“Maybe we should just kill him?”

Well that was hardly the first thing I wanted to hear after regaining consciousness.

My head throbbed like a toddler was bopping the inside of my skull with a mallet. Crusted blood caked my lips and clogged my nose, making it hard to breathe. That may have been a blessing in disguise as I could almost taste the presence of rot and refuse in the air.

“For the last time Tim, Dustin instructed us to watch him until he wakes up. Mentioned something about wanting to question him.”

“He’s a gutter rat,” the teen I assumed to be Tim scoffed and spat right into my hair. “He is only a waste of space. All he ever will be. Maybe we could sell him to the mines?”

“You’re a greedy piece of trash Tim. You know that? A dumb piece of trash at that. You show up, and they will be more than happy to take you too. Even if you pull off the deal, Dustin would kill you himself.”

“I don't get it. He hates the snot nose brats. Why should he be opposed to us making some extra coin? The gods know we need it!” Tim huffed.

“You find my leadership wanting, Tim?”

Ooh boy. Someone is in trouble.

[Not as much trouble as you are in. You should really take your situation more seriously.]

Point taken…

The thought of summoning a drone briefly crossed my mind. I was no killer, but I think I could stomach it in a case of self defense. The true moral dilemma was what to do with the witnesses? Did I want to kill everyone for the sake of silencing them? I could use rubber rounds or smoke grenades

Heavy footfalls slammed against stone as Dustin made himself known. Even with my eyes closed I could tell he was pissed.

“Dustin! It’s not like that. You’re the boss. Without you, most of us would be slaves or dead. I was just curious why there are so many rules.”

“Because I said so. You got a problem with that, you come to me. I hate shit talkers who lack the spine to say it to my face.” Dustin snarled, his foot connecting with my ribs.

The air rushed from my lungs and my eyes shot open as they bulged. Coughing as I choked on bile, I eased my hands towards my assailant.

“Let’s relax. No need to get violent.” I said and scooted into a sitting position. Wiping away the dried blood that made it hard to see. “You got some real anger issues my guy.”

“And you don’t know when to shut up.” Dustin hissed and gave me another kick. “If you’re going to flap your lips, tell me what I want to know. Where did you get all this money?”

Several coins dropped from his hand, and clattered next to my face. My coins. I patted down my pockets and my face contorted at being unable to feel my money pouch. That pouch had more money than most beggars can conceptualize in having at any one time. There was no plausible explanation as to why I would have that money.

“I stole it off the belt of some wealthy prick,” I picked away the rest of the crusted blood from my face.

“Bullshit,” Dustin snarled. “The only people who carry this much out in the open rarely leave the northern district. I’m feeling generous and give you one more chance before I start chopping off fingers.”

“Dustin!”

From around the corner, a young woman leaning against the wall hobbled on a makeshift cane. She had vague similarities to Dustin, having similar shaggy hair that cascaded freely down her shoulder. A long scar wormed across the left side of her face. She wore a plain dress that was covered in stains and a variety of sewn on patches. At the bottom of the skirt, only one leg was visible.

Her brows were furrowed in concentration as she made her way towards us, cheeks red from exertion. Stands of her unruly hair stuck to her cheeks as beads of sweat rolled down her forehead.

“Big Sis? You should be in bed. Where is Katy?” Dustin blanched like he’d been kicked square in the family jewels.

Dustin’s sister kneeled down next to me and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe my face. “Don’t be cross with her. I asked her to run some errands for me. More importantly, why did I hear you threaten this poor boy?”

Chance!

I squeezed my nose, which was very much broken. Letting the sharp pain start the water works. With teary eyes I gripped the arm of my savior.

“Thank you, miss. I’m alright. How may I address you?” I said through gritted teeth.

“Emily,” she smiled, but when she noticed me staring at the stump that peaked out from the raised part of her dress, she was quick to cover it. “What business do you have with my brother?”

I cleared my throat and averted my gaze. “Earlier today, I stumbled upon a drunkard, or I should say he stumbled into me. Based on how he was dressed, he was clearly lost and had wandered into the part of the city he shouldn’t have. Anyways, he passed out right in front of me, and who am I to pass up such a golden opportunity?”

