by Hugo Damas
Jamie bounced and scraped a few feet and then tumbled aggressively while grunting complaints.
“Ooooww…” She looked back at the piece of fabric in annoyance, and then up at the massive tower she had jumped out of. “Eesh. This is exactly the kinda thing I’m not cut out for.”
Jamie unplugged the straps of the rucksack and massaged her butt. Her right cheek was too sore to even stand properly. “Jumpin’ off buildings, fer cryin’ out loud.”
She stomped the left foot and swayed herself, trying to shake that sore butt into a more amiable disposition. “I. Am. The. Street. Rat!”
The Holy Lady had known about that all along.
Jamie felt filthy. Her servant’s dress only compounded her haggard look, stretched and dirty and ripped here and there. Her leg was bleeding again, and she was sore, and her hair was a mess because of the fall. What little makeup she had used was smeared due to all the sweating. In summary, she looked like crap.
Jamie smirked. Like a street rat.
Jamie never cared about what she looked like, no Scavenger did, not really, they only cared about whether their look served the purpose they intended for it.
The Street Rat stood, obstinately and proudly. Jamie grabbed the letter Pointstree had been writing and widened her smirk.
She pocketed it and looked up at the building again.
“Hmpf.”
Jamie turned her back to it and walked deeper into the alley to put on another kind of makeup. The Street Rat found a half-empty bottle of whiskey, it had been broken over someone’s head. He poured it over his hair and used it to further clean what little makeup remained. He also found a piece of blanket that he wrapped around his shoulders like a cape.
Sighing, he finally gave the ground a good rubbing with his finger and then smudged his cheeks somewhat. After that, he was ready to return to the Scavengers.
People steered clear of him since avoiding a poor starving child took a lot less emotional effort than ignoring him. It was almost equal in measure to the sub-conscious effort to forget having seen him at all.
Jamie was now angry. Or upset. Or perhaps he felt weird that he was still wearing young maid’s clothes, even if nobody could tell.
Stubbornness, that was it.
He had many reasons to feel like he had failed, but he was stubborn in his intention to feel victorious. The Street Rat was really not used to getting hurt, just like he wasn’t one to get physical outside of a kick to the groin or a knee, followed by a quick run. He was certainly not used to falling off buildings and walking around with a limp because a plane shot at him.
Crazy days, Jamie thought to himself, scratching his butt which was still intent on letting him know it really didn’t appreciate catching his fall. Who’re these beasts, anyway? And why’re all these people making trouble? First the Anarchists and now these other guys?
The Street Rat planned as he walked home.
A new organization changed things somewhat, and he wondered whether it was the same one that Falk had been tasked with uncovering. Most likely.
Jamie kept thinking, working on the web of events that were unfolding and branching out from his possible decisions. So far, things had gone as he expected, or better, outside of the LBA planes actually fighting off-- he held his thought, it was useless to think about that, he wanted to think about the future.
The past was nothing but information to help future decisions and predictions.
It took him three or four hours to reach the edge of Scavenger territory, at which point, he smelled a familiar freshness to the air. It was going to rain soon.
Great.
Casey looked up at Jamie as he walked by, curiously, rummaging his mind for understanding. A minute later, he was walking up next to Jamie.
“Jamie?” Casey called.
“Yeah,” he replied, involuntarily sounding snarky. “Casey.”
“You look like crap,” Casey teased.
“So do you, that’s the point, right?” Jamie asked.
Casey chuckled. “No, I mean you really--”
“I know what you mean,” she said icily. Jamie cleared his throat, regaining composure, “it got wild up there, I had to improvise.”
“Hm.” Casey yawned. “Anyway, Andy said to take you to him soon as you returned.”
“That’s nice, I’ll meet him once I’ve--”
“Whatever it is, you’ll do it after you meet him,” Casey said, scratching his nose.
Jamie stopped and looked Casey in the eyes. His easy smile waned, and he stepped back in hesitation, not handling her glare all too well.
