Chapter 7: The Half-Breed and the Hawk

Life is like a sea voyage. Sometimes things seem to be going your way with smooth tides, but then before you know it, a storm hits, and you realize that your life has been blown off course.

Tarrus: Capital Planet of the Tarrus Empire. Fernady City: Refugee sanctuary

“Ya got somethin’ to say to me, you half-breed freak,” sneered Shaver Creed, the ringleader of a hoverbike gang of hoodlums who called themselves the Preservers.

By Preservers, they meant preserving the sanctity of the human race by persecuting all non-humans. They were technically outside the law, but no Patrollers in Fernady seemed to care; in fact, a few openly supported the gang. The gang usually didn’t do anything major; mostly they just spray-painted profane remarks about aliens on the walls, demanded protection money from any lone alien to cross their paths, and occasionally beat non-humans within an inch of their lives. They were just raucous punks with chips on their shoulders and something to prove, but they did do the best job they could to make the lives of every alien they found a living nightmare. And unfortunately, despite the fact that he was mostly human, that treatment extended to Ryan Uruks.

To most onlookers, it would look like a bunch of street punks beating up on a human teenager. With his face in the mud, most would’ve assumed Ryan to be your average, innocent youth victimized by a gang of hoodlums. In fact, most would be inclined to help if they happened by. However, if Ryan ever lifted his head and stood up for a passerby to get a better look, most would keep on walking.

Although mostly humanoid, Ryan still possessed features that were considered strange by most people, features which became more obvious the older he got. Golden scales covered his body casting an orange hue over his skin. These scales weren't abhorrently noticeable. In a certain light, one might not even see them. However, if one missed the scales, one would certainly not miss the eyes … blood-red and decidedly not human.

Other non-human features tended to be less pronounced. Teeth slightly sharper and nails slightly longer, giving the boy an almost bestial appearance. Another thing that set Ryan apart was his bright, red hair that matched his eyes. Despite these unique features, Ryan wasn't grotesque by any means. In fact, many would say these qualities made him seem more alluring. However, as closely as Ryan resembled humans, especially when compared to non-humanoid aliens, he wasn’t quite human enough to warrant sympathy, especially from Shaver Creed.

            Shaver Creed and his cronies had already ganged up on Ryan for his daily beating, but this time that didn’t seem to satisfy them. “You deaf as well as dumb, half-breed?! I asked ya if you got somethin’ to say to me!”

            Ryan had several things he wanted to say. First of all, Ryan wanted to tell him that he wasn’t a half-breed since his father had been part-human, so that technically made him a part-breed. Secondly, the new flaming red Mohawk that Shaver sported made him look more like a chicken than a threat. And finally, no he wasn't deaf, and certainly not dumb, in his own personal opinion … but this Neanderthal with the rooster hair certainly had stupidity to spare.

Unwilling to antagonize his assailants any further with insults, and too prideful to let them see him beg, Ryan simply glared at them with his blood-red eyes. Sometimes his glare sent guys running, but it usually only worked when he had only one baddie to deal with. But in a group of about a dozen, like the Preservers, not even Ryan’s special glare could scare them off.

However, despite his advantage in numbers, Shaver Creed hesitated for a split second, the way he always did when Ryan gave him his deadly glare. Then he bolstered up his courage to kick his victim in the head one more time.

Ryan grimaced in pain, but he didn’t make a sound. He refused to give the fools the satisfaction of seeing him cry out.

Satisfied that he had established his dominance, Shaver Creedy received congratulations from his fellow morons for his bravery, kicking a half-breed in the head after he'd been beaten half to death. They walked away as usual, congratulating each other and bragging about what they would do next time.

            Ryan always wondered why Shaver Creed never finished him off. He had seen them kill other half-breeds just for groveling the wrong way, but they never got around to killing Ryan … and he never groveled. Maybe they just hated him more than the others; maybe they just wanted to prolong his suffering. However, Ryan had the faint impression that he scared them somehow, as they seemed afraid to do anything more than just beat him up a little. It didn’t really matter … Ryan didn’t care; he’d already lost everything. The Preservers couldn’t hurt him worse than the pain that he carried with him.

