"Knife," Greg Daley said, as soon as he saw the dark-haired, 19 year old boy walk into the building.
Calmly, the boy reached into his tall boot and pulled out a six-inch hunting knife with a hilt made of bone from it's thick leather sheath. Doing a little twirl with it, he slammed in in the table - in the same exact spot he slammed in every day.
The blond man muttered "One of dese days yer gonna cut a hole right through da table,"
"Can I have mah knife back now?" The tall, disheveled boy asked, running his fingers over the seams of his bright scarlet vest.
"I'se gonna tell ya da same thing I tell ya everyday, Clohessy: No!" Greg Daley told him, rolling bright eyes..
Flashing a grin, "Devil May Care" Clohessy's gray eyes twinkled as he ran his hand through his already tousled black hair. "Just thought I'd try,"
Though his clothing was rumpled and hair messy, he had a wild light in his gray eyes at the anticipation of gambling, and he put his left hand in his vest pocket, feeling the red dice that lay in there, always comforted by the familiarity of them.
***
Hell's Kitchen, 1895
A young nameless boy sat in the sweltering streets of Hell's Kitchen, doing his one man casino scam. He saw a stocky man, with bright mop of bright red hair and a mustache under blue eyes come up to his little corner. The man looked neat, and well dressed except for the bright red vest he wore over his shirt. The vest looked horrid with his hair, which was so red it looked like blood. He was called Crimson in his gang, the Bloody Dawn, and most recognized him on sight. He was only 23 years old, but had most of the Hell's Kitchen in fear for him.
Although the Bloody Dawn was a small gang, with only twenty of so members at a time, it was close knit, and each member was highly skilled at their particular area.
"Three Card Monte? Craps?" He offered the man.
Crimson grinned, shrugging broad shoulders and asked him "What's life but a roll of dice? What do I get if I win?"
The boy shrugged, and dug in his pocket pulling out various different coins which shone in the summer sun. 'One, two...ten plus eight...plus twenty-five...' The 11 year old boy thought, brows furrowed in concentration. The intense gray eyes of the boy lit up as he figured it out. "I got sixty-two cents!"
The man looked at the boy thoughtfully. He could count, that was always a plus. "If you win," the man told him, "I'll give you five dollars," as he said this, the boy's eyes went round at the thought of the money. He could only get that much if he stole, because people never wasted that much money on the kid on the corner of 39th street. Especially because he normally won.
"But,"; the man started and saw the
boy's face fall at the single
word. "If I win, then you have to work for me."
The boy sat there for a minute, trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, he grinned and asked "How many rounds?"
Crimson said "Until someone
wins." Reaching in his pocket, he
pulled out a pair of di, red with white dots. "Use my dice,
though," he said, guessing that the boy's were loaded.
The boy glanced at the dice warily and asked "How do I know data dey ain't loaded?"
The man laughed, a sound that was really more of a roar, and threw flame red hair back. "Try 'em out," he said, handing the dice to the boy and the boy reached out with his left hand.
The boy pulled his hand away before the red dice hit it, watching them as and they clattered on the street, bouncing on the cobblestone. He peered over the dice and saw what they added up to. Five. The suspicion in the boy's eyes disappeared and he nodded at the standing man.
The boy went first, taking the dice into a small, calloused palm and shook it a few times, getting the feel of the unfamiliar dice. Letting it fly against the building that stood in ruins on his corner, he watched as the first dice landed on the side with two white dots. Two pairs of eyes watched the last di intently, as it spun on a corner, and finally landed on five.
The boy grinned, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and picked up the dice again until he finally hurled an eight, four times after.
Crimson took them, and blew on them while shaking them gently. Throwing them with a snap of his wrist, the dice ricocheted off the wall. Four and three.
The two hurled sevens for the next three rounds until finally the man stopped the boy. "If ya can last three rounds of craps wit me, I'll give ya the five dollars already, if ya come an' work far me."
The boy looked at the man, then at the dice. Without warning, he flung the dice against the way and called out "Double er nothing,"
Both di spun like tops, refusing to slow down. When they finally did, the first landed on one. The other started to slow, dipping between six and one, until finally it landed on one.
