"How much longer did you say you had?" Penny glances over her shoulder as she ladles stew into a bowl. Her long, black hair sways with the movement, deep purple tips swishing around her waist.
"About ten minutes, I think. It's not that far." She doesn't ask what I'm doing, which is one of the reasons I like stopping by her place for meals. Of course, there's also the fact that the food is good.
"Well then, let's not waste time waiting for it to cool." She sets the bowl down on the table in front of her and swipes her hand through the air above it. A soft blue light shines out of her palm for a moment, and the piping hot broth instantly cools down to pleasantly warm. I immediately dig in while she returns to the stove and dishes out another bowl. Of course, the spell wasn't really necessary. I can afford to wait five minutes for it to cool down a bit, given how quickly I tend to eat. Habits picked up from a decade spent living on the streets tend to stick around.
Penny returns to the table, setting her bowl down and blowing across the top. "You always keep yourself so busy, Jackie. I've never seen someone rush around as much as you do."
I shrug. "Guy's gotta eat. And I don't want to keep raiding your pantry forever."
“You know I wouldn’t mind. I’m doing fine, and it’s not like anyone else eats around here.” There’s a slight lie there. It’s true that Penny’s the only one who resides here and needs to eat, but plenty of other urchins just like me stop in for the occasional bite.
“Yeah, Penny, I know. I’ve spent a lot of time living off other people, though. I want to get on my own two feet, so I can start giving back.”
“Jackie, you’re fourteen. You shouldn’t have to worry about supporting yourself yet.”
“You know age works different where I’m from. Kids have to grow up fast.”
“Sure, but not that different! I’m not going to deny you’ve experienced… a lot more than most boys your age. But that doesn’t mean you’re an adult already, it just means this city’s failed you. I like to think part of why I’m here is to mitigate that sort of failure.” This isn't the first time we've had this conversation, but the way her brow knits when she thinks about the poverty around her never changes.
“And you know I love you for it, Penny. I wouldn’t be here today without you. That’s why I don’t want to keep draining off you, I want to be able to help you do for others what you’ve done for me.”
“That’s not your responsibility, Jackie, and I told you, I’m doing fine.”
I check the clock on the wall. It’s just about time to go, and I'm not about to prioritize rehashing this conversation over doing my job. “I gotta get out of here, Penny. Thanks for the food.” She nods. She's clearly not satisfied with how the conversation went, but I know she wouldn't try to stop me from leaving. If she did, I wouldn't keep coming back.
The sun is close to setting as I leave Penny's home. As usual, I'm surrounded by signs of poverty. Streets aren’t maintained. Half the buildings are boarded up, primarily serving as illegal sanctuaries for those without anywhere else to go. The inevitable result of this world in which those of us at the bottom can only serve as a carpet for those above. The disgust I feel at the place I’ve called home for as long as I can remember is a constant reminder of why I have to keep working. I can’t lift everyone up off the floor, but I can at least clean that floor up a little. Make it more livable. I’ll never stop children from having to grow up where I did, but I can at least ensure it won’t be as bad for them as it was for me.
My pickup point is only a couple blocks over, but I hurry over anyway. It's starting to get chilly as the evening wears on, and my loose black tank top doesn't offer much insulation. I've avoided learning more than the bare minimum about my job. Even what I do know, I wish I didn't. At the very least it's obvious my employers are operating outside the law if they’re relying on someone like me to run deliveries for them, which isn't a problem in itself. Every pickup I make is pretty heavily guarded, though, and I can't really lie to myself about the nature of a criminal organization with access to the kind of firepower I've seen. They're giving it out to some twitchy, scummy jackasses, too. First time one of those fuckers decided to point his toy at me because he didn't buy that the delivery boy would be "some kid," I went and found Charles, my connection for new jobs, and made it clear that I didn't want to see any more of them. A tall order, since I've been carrying some pretty valuable shit.
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We ended up working something out. There's a rune tattooed on my back, just low enough to be hidden under my tank top, and when they set up the privacy wards at my pickup points, they add one that detects it. It lets the guards know I've arrived, and that they should head out the back. I still don't feel great about the fact that in all likelihood I'm serving the very organizations that make these neighborhoods so hellish for people like me to live in, but at least I don't have to worry about getting shot by my coworkers.