            Ryan groaned softly in both torment and relief as the Preservers soon sped out of sight on their hoverbikes. The Preservers’ vehicles screeched loudly and irritably in the distance with a shrill noise as the engines ignited, allowing the anti-gravity boosters to lift the crafts off the ground and attain speeds capable of breaking the sound barrier.

The annoying noise that the hoverbikes made rather reminded Ryan of the Preservers themselves; obnoxious and begging for attention. Had Ryan possessed the temerity to fight, he might’ve thrown a broken bottle at the back of Shaver’s head as he sped away. But as such, Ryan could barely muster up the willpower to get up every morning, let alone fight. He wondered if he had lost more than his family five years ago; he wondered if he’d lost part of his soul along with his will to fight.

Then Ryan heard a familiar sound. “Caw!”

The persistent cry of a hawk with unusually bright and shiny yellow wings woke him from his stupor. The hawk took up its usual perch on Ryan’s head and pecked him profusely upon the forehead in a customary ceremony for demanding food. Ryan called this particular hawk Tyrant because when he started screeching, he had the insistency of a slavedriver yelling at his slaves to work faster. Tyrant had beautiful, golden-feathered wings, a sharp, hooked beak, and shiny red eyes. Even though Ryan had decided to call the hawk Tyrant, the bird accompanied him after the Massacre of Toramirese, and that somehow made him precious.

Despite the agony that it caused him, despite the delicate emotions of fear and pain that would begin to stir, Ryan desperately tried to remember what happened that day five standard years ago. He couldn’t recall much of anything about the Dark Creature that still haunted his dreams at night. He had no memory of what became of his mother, or his father. All he could remember was blacking out when the Dark Creature in the cloak appeared before him and his mother.

The next thing he knew, he woke up in some hospital on Tarrus. The doctors told him he was one of the few survivors of the Massacre of Toramirese. He begged them for hours to tell him what happened to his parents, but they assured him that no one who had survived the attack bore any resemblance to his mother or father. He was alone.

He wanted to go back to his home, but the government wouldn’t allow him to leave; said something about him being under the protection of the Tarrus Provisional Government. Apparently, right before the attack on the colony, a disruption occurred on Tarrus as well. The Imperial Family was slaughtered as well as all their cabinet members. A new government would soon be put in place of the old one, and a new Emperor as well, a young senator named Alexander Chissler.

Normally, Ryan wouldn’t care about politics, but because of the unrest that resulted from the fiasco, he’d been restricted from leaving the planet and relocated along with many thousands of other alien refugees to the waste disposal settlement of Fernady. And that's where Ryan had remained ever since.

            At first, his new life overwhelmed him. It seemed like someone stole his old life from him and replaced it with a crumby, tragic backstory. And then a little hawk came out of nowhere and started pecking at his hand. They say first impressions are important. Ryan’s first impression of Tyrant involved having some chicken-fried hawk flesh … if only he had a fryer. Despite the number of times that Ryan had tried to eat the little pest, Tyrant just kept coming back. The bird became Ryan’s constant companion after that.

At first, Tyrant served as little more than an annoyance. But slowly, Ryan started to feel a strange bond of companionship to the dumb animal. Maybe because he didn’t have anyone else. Maybe he just needed a friend. Or perhaps he felt a strange sort of kinship with the tiny creature; after all, the bird seemed to be alone as well.

For whatever the reason, the bird followed Ryan wherever he went, and Ryan found its presence an immaculate respite compared to complete solitude. He even helped Ryan find food and shelter when he needed it. The bird even acted as a sort of alarm system as it would whine and hop around in circles when danger approached.

Shortly after each irritating display, Shaver Creed and his gang would appear around the corner moments later, and Ryan would have to high-tail it out of there. In many ways, the only reason that Ryan had survived so long could be credited to Tyrant and his general annoyingness. For some reason, whenever Ryan would look at Tyrant, it reminded him of his father, and then his heart would feel heavy.

“Do you have any family, Tyrant?” Ryan asked the bird.

“Caw,” responded the bird.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so; otherwise you’d find better things to do than torment a poor kid like me.” Tyrant puffed up his yellow feathers as if he could understand Ryan, and he didn’t appreciate the comment.

