- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- Anytime, I have no life.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Nonbinary
- Transgender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- Genres
- Fantasy, romance, slice of life, anti-hero stories, "you're our only hope", fandom non-canons, soft scifi, transhumanism, magical girls, horror, suspense / mystery, detective noir, fractured fairytales
The Curious Mystery of Elliott Thistlewaite
Thick, black smoke filled the dingy street within seconds. The merchants, who weren't really in fact merchants but re-sellers of stolen goods from the Sky and the Land, coughed and groaned as they covered their products with thin and filthy cotton sheets. Fires were not a rare incident in the Underground of Golden City, and they had become more inconvenience than anything worth being concerned about. Worse things did happen, in this place of despair and fourberie.
Using the chaos that was now reigning in the market place, Brulow Charldin whistled twice and clicked his tongue loudly. From the other side of a decrepit building, two small boys raced each other between the adults, and only a knowing eye could see what they were doing. Amongst the confusing, the boys were slipping past men and women moving away from the out-of-control toxic-fumes-fuelled fire and pick-pocketing specific targets. The fat Ms Collins who beat the girls working for her who failed to bring in patrons to her brothel, the balding Herrintch who sold out children to the mines. Those were the kind of people Brulow and his gang targeted and they did so without an ounce of regret. On the contrary, the young man felt quite self-righteous in his endeavours.
Once the two boys had slipped through the crowd, Ms Collins would find herself without coins or keys for her establishment, and Herrintch would find a special piece of jewellery in his pockets, one they had stolen from an infamous gang leader and who was looking for it furiously right this instant. A smug grin on their ashen faces, the boys followed Brulow down another back alley silently. Each had covered their mouths with a handkerchief, and although their eyes were watering from the fumes and the smoke, they succeeded in breathing lungfuls of nasty air as they darted from one section to another.
"Good job." Brulow knelt and worked the mechanical latch of a wooden door. It was small, and he could fit through it only when he was crouched. Luckily for him he as pretty short himself, so that wasn't much of an issue. "Jeong, the coin purse." The 11 year-old boy grinned widely, showing off a half-grown front tooth, and handed over the leather purse heavy with coins, and the skeleton key. Brulow smiled and ruffled his hair and sent the boy off. "And you Pickle, you slipped the ring in his pocket?"
"Yessir!" Despite his frail frame, Pickle was just a few years younger than Brulow. No one had many hopes of him growing bigger. "It was pretty easy if you ask me. You can send me on harder jobs next time." He puffed his boney chest and placed his fists on his hips.
"Haha, I'll think about it. Go wash up, you and Jeong both deserve a few minutes of clean air."
Pickle's eyes gleamed for a moment and he nodded vigorously. A few weeks ago, Brulow had brought back an oxygen tank he'd stolen from a vicious re-seller at the market. While the air in their little hide-out slash home was better than the one outside, they had agreed to let those who went on their little missions spend additional time with an oxygen mask on. Brulow hadn't tried it himself yet, and he figured he didn't need it as much as the other, younger kids did.
The gang waited a day or two in their hide-out before going out again. It was always best when they made themselves sparse, so no one would recognize any single one of them. The black smoke had dissipated, much to Brulow's relief. He sent a handful of the boys and girls out to scout and bring back news and gossip, either from the Land or Sky, or from other nearby gangs. Occasionally, one of them brought back another kid, either a lost one who just needed help getting back home, or an orphan abandoned to their fate in the pits of the sewers.
Brulow wasn't quite expecting Pickle to show up soon after leaving with another boy trailing behind him. He immediately recognized his clothing - this boy was from the Sky, and judging from the amount of grime on him, he couldn't have been down here for more than a day. The other children gathered around them, eyes wide and slighly in awe at the sheer difference between them and the new boy. To them, he looked something like a prince.
"Hello." Brulow sent a girl to fetch some water and a piece of bread. "I'm Brulow, and we're the Choughs. We're all brothers and sisters here. Take this, you must be thirsty--"
The young man wasn't even finished talking that the boy grabbed the water cup out of his hands and gulped it down under a second.
"You'll want to drink slower next time. Water's a rarity in these places."
The boy grimaced and looked around him, his expression a mixture between disdain and fear.
"What's your name, boy?" Brulow crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at him.
"Me? I'm... I'm Elliott Thistlewaite."