Our sinking ship

R-Chapter 1; Cocktails and Coalitions

As I walked through the dimly lit alleyway I thought I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket, as if I'd be foolish enough to put my entire life in a place so vulnerable. Over the past 2 years this place has become less and less safe, this city has been under curfew ever since the Invisibles arrived. They are trying to expand into my territory, as if I would ever allow that. Their little squad is no competition for my well organised gang, but if the police don't act up against them soon, that might change. The Invisibles used to be invisible, fly under the radar, their leader was a coward, an old, fat coward. But as all old, fat things do, he died. After his passing, his nephew took over; Karl. And Karl wasn't only attractive and confident, but also strategic, and that combination is dangerous. All the work I'd been putting into helping the homeless was slowly being undone, as his coffers were way deeper than mine could ever be.

My phone wasn't buzzing in my back pocket, but someone was definitely following me. I'd already walked in an eight shape to be sure, but whoever this was, I was their target. Too bad, it seems I was going to be late for my date. I turned around a corner, only to meet a dead end. I had no weapons on me.

Fuck, this was going to hurt.

I turned my back against the wall, hoping no one would try to corner me from above, that would ruin my plan. Contrary to popular belief, I wasn't actually good in hand to hand combat; I was the mastermind, I was the distraction, I had people for the direct confrontation.

Of course, I knew the basics of self defence, I could hold my own against any untrained men, I refused to walk through my own territory defenceless, no matter how much my grandpa had insisted that 'a lady ought never fight her own battles'. I preferred going through life with that mentality, but I also couldn't deny that other people often did not let that stop them from attacking me.

I could feel my heart speed up, adrenaline was kicking in. My opponent was somewhere around the corner, coming for me, and I didn't know if I could talk myself out of this. Lucky for me there was a booby trap around here somewhere, if only I knew exactly where, so I could trigger it and run.

The figure turned the corner, I straightened my back and took a fighting stance, but they were smaller than I had expected. The person that had been following me had the body of a grown man, this person, however, was almost the size of a child. Their movement had triggered the automatic light above the trash containers on my left side, and the kid took their hood off.

"Good lord, Agnes, why are you out past curfew?" Agnes was one of the kids I had helped off the street five years ago, before any of the Invisibles had dared to show up. When I first met her, she was a sweet nine year old, toughened by life on the streets, but she had grown up into a rebellious teenager, always looking for adventure. When I needed information about new strays, she would be my informant. There are certain things even the police don't know.

"Toto," She started, using the nickname she had given me when I gave her a slice of cake on christmas, four years ago, "He has left, but he will return." Her voice had a lilt in it, like she was trying to tell me more than she could.

"Who is he?"

"He is invisible, we don't know him, but he is mean, Toto, he is mean." There was a weight to her words, like she was trying to say that he was a ravager. "He doesn't give, but sometimes he takes, Toto. He takes from the little ones." She looked angry, like she would punch him herself if she thought she could get away with it. "And if someone says anything about it, he tells us to go to you. He tells us that this is happening because you can't protect us as well as you say. He tells us to join the Invisibles. But we won't, Toto, none of us have joined them!"

"It won't take long before they do."

"No, it won't." She looked defeated, like she hadn't wanted to admit it out loud. But silent thoughts do nothing, if there is anything the street teaches these kids, it is that keeping their mouths shut doesn't fill their stomach.

"Agnes, I need you to go home, get in bed, and sleep. I will talk to Hugo, and we will deal with this man. If you find out anything about him, tell us. Don't trust anyone." I put my left hand on her shoulder and looked her in her eyes, "I need you to stay safe, do you hear me? Go home, sleep, be safe. Go, now go!"

As I saw Agnes walk away, I realised I had somewhere to be. I grabbed my phone out of my inner pocket and cursed, I was already twenty minutes late. I grabbed a shard of glass off the ground where a beer bottle had broken, so that if the mysterious figure decided to make an appearance again, I would at least have something to throw, and walked out of the alleyway. Lighting in this city was exceptionally bad, as the government had never properly innovated street lights since the 19th century.

------------------------------------

I walked into the pub, the only spot of life in the abandoned streets of Stockholm, with the newly enforced curfew, few were outside past nine in the evenings, and those that did either had business to attend to, or went to Gramunken. In the day it masqueraded as a cafe, they had the best cappuccinos in the whole city, but at night they sold liquor, and the only coffee you could order was an espresso martini.

I glanced around, almost expecting her to sit somewhere obvious, like at the bar. 'Hiding in plain sight' she'd call it, I'd call it by its name; stupidity. Thankfully, she was sitting in a booth along the wall, looking out over the people yelling at each other near the dart board. I started to step towards her, but an irish girl dancing on a table almost toppled into me. I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything she was pushed aside and some boyfriend apologised profusely. I did not care what he had to say, I only had eyes for her.

Between the Swedish people in the pub I stood out, my dark hair contrasted with all the heads around me, but she looked perfectly at home. Her long, curly hair had a strawberry tint in the blue lighting, and her eyes were an icy blue with flecks of grey. I stepped around the sloppy dancers and the unsteady drunks, and walked up to her booth, where she sat, already laughing at me.

"I thought you had already learned that being loved makes for more loyal supporters than being feared," She said, skipping past pleasantries.

"Good evening," I made a small bow before straightening myself again, "How nice to see you this evening."

"You're late." she said, digging her eyes into me.

"I am."

"I suppose you told me that you might be."

"I did."

"You've never been late before."

"I haven't?"

"No, you haven't."

"Oh, well, there's a first for everything."

"Do you want to tell me why you're late? Or what you're holding a shard of glass for?" She looked unamused at my curt answers.

"I'd really rather not." Whatever the invisibles were doing with my kids was none of her business. My kids were none of her business.

"Fine, have your way. Do you want something to drink?"

"A vodka-redbull would be great."

"Great, could you bring me a beer too?" She smiled sweetly, like she thought this was payback for me withholding information. Let her think that. No harm no foul. I nodded and walked towards the bar to place the order.

With the drinks in my hands, and the costs on a non-existing tab, I returned to the booth, and finally sat down, my legs were killing me.

"So, Alice, what news do you have?"