In moments such as these, Ryan couldn’t help but think of his parents and the funny looks they gave him, much like Tyrant, when they acted angrier than they really were. Ryan desperately tried to swallow back the tears as he attempted again and again to remember something, anything that would give him a clue to his parents’ whereabouts.

Once again, he remembered nothing but darkness. He knew only of their absence and his isolation. Somewhere in his heart, he hoped that they still lived, but feared such a thing as well. If they still lived, it meant that they had just abandoned him … that they didn’t want him anymore.

Or it could’ve even meant that they'd been taken captive by the Dragons and subjected to unimaginable tortures. Those thoughts seemed more terrifying to Ryan than all the Preservers or Black Dragons in the universe. The thought that he was no longer needed or wanted by anybody, it left him too depressed to move. He quickly swallowed his anguish like always and let himself just forget about it all.

It was just a painful memory! They don’t matter anymore, right? Why should I cry if nobody cares about me? I don’t care for anybody either.

And with that, Ryan picked himself up from the mud and wiped down his tattered clothing. He looked himself over in a puddle to see how bad the damage was; constant rain filled ever-present puddles. His injuries didn’t seem too severe. Just the usual cuts and bruises, nothing to get bent out of shape about. He also took note of the small scar that started from his neck below the chin and ended just past his jawline on his left cheek.

It was a thin white scar, slightly jagged, like it had come from a knife, or a claw perhaps. This scar, he knew, had not come from the Preservers. Unlike any wound he received from the Preservers, this wound never healed. He was still unable to remember where it came from, only that it had appeared on his face the day he woke up in the hospital here.

Tyrant assumed a casual perch on Ryan’s shoulder, and then they were off. Ryan went barefoot as he had no shoes, but that didn’t matter much to him as he always preferred traveling barefoot. Besides, the scales on his feet were so hard that he hardly even felt the pavement beneath his soles. Ryan possessed few clothes, but he usually preferred the simple arrangement of a sleeveless white shirt and black jeans. His clothes were old and tattered, with many holes throughout the worn fabric, but it was still slightly better than tromping around naked.

Ryan walked down the lonely streets of Fernady slowly, trying to conserve his energy. Fernady wasn’t a very cheerful place, to say the least. The dark gray cement buildings towering over the streets seemed almost as depressed as the people. Litter and gunk in the gutters clogged the drains, leaving puddles that sometimes went knee-deep. Just another waste disposal town where everyone else in the galaxy came to get rid of their trash, and then leave just as quickly.

Many alien refugees came to this town for various reasons. Plague, poverty, escaping planetary destruction … things like that. Quite a few humans lived there as well, but mostly the low-life types like Shaver Creed and his gang. Clouds and smog filled the skies as usual. Some people grew sick from all the damp, but hardly anyone could afford effective medicine, not with doctors becoming so expensive and scarce from the absurd health care system in place.

Fernady was one of those places in the poor regions of Tarrus that most decent people just wanted to forget. Cheap pay and even cheaper living conditions didn’t make Fernady ideal, but many people like Ryan had nowhere else to go where they could live and work. Not that Ryan had a job, or a house for that matter. Only a lucky few of the aliens here had a consistent job. The rest, like Ryan, would fight over the government meals when they came, scrounge around for any temporary work they could find, dig through the garbage, or they just starved.

Ryan didn’t fault the humans. The aliens that came here usually had lost all hope and would just content themselves to living in the mud, possessing neither the desire nor the motivation to better themselves. Ryan understood their pain. But that alone was still little comfort to him. Because of the treatment Ryan received from other humans, he tried to reach out to non-humans. But they treated him like he had the plague too. At first, Ryan thought it due to him being a half-breed, but as Ryan looked into their eyes, he sensed something more than contempt. They feared him.

At times, just the solitude could be too much to bear, but no matter how miserable his life had become, Ryan knew that he would never just give up and let himself die. No matter the cost, no matter how much time it took, Ryan knew that he must find the answers to his sordid past. He must find out what happened to his parents, and if they really had died, he must find the creature responsible. The one in the cloak with the evil eyes and the dark voice that had called him by name like some old acquaintance.