The boy shrugged, and passed the dice to the red-headed man as he laughed. "Devil-may-care, eh? Ya got a spine, kid. I like dat." Chucking the small boy under his chin, the man said "Come on, ya little devil. I'se Oliver Clohessy...yer new employah!"
The boy followed willingly, thinking that that maybe it wasn't so bad that he got enlisted to work for this man. And with a throw of dice, the course of his life changed forever.
Large gray eyes looked up at the man and Crimson said "Welcome to da Bloody Dawn, Devil."
'Devil,' the boy mused, testing the name.
***
When the reached an old warehouse, Crimson kicked open the double doors with rusted hinges, and barely had any scraps of paint left on it.
When they both were inside, Crimson closed the door, and Devil glanced around at the dimly lit warehouse. It was spacious and it was his. Those two things were probably the only thing the place had going for it, for water leaked from the ceiling, the mild smell of mildew hung in the air, and was that a rat he saw a few seconds ago?
But to him, it was heaven. He had spent the last few years on the streets, sleeping with dirty rags and newspapers. He couldn't even remember sleeping underneath a roof.
As Crimson whistled sharply, Devil saw forms coming out from the shadows of the warehouse.
"Oliver, whaddaya doin' home so early?" A feminine voice asked, somewhat confused.
"Got us a new kid. Everyone, dis heah is Devil. I gotta go out again, so take care of 'im while I'se out." Crimson said to the girl, and then told Devil "See ya soon, Dev."
He saw the girl walking slowly toward him, coming out of the shadows in deliberate movements. "Heya, I'se Window O'Kiery." The girl said, gathering her waist-length brown hair to put into a loose bun.
The thin boy's cheeks were tinged with pink as he said "Devil May Care." When the green-eyed girl raised an eyebrow he shrugged and said "Dat's what Crimson called me."
Window smiled and asked "How'd a sweet kid like ya get a name like dat?"
The blush disappearing from his cheeks, the boy grinned and said "I guess it's 'cause it's what I am. A devil-may-care kinda guy."
The 18 year old girl laughed and ruffled his hair. "Yer gonna be great ta have around, kid. Tools!" She called out.
"Yeah?" The 19 year old boy asked, materializing with a broken lamp in hand.
"Ya fixin' anythin' important right now?" Window asked.
"Naw, why?" The boy said, brown eyes looking at her suspiciously.
She rolled her eyes and said "I gotta go out, and Dev heah needs a room."
The brunette boy was the only one she'd leave the kid alone with while keeping her conscious clean. The rest would probably set him up in a rat-infested room with leaks that would flood the poor kid out. Although the boy tended to have a suspicious nature, he was a good person.
She didn't mind being a prostitute, because it made her money. Crimson once told her that she didn't need to, being that she's his girlfriend, but she couldn't quit. She didn't feel like she had any worth in the gang if she didn't do anything for it. And going out with the boss didn't count as pulling her share.
Tools glanced at Window, feeling the tightness in his chest the same as he always did when he saw her. He loved the emerald-eyed girl painfully so, but couldn't bring himself to say anything. She was the Crimson's girl, and he was Crimson's friend. He almost wished that Crimson was a jackass who beat her up. That way he wouldn't feel awful for loving her.
The glance didn't go unnoticed by Dev, but he didn't really understand the hidden meaning of it. Wiping hands that were dark with oil and grease on rough pants he said gruffly "Tools Feeney."
They walked down the dark, echoing halls of the warehouse and Tools spoke once again saying "Ya can have the room next to McGovern's...you'll meet Scandal latah." Gesturing to the room, he was about to leave, but decided to stay with the smaller boy for the simple reason that Window had asked him to.
"Feeney!" A voice called out behind Tools. The boy turned around only to see Scam Cortigan. The 21 year old blond was slick, and although Tools was the one who worked with oil, Scam seemed to be able to get a lot of that oil into his hair and words. "Listen, I ran into dis liddle problem..." he said, walking away with Tools telling about how his latest scam went wrong. "Speakin' of things goin' wrong, wheah's Awry?" He asked, hazel eyes searching for the girl who seemed to attract trouble...and him, despite the fact that she tries to avoid both whenever possible.
Tools shrugged. "I think Mallow will be back soon. She said somethin' 'bout comin' home early today." Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he said "I gotta get back to da new kid. I'll tawk to ya latah, Cortigan," he said, walking back to Dev.
