Birthrights - 4. Chapter 4

He finished reading and studied the picture again; it wasn’t the man that caught his attention, but rather, the machine in the background. Its arms he recognized as the same make and model as the one Thatcher had. Biomech engineers almost never shared their design schematics with each other, so he couldn't help but wonder if this had been the same man who had operated on him. He wanted to ask Thatcher and inform him that one of his friends may be missing, but he would have to think of an excuse for where he got the information first. If Thatcher knew he was carrying around an illegal newspaper, he would without a doubt freak out.

He was jolted out of his train of thought when he heard a loud thunk! at his window. He rushed to find the source of the noise. As he looked down at the road below he saw Lucas, who was pacing back and forth. He looked almost distraught, which was odd from one of the most laid-back people Milo had ever known, and right away, he knew that something must be wrong.

He quickly gathered up his messenger bag and glove to cover the symbol on his hand. He rolled up the paper and shoved it in the bag; he had made the decision that it would be safer to burn the thing than keep it around. After all, he had all but memorized the important stories word for word and he didn’t want to think of what could happen if he were to be caught with it.

He stopped a few feet from Thatcher's doorway and just listened to make sure he was still asleep. As soon as he was sure Thatcher was still sleeping soundly, he slowly began to creep past, trying his hardest not to wake him up. He got about halfway past the doorway when Ratchet bolted out from under the bed chasing a mouse. The cat let out a high-pitched screech as it rounded the corner and chased it prey down the stairs. Milo froze in his tracks as he heard Thatcher grumble something under his breath and roll over in his bed. He didn’t dare move until he was positive he wouldn’t be caught. Finally, after a minute, Thatcher resumed the familiar rhythmic buzz saw sound of his snoring.

'I ought to skin that damn cat,' he thought to himself as he headed out the front door. He closed it softly behind him and turned to see a more frantic Lucas running up to him. This caused Milo to jump slightly; not because of the look on his face, but because he noticed now that Lucas’s left eye was bruised and black and he had several cuts dotting his face. Before Milo could even ask what had happened, Lucas began yelling.

“That son of a bitch! I'll kill 'em; every last one o' them! I swear to god I will!” he yelled. Any louder and Milo knew he was sure to wake the entire street.

“Lucas calm down. What in the hell happened to ya?” Milo was putting up a futile effort to calm him; instead, Lucas only responded even louder.

“That son of a bitch Monty, the guy I won Scouter from. Him an' his guys cornered me last night, beat the piss outta me and took Scouter along with everything else I had!” He turned and walked a few steps before turning to face Milo again, now with more of a look of desperation. “I need you to help me; I need you to help me get him back!”

“Me? I… I… how... I can’t!” Milo had no idea what Lucas’s plan was, but he knew it couldn’t have involved anything good, especially if it meant Monty was involved. Monty was a nobleman, but a known crook. He had dirt dealings with just about every aspect of the city, including bribing all the right people. He had lied; cheated and murdered his way to fortune. Milo had no desire to go getting involved with him in any way, but the look on Lucas' face was almost heart breaking. Other than himself, Scouter was the only friend Lucas had ever allowed himself to have, even if it was a mech. “How am I suppose to help you exactly? It's not like Monty is just going to hand Scouter over to me.” However, the sly smile that met Lucas lips told him he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“It’s simple you gonna play him, and you gonna beat him until he bets you Scouter,” he said as he pulled out a deck of cards.

“There’s only one problem with that, I don’t know the first thing about playing cards. Not to mention I have nothing to bet him!” Milo protested, hoping desperately for an out on this scheme.

“Sure you do,” Lucas said, holding up the rolled up newspaper. Milo shoved his hand into his bag only to find it empty. “There is nut’in' more important or valuable than information. Not to mention Monty has a certain affinity for anything regarding Comsie, much like yourself.”

“Absolutely no way!” Milo said snatched it out of his hand. “I’m burning this thing as soon as I can. If Monty got his hands on it and got caught he would rat me out in a second if it meant saving his own ass.”

