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Authors: Jamie Wang
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an answer. “I think you shouldn’t try to understand the crazy,” he said.
Prince took a moment to mull over Maverick’s words. “Fair.” With that, he headed toward his tent. “G’night Mav.”
“Goodnight Prince.” But Maverick stayed up.
He brought out his knife from underneath the blankets and held it to the moonlight. Strange etchings had been carved into the blade. Though it was old and rusted, it could still cut stone. Unlike Prince’s knife, his was only sharp on one end, but it was jagged and had a small hilt.
I wonder if he really is trying to protect someone.
SASHA
She reached into her pocket to make sure Prince’s money was still there. Under The Dragon’s reign, there were no pickpockets, but whoever made girl’s shorts had decided that their pockets didn’t need to work. Half the time, the slightest jump would cause everything to spill out.
It should be around here.
Maverick had told her where Prince gambled, a shanty bar called The Riverside Tavern. Walking up to it, she could see that it lived up to its reputation. The red paint on the wood was mostly gone. The name itself was painted in what used to be yellow. Now it held the dull orange color of rust. Most of the windows were either boarded up or too dusty to see through.
“What a dump.” Sasha shook her head and continued toward it. The building looked old, perhaps old enough to be one of the first buildings of this city. A monument of the past turned into a place of drunken vice. Fitting.
Walking in was equally revolting. The only thing in the bar worth having was the bar itself. Along the sides of the bar were tables and chairs. The middle was an open space of scattered bar tables topped with gambling games.
“Hey,” Sasha said as she approached the bar.
The bartender adjusted his spectacles. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, I want a favor. A boy name Prince comes in here a lot to gamble, I want you to stop him when he does.” Sasha pulled out the money Prince had given her and dropped it onto the bar. “Alright?”
The bartender made no move to collect the money, instead he started making a drink. “Unfortunately, just as we don’t have age minimums on our drinks, neither do we on our services.”
“Prince gambles more money than he has and the last time he lost, he almost got himself killed. I’m just trying to protect him.”
The bartender stopped making the drink. “Is it your money?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Stealing isn’t allowed in this city. Nor is bribery.”
“This money’s going to get Prince killed one day.”
“Are you the boy’s guardian?” He poured the drink out into a sink and rubbed the glass down with cloth.
Sasha looked away. “Not technically.”
“I won’t accept the money.”
“Tsk!” Sasha rolled her eyes and turned. “Either way, do whatever you want with it.”
The bartender’s voice stopped her. “If you leave the money here, I’ll have it returned to its original owner.”
She looked back to see the money still exactly as she had left it. There wasn’t a single dollar out of place. She frowned and grabbed the dollars, stuffing it into her pocket.
Sasha walked out of the bar into the glaring sunlight, unsure of how she would get rid of the money. There were stores aplenty, but spending the money to buy gifts for everyone would defeat the purpose of her having come here in the first place. Instead, she wandered aimlessly, letting her mind drift to the same questions that had always haunted her.
Why do Mice even exist?
However proud she was to be a Mouse, she found it hard to believe that delivering life-saving medicine was a task fit for children. After all, the success rate of Mice was abysmally low. Surely they should’ve found something better.
Project Persist was the company that originally brought medicine into the slums. The history books claimed that Project Persist had brought in their own people to deliver the medicine, but the slums
Prince took a moment to mull over Maverick’s words. “Fair.” With that, he headed toward his tent. “G’night Mav.”
“Goodnight Prince.” But Maverick stayed up.
He brought out his knife from underneath the blankets and held it to the moonlight. Strange etchings had been carved into the blade. Though it was old and rusted, it could still cut stone. Unlike Prince’s knife, his was only sharp on one end, but it was jagged and had a small hilt.
I wonder if he really is trying to protect someone.
SASHA
She reached into her pocket to make sure Prince’s money was still there. Under The Dragon’s reign, there were no pickpockets, but whoever made girl’s shorts had decided that their pockets didn’t need to work. Half the time, the slightest jump would cause everything to spill out.
It should be around here.
Maverick had told her where Prince gambled, a shanty bar called The Riverside Tavern. Walking up to it, she could see that it lived up to its reputation. The red paint on the wood was mostly gone. The name itself was painted in what used to be yellow. Now it held the dull orange color of rust. Most of the windows were either boarded up or too dusty to see through.
“What a dump.” Sasha shook her head and continued toward it. The building looked old, perhaps old enough to be one of the first buildings of this city. A monument of the past turned into a place of drunken vice. Fitting.
Walking in was equally revolting. The only thing in the bar worth having was the bar itself. Along the sides of the bar were tables and chairs. The middle was an open space of scattered bar tables topped with gambling games.
“Hey,” Sasha said as she approached the bar.
The bartender adjusted his spectacles. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, I want a favor. A boy name Prince comes in here a lot to gamble, I want you to stop him when he does.” Sasha pulled out the money Prince had given her and dropped it onto the bar. “Alright?”
The bartender made no move to collect the money, instead he started making a drink. “Unfortunately, just as we don’t have age minimums on our drinks, neither do we on our services.”
“Prince gambles more money than he has and the last time he lost, he almost got himself killed. I’m just trying to protect him.”
The bartender stopped making the drink. “Is it your money?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Stealing isn’t allowed in this city. Nor is bribery.”
“This money’s going to get Prince killed one day.”
“Are you the boy’s guardian?” He poured the drink out into a sink and rubbed the glass down with cloth.
Sasha looked away. “Not technically.”
“I won’t accept the money.”
“Tsk!” Sasha rolled her eyes and turned. “Either way, do whatever you want with it.”
The bartender’s voice stopped her. “If you leave the money here, I’ll have it returned to its original owner.”
She looked back to see the money still exactly as she had left it. There wasn’t a single dollar out of place. She frowned and grabbed the dollars, stuffing it into her pocket.
Sasha walked out of the bar into the glaring sunlight, unsure of how she would get rid of the money. There were stores aplenty, but spending the money to buy gifts for everyone would defeat the purpose of her having come here in the first place. Instead, she wandered aimlessly, letting her mind drift to the same questions that had always haunted her.
Why do Mice even exist?
However proud she was to be a Mouse, she found it hard to believe that delivering life-saving medicine was a task fit for children. After all, the success rate of Mice was abysmally low. Surely they should’ve found something better.
Project Persist was the company that originally brought medicine into the slums. The history books claimed that Project Persist had brought in their own people to deliver the medicine, but the slums
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