Running had become a bit of a pastime for him. When he kept the appearance of a normal kid, they made him run laps on the track, climb walls with ropes, and hurtle. At the time, it was a class and didn’t matter. Now, as he vaulted over fences, climbed walls with his calloused fingertips, and slipped under and between areas that would have otherwise been inaccessible to the common-walking folk, he saw the beauty in the art of acrobatics. How it transformed an average man set to traverse the average local into a cat who goes wherever the hell he pleases

A thick mist had smothered the town, beginning in its core and working its way into the outer limits of the city district, and today had to be the day that Benny and his crew made their move. They had been observing the merchants for the past week as they made their final dealings in the district market.

“Wheeling and dealing. These bastards shouldn’t flaunt their wealth, or they will pay in health.”

Benny always spoke with such venom. The man had grown accustomed to it. From inside, he worked as a mole. Gaining Benny's trust hadn’t come cheap. Wiggling his left molar, he could still feel the sharp pain from a punch seen too late. Once in, you were sworn for life. So, he made it so he was never fully in. As things intensified and chummy waters appeared, the man decided to skip town. To take on new horizons, only to return beaten, battered, or both. Crawling back to Benny’s side, asking for some low-end work or anything to keep the stomach full, Remembering the kid's promise, Benny would oblige every time.

From atop their stoops, they had figured it all out. The wagon’s design, the merchant's wit, and the foolproof plan would only guarantee them to the fools. The red-eye of his cigarette burned in the corner of his mouth, and Benny hardly ever smoked the joints. He just liked the mouthfeel as he maneuvered it from one side of his mouth to the other.

“They are getting smart. Packing shit in the spools, hidden, ain't nobody checking there.

“Aint gotta check if you know.”

“Exactly, kid. That's why you pay for information. Otherwise, you'll be just as blind as the rest of them. So, what's the deal? Are you sticking around long enough to become a member, or will you flake on us again?

Benny had produced his signature switchblade from his jean pocket, known to all as the truth serum. With a nod in another man's direction, an apple was tossed and caught, leaving Benny chipping away at what lies at the core.

“I don’t know yet. I can’t get wrapped up with you all my life, Benny. Unlike the rest of your men, I want to make something of myself by myself, for myself. Ya dig?”

“Ambition is respectable. Just make sure that ambition doesn’t cross another, more dangerous ambition. Others won’t play as nice as old Benny here.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Continuing to slice the apple into thick and fine slivers, he turned the point over to the man and offered him the slice resting on its blade.

“What do you say?”

The man responded by reaching deftly, removing the slice, and eating it in one fluid motion.

“You've taught me a lot, Benny. It would help if you taught me even more. I won’t let you down.”

“Heard it before, kid. For your sake. I hope you don’t.”

That conversation played back through his mind as he maneuvered the streets, the mist acting like a natural blindfold. Every corner, every alley held a potential threat, an obstacle needing to be dodged with the reflexes and dexterity of something beyond a feline. With his adrenaline pumping, he remembered Benny's words, the knife of Benny, the little red dot that always crested his lips.

Benny was one of the last men he wanted to cross.

From a long line of miscreants, his father before him an ax-man who had learned fighting and the opium trade from China, to his mother who worked as a lady of the night only to climb the ranks and become the ringleader to one of the town's oldest and most respected, brothels. Benny was what you would call underground royalty. His blood was not red like the rest of ours, and it did not spill easily, if ever. Thinking about it, the man can’t remember he saw Benny cut, let alone hurt. He imagined if Benny ever did bleed, it would be black and pure, and if you drank the stuff, it would get you drunk off your ass.

Slipping through an alley and climbing through fire escapes in a zigzag sprawl, he found himself on the roof of a baker’s shop. From above, the mist cleared a bit.

Around him, he saw the faint glow of a city slowly coming to life. From windows, he could make out the movement of shadows that belonged to the hard-working citizens of the town. Everywhere around him was a life that did what life did best and continued being. A tug came around his heart, one that sparked emotions that are better off dead than alive. His heart hurt a bit, but that wasn’t anything new.

I’m too damn emotional, he said to himself as his eyes scanned for the answer to his internal question.

City smoke rose from high-top chimneys only to be swallowed by the mist. A crawling sensation took over the morning. One that crept its way into the dark recesses of man. The part that lingered and reminded you that only death was guaranteed. Hopefully, only death awaited. For those unlucky few, pain and agony opened for death in the grand finale.

Straining his eyes, he couldn’t see it, which wasn’t a relief. It meant one of two things. Either they made it out of the city wall already, or they were stopped somewhere, looted, presumably killed, and left to rot.

Shit. Shit.

This had to succeed, he thought. If not…If those bastards are caught, hopefully, they are killed. But knowing Benny, they won’t be. They'll be tortured and made to talk, and knowing those merchant pussies, they'll sing like birds wanting to escape the cage.

Checking himself, patting down his pockets, he felt the paper wads of cash he held hidden in every part of his body. His inner sewn pocket held a couple of rolled-up bills, and his socks had more. Then, at the bottom of his soles, carved out was a secret twenty that he hoped never to use.

Could this get me started somewhere else?

Could this even get me far enough to escape Benny's wrath?

Would I want to leave with all the business I still have unsettled here?

The extent and range a man like Benny had would go farther than my few bucks could take him.

Just before he could play the logistics out, a rattling of wheels on cobblestone rallied underneath, restoring the man's illusion of joy.

A smile even blossomed on his face.

Only to be dashed away by the ear-cracking pops of rifles and the deafening ring of an all too familiar bell.