“You barely recognized me,” Jamie stated.
Casey looked aside, and then back. “Well yeah, have you looked at yourself?”
“So let’s say you didn’t.” Jamie squinted his eyes in challenge. “I know you n’ everyone else’d like nothin’ more than for me to show up to a teen looking like this.” It would be a big blow to his reputation.
“It’s not about that,” Casey said, shaking his head in concern, a concern Jamie could tell was false. “It’s just orders, I gotta do my job.”
“Your job,” Jamie smirked confidently. “Go and do yer lyin’, Casey. Tell this crazy story ‘bout me showing up all ragged and bleeding, and wearing trash. Me? ‘m goin’ home. I’ll meet Andy later.”
Casey’s nose twitched in thought. “Hm. I’ll just tell him where you are then.” He shrugged, adding “he can see you himself.”
The Street Rat grinned mischievously. “He can’t move. And by the time he sends someone, I’ll be gone. I’ll meet him when I’m good and ready.” Jamie wouldn’t tell Casey when that would be, it wouldn’t be good for Casey to predict her appearance.
“I can’t just--”
“You didn’t see me,” Jamie suggested, for his own good, roughly in the same manner a loan-shark suggests someone to not take their loan. “You wouldn’t be the first to be unable to spot the Street Rat.”
“But I was able,” Casey said, raising his eyebrows in defense.
Jamie looked around. “Who’s to say ya did? We’re spread pretty thin, these days, I don’t see anybody else here.”
Casey was good enough not to look around. His perplexed, friendly expression momentarily turned into a mocking one. His voice was threatening, even if playfully so. “I’m here.”
“Well,” Jamie turned around and walked off, “good luck making other people believe your crazy story.”
Casey sent a heavy sigh after her and then ran off at full speed.
There was nothing about how the Street Rat looked that could be corroborated with what would be Jordan’s account. If Jamie were fast enough, no one would find out the truth. If they did, well, it was still better that she tried.
Admitting the fact the Street Rat had, at last, not breezed through a challenge unscathed and untouched would be a hit. That reputation was important to Jamie -- vital even -- in the Scavengers. More so in those crazy fluctuating times.
The Street Rat sped up his pace.
Finally. Proper shoes, thick socks, a proper shirt, and a fat scarf. Jamie really wanted to put on full-fledged pants, but the misshapen shorts were important to his haggard look. He didn’t have time to get the hair to its voluminous state, but at least it wasn’t straight anymore, it was messy like he liked it. More curled.
The Street Rat took a look at himself, making sure he once again looked like a boy, or at least close enough that one couldn’t tell for sure. He looked down and wiggled his leg to test the replacement bandage, which was bound somewhat tightly under the loose clothing. Of note was also the fact that all the bruises were covered by the clothing.
Alright.
Jamie looked around at his home, seeing a purposefully messy affair that was essentially a bedroom with a small bathroom stall. He had spent years without one, it was a small luxury, but he was oh so thankful for it. Clothes and toys and trinkets cluttered over the bed, and the room itself looked patched up in many places.
One of t
hose places was hiding a window.
He grabbed all the clothing he had brought over and left the house through the window that was blocked by a random sheet of metal over which he had taped cardboard. Jamie climbed down to the ceiling of his neighbor and carried on to find a spent and untrustworthy-looking staircase.
The Street Rat climbed down and walked away.
He’d like to imagine he had been close to being caught, that whoever was sent to check up on Casey’s claims was just then arriving at the house and knocking on the door.
Sometimes, though, one’s just too good to deal with narrative tensions.
Jamie dumped the stuff in a very big trashcan and put his hat on, pulling it down to help remind his head not to look so tall.
He walked around his territory, giving matters of the future further thinking while trying to keep himself unnoticed on his own turf for practice’s sake. And, secretly and subconsciously, to show himself he was still the Street Rat. The one and only, the best of the Scavengers.
