MIRAGE

i.

The day Myah's favorite parlor became overrun with merchants was the day she realized staying within the safe confines of the Crow Club wasn't so bad. 

They were the worst kind of merchants. No regard for the well-being of the common class. 

Gambling in the worst ways because their money wasn't their own. Eying young, underpaid waitresses an hour before returning home to their wives and children. Money to throw away at the drop of a hat, because every one of them knew they were to be paid tenfold by the end of the month by innocent clients. Men who believed they could rule the world if only their bosses weren't so insufferable. 

Myah had always lived by the rule never to trust a merchant with one penny of her fortune. Not that there was much of a fortune to trust, but the merchant council was desperate to get their hands on any tiny pocket of change they could sniff out. 

Morally, they were of the lowest class. Took from the innocent to give to the greedy pockets. 

Though, could anyone in Ketterdam be considered innocent?

A friend of hers would berate her on thinking such things about the Merchant Council. He didn't believe it was right to put one subset of people on a lower pedestal when you couldn't admit to being just as evil. Just as morally impure. But he was no longer around for meaningful talks or lessons on how not to judge. 

Myah liked to remind herself of how he ended up, and why he ended that way. It was that exact way of thinking that got him killed. In the end, even the good ones die. In Ketterdam, no one cares about morals. They just see what is in your pockets. 

But we aren't at that part of the story yet. 

Myah liked to keep a notebook in her jacket. She carried it around with her at all times, right next to the frequently emptied flask. The notebook was for times like these; when merchants surrounded her from all sides. She took notes on their every move - their every move. Anything with a tiny significance could be a making or breaking point. 

One winked at her from the other end of the bar. He didn't recognize her. Good. That meant she was doing her job. 

Call it paranoia. Call it preparedness. Myah had too much to lose. 

She had chosen to keep a very particular company while in Ketterdam. Over the past several months, they had taught her things. To survive in Ketterdam with more than your wits and clothes on your body, you needed to understand your enemy. Examine, study, understand. Figure out what makes your enemy tick. Do that, and you can become the master of your destiny. Knowing that can determine whether or not you rest your head for the night with a bounty tied to your name. 

In Ketterdam, everyone except your boss was your enemy. Sometimes, not even that. 

Trust among the streets of Ketterdam was a privilege gifted to few. Anyone could turn around and stab your back without you having the time to process the knife protruding from your abdomen as your body drains of blood. 

Loyalties were not something Myah could risk. She wouldn't allow it. Her only loyalties would be to a gun at her hip and a shot of hard whiskey. 

She hoped her boss was proud of her. She was doing well at staying under radars. It didn't seem as if anyone recognized her amidst the diner crowd. 

Tired or drunk men attempted flirting. Old bank tellers ignored their wives and eyed her down from the opposite end of the room. Birds flew in and out of the open pavilion porch, taking careful attention to crap in every other dish. 

Nothing out of the ordinary. No second glances. No suspicious side-eyes. 

Her afternoon had been going along fairly well. It was a free afternoon. She wished to spend it in relaxation.