“Not to worry because I’m going to make sure you win, just do exactly as I tell you and you’ll be fine.” Before Milo could think up another argument, Lucas turned and began making his way down the street.

“So let me get this straight. You want me to cheat one of the most dangerous people in this city, the same thing he had his thugs beat the snot outta you for? And in order to cheat this thug, I have to bet something so dangerous that if it were to fall into the wrong hands I could be shot on sight?”

Lucas stopped walking and stood there for as few seconds scratching his head. “Yeah, that about sums it up, and I wouldn’t really call it cheating... think of it more as a 'calculated creative strategy'. I’m sure your moral compass with still point pretty north afterwards. Besides, it's not like he doesn’t deserve it; god knows he’s cheated enough people himself.”

Lucas' words didn’t help put Milo at ease. In fact, that did quite the opposite. “How do you know Monty will even bet Scouter? I mean, isn’t that how he lost him to you in the first place?”

Lucas just let out a large sigh it was clear he was tired of the arguments, but he had an answer nonetheless, he always seemed to have a counter argument ready. “Because there is only one thing he hates more than cheaters, and that’s losing... especially losing to some punk kid such as yourself, he won’t stop betting until he’s completely cleaned out and all you have to do is just keep playing into him.” Having lost this battle of words, Milo began walking down the road towards the pubs.

It would still be an hour before any of them opened. Therefore, Lucas gave him a quick run down of how the game is played and of his strategy. It involved Lucas positioning himself behind Monty, and a series of numbers and hand gestures that he would be making to tell him what kind of hand he was up against. However, despite all of Lucas’ efforts, Milo still wasn’t fully sure of just how it would work; instead, all he could do was trust that Lucas would have something up his sleeve.

“Now remember, if I touch my head that means king if I hold up two fingers and touch my head that mean a pair of kings you got it?”

“Y-yeah I think so,” Milo lied. In reality he found the rules of playing the game much easier to learn than the rules of cheating at it.” And with that, they began making their way to the south district. Thatcher had warned him ever since he was little to stay away from there, but given what he had agreed to, he was sure that getting caught by Thatcher was the least of his worries.

The south district, or Blackwash Corridor as it was called, was the worst off part of the city. Not that there was as much a difference between it and any other part of the city nowadays, but it was well known that the only reason people even go near there is to try to find trouble, the perfect place someone like Monty would be skulking about. It was given the name blackwash due to the massive steam boilers that power the city being there. The pipes that ran from them to the rest of the city were built over the roofs and often leaked, making it look as though it was always raining a black, dirty water.

Each of the five districts were separated by a massive thirty foot high iron gates that had been put up as a way for Voran to maintain control. The first few years after his takeover there had been numerous failed rebellions, most of which were stamped out quickly. The gates were put up as a means to try to keep the people separated. They were opened each morning and closed each night. If anyone was caught out of their own district after the gates were shut, they were fined; if they couldn’t pay the fine, they were publicly beaten to set an example.

This was the first time Milo had ever crossed the gate into blackwash. It wasn’t kept up nearly as well as the other gates. Years of rust had accumulated and there was various graffiti over just about every inch of it. One particular marking that grabbed Milo's attention was the Almora sigil, which had been hastily sprayed big enough for everyone to see. It made him think of the one on the back of his hand. 'Whoever put that there was either extremely brave or extremely stupid,' he thought to himself. However, whether it was bravery or stupidity that motivated whoever did it, Milo couldn’t deny that seeing it brought a slight joy to him.

Sadly, blackwash was just as bad as the rumors Milo had heard; rows and rows of rundown abandon buildings, all of which had been stained black due to the water that gave this place it name. Most of the windows of the building were smashed out and boarded up. And most of the doors had been torn from their hinges. In between the buildings, he saw that a large number of the people down here had taken to making makeshift shacks out of whatever material they could find.

“He usually spends every morning in one of the pubs, either trying to recruit more members or shake down anyone else willing to play him,” Lucas said, as they made their way through the streets. “Just do yourself a favor and stick close to me, and whatever you do, don’t talk to anyone, and keep your bag close, and don’t look at anyone for too long and…”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to jus carry me?” Milo asked, cutting him off midsentence.

“Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you get home in one piece,” Lucas said, as he walked up and leaned in close enough so that only Milo could hear. “You see those guys on the roof up there?” he said, pointing to a building on the other side of the street where a group of guys were sitting on the edge, watching them. “And them ones over there,” he said, nodding towards an alley where two more boys had just emerged. “To them it’s obvious that you aren’t from this part of the city, and in their eyes, that makes you easy prey.” Milo swallowed hard as he looked around and for the first time realized just how many eyes were on him. “Hey! Keep up!” Lucas said and Milo swiftly fallowed.

After another ten minutes of walking, they came up to an old wooden building with several cars surrounding it. A large sign above the door read Corbin’s Corner Pub and Poker House. “Good, he's here,” Lucas said, as they made their way around to the side of the building. “Now remember, I can't go in with you. I'll have to sneak in the back. If he so much as catches a whiff o' me… well, let's just say it'll be bad for the both of us.” You remember everything I showed ya, right?”

“Yeah… at least I think so.” Lucas looked at Milo for a second not making a sound. From this point on there could be no screw-ups.

“Well that’ll have to do, I suppose.” And Lucas headed around back, leaving Milo to do his part. He felt his heart begin pounding before he even made it through the door. Never in a million years had he ever thought he would be doing something this stupid. For a second he considered turning now and forgetting the whole thing. However, he would never be able to bring himself to face Lucas again. And the thoughts of what Lucas might try to do without his help scared him more than double crossing Monty did.

The inside of the pub was worse than the outside. The air was extremely thick and had a stench of stale beer and cigar smoke. It was so strong that it staggered Milo for a second and he had to grab a chair for balance.

“Ya alright there kid?” asked a bald man behind the bar as he watched Milo regain his composure. “Usually people are staggering when they leave. You the first one I seen staggering on your way in though,” he said as he let out a laugh.

Milo scanned the bar for Monty’s gang. There were a few people sitting at the bar, but not much else. In one of the back corners of the room was an elderly man in a long hooded raincoat sitting at a piano. He was playing a slow dreary tune singing softly to himself. In the middle of the bar was a round table at which several men wearing suits were sitting. Right away Milo knew that must be Monty. Given his less than perfect entrance, he would have to try to look as tough as possible, but even when trying to look tough, his small stature and general innocent looking nature didn’t make for a very intimidating figure. On the bright side though, his entrance did provide the perfect distraction for Lucas to slip in unnoticed.

Milo watched as Lucas snuck over to coat rack; he grabbed a long wool trench coat and a large old dusty top hat. He slipped them on and sat at a table in the opposite corner from the piano player, right behind where Monty was sitting. He pulled the hat down far enough to obscure most of his face. The minute he was seated, he looked over to Milo then nodded to Monty’s table.

Milo's heart was now in his throat as he approached the table of thugs. As he got closer, he could hear the old man on the piano begin to play aloud and he recognized it as a tune he had heard Thatcher sing to himself on a few occasions. He stopped for a few seconds to listen. It was strange, he had never heard anyone else sing it before.

“I know that I'm wrong.

About everything I said.

But here it goes again.

You wanted more,

Than you thought,

I would ever give.

But you were badly mistaken.”

Hearing it made him think of Thatcher back at home, worried about what he was up to. And for once, he had good reason to. He wished he was back at home cleaning up in the shop; anything would be better than this. He listened a bit longer as the man's voice picked up.

“I told you lies,

And said what you were meant to hear,

Just as you wished... my dear,

To reach the eye of the storm.

So we begin to float,

And drifted out into the tide,

For every wave,

To swallow... us alive.

No sign of shore,

The moment when the sails were torn.

We've reached the end.

Eye of the storm.

For all that it cost,

In the end there was no price to pay.

For all that was lost,

The storm carried it away.”

