Fantasy The Queensway Gang

[Aeris]

Eleanor’s screams blended in with the crowd around her as gunshots echoed through the air. It wasn’t like the shots fired not minutes before this, no. These shots were meant to kill, and they were doing a fine good job from the looks of it. Ella watched, horrified as bodies dropped around her. Whether the fallen still had a pulse or not? She was too scared to find out. Instead the young woman willed her feet to move, trying her absolute best to avoid being swept away in the process.

She searched the swarm of people until finally, she spotted Bruce and Benny. Ella followed their gaze, her eyes resting on the fallen Mary.

“Mary!” Ella attempted to call out to her friend to no avail. No amount of shouting would be able to reach the trio. Eleanor pushed her way through the crowd, thankful her smaller frame allowed her to squeeze past people with relative ease. Her heart ached at the sight of Mary. How could people be so ruthless? If they had just let her speak, they would have seen she had found the key- that she was supposed to be a hero.

She frowned, that was the problem with the upper class. The majority only cared about themselves. Ella had lost count of how many of her parents' guests had only befriended the Bennett's to benefit their own status. Their name had been a way for people to climb up the social ladder, make connections, they didn’t care if their actions had affected her parents negatively. So long as they got what they wanted it didn’t matter, right? Eleanor rolled her eyes at the thought and continued pushing onward through the crowd.

“Mary!” She beelined for her the moment there was a break in the crowd. She kneeled down next to her friend, placing a hand on her shoulder, “You’re going to be okay love, we’ll get you out of here.” Ella unraveled the stolen scarf from around her neck, holding it out to Mary, "It isn't much, but you can use this if you'd like!"

Mary looked up at Ella, vision swirling and full of black splotches. "Thank you, dearie, but I'd pre-..." she trailed off, head falling to her side and consciousness slipping quickly away. She coughed, expelling what little air she could comfortably take in. Refocusing her eyes on Ella, she cleared her throat and started again. "I would prefer to keep the leg, love," she said moments before her head slumped and she blacked out from the pain.

Panicked surged through Ella as she watched Mary blackout. She tossed the scarf to side before looking to the others, "I do believe it's time to go, and quickly."

 

[Solar Daddy]

Bruce tilted his head up at the nearly incoherent screaming of a familiar voice. Astrid appeared from the thinning crowd, stumbling her way over to where Bruce and the others stood over Mary. It took Bruce a moment to realize she was cursing at him, and that she'd been shot. Bruce pieced it together a bit slow, but furrowed his brow at her words. She was speaking to Bruce like he was some commoner, some London filth who couldn't be trusted. Bruce felt his fists ball and his posture straighten as his blood began boiling again. Inside Bruce, a strange vortex of emotions were going on; he'd wounded a member of Queensway severely, to which he felt an overwhelming remorse for his actions. However, Bruce was not one to let such a decision give anyone cause to reprimand him. He acted in defense of Mary, who was one of their leaders. Astrid had to understand the importance of protecting her at the cost of another member's safety, but the only words that came from her were hateful and angry. Bruce knew the emotion well, and was unable to stop himself from feeling it rise in himself, too. Her words spiked an ire that he was near to act on, until Astrid fumbled and the reason for her blatant hate was revealed again to him.

Bruce had limits, and even though Astrid's words were more than enough cause for Bruce to dislodge some of her teeth, he suppressed the feeling for the time being. He'd have all the chances in the world to dish out black eyes once everyone was better, and more importantly, out of the crime scene. Until then, he'd keep his anger in check for once and do whatever he could to attend to their wounded.

 

[Hard Boiled]

Helena had been strutting back-and-forth in front of the crowd, Benny still hostage in her arms.
"That's it, you'll be home before dinner." She eased the crowd along as they fumbled through empty pockets. How wrong she was.

By the time the commotion had erupted in the garden, Helena was about ready to leave. Their allotted ten minutes were about up, she figured this was the distraction to escape the way they came in. She paid no mind to Mary's pleading - this was a regular routine of theirs, the scared little girl.

"C'mon, easy back." She ordered Benny, creeping backwards towards the main entrance.

Though, Bruce didn't follow her. Okay, fine, he's cleaning up the last of the gold as the distraction worked, but they really should be leaving soon. The fuss in the back hit a peak, Helena was about to call for Bruce to hurry the Hell up, until a certain tone in Mary's voice caught her ear. She wasn't acting.
"Something's not ri-" She began to Benny, only to be cut off by six cracks and Bruce's incoherent shouting under the commotion.

She hadn't caught a single word he said by the time her hostage wrenched himself out of her grasp to go stab people.
"What the fuck?!" She pressed her free hand against her forehead, standing blankly as her plan crumbled at every corner simultaneously, the smug expression plastered across her face for the past three days nowhere to be found.

He wasn't about to abandon any of the others, but they needed to leave — now. Where the hell was Helena?

Helena appeared to be the only one that wasn't either trampled by the stampede or causing it. Only once the majority of the civilians had fled did she begin to make her way over to the absolute mess they'd made. Once she saw the extent of the damage, she simply stood there for a moment to collect herself while the others stared at her to do something, anything.

All six of Bruce's shots had connected to a target, obviously, it was fish in a barrel. Two lay bleeding on the ground beside her, one unmoving male and one female very obviously and very poorly trying to play dead - the slight shake from her muffled sobbing gave it away. Helena blinked a few times and stepped around the survivor, continuing to her gang. Though, Astrid's colorful vocabulary pushed her to pick up the pace.

Helena took one look at her sister's leg through the gap between her fellow crewmates.
Nasty.

"Okay, alright..." Despite the combination of terror and seething rage coursing through every fiber of her being, Helena refrained from joining in on the obscenities directed towards Bruce. There's a time and a place, Mary had been trying to teach her their whole lives.

“Oh, I’m gon’na skin him alive,” Astrid’s voice was just above a whisper after a hard swallow to find her voice again, eyes trying desperately to focus on Helena. “We’d ‘a worked it out,” she continued more softly, clenching and unclenching her fists against the tingly-static feeling of shock that had settled into her fingertips.

Seeing literally everybody else move to help her sister, Helena knelt beside Astrid.
"Let me see, love..." She helped Astrid undo some of the laces of her dress, pulling her sleeve down slightly to see her wounded collar. Between seeing her own finger cut off and her sister sliced up in the past, she thought blood didn't bother her much anymore, but this was the most blood she'd ever seen coming out of a living person. She took off her hat to get the stupid veil out of her face, folding it and stuffing it into her belt.

As the wound was exposed, Astrid folded her chin into her neck to try to get a good look. What she saw caused another wave of emotion to bubble up into her chest - one she merely had to swallow in favor of complying with Helena’s aid.

"Looks like it went right through." She noted the hole in the back of Astrid's newly red dress. Not that she knew anything about medicine, but it was always better to have bullets not in you than in you. Looking for anything she could use to stop the bleeding, she simply took her jacket off and wrapped it around her, leaving the twins dressed completely identical.

“It’s not stuck?” Astrid sought Helena’s reassurance aloud, another hard dry swallow passing down her throat as she jerked her head to face the woman, but couldn’t seem to peel an empty stare off of Bruce. While she had found her voice, it wasn’t necessarily recognizable. Raspy and as void as her eyes were as they bore down on him; willing that same fire she had just moments before.

"Not stuck. Hold this," she pressed the jacket against Astrid's injury, pulling out another breathless wince.

“I don't care how big he is…I’ll make ‘im eat his own toenails,” The words left her mouth impossibly softer, like an intimate promise between the two of them.

Helena didn't answer for a moment, taking her own glance at Bruce before returning her attention to Astrid.
"He'll get his. Let's get you out of here...one, two three!" She took Astrid's good arm and slung it around her shoulder, standing on three.

"What are you bloody staring at, get the carriage!" Helena shouted to Bruce, carrying Astrid over to where Mary lay and sitting them beside each other.

It didn't take her long to decide where to go next. A hospital would be a death sentence, they'd all be arrested and hanged, the next best place would be the local doctor's office who'd tied off her finger so many years ago.
"Head for Soho, hang a left once you hit the market." She directed the driver. "Stop at the post office on Beak street."