Ryan walked by the dozens of waste disposal plants and he heard the roar of thousands of tons of trash and junk sent into the great furnaces to be recycled. Gregory Industries. The name of the company that ran the waste disposal factories. Ryan had heard that all the toxic sludge their vessels dumped came from weapons manufacturing. That alone should’ve made those ships seem intimidating, but to Ryan, they represented a hope. He would look up at the vessels which would fly above and dump the trash into the factories. As they flew away in a flash of light, he wondered how it would feel to be on one of those ships, and where they might take him.

Ryan knew he dreamed of the impossible, but maybe someday one of those transports would come for him instead of trash, and it would take him to the place he wanted to go. The Ministry of Fire; rumored as the most powerful Ministry of the twelve that dotted across the planet of Tarrus. Ryan had heard stories of Elementals his whole life. Ryan’s own parents had been retired Elementals regarded with reverence and respect by many inhabitants in Toramirese Colony.

From what Ryan could remember, most people considered Elementals to be the most powerful warriors in the universe, possessing the ability to influence nature itself. If that was true, then they might be the perfect means for Ryan to find out more about his past, and the perfect means of seeking revenge. Ryan felt the vague notion that somewhere in the Ministry of Fire hid the answers that he so desperately sought. But for now, he would focus on the most important aspect of his life for the moment, namely survival.

After a long walk, Ryan caught up to the Preservers at their headquarters and peeked out from an alleyway across the street. Shaver and his thugs slovenly lounged around a big pile of hoarded government plums on the hover table. They stored the rest of their loot in their vault buried deep within their filthy garage hideout. Ryan knew that they hadn’t bought a single one of those plums for themselves; that they had bullied and intimidated the meek aliens in town rather than earn their own living.

Ryan had come a long way from his old prankster days. Nowadays, he put his devious intellect for mischief to use as a means of survival. Ryan didn’t always steal from the Preservers, but they usually had the most food. They deserved it when he stole from them anyway. Besides, what choice did he have? When the government meals came to provide for the needy, usually the biggest and the strongest aliens got first dibs. When the factory owners needed aliens to work in the waste disposal, they couldn’t pick Ryan because of the law against under-aged workers.

Ryan was always careful to steal only from people that he knew could afford it, and he never got caught. In fact, he had acquired quite a reputation for himself from the local authorities who had yet to ID him as the perp because no one had ever seen him stealing, or at least no camera could record him.

Secretly, he started referring to himself as the ‘phantom thief’, and he would sometimes leave trademarks displaying his title, though no one really caught on to it. But despite his lack of notoriety, Ryan had grown rather proud of the fact that people were often baffled by his crimes. It was a testament of his cunning. Just as he thought about how good he might look in a mask and a cape, Ryan noticed that his chance had come.

When Shaver Creed and his goons finished stuffing their faces, they rose lazily while burping. The punks mounted their hoverbikes and rode off listening to the loudest and most annoying music Ryan had ever heard; something about beating up a zebra man.

Despite the fact that they had left, Ryan knew that stealing from their stash wouldn’t be easy. Sometime over the past five years, the Preservers had set up a security system to protect their loot. Nothing fancy, but still enough to keep most non-suicidal people away from their hideout. In the bike garage that served as their base, they had acquired some super sensitive cameras with lasers attached that would fry anything that moved in the garage when the Preservers left. Ryan thought that they had bribed one of the Patrollers to set it up for them, because no way did these guys have the brains to do it themselves.

Fortunately, Ryan had discovered a little trick that had served him well over the years against high-tech motion-sensitive cameras. Ryan would cover himself in some of the polluted sludge that came out of the waste disposal factories. Disgusting, yes … but very effective in fooling the cameras and making him virtually invisible to them. He didn’t know why the stuff had a label that said, “Danger! Toxic Waste,” because it never seemed to do anything to him, although he might’ve changed his mind if he woke up one morning with an extra head. He thought his immunity might have something to do with his alien heritage, but then he would think of the other aliens.