The song ended and Milo was brought back to reality. The man went on to play a new song that Milo had never heard before. He looked past the table to see Lucas starring at him; a questioning almost concerned look was on his face. ‘Right, enough stalling,’ he thought to himself, and continued to make his way towards the table, but the foul smell from their cigar smoke got stuck in his throat and caused him to break into a coughing fit. At which point everyone at the table turned to look at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucas just put his face in his palm and shook his head in disbelief. ‘So much for trying to look tough.’

“Hey kid, what the hell you doin? … Can I help you with somthin? Cause your interrupting our damn game here!” Milo looked up from his coughing to see Monty staring at him. He was a thin pale man with greasy black hair that clung to the sides of his face. He had a large mustache that wrapped around his face and ended on his cheekbones. Overall, he was not a physically intimidating person at all. It was his eyes that tended to be the source of his menacing appearance. They were a pale blue color that showed little to no emotion. It was like starring into the eyes of a dead man. Milo wanted desperately to speak up, but he found himself unable to form words. “Look ya little snot, either speak up or get the hell outta my face. I’m a busy man. Don’t your parents teach you any damn manners?”

“I… I wanted to challenge you,” Milo finally managed to spit out. Everyone one at the table grew silent and all eyes shifted from Milo to Monty, who just starred expressionless. They stayed like that frozen in an awkward silence when finally, a smile broke across Monty’s face and he busted out laughing, almost to the point of hysterics. At which point everyone else began laughing with him.

“Can you believe this damn kid?” He continued laughing for a minute straight when he finally motioned to a large bearded man seated next to him. “Eroll, do me a favor and get this brat outta my face, would ya?” The large man walked around, grabbed Milo by the arm and began dragging him to the front door. ‘Dammit! This is not good. I need him to take me seriously’ Milo thought back to what Lucas said earlier.

“What’s wrong? Afraid to lose to some kid?” Milo was almost at the door when he blurted the words out, and right away, he wished he hadn’t. Once again the crowed at the table grew instantly silent as Monty’s huge grin turned to a stone cold glare. It was hard to tell if he was going to accept the challenge or shoot Milo right then and there. It's not like he wouldn’t be able to get away with it.

“You wanna play, kid? Fine. We’ll play, but don’t go cryin when I take your damn milk money.” And he began gathering up the cards off the table, much to the annoyance of the man sitting across from him.

“Hey! What the hell, what about me? I thought we was playing,” he said, slapping his hand down over the pile of cards.

“You lost! Get over it,” Monty snapped as he raked in the pile of money.

“But the game wasn’t over yet! So how come I lose!?” the man said, now trying to grab at the money. Now Monty looked more annoyed than ever. He reached into his coat pocket and swiftly yanked out a silver revolver and aimed it directly at the man's face.

“'Cause I’m the one with the goddamn gun, that’s how come! Now move your ass and let the kid sit!” Finding it hard to argue with the revolver's logic, the man decided it was best to cut his losses and quit while he was ahead, or had a head left.

Milo walked over and sat himself at the table. Over Monty’s left shoulder he could see Lucas, who was now positioned in perfect view of Monty’s cards. Milo's heart began picking up speed as the game began and the first hand was dealt.

“I do hope you have some damn money to bet with, we don’t take pieces of candy here,” he sneered.

“I don’t have any money, but I do have this,” he said as he reached into his bag and pulled out the paper and dropped it down on the table.

“You gotta be shitin' me, kid. You come to my table and bring a newspaper to gamble with? I can go and get a hundred newspapers…”

“Not this one!” Milo said, cutting him off. “This one’s special; I got it from the underground vendor that the guards killed last week.”

“Yeah I heard 'bout that; damn fool had it coming if you ask me. Damn fool shudda known better than trying to peddle that shit in one o' the upper districts. Anyway, what makes this illegal paper so damn valuable? In case you haven’t noticed, they crop up all the time.”

“Cause this one has info… on Comsie.” For the first time Milo saw a certain light shine in Monty’s normally lifeless eyes, and he knew at that moment he had him. ‘He’s taken the bait,’ he thought to himself. He watched as Monty laid down the crumpled up bills that the man had almost lost his head for earlier.

