From Where the Stars Fall (Temporary
Title) Chapter 2
Ah,
Favershim what a sh*thole. The proud gleaming city stood as a magnificent
monument of how far the mighty had risen and how far they had fallen. The
bright metropolitan area shined brilliant in the distance while the shadow
lands of its lower east side lay in a permanent state of urban decay. The girl
slithered out of the dark alleyway and onto the open dingy street with a look
of determination fixed upon her black brow. She strolled along the small
brittle cobblestone street caked thick with stagnant mud and god knows what,
sewage most likely it certainly smelled the part. Oh god the smell of the
streets was caustic! The packed street heavy with sweaty unwashed bodies
stomping around in the lingering stench of raw human sewage was enough to make
one sick. The girl scrunched her nose passing a particularly vile area by her
boots and turned her eyes away from the ground to the sky. The world above lay
misted in a thick smoggy embrace that gripped the entire city and fueled by the
coal black smoke from leaning chimneys and factory towers. It was a shame; on a
good night one could see a star or two fighting to shine it’s light beside the
moon hanging in the eternal sepia tinted sky but not tonight. No tonight the
last of the summer days would rear it’s ugly head blowing in the muggy humidity
and the stale air through the city before the crisp chill of autumn took its
course.
Block
by block she passed rows of tenements lined up between narrow alleys each one
in a different stage of decomposition; all grey weathered look a likes with
filthy windows and peeling paint rolling in great curls up the creaky
structure. She turned a corner stepping over a very questionable puddle before
making her way to the broad promenade illuminated in red lighting and packed tight
with hundreds of people. The intense scent of cigarette smoke and liquor met
with the cheap perfume and the sickeningly sweet smell of poppy milk hit her
immediately as she entered Favershim’s red-light district. Brothels lined the
corners each painted some ungodly gaudy shade of red or pink or gold that was
chipping away with wear. The whores who walked the street looked no better than
the decaying slums around them, girls who looked no younger than twelve and no
older than thirty stood at their respected corners half starved and sporting
stained loosely laced stays. Most of the older ones bore crooked smiles filled
with missing teeth while the others left in place had yellowed into a solid
tint of sickly yellow. The girl made her way down the street passing some with
freshly bruised and battered faces hidden under bright rouge smashed upon their
cheeks. It could have been a rough john or a violent pimp or a street fight
with another whore but in the end who cared she certainly didn’t but the poor
things did look awful and too young to be getting into such trouble. The rest
of the street teamed with activity of exchanges, people threw themselves into
alleys to exchange flesh for pocket change, the surly johns groping at their
laced bodices while the ladies of the night felt them right up each bearing no
shame. Their disgusting breaths of liquor and poppy milk mingled with the
stench of the city added to the already putrid odor.
It
was at the corner between the colorfully dressed whores that something odd
caught her eye; it was a young boy standing atop a large wooden crate with a
small stack of unread newspapers at his side. The boy looked to be about twelve
or so, he was rather cute with a face full of freckles and a shaggy mop of
sandy hair tucked under a newsboy’s cap but much too skinny for a kid his age
to be. His smile said it all; the teeth were crooked but formed a mischievous
smile that was rather infectious the longer she stared at it. “Lookey whot I
got ‘ere ladies an’ gents, fresh from this mornin’s stall its The Favershim
Fever printed daily! Read all ‘bout it! Don’t be shy ladies an’ gents jus’ a
couple coppers fer world class news,” he shouted from his box shaking around
the printed newspaper in hand with passionate intensity. The girl crossed her
arms and approached bearing a smirk upon her mouth “Oi whot are ye doin’
sellin’ the bloody mornin’ paper in the middle o’ the night boy?” The boy
looked up at her with his contagious smile and crossed his arms “Well It ain’t
none o’ yer d*mn business lady unless ye wanna buy one, if yer real nice I’ll
give it to ye fer a discounted rate. Pretty ladies always get a discount from
me iffin’ they’re lookin’ to buy.” Oh this kid was good, he was defiantly a
salesman and might actually make something out of himself one day. The girl
grinned clearly amused and crossed her arms in return “ye cheeky b*stard I bet
ye didn’t sell all o’ ‘em all an’ now yer scramblin’ to get rid o’ ‘em off
before yer employer tans yer ‘ide.”
“Why
don’t ye ‘elp a fella out aye? Buy a paper an’ save me beautiful ass from bein’
beaten black an’ blue. Whot d’ya say lady?”
“Hmmm.
Well a temptin’ offer that may be, I’ll bite whot does the bloody paper say
then?”
