Quiet.
How the stars could gleam so bright, and a night sky be so clear eluded Jake Cotton. Especially in contrast to the misery below. Thieves and murderers in the night. Crooked alleyways filled with steaming sewers and rotted flesh. These days, the poor littered the streets. Their decaying bodies decorating the streets with their downtrodden faces, and their ragged clothes. Sitting upon gray pavement stained with crimson blood that is their own. They just don’t know it yet…
Yet, while the economic crisis shattered the lives of millions and created a whole new impoverished class, he supposed it was not so different than he remembered home being before he left. The rich still lived extravagantly. This time, the poor became more numerous. And more violent. Gangs were at each other’s throat in order to survive.
Jake left the country to leave a life of abuse behind. Away from home he found a world filled with chaos and destruction. Blood and iron. Fire and smoke. Blooded trenches entrenched in his mind forever. The scalding imprint of gunfire and screams resonated within the stream of his consciousness, seeping through his mind like a trail of flames illuminating the fragments of memories… nightmares unwanted.
Now, returned home. The hero’s welcome without the welcome. Unceremonious. Walking back into familiar streets, only to find them foreign. Glass and brick; constructions of nostalgia and reminiscence, now faded into a childhood long forgotten. Childhood lost.
A father now dead, and a mother buried long before him; Jake Cotton was alone. Although, he was alone from the day he was born. This only made what was already known, official.
No family, no friends, no money, no home. He never had a home. He never had a family. His friends are all dead. What does money mean now? Only survival.
The silence seemed to lift. Sounds of cheerful children and families. Laughter and smiles. One of the few times of happiness the city had. A spring carnival. This was a place where Jake could pick up extra cash. Just enough to cover necessities, and some small luxuries. Like the cigarette that hung from his mouth. Smoke from the end rising into the night air.
A cool breeze blew by, sweeping his sandy blonde hair. He looked out to the crowd around him. Several children idolizing him with their awestruck eyes. Impressed older men. And, women staring at him with gazes that were not so innocent.
“Come one, come all, come see the show of the night! A phenomenon from our very city, born and raised. An honorable soldier who served in the bloodiest conflict of our time! He is Jake Miles Cotton, ‘The Golden Kid’!” The announcer stood by him, blaring out words with his microphone. Claps and cheers erupted from the audience.
“He’s got the quickest gun and the best shot in New York. The country, no… The world! Watch as he shoots down these bottles in less than six seconds. Come on Jake, step on up!”
Jake stepped away from the railing he leaned against. He grabbed a pistol from the table and dropped his cigarette, stomping it into the concrete. No longer listening to the announcer, lost in his own zone.
He was a circus freak. Where he belonged. Normal people together while he stood by himself. Separated. Divided. This was the life for which he was suited.
A series of quick shots. Three bottles shattered. Another two blasts flared out from the barrel. Two tossed glasses in the air broke apart. A third one was still falling, it was the second glass of the final two. The last bottle sat on a railing at the edge of the pavement they stood upon by the water. His finger steady on the trigger.
Click.
The last bullet seared through the falling glass and hit the far bottle on the edge cleanly. Everyone in the crowd cheered and roared.
Jake nodded at them and waved. No smile.
At the end of the night he counted the green dollar bills in his hand and pocketed them. Another smoke hanging from his mouth.
He turned to a co-worker clearing out some equipment.
“I’ll see you round next time, right Jake? You’re not gonna’ vanish on us again.”
Jake grabbed his lighter and placed it into his pocket. “See you on Thursday.” He walked away from the exiting crowd and on down the street.
The dumb spring festival by the East River was as shitty as the economy, but for some reason, whatever families still had cash in their pockets came to the pointless event to squander any money they had left on stupid acts performed by people who were as poor and desperate as those who threw the cash. It was probably one of the last things that held together the sanity of New York City, though it was still a waste of the city’s money.
But Angel McBride wasn’t going to complain. This was her favorite time of year, not just because the harsh winter was finally gone, but that she could weave her way through the crowd and pickpocket people mercilessly. She also was quite successful in stealing some of the crappy food that was available there.