When he went back into the room he left the boy in, he found the boy rolling dice against the wall. Unable to let stop the small grin the lit his face at the scene. 'Boxcar's gonna love dis kid,' he though, thinking of the second in command of the gang. The only time Boxcar Farrelly wasn't playing craps, poker, or some other form of gambling, he was doing something else for the gang. Boxcar joined the gang when he was about 7 years old, over ten years ago, and has been doing everything he can for the gang ever since.
"Ya wanna play a round of craps?" He asked the boy, wondering how good the boy was.
The boy's eyes lit up and enthusiastically replied "Shoah! How much ya got?"
Tools grinned at the boy. The boy couldn't be more then 12, and he was already concerned about betting. 'Boxcar is definitely going to love him,' Tools thought again. "Uh, I guess I can spare a dime." He said to the boy.
The boy dug in his pocket, searching for the small, silver coin that he was told was a dime. "Double er nothin'?" He asked, large gray eyes looking up at Tools.
The older boy nodded and told the dark-haired boy to go first. Taking his plain white dice into his left hand, he shook his palm, and after a slight hesitation, he blew on it as he'd seen Crimson do. "Up pops da devil," Dev muttered as he threw the dice against the wall of his room. It was fitting that the slang for getting seven was "up pops the devil" and Dev was named Devil by Crimson. It was an uncanny coincidence, but to Dev, it was just words.
Seven.
A grin lit the rumpled boy's face as he rolled four sevens in a row. Tools raised an eyebrow, as Dev finally gave him the dice.
The brunette lasted two rolls. He shrugged, and passed the boy the dime. "Yer good," he told boy. "How long have ya been playin' craps?"
The boy shrugged thin shoulders. Grinning he said "As soon as I could throw dem dice,"
Tools looked at this boy for a little while. "Ya wanna meet some of da oddah kids?" He took the awed boy into the main room, which was now full of five or so kids around his age.
"Dere's Boxcar's bruddah, Rings. He's da only kid I know who can steal a ring right off of someone's fingah," Tools said, gesturing to a boy around 11 years old, engrossed with a book. Rings had the same blond hair and gray eyes as his brother, and loved the Bloody Dawn almost as much. The only difference would be that Rings wasn't allowed to gamble, and he wore wire-rimmed glasses that were just a bit too big for him, for he constantly had to push them up from his nose.
Looking around, Tools said "Dere's also Chin-up. Window's sistah." Tools stopped, gathering his thoughts. He tried so hard not to ever say Window's name. He was so sure that by simply saying her name, the love he felt for her would be so obvious. Quickly realizing that a few seconds had passed, Tools recovered by saying "She's a cute kid, but too chippah." The small, brunette girl was indeed a happy child, about 9 years old. Bright green eyes shined as she smiled at Dev, despite the fact that he was a complete stranger. To her, he must be a friend, or else he wouldn't be in their home.
"Oh, an' dat's Crimson's bruddah. His name is Tail." A faint smile touched Tools lips, for the blond little 8 year old was like Crimson's little tail, always following him around. It was true that Tail didn't do all that much in the gang, no one seemed to care, because Tail was the kid brother of everyone, and his job in the gang was simply to be there, reminding everyone of a past innocence. Even Chin-up wasn't innocent, despite her friendliness.
"An' dose are da twins, Razor an' Royal" Tools said loudly, talking about the two kids around 10 or so, who were having a friendly fight about who hauled in more money.
"Who brought in da 10 bucks last week?" Royal asked, crossing his arms.
"Who got caught fer it?" Razor replied, looking at him pointedly.
"Dat ain't da point!" Royal said, though he grimaced at the memory of being sent to the refuge.
"Razor 'cause she got a razor sharp mouth, an' Royal 'cause he's a royal pain in the ass." The 19 year old boy said affectionately.
Both rolled their eyes and absently flipped Tools off when they heard him. Dev furrowed his brows a bit, for the two looked completely different. Razor had blond hair and bright blue eyes, while Royal had reddish brown hair and hazel eyes.
Seeing Dev's confusion, Tools explained "Dey ain't really twins. Everyone jus' calls 'em dat 'cause dey'se always togeddah. Royal's mah bruddah an' Razor is Awry's liddle sistah. You'se gonna meet Awry latah, too."
