V M (NPC) Good Luck Charms

[Shallan Davar]

Quil lounged on a rooftop on the edge of Gunner’s turf, watching the storm clouds rolling in. It was gonna be a good one, she could already tell. Storms up here in the sky were always something special and Quil had always liked to sit back and watch them, even when she was little. There was just something about the way that all that big blue sky turned into big dark clouds so fast. Just like that, it was gone, hidden away behind a churning vortex of wind and rain.

The first of the warning horns were sounding now. A long-winded, droning declaration to herald The coming storm wall. The merchants were already going to be closing up their windows and the market square would be rapidly emptying. The allure of coins falling to the necessity of safety. And in the gap between the two, was where you found the cracks. Gunner would probably have sent Noopy and Ribs to go and scrounge the place for anything good to nick by now. Hopefully they were smart enough to keep out of sight of the peacekeepers.

They were getting tougher on everyone now, no matter how young. They’d scarred up little Snickers good on his left shoulder last week after they caught him swiping. Papa Hope was trying to keep up his image, any way that he could. Now that an island had been snatched out from under his nose and the seas were declaring war on the sky, people started asking questions. That’s when a boss has to make a big stick about how strong and dangerous they are. Otherwise, people start to wonder why you’re even the boss in the first place.

There was a scraping sound from the edge of the rooftop behind her, and Quil glanced backwards up the rooftop, puffing an errant lock of hair out of her eyes as Tuchie scrambled over towards her. He looked nervous, but Quil was confident that Gunner wasn’t thinking about where they were right now. They were too big to be bullied now, unless they were doing something right stupid, so he mostly just kept them around to help the little’uns feel like they were a family still.

Besides, there was a storm coming. Everybody scattered into their nooks when there was a storm coming.

“What’d you want, Q? This is how people’r gonna get anxious!” Tuchie grumbled, sitting down and tucking his arms around his knees. Quil shrugged, her arms still crossed behind her head as she lazed.

“Isse think Gunner’s gonna be running around checkin’ where errybody is scampered before a storm? Besides, ah innit want anyone else ta see what ah wants ta show ya.”

Tuchie squinted at her grin with a healthy distrust. That was good, he was still thinking on his feet, even with her. She had noticed that when they got bigger, some of the guys would just go along with whatever one of the girls said cause they were hoping it would get them lovers. She wasn’t sure exactly when that started happening, but she was guessing it’d be soon. If Tuchie got all head-over-heels for her he’d get stupid, and then he’d get caught or stabbed in a corner. That wouldn't be good for either of them. Especially for Tuchie.

“I don’t think it’s gonna work out Q.” Tuchie was rocking slightly, staring at the storm clouds, “Gunner’s gonna take it personally if we get any of the little’uns to go with us. He won’t just let us go.”

“Ah know.” Quil stated with an easy tone. She’d been studying this leadership stuff. It was all about acting confident. You had to get everyone to believe you knew what to do next, so they would listen to your ideas rather than running fifty thousand directions whenever things started to go belly up.

“But yer wrong, Tuchie. Gunner’s running around with half a brain these days. He’s so stressed out about the Ankler’s what are pressing up against his turf over by tha’ old wastebridge. He can’t afford ta fight on two fronts. Alla tha’ crews from Naussy-ca are throwing alla old turf lines outta window faster’n a fire. Issa best time ta try formin’ our own.”

Tuchie was staring at her now, his brow furrowed in clear disagreement. This was why she wanted him on her crew. He’d remember things that she’d forgotten. But he was going to have to realize that he wasn’t going to win many of these arguments. Not until he got snippier at least.

“That’s silly, Q. You’re talking silly-talk. All these extra crews are moving in. Everybody is looking to carve out a spot for themselves. It’s gonna be blood in the streets, ain’t no two bones about it.”

“Ah know. " She repeated, still laying on her back casually, "Alla same, we innit got much time, you an’ me. Gunner’s gonna make us leave or off us. An’ sooner rather’n later ifn ah had ta guess. We’re just gonna beat ‘im to his punches, yeah?”

“So what? We’re still going to have to fight for our scrape. I jus’ don’t see how you, me an’ some little’uns are gonna be able to hold any ground when push comes to scrub.”

“Well, onna first point ahm thinkin’ we can probably get Jimmers and Chakra to go with us, they’re big enough ta fight sommit decent-like.”

“Even so t-”

“An’na second point!” Quil rolled up to a sitting position, turning to sit sideways and face Tuchie, “We gots a bit o’ an extra help. A’cause ahm born lucky.”