On the way, Helena helped empty all of the loot out of Astrid and Mary's pockets, stuffing the gold and platinum trinkets into a potato sack. By the time they arrived, Helena wasn't sure if more of Astrid's blood was in or out of her body. The carriage seat beneath her was now painted hot red, and Mary had barely regained consciousness. With some help from the other gangsters, the two casualties were unloaded from the carriage and sat on the sidewalk.

In front of them stood a small building, barely recognizable as that of a doctor's. The lights were off, the door was locked, as Helena immediately tried to enter.
"Blackburn! Open up!" She pounded on the door in a quick rhythm, not stopping for a second. "I know you're in there, open the damn door!"


Dr. Shelley Blackburn stood frozen at the porcelain sink at the back of her small office, her newly clean hands raw from the scrubbing. The police, it must be. She had thought the night’s sale had gone off without a hitch – apart from the unfortunate leakage she had just finished dealing with – but perhaps the ease of it should have been a cause for suspicion. That bootlicking twit. I should have known.
Snapping back to the present moment, Shelley listened again. Surely that was a woman’s voice at the door. Were they letting women become police officers now? It felt possible, considering her own unusual career, but still seemed unlikely.

The back door called to her, but Shelley thought better of it. Just beyond, in the small private garden out back, sat her wheelbarrow, shovel, and pickaxe, still caked in mud from her graveyard adventure the night before. As if that wasn’t damning enough, at the back of the garden stood a small ice house, regrettably still unlocked, and full of enough evidence to ensure Shelley would never see the outside of a jail cell again.
If she truly was caught, fleeing would do her no good. No, this situation called for a charm offensive. She had talked herself out of tighter corners than this one. Shelley began to feel a small excitement rising in her chest. Perhaps the woman on the other side of the door would prove to be an interesting opponent. The doctor loved a good game of chess.
Shelley dried her hands and steeled her nerves and she approached the door. Reaching for the knob, the doctor forced an expression of innocent concern.
“What is the meaning of this?”

The very moment the door creaked ajar, Helena forced herself in, pushing the doctor back with her whole body.
"Quiet." She ordered, lowering her voice. Revolver in hand, she peeked around the corner the doctor had come from. "Is anybody else in the building?"

“No, I’m here alone. In fact, you’re lucky to have caught me at this hour at all, the office is closed.” Shelley adjusted the folds of her skirt and brushed back her hair, electing to push down her surprise at being so suddenly shoved. “Now that I’ve answered your question, I believe am owed an explanation for your frankly brutish entrance. Wha-“ The doctor faltered as her gaze fell to the revolver she had not noticed moments ago. A chill ran down her spine.

Once Helena was satisfied with her preliminary search, she moved back to the doorway and gestured for the others to enter.

Bruce was the next one in, still fuming after the events that took place (and the words shared between Astrid and himself). Revolver in hand with only a few rounds left, Bruce checked any nearby doors and hallways to be sure Shelley was truly alone. Then, he came up to the doctor, pressed her to the wall, and brought up his own weapon to threaten her with. The barrel pressed uncomfortably hard against her abdomen.
"Help them, now." Bruce motioned to the others on their way inside over his shoulder. "If so much as a drop of blood is lost, I'll hang you by your entrails from Westminster Bridge." Bruce thought about roughing her up more just for the hell of it, but she needed steady hands to help his colleagues, so he chose to keep the bruising to a minimum. He didn't mind forcefully pulling her from the wall and giving her a slight push, though. "Lead the way to your operation room, Doctor-"

"Oi!" Helena pushed herself between Bruce and Dr. Blackburn, her hand against his significantly larger body. While the others carried Mary and Astrid inside, Helena pushed Bruce back out.
"Look at me! You thick twat!" She swiped his revolver out of his hand, unloading the remaining rounds into her palm and stuffing them into her pocket. "You point a gun in one of our directions again and I'll shove it so far up your arse you'll be puking lead!" She jabbed him in the gut with the empty gun, which surely didn't hurt him at all. "Go stash the loot, fuck out of my sight!" She gestured widely to the carriage, returning inside to see how the gang was doing.
"Should've left you where I bloody found you..." She muttered on her way in.

 

[Pipsqueak]

Although Helena's harsh tone was directed at Bruce, it kicked Benny into action in a way only the sisters could do. He slipped easily over to the two women who were now side by side, both of them as pale as ghosts.

"Alright, up 'n at 'em." His voice was low and quite gentle as he lifted Astrid by her good arm, propping her over his shoulder. He had to bend a bit so as not to strain her already injured frame and directed her as quickly as he could into the awaiting carriage. Shifting awkwardly to lean her against the side safely, he patted her arm with a toothy grin.

"Sit tight, yea?" She could not do much else. With a satisfied glance, he leaned out of the carriage to grab Mary, the next injured gang member in line being loaded on by the others. It took a bit of adjusting on his part to get both women in while making room for the rest of the gang, but they had all managed to squeeze in through their panic.

"Well... That was splendid." The young thief mumbled grumpily, now occupying himself with wiping his blood soaked blade on his coat. The joy of the night had long faded, the hopes of a celebratory party gone in the wind. Guilt ate at him for the rest of the ride, unsure how to feel in this situation. Everyone was quite tense, so much so it was hard to ignore it as easy as it normally came. Despite their injured crew members, it was difficult to push away the anger at what had gone wrong. It wasn't fair.

It felt like an eternity had passed before they arrived at the location Helena had ordered to the driver. It was familiar. Benny had made his way around the area a few times to put on shows for unsuspecting crowds of people. He had no business actually entering most of these places however, so he stood idly by while their leader demanded entrance, kicking whatever stray rocks stood in his path in wait. Finally the door opened, and a few hurried words were uttered before the go ahead to enter. Picking Astrid off of the ground once again, he followed the others inside, thankful for any kind of direction. He was many things, but a leader in such a situation was not one of them.

Benny, like the others, was not quick to trust a person outside of the gang. However, Helena was the one who brought them here, and if she had faith in this doctor he supposed he couldn't complain. Bruce had other plans. He usually did. A quick, aggravated sigh escaped him as the pair stumbled around the Irishman's sudden but predictable outburst towards the doctor woman. Their leader was quick to intervene by the sound of it, but Benny didn't turn to watch, too caught up in getting his friend in a more comfortable spot. They had set the injured women somewhere near the back of the building, and once things had settled down he glanced to Blackburn with widened eyes.

"You'll fix 'em up though, right? Make 'em feel better again? Swear it I never enjoyed gettin' nipped at by those two, but if I don't hear that again I dunno what I'd do." His tone wasn't accusatory by any means. He had never been to the doctors before, and was sure he never wanted to at the sight of the strange tools laying about.

"You cut people open 'n stuff?" Curiosity getting the better of him, he began his pace around the room, picking up random objects and inspecting them closely. Movement made him feel better, easing whatever tension had taken hold just minutes before.

"I'd make a great doctor, eh?" Turning to Ella, the closest gang member to him, he peered at her through an odd glass lens.

"You've got some weird stuff in here doc."

 

[guac]

Even through the stiff layers of her bodice, underbodice, and corset, the barrel of the gun felt strikingly cold and sharp. Shelley held her breath, afraid that the slightest movement might shift the Scotchman’s grip and set off the trigger. Though Shelley's experience with the subject had previously been confined to the passages of medical journals, she was confident that a bullet to her abdomen at this range would be a death sentence. She felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead and slowly roll down her face. Seconds felt like hours. Shelley was dully aware that the man was speaking, but she could not make out the words. She felt her vision narrow, as if the world was folding in on itself, smaller and smaller until there was nothing left but the Scotchman, the doctor, and the gun.

Suddenly, Shelley was jolted forwards and pushed down the hall. She stumbled, barely catching herself as the woman from before stepped between her and the angry giant. The two stepped outside, and Shelley took the opportunity to catch her breath.

Coming back to herself, Shelley felt the familiar tingle of adrenaline filling her body. Oh, how she had missed that feeling! She had first discovered her taste for it in Boston, while in medical school. Truthfully, she stumbled onto it completely by accident.