“Buy
it an’ find out fer yerself misses”
“Do
I look like the bloody type o’ person who knows ‘ow to read? This is a
cheapside slum mate yer d*mn stupid if ye think you’ll get a customer ‘ere who
knows ‘ow to read. Tell me whot the bloody story is already or I ain’t gonna
buy yer paper. Well? Speak up boy I’m waitin’ ” she snapped rather harshly
while her hands clenched into soft fists then looked away, this was wasting
precious time but she wanted to know what the boy would say. The boy stood
silent for a moment as his eyes assessed the situation, he grinned again then
let out a low chuckle. “Och! An’ ye think I know whot this gibberish says
either? I can’t read neither but if ye want to know, some gents who done bought
it earlier where sayin’ it’s ‘bout some weird stuff goin’ on in “Arrisburg. Apparently
there was some strange meteor shower over the city. They says it’s a
phe-phe-phenom… Ah d*mmit! Some fancy word fer some rare weather. Now that’s
that, That’ll be four coppers now lady” he said holding out his palm and gave
her an impish grin waiting in great anticipation for his pay. The girl let out
a chuckle and smiled “an’ that’s it? That’s whot made the front page? A bunch
o’ lame weather reports, whot a rip off. Fine fine ye got yer money’s worth
kid.” She dug through her pockets pulling out four dull copper coins pressing
each one down onto his palm then took the promised paper from his stack. “Ye
know if ye wanna sell more papers to this side o’ town you’ll ‘ave to do much
better than to say it’s fer readin’. Tell ‘em blokes it’s fer wrappin’ up their
leftover slop or to wipe their assess in the privy or somethin’ like that. I
guarantee it’ll be much better than sellin’ readin’ to the illiterate cheapside
masses.” The girl folded up the paper tucking it under her arm while the
newsboy took in her words methodically with another wily smile “Aye… I’ll take
that in mind miss, a pleasure doin’ business wit ye.” The girl chuckled as she
walked away and stuffed her hands into her ratty tan overcoat, that kid had
enough charisma to charm anyone maybe he would be that lucky one to work his
way out of the slums to something decent, she hoped so.
She
continued down the block while the rest of the city was screaming with
different sounds. From the roar of distant motorcar engines in passing, the
loud clanks of machinery in late night factories down to general drone of
voices from every soul in the d*mn area. She however focused in on the much
fainter and daresay pleasant sounds that the city offered like the clicking of people’s
heels rushing down the cobblestone or the faint buzzing of the electric wiring
hanging above their heads or the distant whir of a zeppelin hovering over the
sepia stained clouds. The slums however produced a much different sound than
that of the sky or the shining area to the west, it screamed. It screamed from
the sounds of domestic disturbances in thin walled tenements, the cries of
babies too hungry to sleep, and the purposeless shuffling stumbles of drunks
and poppy milk addicts. It screamed from the sounds of clanging coal carts
drawn by long rusted mechanical horses and men tinkering away at the midnight
oil. It screamed from the sounds of the homeless beggars who squat in the sh*t
lined alleys bundled around old metal bins of trash fires. It screamed with the
worn and weary faces of the poor sucking down then smoke of the city before
blowing it back from their pipes and cigarettes. It screamed. It was disgusting,
wretched, cruel, and it was home…well for now at least.
The
girl walked down the rest of the street ignoring the general drone and passing
several unsavory characters on her way. There it was, the corner of Cheapside
and west Chesterson where her destination laid access to it was however blocked
as though the whole street was gathered in a large circle to watch a fight
proceed. In the center of that circle stood two prostitutes. One appeared to be
the rare lived age of thirty who bore a sickly gaunt color to her face under
her smudged red and blue paints while the other was fresh-faced and no older
than fifteen also caked with powder and rogue. If she had to guess they were
both named Olympia, after all it seemed every d*mn whore and harlot on the
bloody continent was named Olympia. It seemed as though one Olympia had stepped
over into another Olympia’s territory. “Whot ye think yer doin’ ‘angin’ ‘round
me corner! Yer new ‘ere girl so bugger off” the older one spat out viciously
hacking out a loud cough and pushed back the younger. The younger Olympia
gasped and shoved her back hard “listen ye ruddy ol’ bat don’t ye be tellin’ me
whot t’do, this ain’t got yer name on it... an’ even if it did it’s my name
too!”
“Bloody
young sod ye think ye know ‘ow this works? Ye ain’t no seniority ‘ere I’ve been
‘ere longer so this is my f**kin’ corner!”
