However, the future was the future, and his current existence was someone that needed to focus on survival more than anything else. The muddy streets were mostly quiet, more than likely due to the fog, but Val did not plan on complaining. The darkness and the fog protected him from any vultures who were looking for easy prey as he made his way back to what he called home. It was near a cluster of five, slum dwellings that had been reinforced and interconnected to create a stronghold for the Bone Maulers, the gang run by Bartolos. Though, stronghold was an ambitious label for the place. It's wood and brick walls were worn out in places, with dents and cracks visible everywhere, and mold was visible even in just the moonlight, covering much of the wooden parts.

  Val would not have thought anything of the place if it had not been for the memories from earth. However, remembering what he did, he wondered how this place was still standing. Though, in reality, almost every structure in the slums was in a similar shape if not worse, and some places were just shacks, built from odds and ends with just enough space for a person to sleep. The only reason most of the buildings in the slums had not been torn down so far was because it would have caused a riot and a large loss of money for those ruling the city. Cheap housing was needed for the poor if one wanted ensure they only needed to be paid as little as possible for them to survive.

  Val grimaced sarcastically before flinching and rubbing his forehead. He felt weird. His memories about Earth's civilization was colliding with everything he had experienced so far, and it was doing something to him. He was starting to think differently. It was almost as though the knowledge improved the understanding of his current life, instead of accepting everything as 'just the way it is.' Val frowned, realizing he was not thinking the same way he used to. Though it was useful, looking at the stronghold, he realized he had to be extra careful from now on. Thieves were sensitive to a lot of things, considering that was how they survived in their profession. Val acting out of the ordinary or saying something unusual would become noticed over time, and being noticed was not a good thing.

  Quietly, he passed the thieves' den, entering a narrow side path between two nearby buildings. He didn't look up, as he knew there were probably some Bone Maulers keeping watch. Instead, he walked slowly, adding some stumbling into his gait. Word about him being pummeled half to death would have spread among some of the lower level thieves, and Val knew he had to act the part to stay safe. Finally reaching the door he was looking for, he banged on it as quietly as possible. After a while, some rustling was heard on the other side, as candlelight leaked through the gaps in the door and a muffled, gruff voice muttered, “Hammer.”

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  Val responded, “Skull.” He heard the sound of the door being unbolted, and it opened to a scowling old man, with a prune like face. Hunched over, the man gave off a gloomy look, with his mostly bald head except for a few wisps of gray hair and his mostly blind right eye that was covered in a film of white. The smell of booze filled the air, and Val kept his eyes low, as he held his sides, while swaying slightly.

  The door keeper Freitz scowled even deeper at the little black haired turd in front of him. He had been having a wonderful dream about Aila and his plans for her come this week's pay, when he got woken up. None of the brats would have usually been out this late, but Freitz knew that some of them were taught a lesson today for not paying their dues. Usually, that meant they would drag their worthless selves back here the next day, black and blue from the beating or would have disappeared altogether. However, this one in front of Freitz had shown up if the middle of the blasted night, so he had no choice but to let the little rat in. “Get in, ya little shit.” Moving aside, Freitz kicked the kid as he stumbled by, sending the little rat stumbling onto the floor. Snorting, Freitz went back to locking and securing the door, as he muttered, “Wake ol' Freitz up from his lovelies, and thas what ya gets.”

  Val, who was crouched on the floor pretended to groan but got up without saying anything. He moved on into the 'rat hole' as it was lovingly called, trying not to curse back at the alcoholic 'guardian' for the younger thieves. The old fool's job was to keep an eye on the younger thieves, snitch on them as needed, and collect their dues. One of the reasons why Val had been beaten in the alleyway was the old man, and Val planned on getting even for it in due time.

  The darkness in the wide open hall past the entrance was stifling, but Val knew where to go, and some of the light spilling in from some of the gaps in the boarded up windows along the walls helped him find his way past the various partitions and the other sleeping kids without causing a fuss. There was no real privacy as such, but Val found his spot to curl up in his ragged blankets for the night. He felt tired after everything, and as he wrapped himself up for warmth, he couldn't help wondering what the next day held. He had the gold, but he had to figure out to how to use it, since a thief like him couldn't hold be seen with so much. He had 'awakened,' but there was so much he didn't know about it. He had magic, but it was also a mystery to him. There was so much to deal with that the past him would have felt hopeless. However, Val felt anticipation, something he had barely felt in the last three years since he ended up at this 'rat pack' after his uncle and aunt had abandoned him in this city. He finally had a goal, and as his consciousness began to fade, he realized that was enough for now.