“What’re you talkin’ Q? If you were born lucky you wouldn’t be out here onna streets with all of us!”

“Bah-hush! Now lookit this!” She held up a rock about the size of two of her fists and a sharpened bit of stick that she’d nicked from a broken market stall the other day. She tapped the pointed of the stick at the rock, looking at Tuchie as she did so to gauge his reaction.

“Ahright…. Tha’s a pretty stick? Q, ah don’t see how-”

“Watch!” Quil held up the stick and focused on her luck. She'd been so stupid in her head as a little'un that she hadn't noticed this. How could she miss the fact that she was born lucky for so long? If she needed things to happen, she could just make them happen, that's how lucky she was! Right this minute she needed that stick to be the best blime-well stick what had ever been a stick. It was like she was pushing on something, then it gave in. A small spark jumped between her hand and the stick, like would happen when some rich folk with good socks touched a door handle wrong and yelped. Tuchie noticed the flash, but he didn’t jump or shout at all. That was good, she’d been worried he might.

“An’ now…” She held the stick up with a grin, then stabbed it triumphantly into the rock. She held it up in front of Tuchie’s wide-eyed stark. The wooden stake skewered the chunk of rock like a piece of fruit.

“...An’ now, Tuchie, ah right thinks we gotta half-near decent shot what takin’ o’er this place!”

 

[Shallan Davar]

Quil strode into Gunner’s lair with her courage screwed to the sticking place.

Gunner was holding court behind the old sault warehouse today. Most likely he liked it because it was easier to threaten the little’uns with hooks and such when you were nearer the place to get them. Tuchie would be watching from the edges, but she didn't have time to look for him. This was performing time.

She had a glove on her right hand, a right good find, even if it was missing two of the fingers and the thumb. On her left forearm she’d bound up a bracer of sorts from some old rags and a nice bit of fish leather that Yelly had nicked for her from a stall a few weeks back. It was stitched badly, and it rubbed her arm raw if she wore it too long, but it would be worth it for today.

“Oy! Gunner!” She sauntered in with a firm focus on ignoring her raging heartbeat. She was ready for this. It had to happen.

“Oy Q-bird.” Gunner responded from his perch on a stack of crates, the scattered conversation of the crew nearby quieting to a hush as they turned to watch.

You didn’t survive long in a crew without learning how to get a sense for when storms were going to hit. And everyone who wasn’t right stupid knew this clash was coming sometime soon. Gunner and Quil had been two of the three favorites to run the crew after Rihter got nabbed by the Coppers. Gunner had been able to get more of the big’uns on his side though, by a good clip, so Quil hadn’t even tried to contest him for Richter’s mantle as crewboss. It would’ve been just a sure way to get herself stabbed.

But things were about to change.

Quil stood in the middle of the alley court, staring Gunner down. He was big, but not brawler big. He just had big shoulders, and enough muscle to make it look like he was bigger. Besides, that wasn’t how he kept himself on top of the crew pecking order. He relied on Almighty Thunder for that.

Almighty Thunder was Gunner’s pride and namesake. He had managed to find a busted up drone unit somehow, and had traded in every favor he could with one of the techies down in Pillbox’s turf to get the one working bit made into a standalone weapon. He only had so many bullets left for the thing. Nobody knew quite how many he had at this point, but nobody wanted to be the one to test him enough to find out. Yeah, a gunshot would get all kinda interest from the Coppers, but you’d be the one still there and bleeding out when they arrived, not him.

Gunner must’ve noticed her eyes drifting towards it, because he pulled the gun out of his hip holster and gave it a casual twirl. It looked effortless now, and every little’un in the yard had their eyes locked on it. It commanded their respect and their fear. But Quil knew Gunner, she had seen how long he had practiced that twirl back when both of them worked for Richter.

“I gotta problem, Gunner.” She stated evenly, refusing to back down. The theatrics of things like this were important to keep the little’uns feeling safe and inspired and whatnot. They had to believe that crewbosses were something special. Not adults, but big and important enough to keep them safe from the threats of the streets all the same.

He slammed Almighty Thunder into the holster with a scowl. He wiped his nose and hopped down from his perch to slink over to her. Gunner always walked like he was hiding from someone, it worked well when they were running with Richter, but it did him no favors now that he was acting the tough kind. Still it was obvious he’d try to make her back down before there was an honest scrape.

“You got a problem, Lil’ Q-bird?” He sneered at her, getting up close, doing the most he could to take advantage of the two years of age he had on her. He wanted her to step back, so she stepped forwards instead, getting so close up to his face that his sneer twitched.

