Nocturnal Gale

Prologue: Past Midnight

The door creaks open with a loud squeal, and raucous laughter floats into the dimly lit barracks. Dusk rolls over, then sits up. It's one in the morning. They sure like their odd hours.

It's only been two weeks and she's sick and tired of acting. Being undercover is one of the things she's best at, but that doesn't mean it's easy. She's under the alias of a seventeen-year-old teenager named Trissia Hauburk, with blue contacts covering her natural dark eyes, and punk-style clothes. But in reality, she's Dusk Gale, Gang Fighter and Protector of the Weak, and right now, she's on a mission.

She's in the heart of Guttermouth, a small gang not too far from the inhabited part of town and nestled next to Fringe, a gang about the same size, and Stryker a few miles over—a much smaller gang, but still dangerous. Dusk needs to break up Guttermouth's intricate supply of shipping, which keeps them afloat and able to harass the alleys and neighboring civilization, something she can't allow any longer. So two weeks ago she posed as a lost girl who wanted to be a part of something big, and the leaders of Guttermouth pushed her into their ranks.

Now she's stuck in this filthy hole, gathering information and waiting for her time to strike.

Dusk gets up from her cot and goes to the sink, splashing water on her face and redoing her messy hair. It always stays up here because it's long—much longer than average—down to her hips. Gangs all over this area and beyond already know to identify her by it, that and her silver and brown knife, the trademark weapon of their worst nightmare. Her, Dusk Gale, the Weapon. So she hid her prized weapon in her pack under the tiles under her cot, along with her boots, cargo pants, and a few other assorted items.

Dusk stops staring at her reflection and comes back to reality as the door opens and Ida, another new member of Guttermouth, grins at her from the doorway. "Hey, newbie! Time to go train!"

Dusk doesn't like Ida. She's cruel and vicious. Dusk shakes her head and grins, slamming the doors on everything real, everything that makes her Dusk Gale, and slips expertly and completely into her guise. 

"Okay, Ida. I'll be right out." She throws on sweats and a men's T-shirt three sizes too big, then grabs a flannel on her way out of the barracks. She joins Ida in the halls and they quickly walk through the maze to the training gym. The walls have holes in them and there's the steady drip drip of water every ten steps, nails on the floor, and cracked ceilings. Guttermouth is one of the lesser gangs. Should be easy to take down.

The next few hours are spent training, punching the bags hanging from their chains, and sparring in the ring. Dusk holds back; she could take down all of her opponents without a scratch, but that would draw too much attention and ruin her hard work. So she holds back, acting like a kid that doesn't quite know what she's doing, and gets knocked to the mats more often than not.

Two hours later they're allowed to go back to their rooms and Dusk doesn't bother to take off her shoes. She drops onto her cot and falls asleep in a few seconds.