Requiem for a Mouse (10 page)

LISSANDRA

Lissandra tied the laces around her shoes extra tight. She only had one shot to prove her worth to Jynx. When her laces were tied, she stepped into the fading sunlight. “I’m going out, mom,” Lissandra shouted.

“Liss, why are you leaving so late?” Leon asked, waddling after her.

Lissandra turned and picked Leon up. Her arms shook when she raised Leon above her breast. She gave him a small kiss on his nose, “You’ve gotten so heavy Leon. I can barely even hold you up anymore.”

“Where are you going?”

Lissandra put him down and nudged him back towards the house. “I’m going to get some food. I’ll be right back.”

“Where?” Leon’s face was flush, even he could see through such an obvious lie.

“Yeah, the markets closed so where are you going little sister?” Gunther leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. His eyes honed into Lissandra’s. “It’s pretty late, what could you possibly be doing?”

Lissandra frowned, her brow furrowed. “Mind your own business, Gunther.”

“You’re my little sister, this is my business.”

“You don’t own me. I’m just going out for a walk.”

“But I thought you were getting food.” Gunther’s voice was firm and sharp. It reminded Lissandra of when her father would scold her. Gunther was becoming to look like him too. “Liss, I’m the man of the house now, tell me where you’re going?”

“Are you going to ground me then, big brother?”

Gunther stepped toward her. “No, but I will stop you.”

Lissandra curled her hands into fists. “Do it then.”

They glared at each other, neither moving. At last, Gunther looked away. He grabbed Leon’s hand and led him back into the house. With a scowl, he said, “I know you’re trying to make money. But don’t do anything you can’t explain to Leon.”

What the fuck do you think I’m doing?
Lissandra’s teeth clamped together like she had just been hit. She would’ve preferred that.

“I’d like to see you bring home some money then,” she muttered, but nobody was there to hear her.

She could guess what Gunther thought she was doing. The thought made her grind her teeth together. But she didn’t turn back. No matter what he thought, they would all starve without her. She turned and left.

GUNTHER

Gunther sat at the edge of the bed, his leg shaking. Both Leon and his mother were fast asleep. He stared out the window as the last bit of sunlight crept away.

He had tried sleeping, but every time he closed his eyes, all he could think about was Lissandra. What could she be doing so late at night and how was she making money? He didn’t dare answering the question.

Back when their father was still alive, whenever he left the house, he’d always call on Gunther to take care of Lissandra. After all, it was the older brother’s duty to do so. But now, Lissandra was coming home with all sorts of bruises and cuts, and secrets she refused to tell.

If dad could see me now, he’d be so ashamed.

Gunther hammered his shaking knee with a fist. Only then, did his knee finally settle. Careful not to wake Leon or his mother, he left the house. There was only a single man he knew of that had the money to employ him. He walked to Hawk’s Lair.

The entrance doors stretched a few feet higher than him. They looked like they were built for giants. Gunther grabbed one of the golden handles and pulled the door open. A cool breeze of lavender wafted over him. If heaven existed, it probably felt like this.

“Hello, welcome to Hawk’s Lair,” a black vested receptionist said from behind the podium. Her lips split into a bright red smile. As soon as she saw him, the smile waned. “I thought we told you that you’re not allowed here anymore.”

“I need a job,” Gunther responded. “My father used to work here, I can take his. I’m a fast learner. I’m willing to do anything.”

The receptionist whispered into the microphone clipped to her vest. When she was done, it was like Gunther had disappeared. She stared straight through him, ready for the next customer to walk in the front doors.

Gunther looked over at the flashing lights reflecting off chandeliers worth enough to feed his family for life. All the tables and chairs in this place was made of wood so polished he could see his reflection in them. All over the place, people tossed around more money than he’s ever held onto in his life. His grimy and loose-fitted t-shirt looked disgusting next to the two-piece suits that they wore.

“It’s this kid again,” a guard said as he approached the podium. He looked over at Gunther with an exasperated frown.

“Hi.” Gunther gave off a half-hearted wave.

The guard, in a black suit and tie, looked more like a butler than a guard. “Look, kid,” he said, “Go beg somewhere else. I’m tired of always having to throw you out.”

The last time Gunther had encountered this guard, the guard had twisted his foot until he was crying in pain and promising to never come back. In times like these, there was only a single thing to do.

Gunther fell to his knees and brought his hands up in a pleading motion. “Please.”

“Kid, last chance, I’m going to break a few of your bones this time.”