Dozens of alien species lived in Fernady; the tallest among the humanoid species being the Elves, who always reminded Ryan of his home. The Dwarves didn’t get along with the slightly taller Elves too well, with their long black beards, big hands, and stout features. The Gnomes were slightly smaller than the Dwarves, with red, pointy hats, sharp teeth, and white beards instead of black. A little taller than the Gnomes were the Leprechauns with their green suits and red beards who always complained about not having enough gold, or potatoes. And then there were the Brownies, eight inches tall and vicious as wolves as they waged campaigns against the rats for dominion over the garbage hills.

Adding to the bizarre ranks of Fernady were the non-humanoid anthropomorphic Were-animals like the Werefoxes, Wererats, Weregrizzlies, and various other species. All the aliens, except for Ryan, stayed clear of the radioactive sludge. Ryan sometimes worried that he might sprout an extra eye or an arm, but then he thought that maybe, since none of the other aliens were related to the Dragon races like him, they just didn’t have the immunity that he did. Ryan decided to discard such concerns and simply concentrate on the task at hand.

As if to sabotage his efforts, a few dozen Brownies scurried past Ryan’s feet chasing away a pack of rats with toothpicks raised like swords and chanting a battle cry in their squeaky voices.

“Hey, buzz off, pipsqueaks” whispered Ryan, worried about drawing attention to himself. “I’m trying to work here.”

“Ow dare ye mock us, giant,” shouted the lead brownie with spiky, black hair, and wearing nothing but a dark brown loincloth for modesty’s sake, but where he got it, Ryan could hardly guess. “Have at ye, ya great galoot.”

The Brownies then started poking Ryan’s ankles with their toothpicks. It didn't really hurt, but it did kind of annoy him nonetheless.

“Really,” said Ryan mockingly.

“Oy, chief,” shouted one of the Brownies who had neglected to join in the poking. “Itn’t that tha weird one they be talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Oh, ay! He be tha freaky giant,” cried out the chief, stopping to get a good look at Ryan’s face as he stared up with his squinty eyes and dirty face. “Leave him be lads. He might put a curse on us.” The other Brownies obeyed their leader and ceased their poking. “Ye live for now, freaky giant. But mark me. We Brownies will have our vengeance.”

“I’m petrified,” said Ryan in a deadpan voice as the tiny army scurried away.

As Ryan watched them leave, he saw a small gathering of Dwarves, Gnomes, and a Weretortoise watching him from the alleyway. As soon as he caught sight of them, they turned away and pretended not to notice him as they shuffled off with hunched backs and vacant expressions.

The Weretortoise, or Kappa as his own species referred to themselves, was one that Ryan recognized as Mr. Kambrick, one of the few aliens that had managed to open up a shop … a tea shop to be precise. Funny thing was that Ryan actually used to work in his shop, at least for a few weeks, but soon left because of the strange feeling he got every time the turtle-man looked at him, like he thought Ryan wanted to pounce on him. Though the Kappa had never said anything unkind to Ryan, he always got the impression that Kambrick hired him out of some kind of necessity or obligation, and not out of any real generosity.

The Kappa, with his bulky frame and his large gray shell - so worn that it cracked in a few areas - made for a pitiful sight. Mr. Kambrick couldn’t move quickly, probably more due to his age rather than him being a turtle. His blue-scaled, reptilian face, which possessed few human features, struck Ryan with his bright, intelligent eyes.

A white, scraggly beard ran down Mr. Kambrick’s chin, something that seemed misplaced on his scaly head, a head that possessed no other humanoid attributes save a pair of spectacles that covered aging eyes. Mr. Kambrick wore an old gray business suit with a faded tie and tattered pants covering his short legs. His stubby arms stuck out like a couple of potatoes at his side. His suit had been made with no back so that his shell could stick out unencumbered.

Although Ryan had never been friends with Mr. Kambrick, the Kappa could be considered one of the few acquaintances he had in Fernady; or at least one of the few people who didn’t try to beat the crap out of Ryan as soon as look at him. So Ryan felt remiss at losing that connection, however minuscule. 

“Mr. Kambrick,” called out Ryan, not really sure why. “How are things since I left the tea shop?”

