My mind reeled, a million questions swimming through my head as I stared dumbstruck at the coin.

Before I could organize my thoughts and form a coherent sentence, Albert spoke up. His jaw had nearly dropped to the ground and he stuttered like a static-ridden audio recording. "I-I didn't know that... Why?"

A simple question that abridged all the jumbled puzzle pieces in my mind, but did nothing to piece them together. I looked at him and behind those eyes was a mighty bear that had been ensnared by the leg, enough to let him taste salvation on the tip of his tongue, but never enough to reach it. To taste the embarrassment to have succumbed to an elementary trick, and to not have noticed it until it was too late.

"If you didn't make them, who supplied you with them?" Anton said as he took a deep breath to soothe the bright red that pulsed on his cheeks. "I'd like to meet this excuse-for-a-craftsman and make them give me a good look in the eye before they dare set a hand on making these atrocities."

"A pawnshop keeper around downtown paid me a hundred and fifty of these," He muttered, spreading his jacket to reveal the three sacks of worthless metal. "Wait a second..."

He fished a coin out and scraped the thin gold film, a recognition flashing in his eyes. "I should have known. These are the same coins that got me into the mess I'm in now."

The mess he was in now? My mind did a few more somersaults before settling on an uneasy tilt. Did that mean that the pawnshop keeper and his debtors were in cahoots, that it had been no coincidence?

"A hundred and fifty?!" Anton's eyebrows shot up at the mention of the number, an uncanny resemblance to Albert's rash reaction earlier, and he scanned the three bulging sacks that affirmed his surprise. "That is a tempting amount, for sure... But," He paused, as if afraid to ask what priceless thing could come near the sum. "What in the world did they pay you for?"

"Camila," I found myself saying. "Tricked away with some fancy talk and the false promise of gold."

"Camila..." He pinched his nose as his eyes darted around and searched his memories. He turned to Albert. "Didn't you come here a few weeks bragging about some bird you made, how it was your 'life's work' and all? If we see eye to eye, you're saying you tossed that aside for some cheap coins worth no more than dirt."

I wanted to hug him for spitting the truth out, but it would be a bit awkward after he had smashed me into the wall.

"Well, put that way it does kind of strange of me to do such a thing," Albert said. "But, they were pressing for a firm deadline on my debt. And by firm," He squished the top of his eyelid, and tiny, purple bumps formed like ridges on the flesh, gurgling nauseatingly as they slid back to their deformed place. "I mean this."

"That's certainly not a 'little scuffle'," Anton remarked and the two burst into laughter. The tense mood shattered and I chuckled nervously along with them, my back still pressed against the wall. "What's up with these three, anyways? You stopped giving tours around downtown, what, two months ago?"

He shrugged, wincing in pain as his shoulders crunched. "I can't refuse a request from Marion. And besides, you're not exactly keeping to your promises either."

Anton's eyes twinkled, a sparkle of light glimmering in his dark irises, and he scrunched his shoulders like Albert had. "I can't refuse a request from you, old friend. Speaking of which, I'll let this one go. I'm not planning on doing these things anytime soon. Hopefully never."

The conversation went stale like a piece of bread left on top of a fridge and never attended to until the smell had breached the air, and we stood up to leave.

"Albert!" He called as we headed out the door. "Best luck on settling your... financial situation, shall I put it. And you three."

He shifted his gaze towards me, and then it flickered toward Ken and Matilda. "I don't know what your where you're headed, but you only get one chance to see the world before you end up living your mid-life crisis in a mediocre city, all cramped in a house ten sizes too small. Best of luck to you, too."

We were definitely going to need that.

"Well, the fates be damned, this is nothing but a hunk of pretty metal," He said as I stepped along the cobblestone, my feet tracing the cracks as splotches of water caressed my soles. Albert let out a sigh, a cloud of water that shimmered in the sun's rays.

He ran a hand through his weary hair that lay limp, and whatever had kept the light in his eyes had been extinguished, leaving a vacant gaze trailing the street's winding cracks. "If I run into that stupid shopkeeper again, I'll..." He trailed off and rubbed his sore eye.

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing," He said, though his expression told otherwise. "I just doubt that I'll be standing by the end of the day, considering I have nothing to show besides a few sacks of worthless metal."

"That's it, though," Matilda perked up and her eyes brightened at the mention of the coins. "You're nothing short of a genius!"

"Genius?" Albert shrugged sheepishly, his cheeks the color of ripe tomatoes. "I appreciate your liking for my inventions, but they're not anything that hasn't been created already."

She looked as if she wanted to punch him and slap her face in utter disbelief, her eyes shut as she took in several breaths. "I wasn't talking about that. You have the money you owe in your pocket, real or not. No stress, no hassle, easy as that."

She snapped her fingers for dramatic effect, but Albert just shook his head back and forth, dark flecks darting wildly as if drowning in the swirling irises.

"No, I couldn't." His voice was a wisp of air that dissipated into nothingness, a grim reminder of what shook his stomach down to the core and racked his bones until they could only tremble in fear. "To play their tricks against them would be a death wish."