If Liss ever gets hurt under my watch…

Gunther clenched his eyes shut. “Please!”

Two hands shoved Gunther to the ground and a foot stomped his head into the ground. He made no move to fight back or escape. The foot came again, this time twisting as it crunched his nose deeper into the velvet carpet.

“Hey!” the receptionist snapped and the foot disappeared. “Don’t get blood on the floor.”

Gunther peeked up at the guard. The guard’s massive arms were crossed and he looked angry. Gunther put his head back into the carpet and closed his eyes.

I’m the man of the house, if someone has to get hurt, it should be me. Not Liss. Not Leon. Me.

The guard grabbed one of Gunther’s arms. “What do I have to do to make you get the message? Just leave and don’t come back.”

No matter how Gunther tried yanking his arm out of the guard’s grip, the difference in their strength was all too obvious. With nervous breaths, Gunther shook his head. He heard a pop and keeled over in pain. Tears swelled inside his eyes and he grabbed onto his shoulder, feeling an abnormal bump.

“You ready to leave forever, kid?”

Gunther squeezed tears out of his eyes. “I would always show up on time,” he croaked. “I wouldn’t ever miss a single day of work, no matter what.”

The guard sighed. “I warned you.”

With another pop, both Gunther’s arms hung uselessly by his sides. This time, Gunther screamed, loud enough to get the attention of the gamblers. He fell onto his side, his body shaking as large tears rolled down his cheek.

“Ready to leave yet?” the guard asked apathetically

“I can wash the bathrooms,” he cried. “I’ll do the things nobody else wants to. I’m a very hard worker.”

“Are you really going to make me break your legs and carry you out?”

Gunther clenched his mouth shut and talked through closed teeth. “You don’t even need to pay me very much.”

LAO

The carpeting in Hawk’s Lair was imported from Egypt. A small piece of it was worth more than the average life in this place. Lao stepped on this carpet watching his guard straining to break the boy’s leg.

“Enough,” Lao said. “And you, boy, shut up.”

Both did as they were told. The guard stood, his back perfectly straight and his eyes staring at nothing. The boy’s cries disappeared, replaced by heavy breaths.

“Stand and face me when I address you, boy.”

The boy peeked up before deciding to do so. He stood a few inches taller than Lao, but his head remained down and his shoulders scrunched. Both his arms dangled off his thin frame.

“Do you hate me, boy?”

The boy shook his head. “Why would I?”
“Because, it was by my command that both your arms are now broken. It was also by my command that your father died. And because I control this city, you can say that it is by my command you’re so desperate for work.”

The boy’s eyes darted up for just a second. He remained silent, but the look he had given Lao told more than any words could. Lao caught his eyes and smiled.

“You resent me. So, why are you so desperately trying to work for the man you hate? Surely money can’t mean that much to you.”

“It doesn’t, but I have a little sister, and a little brother that do. My mom can’t find work in her condition and I’m the man of the house.”

Lao pat the boy on the arm. “Good man. Now breathe.” He pushed the boy’s arm up until he heard a pop.

The boy yelped but remained standing.

Lao walked over to the boy’s other arm. “Unfortunately, good men do not last.” He popped the boy’s other arm back into its socket.

The boy bowed his head. “Please, Dragon. I’m looking for work.”

“How about I give you something better?” Lao pulled a silver revolver from his jacket and rested its barrel on the boy’s head. “A final lesson.”

The boy flinched away from the gun. His eyes strained to their furthest edges to stare at its barrel.

“I hate good men. I specifically asked that your limbs be broken, not dislocated. You see, I wanted to give you a fair warning. It was because the next time you walked through these doors, I would’ve had you killed. My brutality was my mercy. But due to the goodness of men’s hearts, you weren’t even spared mercy.”

“Please,” the boy whispered. “Don’t kill me.”

Lao paused to think for a moment before responding. “What if I were to buy your life? How much must I pay to pull this trigger? Name a price.”

“No.” The boy shook his head. Disbelief did not look good on him.

“Boy, I will pull this trigger regardless. You may as well leave something behind for the ones you care about.”

“Please, I just want to take care of my little sister.”

“And I am giving you a way to do so.” Lao waited for an answer, but none came. “You can’t even bring yourself to say a number? Unfortunate.”

Lao’s finger tightened around the trigger. Just then, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Salib. “We have a situation, Dragon.”

“What is it?” Lao asked, lowering his gun.