Emily nodded her head in understanding. “I see, and what does that have to do with my baby brother?”

Baby? Have you seen the size of the man?

“Big Sis?”

“Oh hush you,” Emily snapped. “I can guess what happened. You’ve been harassing the young ones again haven’t you? I’m right, aren't I?”

Man, I wish I had a camera to capture the mess that was Dustin’s face. It was so contorted between shame, confusion, and rage, he might as well have jumped straight out of a Pablo Picasso painting.

“Please don’t blame him, Miss Emily,” I sighed and grasped the hand she was using to clean my wounds. “Your brother is a good man, has a bit of a temper, but he looks after us in his own way.”

“He does?” Clearly skeptical, Emily gave me a once over.

I must have been in worse shape than I thought, because the pity radiating from her was palpable. Rarely over the years I’ve lived here had anyone shown such genuine concern. If she came out and said she was an angel, I would be completely unfazed, and believe her one hundred percent.

“Yes,” I nodded my head in solemn promise. “I, Arlo, swear your brother does his best to be a true role model.”

In response Emily gave me the sweetest smile. We were in a dimly-lit room, but I swear a ray of sunlight shone down upon her. “I don’t believe you, but if you’re going to defend my baby brother, you are a good man in my book.”

Was it getting hot in here or is it just me? Holy crap I’m in love, and Dustin is definitely not having any of it.

I must have been blushing harder than a red light, because my future brother-in-law’s weapon hand was twitching.

“Well ain’t that touching?”

From the exit of this — . Where the heck were we?

It kind of resembled a tunnel, but the stones were old and covered in grime and moss. Now that I had a chance to get a better look, it resembled the architecture of the ruins. Unfortunately, three familiarly dressed men armed with knives and short swords popped into view. Like panthers in the jungle, they stalked towards their prey. Problem was, they were making their way towards me.

“Black Scarves! It’s the Black Scarves!” Tim shouted like a chicken being plucked.

Footsteps and shouts echoed from further down, this underground structure. From the direction Dustin and his sister came from, about five more boys and around half a dozen girls poured out. Most of them carried sticks and stones, and a few had kitchen knives.

The fear was a heavy weight blanketing each of them. None took another step after laying eyes on the intruders. Frozen in place, they turned to their leader for his orders.

Dustin cleared his throat. “What business do the Black Scarves have here?”

Similar to my first encounter with them, each of the men had a black scarf covering their face. The man in the middle let out a joyous laugh.

“We heard there was some best walking around with too much coin for his own good. So we decided to help relieve him of such a heavy burden.”

Dustin’s teeth creaked as he clenched his jaw. Probably coming to the same conclusion I did. When I was unconscious, they carried me to their hideout, unaware that they were being followed.

“Here,” Dustin tossed my money pouch to the gang member.

In one fluid motion, the Black Scarf slid his dagger back into its sheath and caught the bag. He weighed it in his hands, but his eyes were on us. No, they were focused on the girls in the group.

Armeria, can I summon an item through our telegraphic link?

[Technically you can, but it is ill advised. While our telepathic link is different from your unconscious thoughts, it is too easy to accidentally invoke a summon. This is one of White’s protocols after one of his fragments summoned a Rodanian Blood Cloud in his sleep. It killed him and half a city.]

Rodanian Blood Cloud?

[The Rodanians specialized in chemical warfare. That particular weapon is a bomb that releases a cloud that literally makes those caught in it to explode into a cloud of blood.]

Oh shit… So anyways, how do I silently summon?

[It requires you to think of the item and to verify. However, before you can switch this option on, you must verbally accept the changes in protocol. Do you wish to allow telepathic summoning des[pite the risks?]

“I accept,” said aloud.

[Protocol has been changed.]

“What did you say?” Dustin said and got in my face.

“What?” I blinked.

Emily sighed at seeing my confusion. “They told us to hand over all the girls.”

My face scrunched up and I looked at the gangsters in disgust. That was some gross timing.