The Weretortoise only responded with a sidelong glance at Ryan, his slit, green eyes showing nothing but contempt as he said nothing. Kambrick slowly turned away, continuing his trudge as if Ryan never said anything at all.

Ryan sighed. No friends among humans. No friends among aliens. Maybe the universe just hates me. I should stop trying to make friends and just look after myself from now on.

Quickly recalling his purpose for being there in the first place, Ryan looked down the street at the Preservers’ hideout and cursed softly. The Preservers were getting smarter; they had left a lookout to watch the entrance. However, judging by how young the kid seemed, he probably was a newbie, the runt of the litter … so he might not be that hard to deal with. Ryan considered his plan to get past the lookout when the unthinkable happened.

 “What do you think you’re doing, moron?” screeched the voice of a stern woman.

Ryan nearly jumped out of his own skin screaming, “SON OF A JERK,” in fright as the scowling face of Hannah Lioness seemed to materialize out of thin air.

The woman in question had short, blonde hair, deep blue eyes, fair skin with a long, straight face that showed little sign of wrinkles. She wore a strange, white robe of some kind, like a monk’s robe worn for spiritual purposes. Definitely not aristocratic material, so that ruled out the idea of her as a noble-born, but the outfit didn't appear filthy like the clothes of a beggar.

Her attire held a subtle dignity in it of itself; or rather, the woman wore it with a subtle dignity that seemed to give rise to her station, whatever that might’ve been. The robe fit loosely over her slender frame, and it covered her feet, making it hard to know for sure, but Ryan thought he could detect a more athletic build than necessary for a woman of the religious profession. The woman was perhaps a head taller than Ryan, though not so tall as to be intimidating.

Tyrant flew off in fear as he often did around other people. Ryan exhaled in relief when he realized who had intruded upon him, but then remembered himself, and scowled back in mock frustration. Ryan had a very complicated relationship with Hannah Lioness. A strange woman that would come into town sometimes and help out those in need. Ryan thought that she must’ve been some kind of missionary of some obscure religion.

On the first day that he'd met her, a few weeks after arriving in Fernady, Shaver Creed and his gang had surrounded Ryan when she came out of nowhere. She stood at his side and simply glared at the bikers as if daring them to attack her. Though not a young woman, probably in her late thirties, Ryan thought her still quite lovely, and he could only imagine what creeps like Shaver Creed would like to do to her. But instead of attacking, Shaver Creed just snorted and grumbled something like, ‘Stinkin’ witch lady,’ and then he and his gang just sauntered off.

Ryan wanted to thank her, but she just put some food in his hands and walked away.

“Hey,” he called to her.

She turned back to face him.

“Are you a missionary or something?”

In reply, she simply said, “I’m just here to help.”

Ryan didn’t know how or why, but he got the faint impression that she knew him from somewhere. At any rate, she became a sort-of ally for Ryan after that day. Whenever she came around, she would immediately find Ryan no matter where he was, and then she’d ask him to join her as she made her rounds around Fernady, giving out food and money where she could.

She never said much, so Ryan didn’t really know what to think of her, but when she hung around, the Preservers behaved themselves. Everyone became so happy when Hannah Lioness came to town. Even Ryan had to admit that she seemed to bring out the best in everyone, but he would never admit it to her because of the way she always scowled at him.

Ryan felt that she knew that he stole for a living, and she didn’t approve, but she used to never say anything about it. In fact, Ryan could hardly get her to talk when he posed questions to her, and even then she never gave him straight answers. He even asked about how he could go about becoming an Elemental, and she froze in her tracks to stare at the ground. Apparently, the word Elemental had a rather disparaging reputation with whatever religion she belonged to.

One day a few years back, Hannah came to Ryan and said something very strange. “Do you want to leave this place?”

Ryan felt a little shocked by her question, but he replied, “Uh ... I mean ... yeah ... I guess I would if I could.”

Hannah smiled warmly. It reminded him of his mom in a way. He could barely hold back the tears from his memories of his mother when Hannah said, “I can take you away from this world. You can live with me and my brethren in peace and plenty, but only if you swear that you will give up your dream of becoming an Elemental.”