Shelley only began robbing graves out of desperation, but feeling of that first midnight dig was unmatchable. The air was cold and the work was messy, but as she crept around the shadows and sunk her shovel into the dirt, Shelley felt a jolt in her chest like nothing she had ever felt before. The thrill of forbidden actions, the fear of being caught, and the excitement at what interesting treasures she might uncover all mingled in her body and created an intoxicating cocktail of emotion. There was no turning back after that night. Her enjoyment far outweighed any guilt she might have harbored about disturbing the dead (in her experience, cadavers weren’t ones to complain). Even if she never felt that same fresh thrill of her first time, she found that the money her fellow students were willing to put up for the chance to practice on real flesh was well worth the effort.

This unexpected brush with death was the most alive Shelley had felt since all those years ago. Brush with death… She repeated to herself. She mustn’t forget that the danger had not passed. The woman was now stepping back inside, mumbling to herself under her breath, and she could hear other voices coming from her office. She briefly thought of the Derringer she had tucked uncomfortably into the top of her leather boot earlier that night (in case her sale did not go as planned, she had thought), but quickly talked herself out of reaching for it. She was clearly outnumbered, and by rougher criminals than she was accustomed to dealing with. Besides, she wasn’t quite sure she knew how to fire the thing.

Shelley opted instead to step in front of the woman as she reentered the building, blocking her path.

“Would you please explain to me what is going on?”

"My sister's got a broken leg, and the other's been shot." Helena explained quickly, not bothering to ask if the good doctor remembered her. "I think the bullet went through, but I don't know, she bled a lot."

Shelley nodded, aware now of a ticking clock above her head. If the gunshot victim died, surely that brute would be back to make her pay for it. There was no time to waste. Shelley turned to rush down the hall, but paused in spite of herself.

“I assume the guns and the threats are meant to convey that you’re not intending to pay for my services?”

Helena didn't break her stride to answer such a silly question.

Rounding the corner into her office, Shelley assessed the damage. The woman sat on the ground, slumped against the back wall, her clearly fractured leg stretched out in front of her. Shelley did a double take. Ah, identical twins. The sister was uncannily indistinguishable from the woman standing beside her — an intriguing medical phenomenon Shelley had not had the pleasure of observing up close before. She made a mental note to satiate her curiosities on the matter later on.

Beside the sister sat the gunshot victim. The poor girl had clearly lost a lot of blood. Her dress, seemingly once blue, was stained almost completely red. The blood had seeped across her bodice and almost all the way down her rigid skirts. A crinoline, how charmingly vintage. Shelley suddenly regretted her choice to wear the white skirt and bustle she had just recently purchased. Treating a wound like this would require close contact and hard focus, leaving no room to preserve her dress from meeting the same fate as the victim’s.

"You'll fix 'em up though, right? Make 'em feel better again? Swear it I never enjoyed gettin' nipped at by those two, but if I don't hear that again I dunno what I'd do."

Shelley’s attention snapped to the young man, who was now investigating her office. Before she could formulate an answer to that question, he asked another.

"You cut people open 'n stuff?"

Despite herself, the doctor felt a smile cross her lips. She would normally describe her line of work in much more sophisticated terms than that, but his tone did not hold the condescension she was accustomed to hearing from men discussing her career.

“Something like that, yes.” Shelley replied.

"I'd make a great doctor, eh?" Turning to Ella, the closest gang member to him, he peered at her through an odd glass lens.

"You've got some weird stuff in here doc."

Crossing the distance between them, Shelley snatched the delicate instrument from the boy’s hand.

“Weird indeed, but more importantly fragile.” She snapped.

The doctor caught herself. While his manner may have been innocent, this was a man before her, not a boy, and clearly a criminal at that. This was not the typical patient visit. She could not let herself forget the revolver still clutched in the woman’s hand.

Shelley forced her features to soften.

“But you might still make a great doctor yet.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “How would you like to help me fix up your friends?”

 

[Solar Daddy]

Bruce looked like a dog who'd been caught stealing food from the pantry from the way Helena reprimanded him. Despite being six inches taller than the Nevitt sister, Bruce retracted from her scolding and sunk back a bit, a slight wince visible on his face. He still had the glare he'd possessed all night, but there was the smallest bit of pain in addition. He could deal with people like Astrid yelling at him all day and night, but Helena's words cut deep and thrashed at his heart. Emptying his gun and jabbing it back at him was insulting, but even worse still was that she'd done it in front of a stranger, and a crowd. Even if they hadn't seen it, all of Queensway and this doctor could've heard it, and there was no way for Bruce to hide from it. That stuck in Bruce's mind for a good while; he was feeling the heat from Helena's words, and the mix of emotions swirling inside him were a strange combination of anger, fear, embarrassment, and confusion.

Then Helena spoke the last sentence as she walked in, nearly inaudible as she turned away from him. Bruce didn't register it at first, but eventually they sunk in and his cheeks turned red hot. Bruce would be the last person able to explain what he was feeling, but he didn't like it. It didn't go away, either. Seconds passed and the feeling got worse and worse. It felt like bitter betrayal, but not the stabbing-in-the-back kind. No, this was more like being left alone in the dark, with no one around for kilometers. Despite standing on the streets of London, Bruce never felt more singular, isolated. As that feeling grew, so did the same blanket of hate that washed over him in a heist - just like earlier when he was bashing that peeler's teeth against the floor. He felt warm, the grimace on his face bent with bared teeth and a clenched jaw, while his nails dug into his palms.

Bruce was never able to keep his emotions to himself. His biggest problem was letting everything out in the moment, he couldn't keep things buried for a better time. And right now, there was a buildup of something in him that needed to be let out. Once the rest of Queensway entered the building and Bruce was left alone completely, he turned to the carriage they'd arrived on; the carriage he secured for the gang. Without hesitation, Bruce pried one of the decorative metal bars from the wood it was embedded in with a grunt. it pulled free and Bruce unceremoniously began slamming the bar into the carriage's frame. Wood chips and varnish broke off in heaps from the collisions, as he slammed the vehicle over and over without a single pause. His grunts were loud and the rage in him boiled more and more as he continued the assault on the inanimate object. The horses whined and began adjusting in place, clearly unsettled by the commotion behind them. When Bruce was finished, the bent metal bar clanked on the bricks below him. He turned and sat on the roadway with his back propped against the wheel of the carriage, staring at the entrance to the doctor's office. Bruce panted heavily but his anger was yet to be quilled. For now, though, he was simply stewing in his rotten emotions.

 

[kaito9049]

Conor was one of the last people through Blackburn's door. His legs felt like they were moving through molasses as he wiped his bloody hands on his pants — they were still damp from helping haul Astrid indoors — then cringed as he realized it'd take forever to get the stains out, then felt a pang of guilt for thinking about his pants at a time like this.

But it was hard to think about the topic at hand; Conor's thoughts seemed to scatter despite his most earnest attempts to summon them in sympathy for the two gang members undergoing the good doctor's treatment. It wasn't the smell of unpronounceable chemicals and the rows of medical equipment that had him off-center. The truth was that he was antsy, though he wasn't sure why. He wanted to run, to be out of the room now-cramped with a half-dozen of his fellow criminals. It wasn't that he was scared of getting caught by the police; he wasn't sure why Helena had picked this place to stash their injured, but he trusted that she knew something he didn't. Besides, this was as good of a hiding place as any.

So Conor gave up on forming some cliche mental consolation to Helena — not that she could likely be distracted at the moment. What use was it, anyway? Astrid and Mary were strong spirits. They'd be fine. That's the way things worked — or at least, the way you had to assume they worked. Thinking otherwise was worse than pointless. It'd straight suck out what drive you possessed, if you let it.

No, Conor was better off where he normally was: out of everyone's way. He considered stepping outside and keeping an eye out for any cops, but the sound of metal clanging against wood gave him pause. Bruce was blowing off some steam, it seemed. Conor just wished he'd do so quickly. What if someone heard the commotion? Not that he was going to go out and interrupt the other man; he had no interest in becoming a punching bag.