However, there was someone new this year; a boy who wasn’t normally part of the ragtag group that got together to entertain the crowd at the festival. It was a blond boy, who the MC said had just returned from the war. That got Angel’s attention; but what impressed her even more was his skill with that pistol. It was enough to impress her, something which wasn’t all that easy. This was the first time she herself had gone out of her way to talk to someone about the gang since Deon, which was about a year prior.
Angel quickly pulled her hair up into a ponytail and tied it down with a band before jogging after the mysterious boy who had departed into the streets.
“Golden Boy!” she shouted behind him.
Jake wandered down the dark streets of this city, some lights brightening his path as he walked. He came to a stop, hearing a the nickname the announcer from the carnival used. Turning around to turn his cool, blue-eyed gaze onto the blonde girl in the camo tank top who had caught up to him.
He studied her for a moment. Jake reached up and pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke out into the air.
“Can I help you, miss?”
Angel came to a stop in front of him and smiled, though she was panting slightly.
“You’re pretty good with that gun,” she complimented him with a smile. Her blue eyes scanned him up and down, sizing him up.
Jake didn’t return her smile. He just looked her up and down, like she did him. Not sure what she was after.
“Yeah, why are you really here? I’ve lived long enough to know a compliment is followed by a favor.”
“You’re pretty smart,” Angel observed, her smile unwavering. “Is that your only job right now?”
He scratched his head and squinted his eyes. Looking at her more closely. “I take on a lot of different odd jobs. This is just one of them. Why?”
Angel looked around quickly and came a little closer to him.
“How would you like one where you’re set for life?” she whispered.
Jake shot his gaze to her eyes. Intrigued, but guarded. “And how does my gun help you?”
Angel smiled and played with her blonde hair a bit.
“I’m the head of a little group,” she explained. “We stick together and chip in to get what we want. Food, a home, protection.”
She stressed the last point by staring into his eyes.
“And sometimes there are times when a gun—or someone good with one—is needed to...facilitate this process.”
He stood there in silence, taking in everything she said. His mind wandered to the small amount of pay he received. Being alone during this economic crisis, especially with gangs running rampant was difficult.
Gangs…
“You mean a gang.” Jake said, taking another hit of his cigarette and pulling it from his lips. The smoke puffing out into the air. He held it over to Angel, offering her a hit.
“I’m not sure I trust gangs.”
“Potato, po-tah-to,” Angel replied with a shrug. “You can label them however you like. We’re just sticking together because it’s better than fending for yourself alone.”
She took the cigarette from his hand and held it between her fingers loosely for a moment before she held it to her lips and took a slow drag. She handed it back to him as she puffed the smoke out with a smile.
“All I’m saying is that I don’t normally offer a spot in the gang to just anyone, and I see something special in you. Is that all so wrong?”
Jake took the last two drags of the cigarette and flicked it to the ground. Crushing it underneath his foot and grinding it against the ground. He looked past her smile, into her eyes and listened to her words carefully.
Finally, reading between the lines of her speech, Jake shook his head.
“Seeing special in a gun handler is a bit suspect. I’m going to say no to your offer and find something better suited for me. I don’t like the way you talk, and I don’t like the way gangs like yours do things. I’m pretty sure I know what you want me for, and the answer is no.”
Angel frowned and sighed, not content with his response.
“Well we all have to get by somehow,” she answered simply. “Maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”
“Maybe one day you’ll change yours. Hopefully sooner than later for your sake.” Jake turned his back to her and began walking down a different alleyway. “I’ve had enough killing in my lifetime.”
Angel cocked her head at his curious response. Then, it made sense. He was a soldier after all. He had probably killed more than anyone in her gang over in Hungary. She supposed she had to respect that choice.
“Thanks for the smoke,” she called out to him suddenly.
Jake raised his hand in acknowledgment. His way of saying goodbye.
As he continued on through the city, trying to make his way to one of the many shelters, someone waved him over. At this point he had to wonder if it was another gangster trying to pitch him their idea. Reluctantly, Jake moved to him but kept his distance.
“Hey there brotha. I saw you at that carnival. Damn good with that gun. Damn good. Best I ever saw.”
