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Leave the Window Open

Part 2 - Hearthward

Leaving behind the Old Town Hall and the muted sounds of music would fade into memory, yet the performance had left its mark on Diego whose ears still rung with a monotonous chime. As he walked under the flickering and blinking street lights he would periodically cock his head to the side or rub his ears in annoyance "How do they put up with that?" he said chuntering under his breath and again few more times using words to similar effect. He paused for a moment and looked up to the street lamps then far off to the distance where the airship was passing, his mind also wondered back to Sarah and her electric guitar. 'How far civilization has come' he mused to himself in quiet contemplation.

The concert had been in Regents Court, the once proudful center of commerce within Parla. Here the houses were tall and imposing, a boulevard of titans adorned with bay windows and porches, marred by exteriors of worn wood and rust, the image of decayed opulence. The whole district reeked of past glory and as he passed he couldn't help but let his imagination wander to what these streets must have been like at their zenith. But with each turn he took, ruined affluence became common ruin, as he entered into poorer yet ever more familiar areas.

He didn't need a sign to know he had reached the Cross Quays, the smell that filled his nose was all he needed. The aroma was that of sweat, fish carcasses and oil. During the day the Quays was a flurry of activity, rolling barrels, bounding carts and streams of blood from the fishmongers trickling between the cobblestones. Now steam rose from the sewer grates into the cool night air, while raucous merriment from the many taverns and bawdy houses gave the area a jovial if rowdy character. Occasionally when the din died down, the chime of one of the bells from the harbor buoys could be heard as it rocked from side to side. No one in the Quays would claim to be wealthy, but they had a richness of character and knew how to enjoy poverty.

By design, it was proving to be a lonesome walk home, any other night and he'd gladly be joining the revelers, but this evening was spoken for and so carefully he avoided all his local haunts. But despite his brisk pace a voice calls out behind him, husky yet sophisticated "Diego my boy!" He stopped in his tracks, he knew that voice and if there was any doubt it vanished when he heard the clack of a cane stabbing into the pavement. For a moment the raccoon tensed, his fur raised with a sharp kink in his tail, but then he swallowed back that apprehension and smoothly turned around with his arms to the side in a welcoming gesture, "Sirus!"

From across the cobblestone street walked a middle-aged wolf, whom despite his years still carried himself with authority. He was distinguished by his slick back hair and thick mutton chops, now peppered grey with age yet he had the build of a boxer and the crooked snout to prove it. With his polished shoes, dapper waistcoat and silver-headed cane, he cut the figure of a 'gent'. If he traveled alone in this part of town he would be begging to have his throat cut, but Sirus was never found far from his hired muscle. Diego noted how as the distillery owner turned crime boss came over, two of his thugs hung back, one leaned against a street lamp while the other loited menacingly at the street corner.

"How fortunate we should meet like this, right as I have need of you", before the wolf had even crossed the street the thick aroma of his aftershave had hit Diego's nose, "And you have need of money"

A roguish smile crossed Diego's muzzle "Who said I was hard up?", his words folly as he tried to playfully banter with a man whose eyes glistened with predatory intent.

"Ah, so you have your guild fee's for me?", his words the verbal expression of a quick clean kill, "Well, just pay up and I can be on my way" Diego's golden eyes darken in frustration, embers of repressed anger and frustration.

"Maybe I'm not as flush as I'd like", his words contrite but forced through gritted teeth. It wasn't enough to be poor and forced into thievery, but in this city, small-time outlaws were extorted by a larger syndicate. Pay your fee's or the leg breakers pay you a visit, and if you still didn't learn then the guard would get a tip-off of where you could be found. There truly was no honor among thieves.

That silver-headed cane came up under the young raccoon's chin and lifted his head in an aggressive show of authority, "It is a good job I like you boy, or else I might have been offended by your reluctance" The wolfs eyes narrowed upon his prey as his cane lifted the boy further towards him, as if bringing food to his hungry maw.

Despite what Syrus had said, Diego knew his next words decided whether he was in for a beating or not. 'Submission or humility? Syrus hated sycophants and displays of weakness, defiance? pride precipitates a fall, Reverence?'. Confidence crossed the young raccoon's face, "Wasn't it you who taught me to always reject the first offer?"