Conor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, leaving the faintest bloody thumbprint as he did. Today had been a close one — closer than maybe any Conor had faced before. Sure, he'd been thrown into bad situations before — his whole life felt like a footrace against Death, except Death was riding a train car. But usually he knew where to look for trouble. He didn't expect that he'd have to dodge bullets from his own mate.

It wasn't that Conor was surprised that Bruce had flown off the handle. Everyone knew that Bruce was willing to die — or kill — to keep the sisters safe. Conor just hadn't thought that he'd be willing to put extra holes in the bodies of the rest of Queensway to do so. The payout had better be worth all this trouble.

He glanced around the room from where he was leaning against the interior doorframe, his eyes flickering from face to face. He reckoned that something like this was severe enough to shatter a gang. Not this gang, he hoped.

Benny seemed to be the most talkative out of the bunch, as usual. Sometimes it was a bit much for Conor's taste, but now he appreciated hearing the lad's voice. It was reassuring that one of them, at least, still had enough energy to bounce around. And if he was helping the doc get Astrid and Mary back up to shape, all the better. Conor couldn't see their faces from where he was standing. A part of him wanted to go over and see if he could help, but the table seemed crowded enough as it was. At least, he hoped that was his reason. Maybe he was just afraid of putting himself in an unfamiliar situation, an embarrassing possibility but one he couldn't act to contradict because, well, it did look like an awfully busy table.

Conor shuffled uncomfortably, pacing around the room as he watched the scene. His feet settled a few feet from Ella, whom he addressed with a curt nod, trying to gauge how the woman was feeling.

"Still all in one piece?" he asked.

That could have come out better, Conor realized, his words quickly trailing off. He shouldn't have even said anything at all. Some people always thought it was best to say something after a traumatic event. But in most cases, it was best to stay quiet and let everyone process the day's events in their own way. Maybe Ben had some liquor he could borrow.

Conor hated being in this situation, when silence felt oppressive but also the only thing appropriate. He'd felt the weight of that silence before, he realized, a fuzzy memory suddenly coming to the back of his mind like a shape visible through tent fabric — a memory of the smell of arsenic and the clinking sound of precious coins traded for a bottle that would never produce its promised result, of silent prayers said for a crimson-haired boy shivering as he lay wrapped in whatever blankets the family could spare.

The family had debated whether to keep those blankets, Conor remembered, staring at the group huddled around Mary and Astrid. They had eventually agreed to bury Sean with them.

 

[Aeris]

Ella stood silently, watching as Benny helped load the injured into the carriage before climbing in herself. Had it only been a few hours ago when they were all laughing at the tavern? She never would have suspected ending the heist with two of their own injured. Ella glanced at Mary and Astrid as the thought crossed her mind. They had to be okay. She would be willing to fight God himself if they were anything but okay. Losing family members was not happening tonight if she had a say in it.

Time seemed to slip away from her for a while as she processed everything. It wasn’t until the carriage halted that Eleanor finally broke away from her thoughts. She chose to stay close to Benny as Helena and Bruce walked up ahead of the gang. Faint shouts could be heard from the inside- though Ella chose to ignore them. Finally, the all clear was given for the gang to enter. Eleanor trailed behind Benny as they entered Blackburn’s office. Desperate to find some sort of distraction, Ella looked around the doctors office. It’d been years since she’d been in a room like this. The few times she had been sick, her father had simply called for a doctor to visit the home. Actually having to walk into a doctors office had been strictly for her fathers work.

Eleanor refocused her attention to Benny, as he had directed a question to her.

"Ah! Yes Benny, you would make a splendid doctor!" Her body relaxed ever so slightly as she laughed. If it was one thing she could count on, it was Benny to help ease everyone's worries.

Ella left Benny's side to wander around the room some more. Her curiosity was practically begging her to follow her friends actions of picking up the strange instruments. However, Ella knew touching the doctors belongings would probably end up slowing her down. It seemed everything had a place, and Ella had no desire to upset their new friend.

Ella looked up in time to see Conor approaching her. She offered a friendly smile in response to his nod.

"Still in one piece!" She repeated, perhaps a bit to enthusiastically given their situation. She tiled her head as Conor seemed to get swept away by his own thoughts. Would it be okay to comfort him? He seemed troubled by more than what was currently happening.

"It's okay Conor," Ella patted the mans shoulder, "They're going to be alright. Doctor Blackburn has everything under control."

 

[Vudukudu]

Benjamin flinches when the first shot cracks through the air and instinct takes over. His ears give him the direction of the shooter, the crowd surges in a panic to get out of the way, and he throws a nose-cracking elbow to the left before shoving his way into the nearest available cover, a large piece of statuary that will mostly conceal him if he curls up at the base. Amid the screaming and the gunfire, he can't see his fellows and can't hear them either, save for a moment or two of Astrid's wailing that leaves him wondering if she's playing a part or genuinely injured. If its the former, good for her. If its the latter, that's not really his concern. If the police, one of these pompous nutters, or someone else was insane enough to commit a massacre in the streets, the only survival he was interested in was his own. He'd count the dead later.

Just as he starts to peak around his cover to try to figure out just what the hell is happening, a chunk of the marble statuary bursts next to his head before five more shots ring out, and thankfully none of the fragmented stone does anything more than give him a nice dusting of rock powder and a scratch or two on the cheek. Bodies fall like bags of bricks around him as the cacophony continues, and all he can think about is how badly he'd like to have a revolver right now to put a stop to all this.

Just as he begins to think its over, the stampeding crowd collides with him again, and consciousness leaves him when a panicked arm catches his windpipe and brings him to the ground with an unpleasant crack of skull meeting cobblestone.

The stars swim above him in a black sea when he comes to a minute later with a ragged inhale. Shell-shocked civilians meander about the site of the chaos as police arrive, doing their best to pick out the dead and dying to do what little they can. The shooter or shooters seem to have left, and Benjamin lifts himself off the ground before stroking his hand through the back of his head to check for blood. When it comes away dry, he lets out a weak sigh of relief and chalks it up to luck, even as the world continues to spin. Better to be mixed up than dead, he supposed. Wasn't the first time he'd taken a lump on the head, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Its hard to see in the relative darkness of the evening, and its made all the worse by the fact he's still seeing double. His blurry eyes wander the courtyard for any sign of Astrid as he staggers towards the nearest exit. She was the last familiar face he'd seen, and he wasn't keen on leaving her here, dress stuffed with loot for the constables to find. When she doesn't turn up in a quick search, he leaves. Someone else would have to count the dead.

Finding his way home in the dark with an aching headwound and blurry vision is difficult at the best of times, and its made that much worse by the layout of this god-forsaken pigsty of a city. They could contest the point as much as they wished - Manhattan had had a grid layout for well over fifty years by now, and the crown jewel of the mighty empire was still a warren of dirty streets that crossed, curved, and wound back around on themselves like a pit of drunken serpents. Someone oughta burn the place down and start fresh. What were folk gonna do one hundred years from now? Meander about town in underground tunnels like rats?

Despite his difficulties, Benjamin does eventually find himself at home, a bit worse for wear and with a headache that begs an ice pick. Collapsing into bed, wrinkled suit laden with other people's valuables, he sets a pistol on his nightstand and counts the minutes until sleep takes him. He'd catch up with the others next time he saw them.

 

[Hard Boiled]

Helena had been pacing between the small reception area and operating room since she'd dismissed the doctor, stoic as ever. Her expression hadn't changed since she ordered Bruce to bring the carriage around at the mansion, though every glance at her friends cracked her more.

Feeling something of a rock in her throat, she turned to the huddle that was forming and put her hand on Conor's shoulder.
"You're in charge." She grunted with the last of her strength before storming out the backdoor into the garden, nearly tripping over her heels.

"I can't walk in these fucking--" She tore a dress shoe off and threw it at the ice house, bouncing off with a clack. "God!"
Just the same as her plan, Helena's composure crumbled all at once. By the time the adrenaline had been sweat out and the cramp in her gut faded, the flame of anger towards Bruce had smoldered into a pit of defeat, and failure. Failure as a leader, failure as a friend, failure as a sister. She fell to a crouch, then onto her butt, sitting in the dirt in her fine red dress to have herself a cry - not a pretty one, either.