Jake sighed and started to walk away. The man grabbed him on the shoulder and Jake quickly shoved his arm off and then gripped it with his hands and shoved him up against a wall, twisting his arm up his back.
“Shit man. Damn! Okay, okay. I’m sorry for touching you. I just wanted to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“Look, I know that blonde offered you a job. And you denied her. Seemed like you saw her game and that impresses me, man. But,”
Jake twisted his arm more and the man groaned in pain. “Get to the point.”
“Fuck! Alright! She’s part of the Amaranth Wolves. And they don’t play around or take kindly to rejection. Especially her. She might got a cute smile, but she got a nasty bite. Trust me. I’m here for your sake.”
He looked at the man for a moment before releasing his arm. The guy straightened himself out. Dusting off his ragged long sleeve shirt.
“I want you to join with me and several others who you’d find are just like you. Wait wait. Before you turn your back on us as a gang or whatever. We don’t use guns except as last resorts. We don’t kill. And we don’t steal. Straight up trades, and some illicit sales here and there. Scavenging work. Other’s losses are our gains, ya know?”
Jake looked at him. Thinking it over.
“The Wolves, other gangs, and cops are going to be obstacles for you. Making it alone out here is hard. Especially for someone lost like yourself. We’re called The Lost Ones.” He said while pulling up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of the north star on his wrist. “For the lost and misguided. We help each other out. Everyone who wants to help others and themselves, that is. And you could leave whenever you wanted if you didn’t like it.”
“How much cash and food do you bring in each week?”
The man laughed. “Enough to feed a lot of people. Believe me, when it comes to resourcefulness. We are it.”
Jake reached into his pocket for a cigarette but stopped. He looked up at the sky and sighed.
“...Alright. I’ll check it out. But if I don’t like it, that’s it.”
The guy jumped excitedly. “You’ll love it, man. The name’s Ryker Gaines. You can call me Ryke.”
“Jake Cotton.”
Ryker smoothed his hand through his long black hair. Then he shook Jake’s hand. “I’m gonna call you Cotton. Got a good ring to it.”
Jake almost smiled. “My friends used to call me that.”
“Now your new friends will. Just follow me. We gotta meet up with the others at the Tersei bridge and I’ll set you and them up with a job. Let’s go.”
Ryker walked off and Jake followed.
Angel walked back to the Wolves’ hideout quietly. She made sure the coast outside the abandoned building was clear before stepping inside and finding the hidden entrance that led downstairs into the lower level, the headquarters for the Amaranth Wolves. The place wasn’t half bad. Angel was a gangster, but she was still a girl and would not allow her base to be a pig’s sty.
Incandescent bulbs hung from the ceiling and served to illuminate the room quite well and a red handprint on the wall showcased the gang’s insignia. A few couches were placed around the room, along with various crates. Most of these were empty, but some of them were filled with bags of chips. bottles of water, cans of food, boxes of crackers, and other nonperishable food items. There were tables with some decks of cards, a broken TV set that everyone said they could fix but never did, flashlights, and other basic accoutrements. In the corner were two crates, one full of boys’ clothes, one full of girls’. They were communal, but members were allowed to keep their own clothes to themselves. All of the weapons were stored in a room next to this main one: there wasn’t much. They had a few guns but were lacking in the proper ammo. They also had a few knives in the room, but a good amount of them were now quite dull and needed to be resharpened.
There were quite a few people milling around the basement when Angel returned.
“Angel!” one of them called out to her as she came down the steps. “Did you nab anything at the Festival?”
Angel nodded.
“About fifty bucks. A decent amount of money, I’d say.”
She made her way to the back of the room where a small safe was bolted to the ground. This was where she kept the funds for the gang. Only she had a few other higher-ups knew the combination. The members of the gang trusted each other… But money oftentimes made people do regrettable things.
She crouched down and unlocked it, adding the fifty dollars to the cash that was already in there. She hadn’t counted it all in a while but she was sure they were around two or three hundred or so now. It wasn’t much, but it came in handy when they actually needed to buy things legally.
When the safe was locked again, she sighed and stood up and found a seat on an unoccupied couch. It was visible on her face that she was bothered about something, but some of the members were too afraid to badger her when she could possibly be in a bad mood.
