15 years ago

Celia felt numb. When the men dragged her away through the dusky grates of sea-level alleys, she didn't even protest. Her mind went blank as it couldn't comprehend the sheer horror of what had just happened. She was sure they would kill her too. Any second now. She hoped they would. What difference would it make if her life had already collapsed? It barely hung on at the last hinges, and now all the support beams broke, and she fell into the depths of dark and murky sea.

It caught her by surprise when she was thrown into some dark room, and her captors left with a heavy thud of closing doors. Celia blinked as her consciousness slowly came back to life. The room was tiny, without any windows, the darkness dispersed only by a lone candle in the corner. A miserable wailing sound broke the silence, and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she could see a few small shapes huddled together on the floor.

Children, and some of them smaller than her.

"I want my mummy!" a little girl sobbed, her wet hazel eyes glistening in the candle flame. "Do you know where my mummy is?"

"I..."

"Are you here to get us out?" the boy, sitting on her right, perked up. "We've been here for hours! I'm starving!"

"I'm not...." Celia mumbled, still confused.

"Leave her. She's been dragged here, just like us," a calm voice said. Celia turned her head to the boy. His red hair was starkly visible in the sparse light and contrasted strongly with his freckled, pale face. At closer inspection, he was so gaunt that one could count all the bones sticking out through his skin. He wasn't looking at her, and his green eyes were focused on a small metal trinket in his hands. Celia had no idea what that was, and the little light in the room certainly didn't help. But among all the terrified kids, he sounded oddly calm about all this.

Celia slowly made her way towards him, tripping on the outstretched legs of other children, causing outraged cries, which she ignored. She crouched in front of the boy.

"Do you know why we are here?"

He raised his head to look at her. Sweaty hair plastered to his forehead shadowed his green eyes, which seemed dull and empty.

"We are slaves now. Whoever caught us... they could do whatever they wanted with us. We are the dregs of Iron Shore, and no one cares what happens to us."

"Slaves?" The word echoed in the room, causing even more cries of distress. Celia felt something heavy lodged in her chest that made her breathe hard. She knew the term because she had eavesdropped her parents' conversation a few years ago. Father said that because so many people were left jobless, the city rulers agreed that if people's debts were getting too high, they could be turned into slaves and work for their debtors for as long as they could to repay it, or till the end of their lives. Celia didn't understand it back then, as it didn't sound much different than any other job. But now, it started to make sense.

The boy misread her question and explained in a tired voice as if he had done it many times before. "It means they owe us. Your life is no longer yours. You can't have anything. You do what you are told to do."

"You know a lot. Have you..."

"Been one? Yes, most of my life. I'm still surprised they keep selling me instead of getting rid of me."

Before Celia responded, the heavy door opened with a screech of metal scraping the stone floor.

"Come on, little rats! Time for a walk!"

Celia squinted her eyes in the sudden light flooding from the outside. She expected to see another brute. The voice was still rough but definitely female.

"Swiftly, the last one won't get to eat today!"

Children mumbled excitedly and rushed through the door towards the light. Celia wanted to join them but hesitated when she noticed the boy did not move.

"Aren't you coming?"

"I will, in a bit," he replied, unphased by the commotion and still fiddling with his little trinket. I'm no match for anyone in the running. Go and eat. You don't know when they throw us another scrap of food."

Celia looked at the opened door and then back at the boy. The legs visible underneath dirty and torn trousers were thin as twigs.

"You look like you need food far more than me." After all that had happened, she didn't feel hungry. On the contrary, the thought of doing something as mundane as eating, as if her father had not been brutally murdered a mere hour ago, revolted her.

The boy scoffed. "Go before they call you my friend. You don't want to be bunch up with me."

"Oi! I said come out, little rats," the girl at the door shouted. "If you don't fancy food today, that's fine, but if you don't come out right now, I'll make sure you'll regret it!" Even though the voice sounded young and girlish, and the body's shape in the light looked far from intimidating, a hard edge rang loud and clear. "Grab that cripple and move out!" Celia did not doubt that she would beat them up if they stalled too long.

"Come on. I'll help you up." Celia extended her hand.

The boy was silent for a moment; big green eyes bore into her, assessing her intention. "I'll need a bit more than a hand," he mumbled.

Without hesitation, Celia crouched next to him, wrapped his arm over her shoulder, and slowly brought them back up. She was not the biggest and the most muscular girl in the neighbourhood, but as scarce food was, she still ate at least one meal a day at home. The boy was so light as if he hardly weighed anything.

"Can you hand me my walking stick?"

Celia grabbed it, expecting a wooden thing she sometimes saw older people use, but this one was made of metal, a bizarre construction that consisted of scraps of different pipes and metal fragments. But it did have a handle and seemed much sturdier than wood that was scarce to come by lately.

The boy took the staff and leaned heavily on it, letting go of Celia.

"Thank you," he whispered, not looking at her.

"You are slower than drunk snails! Come on!" yelled the girl at the door.

Celia kept pace with the boy, who slowly shuffled his feet. When they crossed the door, they squinted their eyes, trying to adjust to a much lighter hallway.

"Finally! I thought I would have to drag you out myself!" the girl huffed, impatiently tapping her food. When Celia could eventually take a closer look at her, she was surprised by how young she was and yet how confident and rugged she looked. She couldn't be older than Celia for more than a few years. Her black hair was cropped short to her chin, and a huge scar was going across her face through the right eye, covered by a black leather patch.