"Their tricks?" Ken asked, the puzzle pieces beginning to click into place. "You're not saying that they loaned you duds, are you?"

Albert averted his gaze, embarrassment and anger flushing his cheeks. "Everywhere I go now—besides a few close friends, they don't trust me. And I've learned avoid them."

"Well, who says you aren't in a death wish already?" Matilda said. "Either way, you're going downhill so why not try your luck rather than sitting around waiting to die?"

"I'm not afraid of them killing me—that would be mercy, if anything—and the thing is, they won't. Only maim me enough so that I won't forget the fear etched into every hair on my body, and to milk a few more coins out of me for the promise of letting me live." He hung his head, unable to shake his worries off.

"But we won't let that happen," I blurted out, remember Matilda's suggestion earlier. My shoulders hitched and I looked around nervously as if someone else had spoken the words. "Uh, we'll follow behind you and if things get a little escalated, we'll jump in."

"Well, a little revenge is nice and I suppose we could get the emblem along the way," Ken said, rubbing his sore side at the memory of the silver-haired man. "Of course for that to work... Matilda, you in?"

"Am I in?" She snorted as if the question was simply a trivial matter. "I was telling you guys about this earlier! We'll protect you, Albert, and I'll make sure we get our emblem back. If we have to play dirty to do so, so be it. Besides, surprise is on our side this time."

"If you insist, I'll welcome the help and help you, too," Albert chuckled and his expression loosened, the storm in his eyes had calmed and his beard scrunched up from the slight smile forming on his face. "Now, don't get too excited. We're not heading to the Swan until dusk."

"What's the Swan?" Ken asked, and I looked expectantly at Albert as well. "Is it like some sort of mysterious meeting place around these streets?"

He drew his hands back and wiggled his fingers like sprinkling confetti. His face scrunched as he attempted a ghost face, stretching his mouth to form an elongated O and widening his eyes before succumbing to a fit of laughter at himself.

Albert opened his mouth to reply, snorting at Ken's little act, but a thunderous rumble interrupted him. The street seemed to roll like tides as pieces of litter skittered along the ground, and the continuous rumble pricked my skin with pins and needles as pulsing vibrations coursed through my body, stunning my legs momentarily.

"That's not another thunderstorm, is it?" Ken said, but three blasts of a blaring horn jolted our attention upwards.

And there it was. A floating metal beast that hung beneath a gargantuan gas envelope draped in sheets of beige tarp, rows of winding pipes wrapped around like creeping vines and copper wires enveloping it in orderly intervals. The wires formed a criss cross pattern near the head of the gas envelope, curving until they met at a glimmering golden tip that rivaled even the sun.

The tarp was less of a spectacle and was dotted with an assortment of mismatched patches that it almost looked like a large quilt in some places, billowing and shrinking rhythmically as if it were a thumping heart. Scars of deep gashes could be faintly seen surrounding the belly of the gas envelope, a testament to the airship's legacy and frequent service.

Beneath was the main body—the 'ship' in 'airship'—connected by thick, suspended cables snagging onto the sides. It was almost like your ordinary sailing ship, but its masts had been stripped of, the back half were encased in a curved wooden roof connecting the raised hull, and underneath it was an abnormally large keel that seemed to house... people. At least that's what I made of the slanted glass panels on the four sides, hazy figures darting here and there along it.

"That's where the pilot and his crew stay," Albert explained, noticing my gaze. "I don't how they're not queasy from one look out the window, but flying was never a thing for me."

The front half of the ship was in essence a large balcony, metal railings lining the sides, and a few figures trickled out of a sloped penthouse on the deck where a myriad of crates and boxes sat in neat clusters here and there.

The horn sounded again and Albert snapped out of his awed gaze, his eyes darting around wildly. "Quick, under here!"

He pointed towards a barren shop, a rusted overhang the color of murky seas that would offer protection—but from what? Unfortunately, I didn't have much time to ponder on the matter as a literal plate of metal came hurtling out of the sky and would have severed my arm had not Albert shoved me to the side.

Ken and Matilda had already ducked under overhang and Albert joined us a moment later.

"What in the world..." I could only stare in amazement as bolts and screws, metal scraps, and other junk showered the streets, pelting the ground with rapid-fire thunks.

"You were born in a small town?" Albert asked.

"Well, I lived in one most of my life so I suppose that counts," I said. A vivid image of the restaurant resurfaced in my mind, threatening to drown me in guilt and sadness, but I pushed them aside.

"Well, these airships are commonplace for city dwellers like me," He explained. "Every few weeks one passes over to transport goods, people—the Skyblazer's gonna be over the skies in a week or so, too. Now, airships aren't exactly cheap to make, so ones like that," He gestured to the one above us. "are used over and over again, they succumb to material fatigue and voila, you have metal falling from the sky."

"One time a piece of the hull fell off in Hortrum," Matilda piped up, smirking at the memory. "Like half the freaking hull just landed smack dab on the street."

"It happens," Albert shrugged. "Hortrum isn't the number two flyover city for no reason. Behind us, of course."

He leaned back against the window, rested the back of his head on his hands, and watched.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Time to wait out the "rain".