At that moment the wolf was disarmed and Diego settled back from his tiptoes as the cane was removed from under his chin, "I did" a hint of pride in his words, "Though careful boy, wag that silver tongue at me again and I'll cut it out and weight it in to clear your debts" Walking on Syrus affably put his arm around Diego to bring him along, "Enough chit-chat, let us talk about what you can do for me in lieu of your missing payments"

Diego cast his eyes around and watched as the hired muscle fell in line behind them before his attention returned to the wolf, "I'm going to guess it's risky if you're asking me to do it rather than one of your boys?" Every step they took came with another clack of that cane, a stern reminder of how unpleasant this conversation could be.

Syrus squeezed Diego's shoulder and pulled him a little closer "But you are one of my boys, and it goes without saying that of your little trio you are my favourite" The raccoon forced a fake smile and thought to himself how much he wished he wasn't, "In either case all I want from you is simple, tomorrow afternoon you are going to come over to my distillery and then you are going to drive a cart down to the docks for me" Diego's closed his eyes and let out a long sigh, he knew at this point there was no backing out. If they pawned their 'take' from tonight they might manage to scrounge up the fee, but then what would they eat?

"What's on the cart Syrus?" It was a good a way of saying he would take the job as any other.

The wolfs gazed was fixed forward not even looking at Diego now as they spoke, "Whisky"

As quickly as Syrus had answered Diego retorted back "What's really on the cart?"

The wolf couldn't help but smile just a little, the kind someone has when they are amused by how clever they think they are, "Trust me when I say you would rather not know"

They had gotten to the heart of the 'Quays', before them a long street of terrace houses, or what was left of them. Many were flattened and the ones that still stood were a ramshackle collection of burnout husks whose debris spilled out onto the street. A crooked street sign hung like a monument to the chaos ahead, it read 'Bryson Street'.

Diego turned to the wolf, mouth open ready to agree to the job but was swiftly silenced as Syrus raised his paw, "Tomorrow afternoon Diego, don't be late" He spoke as if to a subordinate and by not letting Diego agree he had reminded him that there was no choice in the matter, "You can tell Sadavir that after this the three of you are in the clear, for now" Those last words a painful reminder that there was always going to be more, always another months fees, always another job, always another risk.

Syrus reached into his waistcoat and produced a pocket watch, "Look at the time" It clicked back shut and was deposited into the recess of his pocket, "Not that I wasn't enjoying our conversation" Diego nodded in agreement just happy to be released from the wolfs clutches, but then his heart sank as the two thugs circled around.

The shadows that had followed in the old man's wake were known as Hunter and Chase, though whether they were aliases or not was anyone's guess. Both had been recruited young into Syrus's organisation and by now both had blood on their hands. They were the kind of people that scared Diego because they would do anything they were told to. Beating a mouthy thief up in an alley would just be 'play' for them.

"The boss is letting you clear two months debt for your entire posy, show some gratitude", Hunter was an overly butch badger, his front fangs always on display as they over bit his lip even when his mouth was closed.

"Manners Diego", Chase the stout said with a sly and purposefully provocative grin. Stouts were usually lean and Chase was no different, but his frame had a tightness to it. Diego had seen this particular stout lay people out with one punch before. Knowing this he still clenched his paw in anger and thought to have a fight in the street with both of Syrus's lackeys, hell the old wolf would probably have enjoyed the show. But then he remembered the ribbon and what it promised, a night where he could go somewhere and not be Diego the street rat, where no-one would know he was a knave.

Head bowed he subjected himself before them, "Thank you... sir" At that moment, as he looked up and saw the looks on their faces, he hated himself for giving in. But it was done now.

Syrus turned to walk away along with Hunter, only Chase lingered to get in one final jab, "Good boy Diego" again spoken with the same provocative grin. He waited for a moment in the hope that Diego would take the bait, each had their gaze locked on the other. When nothing came Chase huffed in disappointment and walked away.

As the three left Diego quietly muttered under his breath, "Wanker" As the lingering clack of that cane became ebbed away and silence returned to Bryson Street, Diego had found himself alone once more and surrounded now by ruin. Syrus hadn't steered their path to this spot on a whim, he had done so because Bryson Street was where Diego lived and he wanted the raccoon to know that.

Treading the familiar cracked cobblestones he made his way down the street until he came to a terrace of four houses, three of which had fallen into each other like dominoes, but the end terrace still stood. No one knew how long it would remain standing against the heaped pile of red brick and broken glass that weighed against it, but as long as it did, Diego, Jake, and Sadavir would call it home. It was their own squat.