“Tha’s right ah do!” She scowled, “Ye innit let Snickers off on his cut after his hidin’ from the Coppers! Ah calls 'Contest'! Onna grounds what ye aren’t doin’ right by us!”

There it was. No going back now. She’d either end up stabbed in a ditch in a moment or she was about to be running her own crew. She’d called contest, with an official gripe and everything. Gunner’d have to fight her now, he couldn’t just get one of the bigger’uns to do it for him. He screwed up his face slightly, then stepped back a few paces and brought up his fists. Quil dropped into her own brawling stance.

“It’s your funeral Q-bird. I ain’t afraid to hit a girl.”

“Issat yer idea o’ a big scary statement, Gunner? Tha’s jus’ right disappointin’!”

 

[Shallan Davar]

Quil dropped into her own stance, focusing her luck. A lucky arm brace to absorb Gunner’s punches, and a lucky glove to knock loose a few of his teeth. She wasn’t trying to replace him, she didn’t have to kill the guy, just show that she could stand up to his orders and had the power to back up her talk when push came to shove. For his part, Gunner had to kill her, or at least beat her so bloody that nobody’d think to try what she was doing in the future. It was the theatrics of the thing that mattered most to each of them. That was the burden of leadership.

For all his talk, Gunner still started with a sideways swing, more of a slap than an honest punch. Maybe he was hoping that Quil was all show, and that he could score extra points of respect by beating her without even trying. He should know her better than that at this point. Her left arm came up to block the swing, the bracer catching the swing nicely, her luck rebounded the swing more than Gunner was expecting, and his own guard slipped as he recovered it. Quil seized on the opportunity, Slamming her fist under his block and into his gut. The lucky glove gleamed for an instant, and Quil had a flash of panic that somebody might notice, but it looked like all eyes were on Gunner as the larger boy stepped back, curling over somewhat at the blow.

“The hell?” He grunted, resetting his guard with a snarl, “You actually thinkin’ you can win this, Q-bird?” Gunner came back at her with a renewed ferocity, swing after swing, keeping Quil on the defensive and unable to retaliate. The lucky bracer warded off several of the blows, but Gunner was adjusting to it quickly, and swinging at Quil’s right side as well, forcing her to block with her unguarded arm. That was going to be a problem, she hadn't been eating well enough to weather that kind of punishment. The crewmembers were starting to shout now, yelling for one of them or the other, but the blood was pounding in Quil’s ears too loudly, she couldn’t even make out who they were cheering for.

"One punch all you got, little Q? I don't go down easy-like! I run this crew!"

With a growl, Quil pushed into Gunner’s offensive, taking a stinging blow to the face and slamming her lucky glove into the back of Gunner’s extended elbow. There was a painful snapping sound from Gunner’s arm but his punch caused Quil to hit the ground hard. Her vision flashed white and red, but she didn’t have the time to stop and recover, she had to keep moving. He tried to stomp on her, holding the injured arm with his other hand. She rolled out of the way, and back to a crouch, her vision swimming as she tried to re-orient herself. Gunner was hurt, she might have broken his arm with that punch, maybe just dislocated the elbow. He would need to finish her fast. She needed to make sure that-

His foot came arcing across to strike the side of her face, slamming her back to the ground, and Quil spit a glob of blood onto the dirty alleyway’s floor. Gunner was too hurt to talk smack anymore, but he was still coming, she could hear his winded breathing, but her vision was still swimming. She hadn’t blocked her head well enough for this. Desperately, she kicked out with one leg, managing to clip his shin and causing him to stumble. She pushed off the ground, seizing a fistful of his hair as he pitched forwards, and slammed him onto the ground. His good arm backhanded her away before she could follow up, but she stumbled back to her feet before he could. Her one eye was too bruised to see much, but the other was starting to refocus on him properly, and Gunner was clearly hurting bad too. He was still on all fours there on the ground.

Theatrics. She needed to do this to win people over.

“Come on Gunner! Is supposed to be provin’ what ye can hit a girl! Nah what ye can kiss dirt!” The words were painful on her jaw, and Quil was pretty certain she had lost a tooth at some point during the fighting. Gunner growled, still on all fours, head curled down between his arms. Quil tried her best to seem agile and ready, hopping around a bit as she circled behind him. Some people would cry foul if she didn’t let him get up first, but it was tempting all the same. If she ended it permanently, then it wouldn’t be a question of how well she’d run the crew opposed to him, it’d be done and over with.