The hand was dealt. Milo lifted his hand to see a pair of queens staring him in the face. And he swallowed hard as he glanced over Monty’s shoulder to watch for Lucas' signals. As discreetly as possible, Lucas held up two fingers with his left hand and rubbed his chin with his right. Milo had to think for a few seconds what that meant. And when he was sure he had it, he lifted his hand and rapped on the table. Monty got a confused look on his face.

“You must be dumber than a sack o' bricks kid, but fine, if you wanna call, be my guest.” They both displayed their cards and Milo's heart jumped as he saw the results: his queens had beaten out Monty’s pair of jacks. For the first time he felt hopeful that they might just pull it off.

They played five more hands before Monty was finally out of cash and now onto betting the first of the watches he had taken from Lucas, but still no sign of Scouter. The game continued for what felt like forever with Lucas sending him subtle signals each time. With each hand, Monty was slowly losing his cool; he was almost cleaned out and had only managed to win a handful of games.

Within the hour, Milo had acquired 230 marks, several gold pocket watches, and three rings, which was a sure sign that they were getting close to the end. Finally, after another four hands Monty reached into his coat pocket and pulled up the tiny golden ball that Milo recognized as Scouter. The minute he placed it on the table, eight tiny gold legs unwrapped themselves as the tiny mech came to life,

“Here’s the deal… I’ll only bet this little guy, but if you go in all or nothing, I'll let you in on a little known secret about our mutual interest in a certain notorious pirate. That is easily worth twice as much as what's on this table. Sooo… Wadda ya say?”

Milo looked to Lucas, who was shaking his head 'no'. Milo hated the idea of betting everything, but he knew it was the only way they were gonna make it out of this. There was no way Monty would let them leave without giving him one last shot to reclaim victory. So with his hands shaking, he nodded his head and agreed to the terms.

Monty dealt out the last of hand of cards. Milo looked up to watch for Lucas' signals, but instead met with Eroll, who had moved in behind Monty, blocking his view. It became apparent that he was truly on his own this time. He looked down at Scouter, who was walking in small circles on the table. For a second, he contemplated grabbing him and running. He wondered how far he could make it, but then he remembered Monty’s persuasion technique from earlier, sure he could out run Eroll, but he couldn’t out run bullets.

Milo slowly lifted his cards to reveal a pair of 10s, a Jack, a King and a 5. 'Nothing of any real use,' he thought to himself, and his prospects of winning began to sink as he saw a grin meet Monty’s lips. Monty discarded two cards. Milo discarded the 5 and one of the 10s and drew. He waited for Monty, who also drew two. Immediately after drawing, Monty knocked on the table and gave a sickening glare at Milo. This was his last chance; Milo picked up his two cards and looked at them. Without thinking about what he was doing, he spread his hand out on the table and jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over to the floor.

“I WIN!” he shouted as his Royal Flush: Ace, King, Queen, Jack and 10 – all hearts - was laid out. Monty hadn't even presented his hand yet. However, Milo's celebration was short lived as he noticed the smile still on Monty’s face; he knew that something wasn’t right. Eroll then moved out of the way to reveal Lucas being manhandled by two more of Monty’s thugs. The color in Milo's face drained and he froze in place, unable to move.

“Didn’t your parents teach you that cheating is wrong? Guess not, huh? … Allow me to teach you for them then.” Milo found himself swiftly grabbed up by Eroll and was helpless to escape. “You see, unlike you, I’m a man of my word.” Monty then got up and walked over to the fireplace and grabbed the fire iron. "You beat me in the end fair and square, so I’m gonna let you in on what I’ve learned about Comsie and his crew.” He then stuck the end of the iron into the flames and held it there. Everyone watched as it began heating up and turning red. “You see, they have a very unique way of knowing who each other are, even if they’ve never met. It's really quite genius. They mark themselves; they tattoo a mark into one of their hands.”