How the stars could gleam so bright, and a night sky be so clear eluded Jake Cotton. Especially in contrast to the misery below. Thieves and murderers in the night. Crooked alleyways filled with steaming sewers and rotted flesh. These days, the poor littered the streets. Their decaying bodies decorating the streets with their downtrodden faces, and their ragged clothes. Sitting upon gray pavement stained with crimson blood that is their own. They just don’t know it yet…
Yet, while the economic crisis shattered the lives of millions and created a whole new impoverished class, he supposed it was not so different than he remembered home being before he left. The rich still lived extravagantly. This time, the poor became more numerous. And more violent. Gangs were at each other’s throat in order to survive.
Jake left the country to leave a life of abuse behind. Away from home he found a world filled with chaos and destruction. Blood and iron. Fire and smoke. Blooded trenches entrenched in his mind forever. The scalding imprint of gunfire and screams resonated within the stream of his consciousness, seeping through his mind like a trail of flames illuminating the fragments of memories… nightmares unwanted.
Now, returned home. The hero’s welcome without the welcome. Unceremonious. Walking back into familiar streets, only to find them foreign. Glass and brick; constructions of nostalgia and reminiscence, now faded into a childhood long forgotten. Childhood lost.
A father now dead, and a mother buried long before him; Jake Cotton was alone. Although, he was alone from the day he was born. This only made what was already known, official.
No family, no friends, no money, no home. He never had a home. He never had a family. His friends are all dead. What does money mean now? Only survival.
The silence seemed to lift. Sounds of cheerful children and families. Laughter and smiles. One of the few times of happiness the city had. A spring carnival. This was a place where Jake could pick up extra cash. Just enough to cover necessities, and some small luxuries. Like the cigarette that hung from his mouth. Smoke from the end rising into the night air.
A cool breeze blew by, sweeping his sandy blonde hair. He looked out to the crowd around him. Several children idolizing him with their awestruck eyes. Impressed older men. And, women staring at him with gazes that were not so innocent.
“Come one, come all, come see the show of the night! A phenomenon from our very city, born and raised. An honorable soldier who served in the bloodiest conflict of our time! He is Jake Miles Cotton, ‘The Golden Kid’!” The announcer stood by him, blaring out words with his microphone. Claps and cheers erupted from the audience.
“He’s got the quickest gun and the best shot in New York. The country, no… The world! Watch as he shoots down these bottles in less than six seconds. Come on Jake, step on up!”
Jake stepped away from the railing he leaned against. He grabbed a pistol from the table and dropped his cigarette, stomping it into the concrete. No longer listening to the announcer, lost in his own zone.
He was a circus freak. Where he belonged. Normal people together while he stood by himself. Separated. Divided. This was the life for which he was suited.
A series of quick shots. Three bottles shattered. Another two blasts flared out from the barrel. Two tossed glasses in the air broke apart. A third one was still falling, it was the second glass of the final two. The last bottle sat on a railing at the edge of the pavement they stood upon by the water. His finger steady on the trigger.
Click.
The last bullet seared through the falling glass and hit the far bottle on the edge cleanly. Everyone in the crowd cheered and roared.
Jake nodded at them and waved. No smile.
At the end of the night he counted the green dollar bills in his hand and pocketed them. Another smoke hanging from his mouth.
He turned to a co-worker clearing out some equipment.
“I’ll see you round next time, right Jake? You’re not gonna’ vanish on us again.”
Jake grabbed his lighter and placed it into his pocket. “See you on Thursday.” He walked away from the exiting crowd and on down the street.
The dumb spring festival by the East River was as shitty as the economy, but for some reason, whatever families still had cash in their pockets came to the pointless event to squander any money they had left on stupid acts performed by people who were as poor and desperate as those who threw the cash. It was probably one of the last things that held together the sanity of New York City, though it was still a waste of the city’s money.
But Angel McBride wasn’t going to complain. This was her favorite time of year, not just because the harsh winter was finally gone, but that she could weave her way through the crowd and pickpocket people mercilessly. She also was quite successful in stealing some of the crappy food that was available there.
