The Few and the Finest

Chapter I

After looking around and considering my limited options as to where I should go, my mind convinces me to take the longer but safer route to 29th street. It's quite a ways, but I really need to meet up with my cousin as soon as possible.

There's a strong gust of wind that swoops along my back as I begin the lock the door. It's just past nine o'clock so it's time to close the shop. You'd think working for a man like Henry Stevens, probably the wealthiest man for miles, would get you payed a decent amount of money. To the average person's surprise, I only get a buck ninety-five an hour. In a place like Baltavia, most people make about half of that. I'm lucky, but I'm still way below the poverty line.

I hate my job, but it's all I've got. At age sixteen I work here at Steven's full time. Like everyone else around here, I dropped out of high school the day I reached the legal age to do so: Fifteen. There's no point in continuing If you're not the one out of every fifty students who are actually intelligent enough to even make it into the university downtown. As a result, just about everyone lives the same way I do; completing a low-paying job, living in an unappealing home, and getting by with a limited amount of food.

It's been dark for about an hour and it's becoming increasingly chilly. Leaves are continuing to sprout on the few trees in this neighborhood and the snow has finally finished melting. It's a rainy March evening, but that's pretty typical for this part of the Eastern Region.

My feet swiftly make their way down the cracked pavement. It's definitely not safe to walk alone at any time of day, but it's especially dangerous when it's this late. Gangs swarm the streets and most of them are armed with weapons. The police security around here is little to none, and you never know when someone will open fire. I've got a small switchblade in my jacket pocket, but that's nothing compared to the handguns that some other individuals around here carry around with them. Men and women of nearly every age cluster in groups at almost every street corner and carry stolen items and stashes of drugs which were made illegal years ago. My cousin began to form a group not much like an actual gang when I was thirteen and he was fifteen, but it wasn't for the use of a threat against the others. He said that if you can stick in a defensive team and share what little you own, you're much more protected. I decided to become a member of it after getting a bit too closely involved in some attacks.

Nearly every streetlight here is broken. Cars never maneuver down these streets since no one around here can afford them, so the roads have become a third sidewalk. One out of every three buildings that are lined up next to the real sidewalks is still open, but most of them have been vacant for years. Unfortunately, the plentiful amount of empty structures only give all of the gangs around here places to meet.

After traveling by foot for about thirty minutes I finally make it to my cousin, Alexander. Alex is eighteen. I've never really approved of his "occupation" considering he and a few of his fellow high school drop out friends own a drugstore on 29th which might as well also be one of the most high-end meth labs at this corner of the Eastern Region. They spend hours a day fusing a variety of drugs together to develop and sell for several different purposes, good or bad. Neither Alex or any of his coworkers own a license to legally do it, they just hide it all in the back of the drugstore.

"Hey," Alex begins. I stop and look up at him. "I know I promised that we were gonna go straight back to my house for something to eat, and I'm aware that it's getting really late, but I need to do something first." he says in a guilty tone. The tall, strong man stands up straight in front of me. Alex's hair is nearly black and kept decently well compared to most people around here. Pale skin wraps around his body. Just like my own eyes, his are so dark that they're nearly black. He carries a backpack over him which's straps are tightly grasped by his large hands at his sides. His beard is starting to show, but just a few short stumbles.