For some reason, Jamie found himself thinking back to the Shadow Conclave meeting and considering how afraid he had been of the Mad Genius. That the man would snap and kill him. The Street Rat was upset he had been nervous in the first place, enough to show it.
The Street rat should be able to manipulate that fool. He should be able to manipulate everyone. Even the Holy Lady.
Jamie sighed. He was leaning on a wall near to some legitimate orphans who were heating themselves around a burning barrel. He was there for a while before moving on.
He watched over the state of his home within his home. His city was his home, but so was that particular borough. That was where he was known and respected.
Jamie really didn’t want that to change.
On top of that, he hoped never again to see it in that state. People were still hurt, and so much of it was still shot up from the plane attacks. So little had been repaired.
This sucks, Jamie admitted. All the while, though, he kept thinking about the future. He did his best thinking when he was on the move, even when he wasn’t heading anywhere in particular.
By the time the sun rose, signaling that it was time to meet with Andy, the Street Rat had a multi-layered gigantic tree of a plan. Because of that, Jamie was more motivated than ever.
Andy was sitting at his desk when Jamie finally went to him.
He was sporting dark rings around his eyes from lack of sleep. His arm was now a bandaged stump, growing a bloodstain that he seemed to be ignoring, and meanwhile, his good arm was managing a newspaper. There had been no guards, of course, only a few kids to secretly tell him in advance of the Street Rat’s arrival.
“Jamie,” Andy greeted first, letting Jamie know he had fooled no one in his approach. That was fine, he had obviously not tried as far as that visit was concerned.
“I’m here to report before I move on to meet with the Conclave,” Jamie said, proudly.
“How’s the leg?”
“Fine,” Jamie said, squinting sarcastically. “You should worry about yourself.”
“Hm.” Andy looked back at her with those compassionate eyes, and they were so happy and relieved to see her. His expression was dark, though, causing such a contrast that it near made her shiver. “Casey claimed you’ve been here for half a day.”
“Ok?” Jamie raised an eyebrow, “that’s kinda weird but okay. When did he say I arrived? And did he maybe also tell you I said he should be a Teen and that I’d follow him anywhere no matter what?”
Andy shook his head at her sarcasm, not really interested in talking about Casey apparently. He looked back at his paper.
“We received a letter from the Holy Lady,” Andy said.
That caught her off-guard. Why? What was on it? Should she feign knowledge? Teens were always testing them, Andy would want to--
“Who is the Street Rat, it reads. Question mark and everything.”
The fact he just flat-out told her was even more surprising. What was happening?
“She also writes that she was fooled. When she woke up, her husband told her about Sarah, how she had reacted and what she had said, and she thought she had been wrong. That Sarah hadn’t been a Scavenger after all. Then, she found out that Sarah was gone. She made the connection between that and the thief who escaped after suspiciously stealing nothing from Lady Poinstree.” He glanced sideways at Jamie. “Whoever that is.”
Jamie whistled, impressed with himself.
And sighed. “The Holy Lady has thus assumed it was none other than the Street Rat and has asked to know your real name. She wants to meet the real you.”
The Street Rat extended her hand to him. “Ya mind?”
Andy absentmindedly grabbed it off his desk and flicked his wrist to throw it to her. She grabbed it.
So in the end, she had played the Holy Lady by playing her husband, when the plan all along had been to play her husband by playing her. By fainting, by sticking around, it had been something the Lady would never truly expect an impostor Sarah to do. In the end, the Street Rat had won, and now the Lady of Light wanted to exchange contact. A sign of mutual respect.
“Do I send a reply?” Andy asked, and there was the test. Jamie could tell from his tone of voice. “This is a specific case, I’ll let you decide what to do.”
The Holy Lady had helped Jamie a great deal. She had saved her and maybe saved her entire life with how she rescued Jamie from her first ball mishap. Jamie respected her, even liked her, and would indeed like to show her that. To properly meet and have a full conversation with all her wit on display.
