the stone box I would spend another night in, but instead he only said, "Take the stuff inside. Let Ladle know this is in reserve."

Aden nodded.

Wait.

Then he spoke to me now. "Get up. I'll show you where you can spend the night."

Even the words 'the night' sent a wave of indescribable relief into my heart. It was all I could do to not audibly exhale in relief as I pushed myself off of the ground, all I could do to not grin from ear to ear as he motioned me past the other side of the reception room, into the plaza of the Hive that awaited me.

Bonfires, tables, practice dummies, benches, even a fountain, albeit it likely not having been functional for decades. I could make out what served as a cafeteria on the other end. All around us, walls of individual apartments connected to one another, securing us within. It was a place, it was real. It was safety, it was a good night's sleep, it was home.

If only for a night.

That didn't matter to me. A place to sleep that wasn't just a stone cold floor in a musky stone box, and a roll of bread to boot, nobody could have convinced me that I hadn't just entered paradise.

I was led up a sandcrete staircase flanked by graffitied walls bearing no shortage of witty remarks or uninspired vulgarities. My eyes scanned across the walls, initially amused, but later concerned as no shortage of targeted verbal attacks were directed towards the Rats, the selfsame people we had shed the blood of just earlier tonight, who would be demanding the same from us come morning.

"What are you going to do?" I asked Danev against my better judgment.

"What?"

"You guys killed a Rat. They're going to want blood back. That or…or it's war."

"So it's 'you guys' now, huh? Things getting too hot for you?"

Damnit. So he'd caught on to that. It was instinct after all. I survived this long by not throwing myself into the middle of gang affairs, their war chief among those very same affairs. What could be a suitable arrangement one day could very well become suicide the next. If war was coming, I did not want to be in the center of it.

Not like I had much choice in deciding what I do anymore anyways.

I should have run when the Rats attacked.

Damnit, why didn't I run? Go to them?

Danev didn't allow my mind any more time to ask these questions, saying, "What happens now isn't your concern. Not yet."

Not yet, he said. So they're keeping me around. For the moment at least.

Eventually, we came to a stop.

"This is you," he said, turning his head to a chipped wooden door with the hazy imprint of the number '214' where I imagine blocks of wood had once been nailed down. Whether they'd weathered away, fallen off, or been torn away and burned as firewood, I could not say.

I couldn't help but notice that the door hadn't been completely closed, but slightly ajar, as if opened recently. Was it always like this? Had they spent time preparing the room just for me and left it somewhat open? No, don't be stupid. Of course not. Had somebody else been here before?

Danev answered that very question by opening the door, prodding me within, and saying, "This was Mahin's room." If that wasn't an omen, I didn't know what was. The room was as dismal as the fate of the man who'd resided within. It was empty save for a rotting wooden desk, a burnt out candle resting atop it, a rickety chair, and in the far corner, a pile of loose straw. "Try and make sure you don't meet the same fate."

As though it doesn't go without saying.

Perhaps I would have said as much had the door not closed behind me only a second later, leaving me without further explanation in the room that had once belonged to the man whose death was on my hand.

No. Don't put that on you.

Mahin's death was not on my hands.

Nor was Shaalin.

Just 2 deaths in the last month.

And how many more if war ignites?

I had to wonder what would come of this, if blood would be met with blood in a fair trade, or if this cold war would become hot once again.

I decided I didn't want to think about it as I became aware of the lump between me and my waistband once again.

And there it was, still as beautiful as it'd been hours ago, thankfully spared of the rain's onslaught, dry as opposed to the stupid kid who admired it in all its beauty now.

I have it. It was mine

I decided that what happened in these days to come would not matter.

That was all I could do anymore–take one day at a time, and this day had come to an end, and for the first time in weeks, I would be ending it not on an empty stomach.

We found our pleasures where we could, and for me, that meant a roof over my head, the prospect that I may not die as quickly as I thought, and that I wouldn't be going to sleep on an empty stomach.

I decided then that the room wasn't so bad after all. It wasn't a cell, nor was it a muddy curb on the street.

Yeah, I considered. It'll do.