However, there was someone new this year; a boy who wasn’t normally part of the ragtag group that got together to entertain the crowd at the festival. It was a blond boy, who the MC said had just returned from the war. That got Angel’s attention; but what impressed her even more was his skill with that pistol. It was enough to impress her, something which wasn’t all that easy. This was the first time she herself had gone out of her way to talk to someone about the gang since Deon, which was about a year prior.
Angel quickly pulled her hair up into a ponytail and tied it down with a band before jogging after the mysterious boy who had departed into the streets.
“Golden Boy!” she shouted behind him.
Jake wandered down the dark streets of this city, some lights brightening his path as he walked. He came to a stop, hearing a the nickname the announcer from the carnival used. Turning around to turn his cool, blue-eyed gaze onto the blonde girl in the camo tank top who had caught up to him.
He studied her for a moment. Jake reached up and pulled the cigarette from his mouth and blew smoke out into the air.
“Can I help you, miss?”
Angel came to a stop in front of him and smiled, though she was panting slightly.
“You’re pretty good with that gun,” she complimented him with a smile. Her blue eyes scanned him up and down, sizing him up.
Jake didn’t return her smile. He just looked her up and down, like she did him. Not sure what she was after.
“Yeah, why are you really here? I’ve lived long enough to know a compliment is followed by a favor.”
“You’re pretty smart,” Angel observed, her smile unwavering. “Is that your only job right now?”
He scratched his head and squinted his eyes. Looking at her more closely. “I take on a lot of different odd jobs. This is just one of them. Why?”
Angel looked around quickly and came a little closer to him.
“How would you like one where you’re set for life?” she whispered.
Jake shot his gaze to her eyes. Intrigued, but guarded. “And how does my gun help you?”
Angel smiled and played with her blonde hair a bit.
“I’m the head of a little group,” she explained. “We stick together and chip in to get what we want. Food, a home, protection.”
She stressed the last point by staring into his eyes.
“And sometimes there are times when a gun—or someone good with one—is needed to...facilitate this process.”
He stood there in silence, taking in everything she said. His mind wandered to the small amount of pay he received. Being alone during this economic crisis, especially with gangs running rampant was difficult.
Gangs…
“You mean a gang.” Jake said, taking another hit of his cigarette and pulling it from his lips. The smoke puffing out into the air. He held it over to Angel, offering her a hit.
“I’m not sure I trust gangs.”
“Potato, po-tah-to,” Angel replied with a shrug. “You can label them however you like. We’re just sticking together because it’s better than fending for yourself alone.”
She took the cigarette from his hand and held it between her fingers loosely for a moment before she held it to her lips and took a slow drag. She handed it back to him as she puffed the smoke out with a smile.
“All I’m saying is that I don’t normally offer a spot in the gang to just anyone, and I see something special in you. Is that all so wrong?”
Jake took the last two drags of the cigarette and flicked it to the ground. Crushing it underneath his foot and grinding it against the ground. He looked past her smile, into her eyes and listened to her words carefully.
Finally, reading between the lines of her speech, Jake shook his head.
“Seeing special in a gun handler is a bit suspect. I’m going to say no to your offer and find something better suited for me. I don’t like the way you talk, and I don’t like the way gangs like yours do things. I’m pretty sure I know what you want me for, and the answer is no.”
Angel frowned and sighed, not content with his response.
“Well we all have to get by somehow,” she answered simply. “Maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”
“Maybe one day you’ll change yours. Hopefully sooner than later for your sake.” Jake turned his back to her and began walking down a different alleyway. “I’ve had enough killing in my lifetime.”
Angel cocked her head at his curious response. Then, it made sense. He was a soldier after all. He had probably killed more than anyone in her gang over in Hungary. She supposed she had to respect that choice.
“Thanks for the smoke,” she called out to him suddenly.
Jake raised his hand in acknowledgment. His way of saying goodbye.
As he continued on through the city, trying to make his way to one of the many shelters, someone waved him over. At this point he had to wonder if it was another gangster trying to pitch him their idea. Reluctantly, Jake moved to him but kept his distance.
“Hey there brotha. I saw you at that carnival. Damn good with that gun. Damn good. Best I ever saw.”