It didn’t take long for Milo to put two and two together. “Nooooo! Please!” But it was no good. Eroll stretched out his arm over the poker table. And Monty made his way back to the table, a red hot fire iron in hand. "Unfortunately we don’t have any ink or needles, so were gonna just have to make due.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucas struggling with every ounce of his might to break free, but he was out matched and outnumbered; all he could do was watch in horror at the pain he had brought upon the one person who mattered to him in life.

“Awww c’mon, what’s the matter? I thought you wanted to be a pirate. You’ll never make it if you’re afraid of a little burning.” Monty quickly yanked the glove off Milo's right hand, exposing the Almora crest, which, much to everyone’s amazement, including Milo's, had begun glowing with a brilliant blue light. Everyone, including Monty, stopped dead in their tracks.

“What the hell is this?" Monty said, completely bewildered. No one's eyes left the sight of the glowing tattoo until the sound of the hammer of a gun being cocked was made. The attention was then shifted from Milo's hand to Monty’s head, which now had a revolver pointed at it.

“Let the boy and his friend go.” It was the old man who had been at the piano earlier. With all that was going on, Monty hadn’t noticed him sneak up behind him.

“Buddy you making one hell of a mistake. You obviously must not know who I am!”

“Now!” the man shouted this time, digging the end of the gun barrel harder into Monty's skull. Realizing he wasn’t playing around, Monty motioned for their release. The moment he felt their grips loosen, Lucas ran over and wrapped his arms tightly around Milo, whose eyes were still fixated on the crest. After their embrace, Lucas reached out for the table. In a flash, Scouter ran up his arm and onto his shoulder, as Lucas pocketed all of the winnings... and then some.

“C’mon we better get out of here,” Lucas said, grabbing and trying to pull Milo out the door. Still in shock, Milo looked up at the old man, his gun still firmly planted into the back of Monty’s head.

“I… I… don’t know… thanks...”

“There will be no need for that. I’m sure by the time everything is said and done, it'll be I who is thanking you. Things are already set in motion; things you couldn’t possible understand. Not yet anyway.” Milo had no idea what the old man meant by that, nor how to respond. Instead, he allowed himself to be dragged out by Lucas.

The two of them broke out into a run and continued running until they were completely clear of blackwash, and they had to stop to catch their breaths. Lucas finally spoke up, but first he grabbed Milo's hand and began studying the glowing patterns. “Why that hell is it glowing? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“I dunno, it’s never done this before,” Milo said, pulling his hand back; he began tracing the outline of the sword with his finger. In the distance, a massive horn sounded, causing him to jump clear out of his skin. All around him, people began crying out in what seemed like a mixture of excitement, fear and joy rolled into one. At least a dozen little kids' eyes doubled in size as they pointed up at the sky.

A second horn blasted as Milo turned to see what had caused such a reaction and the sight caused his heart to skip a beat. It was an airship, but not just any airship, it was massive, just like the one Thatcher used to tell him about. He was right, they did cover up an entire city block.

The two of them watched speechless as it slowly made its way past them, bathing the street further down in its shadow. Milo then caught a glimpse of the crest on one of its flags, which displayed a beautiful silver lion's head. “That’s the same crest that was on the messenger ship that came a few weeks ago, the same day I got the newspaper.” It hit him at that moment; he had left his newspaper back at the pub.

“Looking for this?” Milo turned to see the same man who had helped him out at the pub.

“How did you find us, and how did you manage to make it out of there? And what did you mean by what you said, and what's your name anyway!?” Milo found himself stammering as he rapid-fired question after question at the old man.

“Relax, my Lord; I’m sure soon enough you’ll have your answers. For now, though, I would keep this in a safe place," he said, handing him the newspaper. "And keep yourself safe as well.” Before he could respond, he turned and made his way down a darkened alleyway. Milo half thought to chase after him, but then he thought it better to wait and trust that what the man said was true. He would have his answers, whether he wanted them or not.

“My Lord? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Milo asked himself aloud.

“Who the hell knows? There are tons of crazies in this city and there are bound to be more now.” Lucas slung his arm over Milo's shoulder. “Ya know, ya done good today, kid, real good.” And together the two walked down the street.