Despite her efforts to remain quiet, her occasional coughs and sniffles were ever-so-slightly audible over the ambience of the office, though she faced away. In an attempt to calm her sobbing, she took a cigarette from her belt and shakily stuck it in her mouth, fiddling with a matchbook for a bit before one finally ignited - Astrid's blood caking her hands made it a bit difficult to operate. She sniffled the gunk back up her nose, resting her arms on her knees and looking up at the night sky. All she needed was a few minutes, she told herself, then they'd get moving; this couldn't wait, else she might burst later on.


Once she'd caught her breath, and her tears, she decided to stay outside a while longer and finish her cigarette. They'd call her if they needed her.

 

[Pipsqueak]

Benny held his hands up in mock defeat as Blackburn snatched the little toy away, giving a huff of amusement.

"Whatever you say, doc."

At Helena's return Benny was set to make way for her to stand by her sister's side before he felt a small, firm hand grab his shoulder. His eyes grew wide with uncertainty at the posed question, glancing at Helena as if she could give him direction. Finally he nodded, deciding if a stranger was about to perform some magic he should be there as well. Who better to do so than him?

"Should warn you mate, the only magic I excel at is cards. You might have to walk me through this."

Shelley smiled.

“No need to worry about that, I’ll be handling all the magic, as you say. Why don’t you start by helping your bleeding friend there up onto the exam table?”

Figuring it best not to argue with the only person who could potentially save their friends, he stooped down, favoring carrying Astrid bridal style this time.

While she didn’t know why or how she knew she should stay awake, O’Malley took the notion as fact and her head bobbed accordingly. Time having come untethered, Astrid struggled to place the chronological order of events in her head as she was passed from one person to another. Soon, she gave up on higher brain functions; a hyperfocus on the chill in her bones and the trail of blood that she left everywhere she was carried that seemed to bend and sway with her swimming vision. Even in her reduced state, she was frustrated that she could carry none of her own weight - an annoyance that would mellow as she realized just how grateful she was for some members of their posse.

“Don’t you worry, your favorite person in all the land is gonna get you all fixed up.”

They could’ve stripped her of her ‘earnings’ and left her for dead among the other victims of the party; but instead, she was somewhere new, with the definitive voice of Benny mumbling something tender to her, like he might an injured bird. Astrid no longer moved her mouth to form words, ragged breath forced in and out from between her lips. As much as she wanted to shoot back at the young man - so to speak - she could not find a response from within her.

The young woman hadn’t given up completely though; her chin jerking sporadically this way and that as her eyes bounced back and forth between fits to stay open, and flickering shut with a lazy draw.

Benny watched her eyes fluttering just beneath the eyelids, and he hoped some part of her was still conscious enough to hear him. Working through his anxious thoughts, he set her down on the operating table before turning back to Blackburn.

“Do I get to touch the tools now?”
“All in good time.”

Now that the girl was on the table, Shelley could see her injury more clearly. All things considered, it could be worse. She pushed the girl’s partially undone bodice aside. It seemed that an advantage to being shot in an evening gown was that the doctor could access the wound without removing the dress completely. At the very least she could keep her modesty.

Gently, Shelley lifted the girl’s shoulder, and just as she expected, found an exit wound on the other side. She gently rested the girl back on the table, already slick with blood.

At this point, the doctor knew she was meant to check for fragments, but for the life of her could not remember what instrument she was meant to use to do so. As a family doctor in an affluent neighborhood of London, she hadn’t exactly had the opportunity to practice this in the field. Sighing, she gently pushed her finger into the wound, feeling for sharp edges. Satisfied that she hadn’t found any, she strode to the sink. She quickly rinsed the blood from her hands, not bothering to take the time to look in the young man’s direction as she addressed him.

“Alright, now it’s time to touch the tools. I need you to find me the catgut and a needle. Quickly.”

Benny glanced between her and her array of assorted medical tools with a sheepish chuckle.

“Right, ‘course!” These things had names? He would have been better off with “the tool with a pointy thing at the end” rather than a name.

“Um.. Is it pointy? The- the catgut? Sounds pointy.” He poked his finger at the doctor in an unnecessary demonstration while picking a needle out of the arranged equipment and handing it to her. His mind raced as he searched for the missing piece, hating the pressure he had been thrust into so suddenly. It made his chest tighten, his stress threatening another coughing fit.

Okay, so needles usually meant sutures, right? Sutures required some kind of thread to close the wound with.

‘Gotta stay calm and think.’

“This stuff?” He asked hesitantly, picking up a coiled item that felt oddly dry. It was the only thing in his immediate vicinity with any kind of function of the sort.

Shelley did her best to swallow her impatience and force another smile.
“Yes, that’s the one. Well done.”

As Shelley reached out to take her tools from the young man, she realized her hands were shaking. She was quite annoyed at the sight. Now was not the time to indulge in adrenaline.

Normally she would prefer anesthetic in a situation like this one, but the girl was looking dangerously pale, and Shelley worried there wasn’t time. While there had been some movement, Shelley thought the patient was almost definitely unconscious. She would just have to hope the girl wouldn’t wake up on the table.

Steadying herself as best she could, Shelley began the sutures.

The young thief grimaced as she began her procedure. It was quite ironic that just a few moments ago he had run into a panicked crowd, stabbing at the stragglers as if it were just another pie stealing festivity. Yet now as he and the rest of the crew stood in tense hope, his stomach twisted itself into knots at the sight of what Blackburn was doing.

Forcing his eyes away from Astrid’s pale form, he focused instead on Mary, their fearless leader who looked anything but herself at the moment. Making his way around the good doctor he sat himself beside her, giving her an amused side eye.

“Are you awake in that head a yours? Wanna know my secret to rock paper scissors?”

Mary looked up at the younger man standing above her and winced; the shock from all of the punches had worn off long before Astrid became the focus of the doctor’s attention and Mary had been slowly succumbing to the ever growing pain. “With all proper respect afforded to the good doctor’s assistant,” she began, in spite of herself, “I’d rather focus on the more pleasant matter of fixing my leg.” She shifted her gaze to the doctor behind Benny. “Whenever you’re ready, love, it’s only the ease with which I can walk for the rest of my life that’s on the line.” She smiled, pretending not to notice the bitterness in her words.

Shelley raised an eyebrow as she continued the sutures. She might have been inexperienced when it came to dealing with hardened criminals, but as a doctor to affluent English ladies, she was an expert in passive aggression. Shelley managed a quick glance at the injured sister between stitches. The woman was pale, clearly in a lot of pain, yet still went to the trouble of masking her fear and impatience under flowery diction. Shelley knew her type.

“Your friend here is in a bit more dire need of attention at the moment, but I suppose I can multitask.” Shelley deadpanned, returning her gaze back to her work. “I don’t believe we have been formally introduced. Who exactly do I have the pleasure of treating this evening?”

Mary shot back a forced and toothy smile at the doctor. “Mary Nevitt, one half of the irradiant twin leaders of the Queensway Gang.” She attempted to bow from her nearly prone position but realized the futility of that fairly quickly. Mumbling a quick curse to herself, she straightened herself as much as she could. “Sincerely pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Mary looked down from Shelley’s hands to Astrid and grimaced; Bruce really did a number on her. Truthfully, Mary found herself hard pressed to be angry with the Scott; afterall, he behaved in exactly the manner expected of her and Helena’s protector. Still, second only to the deaths of them were gang casualties. Mary made a mental note to lightly reprimand Bruce once she recovered, but not too stringently - Helena’s rage was already most likely enough.

Mary couldn’t take her eyes off of the blood-covered Astrid. She liked the woman and would rather she not end up dead because of Bruce of all people. “Astrid, love,” she began, surprised at how much concern came through in her voice. She didn’t even know if Astrid could hear her, but she couldn’t help but try and reach out. “Do hold strong, dear. You seem to be in…” Mary shot a quick glance to the rather suspicious doctor, “good hands.”

Benny sat silently beside Mary as her and the doctor spoke, occupying himself trying to balance his knife on the tips of his fingers. It was comforting to hear that Mary still had her wits and usual quips about her, but the comfort only reminded him of how pale and uncharacteristically fragile Astrid was on the table. Their leader’s soft tone towards the unconscious gang member made his heart hurt, which quickly gave way into action.