“I’ll say it one last time,” the Black Scarf member grunted. “The boys are free to go, but the girls stay.”

“Yeah, no.” I said and introduced this world to flipping the bird.

“Well spoken!” It was the other boy that was guarding me that spoke. He raised his makeshift cudgel in the air. “This is our home! Get lost!”

Without Dustin’s prompting, he charged and swung at the man that had made the ludicrous demand.

“Wait!”

“Stand down, John!”

Dustin and Emily cried. Unfortunately, it was too late.

The leftmost Black Scarf met the attack, using his short sword to parry the strike and spun his dagger. His arm was a blur as he thrust out.

John’s body slammed into the Black Scarf member and sagged. Gurgling noises escaped his mouth as he dropped his weapon and backed away. Blood poured down and drenched his shirt. Shaky hands reached up for his throat, and pressed down on the wound. Tears streaked against his cheeks as his legs gave out. Even as he lay dying in a growing pool of his own blood, he gasped for air. Like a fish that had been caught and was flopping uselessly on the dock.

“John,” Tim whimpered, not daring to go any closer.

The black scarf member bent down and wiped the blood off his blade with John’s shirt. “Now, what was I saying? Ah yes, if you don’t want to end up like your friend here, get lost.”

During my life on the streets of Foso, I had seen my fair share of corpses, but this was the first time watching the life leave someone’s body. My stomach clenched and I had to fight the urge to puke. This was my fault.

“Run!” Someone shouted.

This got a good chunk of the boys to make a break for it. They made sure to give the gangsters a wide berthas they exited. Surprisingly, Tim wasn’t amongst them. He was a shivering wreck, but he remained where he was. Any girl that tried to leave was shoved back by the other two Black Scarves.

In the end, only three of Dustin’s guys stayed. From the way they looked back, they either had family or lovers they were unwilling to abandon.

“The names Gordon,” the Black Scarf in the middle handed the money pouch off and slicked his hair back . “For staying you have my respect.”

“They’re stupid,” the Black Scarf on the right said nonchalantly as he poaked through the money pouch. Counting its contents.

Gordon shrugged. “Stupid, but honorable none the less.”

Armeria, prepare to summon a Klearan Mark IV Riot Drone.

[Yes, master. You plan to reveal yourself?]

I would rather not, but this whole situation is my fault. They need to pay.

I stared at the corpse on the ground. Had I been more careful, that kid would still be alive. It may be hard to find sympathy for Dustin and his group. They had terrorized and beaten me on more than a handful of occasions, and I was far from the only recipient of their attention. Still, that didn’t mean it actually felt good to be responsible for their deaths. Especially now that I had a glimpse of why Dustin would stoop so low as to take candy from a baby. A light tug on my sleeve brought me out of my thoughts.

“You should go,” Emily said. Her face was as white as a sheet and her grip on her cane was ironclad. “This is our business.”

They’re so dead!

I placed my hand over hers. “No need to worry, as long as I’m here I won’t let them lay a finger on you.”

“What?” Emily blinked, her eyes widening to saucers.

“Any other time I would have bashed your teeth in Gutter Rat,” Dustin grunted. “But today, I’ll make an exception.”

“I have a name, and we should fall back,” I suggested. If I could get them to retreat, I could act with impunity.

Dustin shook his head. “It’s only a dead end. The tunnel is collapsed deeper in. The only way out is through. Can I depend on you to get my sister out? I’m going to need all my men to act as a distraction.”

“I will,” I nodded in agreement.

Ah, well there goes that plan. Armeria, when I give the signal, summon the drone.

[What signal?]

You’ll know when it is.

[Uh, no I won’t. I might be a super intelligent AI, but I still require instruction.]

There was really no time for this. The room was a powder keg, waiting for that spark to blow.

Fine. do it when I snap my fingers.

[Yes, master.]

Dusin did a few practice swings with his machete as he inched forward. Shuffling his feet, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. The sounds of heavy breathing as both sides prepared and dreaded the coming fight to the death. My middle finger and thumb pressed together.