Ryan could hardly believe what he heard. Why would she want him to give up that dream? Ryan was dumbstruck with so many questions that he would never have the time to ask, but Hannah didn’t give him the chance.

As if reading the indecision in his thoughts, Hannah held up a hand and said in a sad voice, “You don’t have to decide right away. There’s still plenty of time. Yes, plenty of time. In the meantime, I’ll be popping in every now and then to check up on you and help you out when I can. I don’t want you stealing anymore, so I’ll ask some of the local shop owners to give you some work. Not much, just a few chores here and there, but enough to keep you going. I’m very sorry, Ryan, but that’s all I can offer you right now … at least until you’re ready to leave this world and forget about the Ministry of Fire.”

After that, she walked off and disappeared to wherever she went home to. Ryan realized that he had never even given her his name, and yet she knew him. Ryan was flabbergasted.

Why is she so secretive? What could she be hiding? She doesn’t seem to be prejudiced like other people, but she's still so standoffish around me, as if it were painful to be near me.

Even though Ryan desperately wanted to, he didn’t know if he could completely trust her. His experience with most people had told him that he shouldn’t trust anyone no matter how kind they may have seemed at first. Still, he had to admit that she was true to her word.

After that, many of the local shop owners came to Ryan and started offering him some work. He could’ve stayed the course that she’d given him and worked in the shops, doing chores where he could. For a time, Ryan ate better because of it and he didn’t have to steal anymore.

But soon he stopped going to the stores and fell into his default habit of stealing or causing mischief. He wasn’t really sure why. Maybe he didn’t like the looks that the shop owners like Kambrick gave him when they grudgingly gave him work to do … like they thought of him as a dirty vagrant or something. He knew the only reason they gave him work was because of some mysterious woman that he didn’t know he could trust. Perhaps she kept tabs on him for that Dark Creature that came after him all those years ago.

Whatever the reason, Ryan had fallen back into his old habits of stealing for a living, and since then, Hannah Lioness would always voice her disapproval … usually at the most inconvenient times. Times like now, for instance. When she did, Ryan always responded in kind, which also made him feel guilty for some reason.

Hannah stared down at Ryan for a little while, and then wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You smell worse than usual. What’s that gunk all over you?”

Ryan sniffed his armpit and shrugged. “It’s the toxic sludge from the factories. It doesn’t hurt me, and I can use it to get past security cameras since it interferes with low-tech electronics.”

Hannah put both hands to her hips in disapproval. “You’re thinking about stealing again, aren’t you?”

Ryan refused to answer.

Hannah gave him her best intimidating scowl. Despite the fact that she looked like a pretty, blue-eyed lady with blond hair, she acted really scary when she wanted to. “Ryan, I know you’re better than this,” said Hannah pleadingly. “More importantly, you know you’re better than this. Even if they are a bunch of hooligans, I simply cannot and will not approve of you taking things that don’t belong to you.”

Ryan started getting angry. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that she meant well, but he simply couldn’t abide her treating him like a child. “Shh. You might tip them off, you crazy hag,” replied Ryan heatedly.

Hannah Lioness took a deep breath, as if she spoke to a little boy, and not a fifteen-year-old boy. Ryan declares that there ‘is’ a difference. “Ryan, what you don’t understand is that you’re only hurting yourself by doing this,” explained Hannah in a strained voice. “Think about your future. Who will trust you if word gets out that you’re a thief?”

Ryan always tried to mind his manners in Hannah's presence, but this time she was really getting under his skin. “Wake up, woman! I have no future! Hardly anyone will even look at me because of these scales on my skin. I don’t think the reputation of being a thief would surprise them that much.”

Hannah looked like she wanted to spit fire as she said, “Then prove them wrong, Ryan Uruks! Prove that you’re a better man than they give you credit for. Prove to yourself that you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for! I talked to the store owners. They can keep offering you work around town if you would just-”

“They’re no better than the Preservers! They’re just more cowardly about their prejudice! I don’t need anything from them, and I don’t need anything from you!”