Never at the cost of her own ambitions, though. The Street Rat scoffed and shredded the letter. “What do you think?”
Andy’s lip twisted into a knowing half-smile and nodded in appreciation. “Give me your report.”
And like that, the Holy Lady was out of the conversation. Now that she had played her part in convincing the state to fight the Beasts, she was no longer of any consequence to Andy or anyone.
“Yeah, so there’s another player in the game. They tried to kill the Holy Lady,” Jamie said.
“Any idea why? They want to help the dark ones, too?” Andy asked.
“No, that Lady Pointstree was there with them, and she was really trying to convince them to fight the Beasts. Wild guess? They have the successor to Amara in their pocket, so they just wanted to make sure.”
Andy rose his head, the thought only then occurring to him. Jamie called it a wild guess but the Street Rat very rarely made wild guesses. They weren’t even guesses, they were considered and informed opinions.
Jamie had had many hours to consider those opinions..
“So Lady Pointstree is a member of this organization?” Andy questioned.
“I stole a letter she was writing to someone, her handler or maybe even the leader? I’m takin’ it back to the Shadow Conclave.”
That wasn’t up to discussion, of course. It was her achievement, her laurels to claim. Andy knew that so he didn’t fight it. He nodded a few times, appraising himself of the situation.
“Great work again, Jamie, you never disappoint. Go. Tell the Shadow Conclave about everything that happened, and tell them about how we’re going to help. I’ll work things on my end.”
Jamie grinned victoriously. Andy had just spoken like a partner, not a leader.
She had the approval of a Teen. That was a big deal but then again, why would she be surprised? She was the Street Rat, and that’s who the Street Rat was.
A big deal.
The Light of Hope
The sound of a mechanism being engaged was faint, as was expected of a trap built by people long dead. The Hunter had one or two seconds to guess what the trap was before she was caught in it.
The Hunter recognized the scraping of a blade taking place beneath her feet. The floor wasn’t exactly even, being old and partly eaten away by the inevitability of time, but she still noticed that her step had sunk by an inch. Surely, some type of pressure plate wa
s responsible.
The Hunter leaped back to the only point of certain safety, a thick root that had dug its way out of solid ground. While she was still in the air, the spot on the floor where she had stood opened downwards like a revolving door. An instant later, as she landed, tiny masts pushed curved blades upwards, and the blades were dancing for good measure.
“Hm.” The Hunter stepped down from the root and walked around the trap.
The corridor was large enough to fit four of her, even if one of the walls was broken by trees and vines that had felt the need to probe the inside of the building.
The decrepit state of the temple was a very bad sign. About three traps had failed to even trigger properly, and that one had not only been slow, but Zaniyah could see roots entangled around the base of the spears. One of the shafts looked rotten half-way to the blade.
That temple was the oldest religious building in the known world. Discovered only twenty years prior, it could be found in the center of what was considered to be the thickest meanest jungle in the known world. Civilization had named it Jhayazon.
It was inhabited by dangerous fauna and tribes of aggressive and territorial people. The reason why the temple came to be located there was a fact lost to the unknown history of their world, but it was said that the Amulet of Jakaraiah, the first Light, was there.
Despite the lack of promise in the state of the building, there was encouragement to be found in how living beings were avoiding the place. Tribes always went around it, and animals stayed clear, down to the insects. The plants intruded, but then they own the world, they have nothing to fear from decrepit constructions of men, or their artifacts.
In truth, the temple had been discovered from texts and maps uncovered at another location. The reason why others had failed to retrieve the amulet had had little to do with the actual temple and its traps. The truth was that they had failed before even reaching the building. They got lost, changed their minds, or died.
Zaniyah, though, knew the jungle very well. After all, she had grown up there.
Moving along the wall, the Hunter found another encouraging sign. Stairs leading down. Nothing but darkness peered back at her, which meant she was about to go down to a level that not even the plants had, a closed-off and probably properly protected part of the temple. Neither rundown nor ravaged by time and nature.