“What can I get for Mary’s leg doc?” He didn’t look at Blackburn as he stood, his lungs aching terribly at the motion. He turned to cough into his sleeve, feeling the black, bloody sludge come up with little concern. Glancing with disdain at his now stained shirt- the only perfectly handsome dress shirt he owned- Benny started sifting through the doctor’s things through watery eyes, trying his best to stifle another cough so as not to ruin her equipment.

Shelley pursed her lips in an attempt to quell her annoyance. The girl — Astrid, Mary had called her — was not in the clear quite yet. The doctor had only just began suturing the exit wound, turning Astrid over as gently as she could while her apparently squeamish assistant was distracted.

“Let’s not be too hasty, dear. Your friend — Mary, was it? She seems the strong and stoic type.”

Still, Shelley felt a strange tug on her heart at the sound of the boy’s deep cough. It was a sound she had heard from many of her patients, diseased by breathing in too much of the miasmas of London. The affliction was not a pleasant one, and by the sound of it, the boy had been suffering for quite a while without treatment.

“However, if you must,” the doctor began, in spite of herself, “then I suppose you could occupy yourself by finding me the wooden splints and a roll of bandages.”

“Wonderful!” He wheezed, inducing another harsh cough. Fighting through the restricting pain in his chest, the young redhead began opening drawers to locate the wooden splints. He had seen the bandages when he had come into the back room, but in truth he was saving that last. He couldn’t say what exactly sparked the curiosity at that moment- it was very much on a whim- but as he searched the drawers he let his watery eyes scan over the rest of the irrelevant contents. The small pauses in between his search were masked with labored breathing so as not to alert Blackburn into his snooping, but he found himself giving pause on the third drawer.

It took a moment to realize what exactly he was looking at, but sure enough, right under a stack of medical papers, was a wad of cash. From the small glimpse he had gotten, it looked to be a good load, stored carelessly away for people like himself to find. Benny thought himself a good man despite everything, but greed had never been disciplined. In fact, it was very much encouraged. Pursing his lips he shut the drawer carefully, making a mental reminder for later.

He had found the splints in a cabinet just across from the money drawer, and he went back to grab the bandages before handing them off to the doctor with a toothy grin.

“I’m gettin’ better at this doc! Maybe you should hire me.” Giving her a wink he walked back over to Mary, suddenly finding it incredibly difficult to keep his discovery from the rest of the gang. Instead, he let his mind travel to something else.

“Can I do the splints? I saw my father once with ‘em, looked like a clown on stilts!” He laughed at the thought, but imagining Mary walking into the tavern sent him into a giggling fit until another cough wracked his body.

“I’m afraid that’s a job for more expert hands than yours.” Shelley finished Astrid’s last stitch and looked up at the boy. “But thank you for fetching them.”

She gently turned Astrid back to her former position, lying face up on the table as comfortably as possible for someone of her circumstance. Centering herself with a single deep breath, she turned to size up her next patient.

“Alright Miss Nevitt, it seems you and I are to get to know each other quite well tonight.” Now that Astrid was out of immediate danger, the doctor could take a longer look at Mary’s broken leg. While the woman certainly looked worse for wear, Shelley wouldn’t have guessed that her leg was broken if it wasn’t for the way she sat, her right leg dramatically stretched out in front of her, skirts hiked up to the knee. The lack of broken skin or swelling was a good sign.

“Why don’t you start by telling me how you hurt your leg?”

“Well, Doctor,” Mary started, doing her best to smile over the grimace her face seemed to prefer, “it was such a wonderful evening, truthfully. Hoards of angry elites, pummeling me for the crime of standing with them.” She winced and bit her lip hard- at least that was pain she could control. “And then one of them stomped on my fucking leg.”

“Well, that would do it.” Shelley knelt down next to her.

“Now, I’m afraid this next part is going to be a bit unpleasant.” Shelley stiffly pressed her fingers into the right side of Mary’s shin. “Does that hurt?”

“Yes!” Mary yelled, breath heaving as she clutched desperately at the ground. “I hope for your sake that touch was necessary, doctor!”

“I assure you it was.” Shelley stood and retrieved the splints and bandages. “Your fibula is broken. Nothing to worry about, as long as you stay off of it and give it time to heal.” She knelt down next to Mary once again.

“This next part won’t be pleasant either.” Shelley carefully aligned the bone as best she could and braced the leg with the splint, wrapping it all in the bandages to keep it secure.

“There, practically as good as new.”

Mary’s breath was sharp and shallow as the doctor set her leg. “Great,” she said, panting and unable to get anything else out. She forced a smile at the doctor before closing her eyes.

As Blackburn got everything straightened out- literally- Benny stooped to Astrid, who was now sitting slumped against the wall, all the while drying the tears that threatened to spill over again at the thought of a hobbling Mary. He had been so caught up in the commotion inside he hadn’t noticed the absence of Helena, Bruce or Benjamin until he glanced around the room.

“Got some squeamish ones here huh?” His joke was hinted with worry, but intrusive thoughts rushed through his head once again. He’d just have to boast of his thievery when they were all together again. Despite everything that had happened Mary’s words from the party were still lingering in the back of his mind. If he could slip the money in his fancy pockets he’d win her trust back!

Patting Astrid on her good shoulder he stood and made his way slowly over to the drawer. His focus was pinpointed at Blackburn, but she was so intent on shushing a fiery Mary that she took no notice of the others. He silently opened the drawer, grabbed the cash and stuffed it before skipping up to the good doctor.

“Look at that! A true healer you are! You’re very welcome on behalf of your trusty helper!” Taking a bow, Benny shuffled back to Astrid and sat, hoping Helena would let them leave soon.

 

[queendilettante]

Once Mary's breathing had subsided and the pain had either become numb or simply numbed her senses, she scanned the doctor's room. Benny and Dr. Shelley were standing near each other, Conor and Ella stood in the corner, and Astrid was leaning against the wall, her state of consciousness indiscernible. Mary was very glad she survived, though; not only was she a valued member of the group, but Helena would almost certainly have killed Bruce if Astrid didn't pull through.

Helena. Where had she run off to? Mary was certain that she wouldn't have left her alone and injured. Benny and Shelley seemed busy and Astrid was, well...

"Conor! Love!" she called out, smiling at the man. "Would you mind fetching my dear sister, darling? I would very much like to see her now."

Conor offered a thin smile to Ella. She was clearly much better at this than he was — which was admirable, but he couldn’t help but be a bit ashamed that she was the one trying to make him feel better. Why had Helena put him in charge? It was like telling a cow to keep track of the chickens.

The man snapped to attention at the call of his voice. He took a couple of cautious steps toward Mary, as if preparing to help her from the ground. He was careful to keep his gaze away from her leg. “Sure,” Conor replied, trying to keep his voice level. “I’ll get her straight away.”

He’d seen Helena stumble toward the back door, so she wasn’t hard to find. She was as strong a spirit as Conor had known, but she was obviously upset — not that he could blame her.

“Boss,” Conor said softly, hoping his expression didn’t betray any pity for the woman’s state. That wouldn’t help her any. “Your sister’s asking for you. The doc set her leg.”

Helena coughed obnoxiously as Conor approached to finish her little moment once and for all. She didn't turn to face him until he spoke to her.

"And Astrid?" She stood, lazily collecting her shoe from the ground and starting back inside. Before he could answer, she had already made her way back through the door, chest held high.

"Mary." She greeted quietly, pushing past Ella and putting a hand on her wrist. The only remnants of her outburst were the swelling around her eyes and the dirt on her clothing. "You're in one piece, alright." Though she spoke to her sister, she scanned the room, doing a headcount along the way.

“Of course, dear,” Mary said, beaming up at her twin. “A flock of rowdy parasitic socialites-” she paused, “parasocialites can hardly touch me.” The pride she got from her cleverness was nearly enough to help her ignore the sting of the bruises across her face, abdomen, and arms as she said it.

Helena genuinely couldn't tell if Astrid was alive, but nobody was acting as though there was a death. Bruce was nowhere to be found, good riddance, though their second enforcer appeared to be missing as well. Come to think of it, she hadn't even seen him get on the carriage with them.