He slipped through the crooked doorway whose warped door was permanently wedged ajar and entered into pure darkness. Much of the city was now powered by the wonder that was electricity, while the older parts were still on gas, but Bryson Street was a derelict waiting for the funding to be torn down and rebuilt, and so had neither. Diego reached into his pocket and slide out a box of matches, three flickers of light and finally, it took illuminating the damp hallway of the boys squat. He rummaged for a moment on the sideboard for a candle and noticed how they only had three left. One more expanse to be added to their ever-growing list.

It was always damp inside, owing to the collapsed roof above, for the same reason they could only use the rooms on the ground floor. Candle in hand he walked into the living space a room with cracked plaster furnished with flaking wall-paper, patchwork carpeting stitched together from ragged cloth and the dank smell of mold. Three make-shift hammocks served as their bedding, strung up from hooks driven into the exposed walling. There wasn't a morning he didn't hate waking up in this room.

He set the candle down on a table and went over to his hammock. Under it was an old steamer trunk that he had managed to scrounge up from one of the other derelicts. It was painted green and despite the wear and tear the big brass buckles and bracing still made it looked elegant. Diego slowly passed his paw over the top of it, fondly remembering the joy of finding it. Each clasp opened with a satisfying click and a squeak as the lid lifted open. On the inside was everything Diego owned, all neatly compacted into one trunk. Been impoverished he didn't own much in the way of clothing and what he did have was practical and hard wearing. Frantically he rummaged on through, stopping only to assess some shred of cloth before shoving it back in. Falling back on his ass he sighed in frustration, "Nothing" he looked on down at himself appraisingly and then sighed again "I can't go like this" Not one to be beaten he got back onto his feet and left.

Diego, Jake, and Sadavir weren't the only three who lived on Bryson street. In a city recovering from a disastrous war, where food riots are common and crime is rife, squatting was very common. Across the street and three doors down another resident lived in a still standing derelict. Diego knocked on the door and a few moments later hears from the other side, "Who is it?" The voice elderly but not frail.

"It's me Mrs. Tulis, Diego", From the other side he heard the sound of chains and bolts getting drawn back. Diego was soft on the old washer lady and it made him happy to know she wouldn't just open the door to anyone who came knocking. The door opened with Mrs. Tulis the elderly rabbit stood draped in a thick woolen shawl, gentle illumination making her hovel all the homelier. In her youth her fur was ebony black, now age had added long streaks of grey.

Standing to the side she beckoned him in, "Come in duck and tell me all about it", With her stocky build and friendly mannerisms Mrs. Tulis was one of those people that anyone could just love.

Diego slide past her with a friendly laugh, "Who said anything was wrong?"

The door closed and all five locks were put back into place. When she looked back to him that elderly rabbit had a smile that said it all "You did", she came straight up to him and put her paw onto his cheek. Diego felt just how course her hands were, a life of working with a washing board "No hiding anything from me", she paused for just a moment "And I've told you before, you boys can call me Granny"

She had asked that before and Diego had always resisted. He knew she had a family before the war, now after she lived alone as a widow. It always worried him she was projecting her loss onto what were strangers. But still... Ignorance is bliss.

"Ok Granny", he said with a warm smile that put the elder bunny to ease. They sat in her cosy front room and Diego went on to tactfully tell the story of how he got the ribbon and what it meant, carefully omitting their acts of larceny, "So I'm in a bit of a jam, I either go like this-" he gestured over himself and what he thought of as his 'working clothes', "-or I think I can knock something together and look like a chimney sweep"

Mrs. Tulis sipped back on her tea while reclining in her chair as he spoke and beamed back at him as he finished, "So our little Diego is finally courting"

He awkwardly looked away and rubbed the back of his neck "I never said that"

She rolled her eyes dismissively, "Oh grow up, I don't know what else you'd call it when a girl asks a boy to a party" She set her cup down and then pushed herself from the chair, the cracking of weary bones as she got up, still swathed in several layers to keep warm. Diego rose to help her, but with one wave of her arm it was clear Mrs. Tulis stood on her own, "Your lucky my Cole was about your size, let me see what I've got"

Unable to help it, Diego's tail wagged behind him, "Thank you Granny"