Dev once again looked confused at the reference to siblings. Casually, Tools told him "We call 'em our liddle bruddah er sistah if we're da one who finds 'em. Da only one who's really a kid bruddah of someone is Rings. He's really Boxcar's bruddah. So, since da minute ya joined da gang, ya became a Clohessy."
Dev's eyes rounded. Dev Clohessy. He had a name.
Tools glanced around the gloomy warehouse, and his muddy brown eyes dimmed. "I gotta go fix da lamps, okay? I'll leave ya heah wit da oddahs." Eying Royal, he said "Be nice,"
The 10 year old boy's eyes widened. "I'se -always- nice, Tools." When Tools was gone from sight, the 10 year old walked up to Dev with the other four forming a semi-circle behind him. Warily he said "Royal Feeney. An who are ya?"
Dev grinned recklessly. "Devil Clohessy."
The boy looked Dev up and down for a minute. Suddenly, he spit in his hand and held it out. Although some might be revolted by the fact that Royal was obviously waiting for Dev to shake his salivated hand, Dev hid a cry of happiness when he saw the younger boy do this, and restrained himself from eagerly doing the same. It was vile and crude, but for Dev it meant something more then just shaking a spit-ridden hand. It meant he was accepted.
Hell's Kitchen, 1898"Scam, leave me alone! I'm . . . I'm not interested, okay?" Awry tried to tell the boy.
"Awry . . . jus' gimme a chance," the older boy said. Scam might have been the best con artist in the world, but he couldn't scam a date off of Awry.
She sighed. "Don't ya gotta go do some big job wit da rest of da gang?" She asked, hoping to get rid of him. It wasn't that she didn't like him or anything. But it was too dangerous, considering the fact that she was seeing Jerry Jeff who wouldn't take to kindly to his girl dating someone else.
Scam grinned and said "Don't think dat'll get ya off da hook, Mallow."
Most of the gang went out that night, have a few big jobs. The only people left were Awry, Tools and the kids.
The kids were spread out, each doing their own thing, while Tools fixed one of their doors. He wouldn't have if Awry hadn't been watching them, too.
Suddenly, Rings' head snapped up and he looked at the main door carefully. He could have sworn he heard the distinct sound of metal picks against locks. He frowned, not wanting to alert the others for no reason, though his hand instinctively went to his waist, where his nearest knife was.
Chin-up tilted her head at Rings, noticing his face go ashen as he carefully studied the main entrance as if it was as interesting as one of his books.
"Shit!" Razor's voice cut through the air, as she shook her hand vigorously.
Awry rolled her eyes and said "Told ya not to play around wit dat knife, Raze. Rings, could ya come heah a sec? Yer da only one heah who knows how to fix up knife wounds."
Rings shook his head, trying to clear his head. 'Dere's no way dat anyone would be comin' in here. No one knows wheah it is,' he reassured himself, going over to Razor and Awry. Glancing over the shallow cut he said "Jus' put some clean rags ovah it. Won't even leave a scah."
Rings narrowed his eyes, hearing the tinkering of locks once again. Eyes toward the door, he asked "Awry, is anyone on watch tonight?"
Awry nodded. "The new guy. Denson."
Dev, who had been rolling dice nearby frowned at that. He knew Rings was worried about something, and the new guy on watch didn't add up. Crimson never put the new guy on watch. "Crimson put him on watch?"
Awry shook her head. "Naw, I think he volunteered." She shrugged, and said "It ain't like dere was anyone else to be on watch."
Rings traded a glance with Dev, then motioned him off to the corner. When they were out of hearing distance from the rest he asked "What do you think is goin' on?"
Dev's brows furrowed. "It ain't addin' up, is it?" Both the 14 year olds didn't quite know what was happening, but they knew danger when they felt it. They just weren't sure if the others would believe them. Royal had tried to play a trick a few weeks ago, and everyone got all worked up about it. When they found out it was a trick he got beat till he was black and blue all over.
Rings took out one of his knives and discreetly passed it to Dev. "Take it. Jus' in case," he told the boy.
Dev blinked, then looked down at the knife. He'd never used a knife before. "It's a hunter's knife. One of mah best ones, so ya bettah take care of it," Rings said, interrupting Dev's thoughts.
