Episode 40

"You're welcome to rest too if you need," Flinch offered without looking at Helfeirch.

"Thanks, but I'm good," Helfeirch answered flatly.

"So, it was Helfeirch, right?"

Helfeirch nodded. "Mhm."

Flinch walked over to a cupboard, pulling out a snack. "Hungry?"

"Maybe in a bit."

"So, how did you meet Scarlet?" the blond-headed man asked as he started munching.

"I think you already know the answer to that."

"Fair enough. So, how is it you ended up sticking together?"

"We both wanted things that the other could help with," Helfeirch answered. "What about you? You said you've known Scarlet for a while."

Flinch nodded as he looked down at his food. "Yeah, she's my oldest business partner and one of my only friends." He paused. "When you're in the kind of business that I am, and she was… It can be hard to find people you can trust."

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Scarlet could still remember the first time she'd met Flinch. He didn't have his mechanically enhanced eyes then, and his body hadn't quite filled out, making him look younger than he was.

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She hadn't been living in Lygredd Grand very long and was still staying in one of the slums. The lights there were bright and relentless, flashing and gleaming all through the night. It had been two days since she'd last eaten, and she sat on a sidewalk by the main road with her eyes closed and her back against the wall of a building.

She'd quickly figured out that a great many women who'd come from Lygredd's Belly as she had, had been forced to resort to some sort of sex work to get by. If she'd had a penny for every time some creep or madam had approached for such work since she'd arrived here, she'd have more than enough to have a decent meal.

But she had declined every proposition. And every time she'd received a sneer or smug smirk in response. Even if they did not say it, she could hear them thinking,

'You'll change your mind soon enough when you're starving.' And then, when she was too hungry to think straight, they'd come to lure her into a life where she would be little better than a slave.

But Scarlet had known that and seen them do it to other girls. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed back down. Her hunger was worth her freedom. Besides, she had resolved that she would not be hungry much longer.

Her eyes opened slightly as she continued sitting there with her arms propped up on her knees. Her pride and desire for freedom over her own life may have kept her from selling her body. But it hadn't kept her from resorting to something else that was quite common in the slums, thievery.

When she couldn't find decent work, she began sitting on the streets observing how other people in her position made ends meet. Some acted as the muscle for various organizations and establishments. There were also various forms of entertainers: dancers, sex workers, stage performers, and those who participated in sports such as fighting or racing. There were also the average jobs needed in any area, like food establishments and cleaning services. But these were among the worst paid and also the hardest to get. And the last on the list were those who made a job out of stealing.

Given that she didn't have the talent to be successful doing something like fighting or racing and could not get a job she'd be okay working, she decided that she would try her hand at becoming a thief. She started small, pickpocketing here, a slide-of-hand there.

The important thing was to not get caught. It took patience, observation, and careful planning. She had come to find that these were things she could do. These were things she could hone and master.

To any passerby, it would seem Scarlet was merely sitting there, looking listlessly at nothing. But her attention was acutely tuned in on her target. She'd been casing an establishment nearby for a few weeks now. She could still clearly recall the haughty sneer on the madam's face who ran the place as she scoffed at Scarlet's refusal to work for her. The woman later sent her goons to teach Scarlet a lesson.

Scarlet ran her thumb over her knuckles where the skin had been broken. They were one of many injuries Scarlet had sustained during that fight. That woman, like so many people here, was used to backing others into a corner and beating them into submission.

But Scarlet had no intention of becoming anyone's slave. She would teach these people. If they insisted on backing her into a corner, she would not cower and submit like some scared puppy; she would lunge for their jugular like a wild dog.

And so, a little hunger did not matter to her, for she had no intention of staying that way for long.