“Our men caught a man claiming to be a Lion. He had enough gasoline to burn down Hawk’s lair. He claims that tonight is the night the Lions strike.”

Lao gave Salib a single nod. “Let’s talk more in my office.”

Salib returned the nod and left.

Lao turned to follow him, but stopped mid-step. “Wait, I almost forgot.” He brought his gun to the boy’s head and pulled the trigger.

The hammer cocked back before swinging forward and producing a metal clang. The boy jumped at its sound. He screamed and clenched his eyes shut, but the revolver only produced an empty click.

“Pow,” Lao said and lowered his gun. “Leave, boy, and never come back.”

With a small whimper, the boy ran out of Hawk’s Lair.

BOLT

The sky was a blue darker than the river, slowly fading to black. Already the moon was out, though it had yet to produce its brilliant light.

“I’m guessing every Hawk in this city is already looking for us.” Bolt jogged in place, warming up his body.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and the Hawks won’t be out tonight.”

Yeah right.
Hawks always knew when the Mice were coming. It was like they had a sixth sense. Whenever there was a drop, entire flocks of Hawks patrolled the streets.

Bolt felt the pills in his pocket. “If I’m lucky, I won’t have to start running until half way through the drop.” In his other pocket, he had hidden the knife Prince had bought for him. Its leather sheath poked him with every step.

“If you’re lucky you’ll make it the entire way.”

Bolt rolled his eyes, “I’m pretty sure Hawks recognize my face by now. Plus, the sun’s almost down, I doubt there will be much of a crowd to hide in.”

Flower gave him a weak smile, “Remember, Maverick will be at the river waiting. It’s not too far away, I’ll be waiting for you here. So come back quick.”

Bolt nodded. “I know, I know.” He gave Flower a soft smile. “Flower, I won’t fail. No matter what.” He wished he had the words to reassure her down, but no such words existed.

“Just be safe,” she said. Her weary eyes fell with her smile.

For a second, her eyes looked decades older than herself. He mustered up a grin. “Alright, well I’m off.”

All drops started the same way. Head down, eyes to the floor, and walking at an inconspicuous pace. Ideally, a drop could be completed without running. However, Hawks were always quick to spot mice.

I won’t fail again. No matter what.

He hadn’t even made it a quarter of the way through the drop before he felt a pair of eyes set on the back of his head. Hawks no doubt. He chewed on his lip as his heart rate spiked. In a single step, he juked into an alley into a full-on sprint.

Heavy footsteps gave chase, but Bolt trusted his legs. He ramped up his speed, the brick walls around him a multi-colored blur. Slowly, the Hawk’s footsteps faded. Bolt allowed himself a small smile. It seemed stupid that he was so worried beforehand.

I’ve done this almost a hundred times now. This is old news.
In his mind, he was telling Flower not to worry.

A single crack pierced the still air, shattering whatever expectations Bolt held about drops. An orange ball of flame whizzed past him into a trashcan, spewing out an explosion of short-lived embers. Bolt jerked away. His legs tangled together and he crashed down.

“What the—”

Another crack. A bullet zipped by. It wasn’t a Hawk behind Bolt, but a figure cloaked in green. It wore a white with two holes where the eyes should be. Bursts of light exploded form its hand, each followed by thunder.

Bolt scrambled up just in time for another bullet to smash into the brick beside him. He took off down the alley a rat in a maze. Every turn looked the same; for all he knew, he was running in circles. His calves burned like napalm racing through his veins.

His legs moved on their own. When the alleys disappeared and the gunshots came only as echoes, Bolt finally dug his heels into the ground. He had run miles off course in the wrong direction into a residential area.

Following the gunshots, the city had come back to life. Every house had their lights on. Bolt could hear muffled words through every wall. Some even ventured outside to investigate.

“Who the fuck is shooting off fireworks?” One angry resident said.

“That sounded like gunshots.” Another responded.

“Impossible, The Dragon would never allow it.”

Bolt ignored them. Already, his shirt was soaked in sweat. He stared at the road that led toward Maverick, frozen. He reached into his pockets to make sure the pills were still there, but his hands trembled more than his knees, too much to even fit inside his pockets.

Ahead of him, gunshots echoed, some sharp like the crack of a whip, others dull like the faraway rumbling of thunder. Whatever was going on, it was city-wide.

Just standing proved difficult. Bolt was named after his speed, not his stamina. Going back now would not only prove stupid, but lethal. However, like an itch he couldn’t scratch, his thoughts always returned to one thing.

No matter what.