"Where's Ben? Not you." She looked to each of them for an answer, only to receive nothing. "Great..."

“If all went to plan,” Mary chimed in, “our lofty American friend should have cleanly escaped with the rest of the, erm, living revelers.” Mary shifted her weight to prepare to be helped up. “Who knows, perhaps he- oh,” she interrupted herself, “Benny love, be a dear and help me up.”

Benny stood quickly from his place beside Astrid and slipped over to the table.

“Sure thing love! Might I say you look dashing with the new wooden leg. Perhaps we should call you Peggy?” He snorted but quickly silenced himself as he let her lean against him. Despite her state, he had no doubt she would still attempt to stab him.

Mary stood one legged and rested her arm on the rather annoying boy’s shoulder to distribute her weight and help her balance. If she weren’t so out of breath from simply standing, she’d have hit him. Truthfully, it was the most exhausted she had ever felt, though she had been babied by her crew for long enough. “Where was I?” she asked, carrying on and doing her best not to acknowledging her pained gasps for air. “Oh, yes, perhaps Benjamin has retired to his chambers and drifted off into a serene and, after tonight’s calamitous events, much needed sleep.”

"Or perhaps he got nabbed and he's givin' the police an earful about our whereabouts..." Helena shook her head, taking the other side of her sister with Benny.

“Sister, please,” Mary scoffed, hopping toward the door with Benny’s and her sister’s assistance, “the man’s an American - and a murderer at that!” She started to laugh, though it quickly turned into a stinging cough. “If- if the man was prone to boot licking, he needn’t have fled in the first place.”

"I'm not doubting him, I'm just saying it's not impossible that-" Helena peeked over her shoulder, noticing everyone else staring at them. Just as soon as they were reunited, they were right back at it as if nothing at all had happened.
"...I'll give his place a look."

“That’d be lovely,” Mary smiled. “Though, more pressingly,” she added, “I do believe we have a rather large, Scottish problem outside.” Sensing a swelling anger in her sister, Mary continued before Helena could snap, “Do let me take care of it, love. There’s been too heavy a weight on your shoulders tonight.” She paused before quickly adding, "and, erm, I do not mean me."

"He's still bloody out there..." Helena muttered in disbelief, furrowing her brow. He was given a single task - stash the loot - yet there he sat a good five minutes later. She didn't quite have it in her anymore to smoke him again anyway. "Fine. Just be careful, you might catch whatever brain rot he's got."

“Duly noted,” Mary said, “though I’m sure whatever fungus inhabits that lowland skull of his is the least of his impending worries. After all,” she smiled, “I know I don’t like to be on the receiving end of your rage.”

Before she got away from herself, Mary stopped and had Helena and Benny turn her around to face the rest of the group and Shelley. “Thank you for a job, erm, done tonight loves. Conor, Eleanor, scamper off once we leave. We needn’t the rozz to find us all assembled together for the time being.”

“Don’t go telling all your mates about the awesome job you just pulled.” Helena ordered. Though, the extent of everyone’s friends were mostly in the room. “Don’t go within two blocks of the pub, and don’t come crying for your cut. Everything will be sorted.”

Mary turned to look at the surprisingly much taller man who was holding her up, her eyes merely at the level of his chin. “The same goes for you, Bennet. Keep those hands of yours out of any pockets that aren’t yours for a few weeks. Though,” she trailed off, noticing Astrid still slumped on the floor. “You’re not off duty yet. Come back and pick her up in the morning, if you would.”

Benny waved happily at the doctor as the crew took their leave, the stolen goods suddenly feeling light and heavy in his pocket all at the same time. He found Mary’s warning to be quite ironic, flashing her a devilish grin.

“From now on you’ve got my word.” He crossed his heart with his free hand, wondering now if it would be any good to flaunt his thievery.

“Thankfully I’ve got a free schedule tomorrow. Although I don’t see why we must leave her here. You’ve got a newly trained doctor amongst you!” The comment held a taste of bitterness. He kept his peace while they were here, but there was no telling what Blackburn might do while they were away.

Mary smiled at Shelley and continued speaking before the woman could interject. “Yes, doctor, truly wonderful work you do. While I have complete faith in,” Mary stopped, gesturing down to Astrid with her head, “my dear friend’s recovery, I’d like you to keep an eye on her overnight.” Mary made a point of looking at the visible guns on Conor and Ella’s waist before smiling at the woman. “It would truly be tragic for all of us, if she doesn’t make it.”

As a show of good faith, Helena took a silver wristband she’d bagged out of her belt satchel and held it in front of the doctor, before slipping it to Benny over Mary’s shoulder.
“It’s yours upon a job well done.” She told Shelley.

Without another word, Mary hobbled along to and then through the front door of Dr. Blackburn’s shop and into the dimly lit street. As expected, the Scott was still there, having ignored her sister’s rather straightforward orders. “Bruce,” Mary called out as the door was shut behind her. “Would you mind explaining to me why the carriage is destroyed and our savings have yet to be stashed?”

Bruce looked up at the Nevitt sister with a grimace. He was clearly in no good mood still, but the last thing he'd be was crass with one of the Sisters. "Letting out some steam." He motioned to the carriage, which was mostly in tact despite some superficial dents and dings. "I'll get to moving it soon." Bruce nearly said 'sorry,' but his pride was still too resistant to give any kind of response out. He slowly stood, stretched, and sighed, before getting to work.

“Thank you, Brucie,” Mary called with a pained smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t care for the brute, she did, truly; honestly, she appreciated the ferocity with which he came to her defense. Like a loyal canine, he jumped to her side, but like a rabid one, he caused harm beyond his capacity to understand. Many would want to put such a creature down, but Mary knew she could stand to train him yet.

“Well done, love,” she said as Bruce finished taking the stash from the dented carriage. She could feel the tension between the man and her sister, but she couldn’t help but feel that dwelling any longer on what happened would only lead to a deeper trench in which to fill later on. “Dear, do hear me out,” she began, keeping unwavering eye contact with the tall Scottish man. “Mistakes were made, but you did a lot of good tonight, no?” She motioned over to the dented carriage. “After all, we wouldn’t have found such a wonderfully intact vehicle without your assistance.”

Helena scoffed at Mary treating him like a child. Either he's not got enough sense to fire a damn warning shot first, or he did it on purpose. Either way, he's unfit for high-stakes work, in her less-than-humble opinion. Everyone knew how she felt, she didn't need to restate.

Mary hobbled a bit forward and admired the carriage as dramatically as she could with both arms preoccupied by keeping her up. She looked back to Bruce. “And your physical strength, Lord, it’s unparalleled among the whole lot of us.” She leaned toward the man and narrowed her eyes. “Do you see what can happen when you keep control over that head of yours? You’re stronger than that rage, darling.”

Without waiting for a response from Bruce, Mary motioned over to the carriage, which she entered with Helena. “Bennet, dear, would you mind driving us home?”

As Helena, Mary and himself stepped outside, Benny took a quick glance at the now suspiciously damaged carriage. He sucked in a breath before muttering to Mary.

“Sure, yea, just promise a wheel won’t fall off and I’ll get us home just fine.” He rolled his eyes dramatically before setting their injured leader safely inside and taking the reins. The cart creaked threateningly beneath everyone’s weight.

“Alright ya big lug, trot real careful like and I’ll give you a nice carrot.” With that plea hanging in the air, he let the reins slap against the horse’s hind and the carriage jolted forward, back to a promise of a safe haven.

As the carriage started moving, Mary felt herself starting to slip away into an uneasy sleep. Helena sat up straight next to her, unwavering in the face of the night’s atrocities; Mary envied her in moments like these. Mary’s last thoughts before succumbing entirely to sleep were of how strong her sister was as her head slumped onto her shoulder.