"What are you staring at, you filthy rat?!" the girl hissed and pushed Celia roughly down the dimly lit hallway, which was still much brighter than the room they were kept. There were still no windows, and with the everpresent faint scent of mould and uneven stone floor, the place looked like a cave.

Not wanting to get on the wrong side of a ferocious-looking girl Celia kept walking, making sure the boy was keeping pace with her. They were herded to a big room full of tables of different sizes and chairs that looked like they'd been poached from various places. There was also a massive hearth at the back of the room, making the whole chamber warm and cosy, fending the cold away. And it smelled of freshly cooked gruel.

Most of the chairs were occupied by children aged between five and late sixteen. Some were talking and laughing animatedly, while others were cowering, looking around in fear and confusion.

The girl pushed them toward a small table where other children from their room had already gathered. Celia helped the boy sit on the least wonky chair and sat beside him on a stool that looked as if it barely held together. She looked around at other children's dirty faces. They were all different ages and sizes and had different skin tones, but there was something that they had in common. It was in their eyes – fear, uncertainty and silent despair.

"Now, listen up, little rats, because I will not repeat myself." She propped her leg on an empty stool and glared at them with one narrowed eye. "My name is Lin, and I'm a supervisor for your trial here in Plunderers. Show me that you are useful and have the potential to be an asset for the cartel, and you'll be taken care of. Fail to meet my expectation, and you are goners."

"What does it mean?" asked a pale girl beside Celia.

Lin rolled her eyes. "It means, little rat, that you'll be sold elsewhere to whoever will be willing to pay anything for your useless skin. And, believe me, you don't want that. You might think you couldn't end up in a worse situation, but it can always get worse. Chief is usually fair and rewards hard work. Be useful little rats, and you'll always have food to warm your belly and a dry place to sleep. You are also lucky that Chief doesn't use children to earn their keep on their back."

Celia frowned. " What do you mean on their backs?"

Lin looked at her and then rubbed her brow. "Gods, you are all such a stinky bunch of good-for-nothing kids. You don't wanna know, trust me. The rules are simple. We go out to work on the alleys. I'll show you the ropes and tactics to con people and relieve them of their precious possessions. After that, it's all up to you. You can work by yourself, or you can team up. I don't give a seagull's shit. What I want to see at the end of the day is money. Deliver enough, and you'll get your food. Fail to do that, and you'll end the day hungry. Is that clear?"

"How long does this trial period lasts?" Celia asked. The rules were clear enough for her. She saw the children working in the lower city parts many times, though she never thought she would one day join them. Looking at Lin, oozing with confidence, she saw an opportunity. When the gun fired, killing her father, she thought her life was over. She could not survive on her own if her parents failed to do that. What chances did she have alone?

But now she was looking at the girl she could be in a few years if she tried hard enough. Maybe her life wasn't over. Perhaps it just took a turn and started anew. If she ever wanted her dreams to come true, all she needed to do, for now, was to survive. And this was a chance she had not seen coming, but to her surprise, she was grateful for it.

Because despite all the horrible things that happened, she still wanted to live so desperately it hurt.

Lin looked her up and down, seizing her up. "One month. That's how long you have to prove that you are worth more than my spit." Another girl brought a tray full of bowls and distributed them among the children, ignoring Celia and the boy next to her as if they weren't there. Lin continued, "Eat up and gather your strength. We're going out for the first lesson when you're done." With that, she smirked and walked toward the hearth.

Most children eagerly busy themselves with their food. The boy beside her sat with his head down, fiddling with his trinket again as if he didn't care one bit about what was happening around him.

"What is it?" Celia asked, leaning to him and ignoring the pang of hunger in her stomach caused by the smell of food.

He looked up at her, surprised she was still talking to him. "It's a universal key. It still needs some work, but it can open most basic locks popular on sea level."

Celia's eyes opened wide. "Like... a super lockpick?"

The boy closed his fist over the device and leaned away from her. "You can't have it. It's mine."

Celia raised her hands placatingly. "Don't worry. I didn't want to take it away from you. I think it's awesome you can do something like that."

"Really?" he asked, his green eyes becoming a fraction brighter. It looked much better than the dull helpless void.

"Absolutely. Listen..." Celia leaned back towards him, lowering her voice. "I think we should team up if we want to survive whatever this trial thing is."

The boy raised his brows. "You want to team up with me? A cripple?" He looked her up and down and then at the other children at the table. "That's not very smart. I could pick up half a dozen better choices for you."

"Do you want to stay here or be sold again?" Celia asked. "I don't know this place very well, but food and a place to sleep sound good enough for now."

"I never stay long anywhere," he mumbled, looking away. "I'm a cripple, and there's not much I can do. I'm useless."

"You are most certainly not!" she insisted. "This thing you made? I've never seen such a clever gadget, and I've already thought about several ways to cheat this go-out-to-the-streets-and-rob-people system. You are the brain! All you need is a partner to do your legwork."

"You are so weird," the boy said, but a smile crept onto his thin lips. "No one ever picks me."

"There's a first time for everything." Celia patted his shoulder with a grin. "I have a feeling this is a start of a great partnership. I'm Celia, by the way. What's your name?

"Theodore. But if I had any friends, they would call me Theo."

"Hold on to your walking stick, Theo, because I feel this will be a wild ride!"