Brick by Brick

The boy was still dripping wet from his long, excruciating journey. The gloomy harbour was deserted, the patrols lurking in the dreary streets of Ketterdam. A small figure was crouched down, huddling and shaking for warmth. A look of pure rage and terror pasted on his face. Kaz, forgive me. Dark waters lapped calmly at the pier, the bloated bodies of those who succumbed to the plague bobbing slowly in the water. I must be among them. The scrawny boy looked out at the lake, towards the Reaper's Barge where they were burning the plague victims, a horrible, filthy place where he had just narrowly escaped from. He was too weak to walk, the horror of the past minutes still shone through his eyes, the feeling of his brother's rotting corpse beneath his hands as he grasped it to stay afloat still haunting his mind. Every time he closes his eyes, there he is, back in that place drowning in filthy, decaying bodies. Kaz, I never meant this to happen. I was a fool. I clutched the boy in an embrace, tears of remorse and regret streaming down my face. He didn't know I was there, separated by the veil between the living and dead. I failed him, my own brother.

***

Years had passed and the boy was strolling through the bustling streets of East Stave, garishly coloured gambling parlours and brothels lined the damp street. People dressed in costumes and masks strolled by.

Kaz Rietveld, now Brekker had left all ties from his previous life with Jordie behind him. All except for his burning need for revenge. Kaz walked past a vivid green building; tacky gold embellishments littered the façade. He glanced through the windows, gazing at the people gathered around games. A man with bright red hair, wearing a purple waistcoat and a green velvet suit sauntered down the main staircase. Kaz stopped dead in his tracks, frozen. Memories of the lake flashed before his eyes. The man he devoted his life to destroying stood right before him. It's him. Don't throw your life away for that bastard Kaz. Kaz rushed into the building trying to stay calm, he approached a waiter carrying drinks.

"What is Jakob Hertzoon doing here?" he asked, his voice still horse from the plague. He gestured to the man in the green velvet suit.

"Who's that? Ain't no Hertzoon here, only Pekka Rollins".

"Pekka Rollins?"

"Leader of the Dime Lions, one of the most powerful gangs in The Barrel".

Kaz gruffly thanked the waiter and hurried out of the parlour before he was kicked out. His skills for sleight of hand had made him well known amongst the gambling houses. I followed him out, fearful of the strength of his vengeance.

***

Kaz hurriedly rushed past the bustling streets of East Stave, to the sinking, rickety slums of the barrel. The narrow canals smelt of damp and mould, the walkways rotting away from the thick morning fog. He stopped outside a particularly dishevelled building. It was tall and skinny, the windows boarded up. It was leaning over, half falling apart from sinking into the bog Ketterdam was built on. A crow sign was swinging slowly above the rotting doorway -The Slat. The battered door squeaked eerily as Kaz entered.

The interior reeked of mould. A scruffy man idling in the shadows next to a rickety old staircase. He had a tattoo of a crow and a drinking cup on his forearm, the sign of The Dregs. They were a minor gang but fierce rivals to the Dime Lions. Kaz gruffly told the man that he wanted to join them, he smirked and pointed to a doorway on the second floor. A short stubby man was sitting behind a desk, he glanced up and pointed at a shabby contract. No, don't throw your life away for fickle revenge for your fool of a brother. Kaz signed without hesitation, he would have to work his way through the ranks one by one, brick by brick.

***

Jordie watched over Kaz as he quickly rose through the ranks of the dregs. He had now become an official member, and had the crow tattooed on his forearm.

He watched over his younger brother as he committed atrocity after atrocity. He had earned the nickname "Dirtyhands" for his ability to do any job and commit any crime no matter how gruesome or ruthless. He watched his brother shoot and kill four guards while stealing a shipment of Jurda, destined to line Rollins' pockets. He observed Dirtyhands brutality torture and interrogate members of rival gangs in dark alleyways for information on Rollins. Dirtyhands went to jail (and promptly broke out) twice. Jordie watched his brother plan and carry out bank and gambling house heists, killing all who got in the way of destroying Rollins. Dirtyhands broke into the houses of wealthy merchants and stole valuable paintings and documents, not to sell but because he could.

Jordie was powerless forced to watch his brother commit the atrocities in his memory, separated by the wall between the living and the dead. "Brick by Brick" Kaz would mutter to himself. Brick by Brick he will topple the tower that Pekka Rollins had built on the suffering of the foolish and vulnerable.

***

Years had passed. Kaz had become a lieutenant, the second highest rank in the Dregs. He had made them a powerful gang through strategic investments and crimes. A couple weeks ago, Kaz fell of off a roof and severely broke his leg during a getaway from a bank heist. He had been forced to rest for a week and it was driving him insane. He heard a knock at the door, Freedom, really? So soon? A tattered young boy came through the door carrying a black case. Kaz carefully opened it. Inside was a beautiful hand-crafted cane, the handle was the caved head of a crow. He felt it in his hand, it was perfectly balanced. Kaz stiffly moved his leg and rose shakily and got dressed. He limped out of his room dressed in a black suit, embroidered waistcoat and a top hat. The attire of a wealthy merchant, very subtle brother. Kaz slowly limped his way down the staircase, it reminded me of simpler times. On Father's farm, the peaceful countryside. Drinking hot chocolate together on a bridge across the canals of Ketterdam. Forgive me for my foolishness. I'm sorry little brother.