At this, Hannah seemed genuinely hurt for a brief moment and Ryan thought about apologizing. But then the hurt vanished so quickly from her face that Ryan thought he must’ve imagined it. The woman seemed to compose herself before speaking quietly, “Have you given any more thought to my offer?”

Her change in subject surprised Ryan, but then he responded, “Yes, and the answer is still the same. Not until you tell me why. Not until I start getting some answers.”

Man! I’ve become so paranoid! But after what I’ve been through, can you blame me?

Hannah gave Ryan a look of utter helplessness. “I’ve already explained it to you. I can’t tell you anything more until you’ve agreed to my terms.”

Ryan hoped that he might finally get some answers out of the woman, but she was as stubborn as a Dragon guarding its treasure. “Then I guess we have nothing more to discuss,” replied Ryan as he turned back and saw the Preserver’s lookout asleep against the side of the building.

Sweetness!

Ryan prepared himself to take his chance when the rude hag interrupted his deliberations. “You do know, moron, that this will cause more harm than good?”

Ryan exhaled in pent-up rage. With as much force as he could summon while whispering quietly, he screeched fiercely, “FYI! Those guys don’t earn a thing they eat! They just take it from any sap who gets in their way … namely me! The way I see it, I’m doing society a favor!”

Hannah scoffed. “And when they see that they’ve been robbed, who do you think they’ll take out their anger on? Use your head, Ryan! Even if the loot is stolen, it doesn’t give you the right to take it for yourself unless you’re returning it to the victims. And even if you do, The Preservers won’t sit idly by as their authority is challenged. They’ll see it as a taunt from the aliens and cause even more suffering. Innocent people could get hurt! Do you really want to be party to something like that?”

Ryan had to admit; she did have a point. But then, he thought about all that loot inside their hideout. And he also thought about that sweet sensation known as revenge. Most of the time when he robbed from them, he didn’t take enough for them to notice … they couldn’t count very well anyway.

Sometimes, when he wanted them to know he’d been there, he’d leave stuff in their food or drinks. He'd jacked these amazing prankster tools from a store downtown that did the most hilarious pranks imaginable. One time, Ryan spiked their drinks so that all the Preservers came out quacking like ducks for a little while. Another time, he slipped them a pill in their food that gave them diarrhea for days. Even though Fernady generally smelled bad from the waste disposal, the odor didn't even compare to the way Shaver Creed smelled after that little fiasco.

Despite his stubborn resolve, Ryan thought he could hear a faint voice in his head telling him that he should listen to Hannah. But Ryan quickly pushed that thought away as he thought about all the great things he could jack from the Preservers, and all the awesome payback he'd have if he left a small bomb in their food. He might even find some extra cash lying around so he could buy that new hoverbike he saw in town.

Ryan turned to Hannah and huffed, “Not my problem!”

Before she could reply, Ryan ran down the street towards the hideout and tip-toed when he got closer to the lookout. The little doofus of a lookout sawed logs; not even a train crash would wake him up now. Ryan slowly peeked inside the garage that had been conveniently left open. The coast seemed clear.

The would-be thief slowly made his way into the steel-plated garage, covered to the brim with rust and spray paint. Unused hoverbikes and spare parts littered the ground of the dimly lit corridor of the hideout. The only sound to be heard was the slight creaking of the swiveling laser cameras dotting the walls and ceilings. Ryan’s intrusion went so seamless that he even waved at the laser-armed cameras that couldn’t see him because of the toxic sludge.

He carefully made his way to the big safe in the back where the Preservers kept their pilfered goods. Food, cash, knick-knacks; they just piled it all in there. Ryan thought it rather disgusting actually, but it made his job a little easier since everything lay in one place. Ryan had already cracked the cheap electronic safe many times, giving him little cause to worry at this point.

As soon as Ryan reached the safe, he went straight to work jacking the control panel and fiddling with the nobs. As usual, the safe gave way with only a tad bit of tinkering. Ryan opened the door slowly when a hissing noise pierced the air. A strange blue gas blew into his face, and he quickly found that he could no longer breathe, quite a disheartening discovery for Ryan as he collapsed to the floor gasping for air. As he lay on the floor, he vaguely recalled the sight of someone’s feet running towards him, and then he passed out.