Gunner rolled over, blood streaming from one side of his face, as she was sure was leaking from her own. Quil swore mentally. In his hand was Almighty Thunder, cocked and loaded. There were a couple of gasps from some of the Little’uns, and she thought she heard at least one of them, probably Yenny, shout for Gunner to stop. They didn’t have any say in what happened here. It was all up to her and Gunner. He stared her down, finger on the trigger, gun pointed directly at her. He was serious then.

She and Tuchie had talked about Almighty Thunder at length when they were planning this maneuver. Gunner could only have so many bullets for the thing, and he’d used five that they knew about over the past year or so. If Gunner fired his weapon here, there’d be drones in a matter of seconds. The group would have to disperse, and quickly at that. Gunner and Quil were both too hurt for a proper scamper after this fight, and they were big enough that the guard might not just give them a hiding and send them on their way. If Gunner fired his shot, odds were good one of them was going to end up dead or locked up just like Richter.

“I win, Q-bird.” Gunner grunted, almost too tired to pull off what he probably thought of as a self-satisfied smirk.

“You gonna do it, Gunner?” Quil snarled. She couldn’t back down at this point. She had to win this fight, or she’d be out of this crew with nobody else to go with her. She’d put all her eggs in this basket, advice and life lessons be damned.

“You don’t think I will?” Gunner’s voice sounded strained. He was nervous. She was coming close to taking over his crew. He was in just as dire straits as she was. In that moment, a stab of pity brushed through Quil.

It was followed by a gunshot as Gunner pulled the trigger.

Quil shut her eyes instinctively. So he still had shots left. She and Tuchie had theorized that he was keeping the weapon for reputation alone. It would’ve been effective just for that. That argument was the only thing that had convinced Tuchie that Quil should even try this fight. But apparently he still had a bullet left. Secretly, Quil had kind of figured he might. She was born lucky, so it had to balance out somehow, right? And besides, Gunner sat too confidently for someone without a back door. He wasn’t paranoid enough to be someone who couldn’t stand up if he was pressured. She had figured he’d still have a shot left, but she was hoping he wouldn’t use it.

It was all up to her luck now. Both her luck specifically, and in the more hyper-phorical sense. She had made her shirt lucky, just like her bracer. If it was able to hold up to Almighty Thunder then she was in the clear. If he shot her where she had lucky armor, that was. If he shot her in the face, she didn’t have any protection for that, and she’d die a bloody painful death with her brains all exploded most likely. It was too many 'Ifs' she knew that. Tuchie wouldn’t ever try something this risky, but Tuchie wasn’t cut out to run a crew anyway. Quil knew Gunner. He had only fired that gun a couple of times, and he would have to rob the peacekeepers to get more bullets. He wouldn’t risk missing his shot to hit her in the head all fancy-like, he would take the safe bet and shoot her in the chest.

The impact still knocked her off her feet. She fell to the ground yet again, skidding backwards on the concrete. She was vaguely aware that there were already alarms whirring in the distance. She didn’t feel like she was dying... Was her lucky armor really that strong? Gunner was coughing out something in an attempt to claim this as a victory, she didn’t have the time to lay here. With a growl of determination, she sat up, ignoring the pain in her left rib. Everyone in the crew was watching her now, even Gunner, their eyes wide, utterly dumbstruck.

Further, she needed to win this decisively. It was all about theatrics. She stood up on shaky legs, glaring down at Gunner with her one good eye.

“Isse got another’un? Or are we finished here?” She rasped out each statement between ragged intakes of breath. The alarm sirens were already getting close. Gunner didn’t fire again.

“THIS IS THE CITY OF HOPE’S PEACE-KEEPING TASK FORCE! DO NOT ATTEMPT TO FLEE!” came an electronic voice from less than a block away. The whole crew exploded into chaotic scrambling, everyone running to find a hideaway. Gunner was picked up by two of his loyaler bigg’uns, but Quil’s vision was blurring again, so she didn’t see who. Tuchie ran over, slipping her arm over his shoulder, and Yenny was at her other side, doing her best to help Quil get moving even though she was only six. She was a good'un. Quil moved along with them, disappearing into the mazeway of alleys and routes they’d all learned to evade the Hoper’s police forces.

That was it. She’d proven she could beat Gunner. She’d won. Quil allowed herself a satisfied smile as she slipped into a semi-conscious run, assisted by the two of them. She could trust Tuchie and Yenny to keep her safe. After all, she was their crewboss now, wasn’t she?