“Seniority
my ass! This place needs a fresh pair o’ thighs anyways why do they all ‘and
‘around yer sorry droopin’ crotch huh? Ye been ‘ere long enough ye probably
givin’ ‘em all the pox ye ugly ol’ hag!”
The
older Olympia jumped grabbing at the younger’s hair and the fistfight ensued,
each clawing and biting going for cheap shots. At this rate she’d never get
inside, the girl and through the brawling girls who seemed to stop the moment
they were interrupted. Their bloodlust turned to her instead “whot d’ya think
ye are doin’ ye bloody slut! Ye tryin’ to inch in on me territory too? I’ll gut
ye like a sow ye ugly lil’ b*tch!” The girl turned her attention to the older
one who had addressed her; she could feel the rage boiling inside of her. Her
hands clenched tightly into fists and her cheeks reddened in fury, this was not
the time to test her but the whore continued “I’ll gut ye an’ the lil’ tart
over the-. Without a word the girl swiftly grabbed the older Olympia by her
ratty hair and shoved her face hard into the broken brick building. She smashed
it in repeatedly until her face drew blood before shoving her to the ground;
the girl sent a vengeful kick to her ribs her cheeks now red with fury. The
older Olympia was down and was smart enough to stay down while she spat up
blood, the younger back down immediately with a look of terror on her painted
face. The girl hurled a wad of spit at the fallen woman then pushed her way
towards her destination angrily stuffing her newspaper and hands into her coat
pockets. The path now opened for her and straight ahead laid the Hag’s Hole
Inn.
The
Hag’s Hole Inn, a name fitting of its lewd location bearing a matching welcome
sign carved in wood of a bawdy older woman bearing an enormous rack and steins
in hand. It was a decrepit building like the rest around it painted what once
looked to be a rich butter yellow which had since aged and worn into a dull
brown as the others around had. The place too was packed with people. The men
sipped at barely cleaned tin steins filled with frothy ale and bar maids clad
in dark greens and aprons buzzed around with trays of food and beer swishing
around to avoid the grabs and pinches of the more foreword customers. The girl
walked in with a sigh of relief taking a seat at the corner table motioning the
barmaid for a stein of something strong, she needs it to last thought the rest
of the night. With a frothy stein of ale in hand she leaned back in her seat
and begins to look for her target. Each face is not his; he wasn’t here as the
man had said. The bloody b*stard had lied! None of these people were him and
she could feel the rage again boil away inside. God all of these idiots in one
room was hell. The drunken dregs of society all mixed together in some idiotic stupor;
there was nothing more appealing than to gut the whole lot of them in her
stewing state. A whole lot of nothing… nothing… nothing but then in the corner
of her eye there he was. Bartholomew Curtis Coote sitting dead center of the
chaotic bar and the edge of her mouth twisted into a wicked smile. She had
found her prey at long last.
Bartholomew
Curtis Coote, a man perhaps entering into his mid fifties with silver streaked
hair and an overly round face. He is a larger man with arms thick like tree trunks
and the beginnings of a scruffy silver beard. He sits alone among the
pandemonium with a stein of half finished ale and a plate of cold food looking
as nervous a wreck as one could be in a situation like this. Everything about
his body language told her so, he slouches over the table with a death grip on
him stein handle while his fingers on the other hand tap against the wooden
table quickly most likely in sync with the fast beating of his heart. His eyes
look around anxiously for a familiar face among the crowd, of his guide out of
the city, of the man she had so quickly disposed of. Of what relation was the
guide to him other than a use, the man while under her interrogation had a look
of longing love for the man he was to smuggle out. What were they? Brothers
bound in blood, a longtime friend in need, a lover in desperation to save the
man he loved, or was this all a cold hard business deal she was reading to far
into? Whatever the case it didn’t matter anymore he was dead in that black
encased building and soon enough so would Bartholomew. He began to seat a bit
around the brow and wiping off his palms against his worn grey trousers, things
are not looking bright in his eyes she can tell that things are not going
according to plan. She pulls out her newspaper from her pocket unfolding it and
feigns an interest in its nonsensical scribbles; let him stir for a bit while
she decides how to isolate the target. How to best isolate him would be tricky,
the barmaids and whores who approached him were met with anxious and offensive
remarks. His standoffish front would make luring him up under the guise of a
good time would not work, she’d have to wait for him to move and let him be the
one to be pick the remote location. For what felt like an hour, the jittery
man’s face stated all she needed to know his friend was too late for comfort
and something had definitely gone wrong It was perfect, she could sense his
unease it hit the senses like a foul odor. A look of paranoia seemed to convert
his eyes as he canvassed the room once more looking for any sign of hope. He
turns around with a shaky breath and comes face to face with his hunter. Their
eyes meet for a brief moment; to throw off suspicion she sends him the sweetest
smile she could muster before looking away back to her newspaper. He jerked his
head back fixating on the table, he cannot wait any longer and with that in
mind he swigs down the last of his ale with a shaky hand then bolts for the
door. The hunt is finally upon her and she too slinks out far enough for him to
feel somewhat easy but close enough to never loose sight of him. Down the
street he walks with a nervous quickness in his step, he turns several corners
and it is clear he is following through with the plan without his companion,
what a foolish mistake. With each twist and turn through the sharp alleys his
pace quickens, he senses something is after him but cannot make any sense about
it. Each block going a bit faster until the very end of Favershim is met.