Jake sighed and started to walk away. The man grabbed him on the shoulder and Jake quickly shoved his arm off and then gripped it with his hands and shoved him up against a wall, twisting his arm up his back.
“Shit man. Damn! Okay, okay. I’m sorry for touching you. I just wanted to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“Look, I know that blonde offered you a job. And you denied her. Seemed like you saw her game and that impresses me, man. But,”
Jake twisted his arm more and the man groaned in pain. “Get to the point.”
“Fuck! Alright! She’s part of the Amaranth Wolves. And they don’t play around or take kindly to rejection. Especially her. She might got a cute smile, but she got a nasty bite. Trust me. I’m here for your sake.”
He looked at the man for a moment before releasing his arm. The guy straightened himself out. Dusting off his ragged long sleeve shirt.
“I want you to join with me and several others who you’d find are just like you. Wait wait. Before you turn your back on us as a gang or whatever. We don’t use guns except as last resorts. We don’t kill. And we don’t steal. Straight up trades, and some illicit sales here and there. Scavenging work. Other’s losses are our gains, ya know?”
Jake looked at him. Thinking it over.
“The Wolves, other gangs, and cops are going to be obstacles for you. Making it alone out here is hard. Especially for someone lost like yourself. We’re called The Lost Ones.” He said while pulling up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of the north star on his wrist. “For the lost and misguided. We help each other out. Everyone who wants to help others and themselves, that is. And you could leave whenever you wanted if you didn’t like it.”
“How much cash and food do you bring in each week?”
The man laughed. “Enough to feed a lot of people. Believe me, when it comes to resourcefulness. We are it.”
Jake reached into his pocket for a cigarette but stopped. He looked up at the sky and sighed.
“...Alright. I’ll check it out. But if I don’t like it, that’s it.”
The guy jumped excitedly. “You’ll love it, man. The name’s Ryker Gaines. You can call me Ryke.”
“Jake Cotton.”
Ryker smoothed his hand through his long black hair. Then he shook Jake’s hand. “I’m gonna call you Cotton. Got a good ring to it.”
Jake almost smiled. “My friends used to call me that.”
“Now your new friends will. Just follow me. We gotta meet up with the others at the Tersei bridge and I’ll set you and them up with a job. Let’s go.”
Ryker walked off and Jake followed.
Angel walked back to the Wolves’ hideout quietly. She made sure the coast outside the abandoned building was clear before stepping inside and finding the hidden entrance that led downstairs into the lower level, the headquarters for the Amaranth Wolves. The place wasn’t half bad. Angel was a gangster, but she was still a girl and would not allow her base to be a pig’s sty.
Incandescent bulbs hung from the ceiling and served to illuminate the room quite well and a red handprint on the wall showcased the gang’s insignia. A few couches were placed around the room, along with various crates. Most of these were empty, but some of them were filled with bags of chips. bottles of water, cans of food, boxes of crackers, and other nonperishable food items. There were tables with some decks of cards, a broken TV set that everyone said they could fix but never did, flashlights, and other basic accoutrements. In the corner were two crates, one full of boys’ clothes, one full of girls’. They were communal, but members were allowed to keep their own clothes to themselves. All of the weapons were stored in a room next to this main one: there wasn’t much. They had a few guns but were lacking in the proper ammo. They also had a few knives in the room, but a good amount of them were now quite dull and needed to be resharpened.
There were quite a few people milling around the basement when Angel returned.
“Angel!” one of them called out to her as she came down the steps. “Did you nab anything at the Festival?”
Angel nodded.
“About fifty bucks. A decent amount of money, I’d say.”
She made her way to the back of the room where a small safe was bolted to the ground. This was where she kept the funds for the gang. Only she had a few other higher-ups knew the combination. The members of the gang trusted each other… But money oftentimes made people do regrettable things.
She crouched down and unlocked it, adding the fifty dollars to the cash that was already in there. She hadn’t counted it all in a while but she was sure they were around two or three hundred or so now. It wasn’t much, but it came in handy when they actually needed to buy things legally.
When the safe was locked again, she sighed and stood up and found a seat on an unoccupied couch. It was visible on her face that she was bothered about something, but some of the members were too afraid to badger her when she could possibly be in a bad mood.