Anyway, I shouldn't have to do it too much longer. I’ve been putting away as much of the money I make on this job as I can afford. Penny's generosity has been a big help in that, and I intend to repay every cent. The main barrier to that has been that, officially speaking, I don’t exist. I’m the orphaned son of two destitute parents, neither of whom had any form of official identification in their life. There’s no paper trail leading anywhere near me. And without a legitimate ID - or at least one put together well enough that it’d take an inconvenient amount of time to figure out it isn’t legitimate - it’s hard to get in the door at any job that’ll pay anything approaching enough to live on, even in a shithole like this. Soon, I should have enough money to get someone to fix that for me. Until then, I just have to hold out. Once I’ve got a real income that isn’t at constant threat of being ripped away, I’ll be able to help Penny feed more kids who are where I used to be in life. I just hope I’m not fucking them over too bad in the meantime.
I’m almost at the pickup point. Some rundown warehouse, tucked in between its identical siblings. I stroll up to the door and reach out for the knob, only to flinch when it suddenly bursts open before I can reach it. Standing in the doorway is a tall, lithe woman, with unnervingly pale skin and long, dark hair. Her face is crisscrossed with the faint lines of old scars, and her eyes glow a sickly orange. Who the hell is this? There isn’t supposed to be anyone here but the guards, and they wouldn’t leave the building before getting the signal from the wards on the other side of the door that I’ve arrived. Besides, she’s not carrying a gun. I open my mouth to question her, but I haven't even gotten a word out before she clamps her hand over my mouth. Before I can react, she’s spun me around and dragged me further down the alley, into a dark corner. Shit shit shit, no. Am I about to die? I can't go out like this, not when I'm so close. Fuck. I struggle to look around for anything I could grab and hit her with, but there’s nothing nearby except the air conditioning unit she ducked behind. I've got to do something, but I can't think of anything that would actually help. Of course, I'd at least be able to scream for help if my mouth wasn't covered. I need to figure out some way to make myself heard, though, I'm definitely not strong enough to fight this woman off myself. For lack of a better option, I reach out and pound my fist against the side of the air conditioner, a solid BANG reverberating through its inner workings. In an instant, her hand has my wrist in a death grip. Hopefully someone out on the street heard that, because I’m out of options.
Actually, it looks like someone did. I can see a faint light approaching down the alley. A few seconds later, a pair of big, brown eyes framed by messy blonde bangs peek around the edge of the AC unit. Where the hell’s that light coming from? I don’t have the wherewithal to do anything but stare at her as my assailant jabs a fist into her stomach and begins giving commands. “Alright, listen up. Neither of you should have seen me here tonight, so you’re both coming with me, quietly. I would prefer not to hurt either of you any more than I have, and I don’t intend to, but I promise I can become very flexible if you give me a reason.” She turns my head to face up toward her, and for an instant I see… A ring of light above her head, with thorns sticking out of it? What the hell is that? Clearly she wanted me to see it, but… why? Who is this woman, what kind of magic did she use to conjure that image, what was she trying to communicate with it? Before I can begin trying to puzzle out the answers to any of these questions, she growls “Nod if you understand.” My confusion doesn’t make me any less scared of her, so I do.
“Good. Blondie, catch your breath and then head about 15 feet further down the alley and open the manhole cover you find there.” The girl who heard my knock is still doubled over, struggling to inhale, but after a few minutes she does as she’s told. The woman still gripping my face drags me down into a cramped tunnel under the street. At least, I assume it’s cramped, these sorts of maintenance tunnels usually are. I can’t really see well enough to confirm. She takes a few steps down the tunnel and says to the other girl, “Follow me, and close the cover behind you.”
The gloom deepens as the cover slides shut above us, but even once it’s fully shut, there’s still a faint yellow glow coming from behind me. My kidnapper starts marching me forward down the tunnel. All I can think about is how close I was to getting a better job.