Freedom only lay a few miles away through the out skirted forest and hilltops
beside the rotting slums. He turned and exhaled sharply in horror, he was right
he was being followed. He trembles a bit before taking off into a cold sprint
into the pitch-blackness of the trees; the air here was not as smoggy as that
of the city providing the prey with a few glimmers of illumination of the moon
and a handful of stars. He ran, sprinting through bushes and hoping over fallen
logs the fool had trapped himself in the d*mned forest and from the looks of it
all seemed lost. He tries to shake her off zigzagging through the maze of
forest and steep hillside for what seemed to be an hour but found he too was
getting progressively more lost with each turn, there was no sign of the
original trail to be found.
He
slows to see she is no longer there; she had seemed to vanish in mid air. His
hands begin to shake with relief stopping to finally catch his breath, where
the h*ll was he? There was no sign of anything familiar, he took a slow breath
and spied the hill in front of him perhaps he could climb to the top and spy a
way back on track. With that in mind he began sprinting once more to the steep
hill and preceded to scale it’s side. The bloody fool wouldn’t know what hit
him, there stood the girl in the shadows of lower shrubs, the idiot had opened
himself in open view and she now had the perfect shot. She pulled out her
revolver cocking the hammer back and aimed for his fat head. One finger on the
trigger then… BOOM! The loud echo of a crash rang through the entire forest but
the sound did not come from her gun. Startled she let out a gasp then turned
her attention to the source of the sound where another crash pangs through the
air this one much louder. The girl let out a sharp sound of horror and takes
off running in the opposite direction as fast as her legs could carry here. The
sky above was growing brighter; a massive blinding light was falling from the
heavens at an intense speed right for the hilltop where her target was now
trapped. She zigzagged through the trees until the loud deafening blast smashed
into the hill followed by push of a massive force that followed sent everything
around it flying through the air. The girl let out a scream as she too was
swept into the massive current flow colliding into the side of a tree and
everything fades to blackness. Ringing, there is a strange ringing in her ears
as the blurry world around her regains a more level and stable axis. There is a
throbbing pain on her left side but the world had finally stopped spinning and
the ring began to fade slowly. She blinked several times until her etes were
capable enough to see clearly again. The forest around her was gone, the trees
around her a partially charred with their tips and licked with orange fire, toward
the hilltop the area is rubble, ash, and trees torn completely from their
trunks. She girl staggered to her feet with a loud groan and began to feel
around for injury. There was bruising, definite bruising all over her body but
nothing broken or burned she had barely escaped. What the bloody h*ll happened?
The girl let out a shaky breath making her way towards the destruction that had
leveled a small half of the hill. The area is thick with rubble and it proves
to be a difficult climb up, the face of her side of the hill seemed to be
intact but what lay on the other side was a mystery. She climbed up carefully
reaching the very top, Bartholomew on the other hand had not been so lucky, he
too was at the top or at least half of him was. The blast had ripped him nearly
in half and what was left of him was now a smoldering charred body, he was
nearly unrecognizable. The girl gulped nervously, feeling quite sick to her
stomach at the sight of his blackened remains and dared to peer over the side
of the hill. The trees that had so densely covered the area were completely
gone with not a lick of ash to remember them by but what now lay in their place
was a massive silver shining crater. She took a step closer and gasped in
absolute horror. All sides of the crater seemed to be lined with soft silvery
glass from the impact that stretched for nearly a half mile and lying in its
center was a man. The man from where she could tell looked to be unconscious;
everything about him was unnervingly unearthly. His skin was rather pale and
tinged with what looked to be gold; his hair too was moon white without a speck
of any color in it. His clothing looked foreign but it was hard to tell under
as they were singed and spotted with black soot. The girl let out a shaky breath
and immediately went for her knife she had hooked onto her belt beside her
revolver “w-whot the bloody h*ll is that!”