“Attack!”

The eyes of both eyes turned to saucers as a third party accompanied by a few of the boys that left earlier came charging in. I, on the other hand, knew that voice. Roland led the charge, a dozen boys and teens rushed in and circled the Black Scarves.

“Sorry I am late boss!” Roland thumped his chest. “Had to round up the boys.”

“Well done!” I gave Roland a thumbs up. This gave us options, but first things first. Arms spread wide in an attempt to convey peace, I turned to Gordon. “I think it best you drop your weapons. You guys might be stronger and better equipped, but we have the numbers.”

In response, Gordon brought his knife to his lips and gave it a lick. “Why would I do that? Don’t look down on the Black Scarves boy!”

And with that he launched himself towards me. He was fast, closing the distance between us in mere seconds. My mind went blank as it struggled to comprehend what was happening. Why was he attacking? His side was at a clear advantage?

Wait, Roland had referred to me as boss and I played along.

I brought my fingers together. Revealing myself was a better alternative to becoming a hostage, or worse, dead.

Before I got the chance, Gordon’s blade came inches towards my throat.

Suddenly, Finnley’s shoulder slammed into the gang member, accompanied by the sound of breaking stone and the rushing of wind. A violent tempest whipped up the muck and dust, causing Emily’s hair to blow into my face. Still, it was unable to obstruct the sight before me.

Finnley had bowled through the backline of boys. Most on the ground rubbing their heads. One was even unconscious. I think it was Simon. He did appear worse off than the others.

On the other side of the room, Gordon’s head was smashed against the wall. His arms hung limply at his side, weapons dropping from his hands.

“Mana sensitive,” the Black scarf that had killed John gasped. Using the chaos created by Finley’s movements, he made a dash for it along with his compatriot.

It didn’t matter. I watched as Finley stomped on the ground. Her body exploded forward like a bullet. With each hand she grabbed the back of their heads and slammed down. Her heels left a a pair of furrows in the cobblestone, two streaks of read on either side of her.

For a good while, nobody said anything. I was frozen in place, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of my cheek as I refused to blink. What the heck just happened?

[Master, she has to be using mana. The technological advancements aren’t high enough to produce humans with this much destructive abilities.]

Mana.

The Balck Scarf man had referred to her as mana sensitive. If my memory was correct, those who were mana sensitive could augment their body by injecting mana into it. I wasn’t too clear on how the process worked, but they were rare. Perhaps not as rare as the mana blessed, but no faction would turn one away.

Why was she living on the streets?

Just who are you?

Steam rose from Finley’s body, her skin red like she had just exited a hot spring. She took deep and labored breaths before collapsing.

“Finley!” I shouted and ran to her side.

I was the second to get there. Roland was already uncorking a water skin and pouring some on her head before pressing it against her lips.

She appeared moments from death. I swear, even her eyes appeared to be sunken in. All in all, her condition was bad, and the situation wasn’t much better. Boys and girls alike were either pale faced and vomiting or pale faced and panicking.

“She killed members of the Black Scarves,” muttered Tim. He was holding John’s body, but he was focused on Finley.

“We killed them,” Emily corrected him and made her way to my side. “How is she?”

“I’m not sure,” I rubbed my hand over my face.

Apparently the problem wasn’t solved by killing Gordon and his men. Instead it possibly created a bunch of new ones. If gangs had a similar code as the ones from Earth, the Black Scarves will comb the city for answers and retaliate. It will be trouble enough to keep all the mouths here shut. If any random off the street noticed those three following a group of kids…

We needed to act fast.

“Dustin, is there any good place to dump the bodies?” I asked.

“What?” He blinked. Probably still in shock over everything.

“There are plenty of abandoned buildings,” Emily offered.

I shook my head. “That won’t work. They have to be impossible to find. If they get traced back to us, we’re finished.”

“How about the river?” Roland asked.

“No,” I bit my nail. “Too difficult to get the bodies close enough without being noticed. There is also the risk of them washing up.”

I looked up and sighed. The answer staring me straight in the face.

“How attached are you to this place?” I asked.