 

[Solar Daddy]

Bruce stood around as Mary was assisted into the carriage and the others hopped on as well. He'd offer to help, but he dared not move in eyesight of Helena, lest he get chewed out once more. Bruce was thankful he at least had the moment alone to let his anger out, otherwise he might've acted irrationally... again. He watched idly as the carriage went off with his fellow gang members, and though a few of them still remained, he once again couldn't feel farther away from the Sisters. He stayed in the same spot much longer than he would've anticipated just thinking about the events of the day and the situation he was in. They'd completed a heist, albeit with many difficulties, and made off with no doubt a fortune. Of course, though, Bruce could only think on the mistakes he made and the decisions that led him to being - at least for the moment - ridiculed amongst his peers. He could only stand there and stew in his thoughts, no attention paid to those around him.

Ella stood awkwardly, just watching as her friends were loaded into the very broken carriage. With the adrenaline of the night finally wearing down, Ella was now painfully aware of the stinging sensation on her cheek. Looking back, cutting herself probably wasn’t the way to go. She would have to remember to clean it out later.

Eleanor bid a farewell to Doctor Blackburn before making her way out the door. She stopped short upon seeing Bruce. Ella had heard Helena yell at him earlier though she had been preoccupied at the time to say anything. Now though, she skipped over to Bruce, a smile on her face.

“Are you holding up alright love? Anything you wanna get off your chest?” She placed a gentle hand on his arm as she spoke.

Bruce was brought out of his intense thoughts, his feet firmly back on Earth from Ella's voice piercing the silence. Then the feeling of her hand on his arm brought a pang of... something. An emotion he'd not felt in quite a while. "Careful Ella. You might catch bad luck, standing too close to me." With a sigh, he turned to face her, though the smile on Ella's face was something he hadn't expected. She was joyous at a time like this? Was she mad?

"I'll be fine, given time Lassie. No need to worry for me. Just wish I had the ability of foresight. Maybe then I'd keep things in check." His voice began trailing off when he noticed the gash on her cheek. A frown plastered his mug. "Who marked you up like that? Someone at the party?" He asked with a wave of his hand by her cheek. "Someone I know?"

“Can’t be any unluckier than I already am!” Ella replied, ignoring the pain the words carried. She touched a hand to her cut at the mention of it, “Ah well yes, it was someone you know.” Ella gestured to herself, “I figured it’d help me get past the guards easier. It’s alright, just needs cleaned up some, doesn’t even hurt!” That lie was easier said then done of course. But Ella didn’t need anyone worrying over it.

“Everything will be alright Bruce, give Helena a couple days and she’ll be back to normal!”

Bruce was relieved to hear it had been her own doing; who knows, maybe he'd have caused Ella's wound too. Regardless, he quickly drew his knife and carved a thin stripe of his sleeve free from his shirt. Offering it to Ella, he couldn't help but crack the slightest, almost imperceptible smile at her unquenchable enthusiasm. "If you feel the need to wipe off any of that blood."

Her mention of Helena soured his mood once more. Her ire was nothing more than a constant reminder that he indeed was the one to spoil the night, further than anything else. Even Mary's condition wasn't the cause of a crew member; Bruce actively hurt Astrid with his decision, and his conscience would bear that for a long time. "Thanks, Ella. I appreciate the kind words, even if I'm undeserving of them. You should be getting back, though. It's late, and the events of tonight were long and exhausting. You know I fret."

Ella accepted the strip of fabric, using it to wipe away any dried blood that remained on her face.

“Thank you Bruce! It’s much appreciated!”

She smiled as he continued talking, “Anytime! I do hope you feel better, remember you can always come to me. Get back safe please! Goodnight!” Ella bid him a farewell before going off down the street alone.

As Ella walked off, Bruce let out a sigh and crossed his arms. Ella seemed to be one of the few in his corner, something he was more appreciative for than he could ever put into words. Even the presence of someone who just wasn't so damn gloomy did wonders for Bruce's psyche. The only other saving grace he could muster was Mary, who seemed to understand he was little more than a dog who'd already been kicked plenty by her sister. Her sister. Helena. The thought of the name left a taste similar to blood in his mouth. The bitter words she threw his way cut deep, but they were warranted. That fact alone killed Bruce; he made a near fatal error, one that easily could've been fatal had the situation been even slightly different. Bruce balled his fist. He felt the odd emotions boiling in him again. A rage oriented not towards the outer world, but at himself. This wasn't nearly as easy to solve; he couldn't throw a punch at the source, he couldn't intimidate himself. His nails dug into the flesh of his palms, the grimace twisting on his face once more, his telltale sign of his emotions falling out of line. His eyes darted left, then right, searching for anyone nearby, anyone he could let his frustration out on. Just his luck; a man, not too tall nor brawny, with an engraved silver cane and a freshly styled outercoat was walking towards him. It was clear from the slight hesitation in his footsteps and the way his glance was aimed down that he wished not to attract Bruce's attention. The perfect target, and a perfect way to let out steam. The man stepped closer and closer, until he passed just behind Bruce...

And continued walking unhindered by the brute. He unclenched his fists, closed his eyes tight, and breathed out slow. Bruce burned the image of the superficial cane into his mind - the same tool Mary used in much the same way before. Now, though, it was something she'd no doubt require until her leg was back to normal. If it went back to normal. The words Mary said to him at the carriage ran through his mind once again.

“Do you see what can happen when you keep control over that head of yours? You’re stronger than that rage, darling.”

Like a kettle with its contents being poured out, Bruce felt whatever was going on inside him slowly come undone, the anger dissipating into the cobblestone at his feet. A heavy breath escaped his lips as he stared up into the sky. Mary had put her faith in Bruce with that line, whether she realized it or not. If Bruce made a similar or worse mistake in the future, he'd prove her wrong. That'd be the death of poor Bruce. He wouldn't let it happen. Helena would see him as the asset he was, Bruce would prove it. He was more than his anger, he was better than the sum of his emotions. He was a McIntosh, of the highlands, not some London filth wallowing in the mud. The name didn't apply to him much anymore, but he would always be a member of the family, regardless of the opinions of the others in his clan. One day he'd return to his home, clothed in gold-embroidered stiches and a shiny manacle, and show those who gave up on him the life he'd secured for himself. For Queensway.

Thinking of home made an ache in Bruce's chest he knew far too well. He began walking down the dimly lit street toward the waterfront with little more than a glance to the remaining gang members still present. He didn't deserve a goodnight or a farewell from them, not tonight. He stepped off into the night, looking to clear his head and take in all the thoughts he'd put off for far too long. It didn't take long for him to reach the bank of the Thames. He leaned against the metal rail overlooking the abyss of dark where the river sat squarely in the middle of the city. Fairy lights travelled along it slowly, the beacons of ships working well into the night. He still possessed the quantities of loot they'd collectively stolen together. He'd stash the loot on his way back home, whenever he'd eventually go back. Not now, though. He needed the open scape of the Thames to free his mind, if just for a bit.

His thoughts of home were pierced by a time of turmoil in his past. The concern he had for his family, the care he had for his loved ones; all a distant and fleeting dream, one he wished to return to. Queensway was all he'd known since his abrupt departure from that last life. Even though he loved his crew dearly, more than himself, they still paled in comparison to the burning passion he had for the old cabin on the hill, surrounded by stone drystanes and the proudest of livestock. A home, was what he missed. He had something similar in Queensway, sure. But not the same kind of home he longed for. He'd raze all of London for a moment back in his old life, to hold and be held. He'd never experienced such raw and unfiltered emotions the same way back when he was with them. He'd become little more than a monster in the time since he'd been locked up, an inescapable fate for the proud Scot. He'd see to it he'd do the undoable, mark his words. He'd let Sophie's soft words guide him on that path. What would she think of his current state? She'd no doubt disapprove the way he behaved, the loose cannon he'd become. The thought deepened Bruce's melancholy. Another he'd disappoint, another he'd abuse the trust of. The humming reverberated in his ear like a puzzle missing its central piece. The words, the tune, it was all there. But hearing it from her lips was what made it so special. All he had left of that song were memories and ash. He'd keep the thoughts alive in his mind, though; Bruce hummed along as he observed the state of London from his lonely perch, with naught but himself as company.

Spoiler: Sophie's Song

Tak’ a walk roon yer cities, braw buildings outside
Gaze on the splendors and the wonder with pride
Fine ships have been built, on the banks o’ the Clyde
By the lads that were reared among heather

Awa’ wi’ yer satins, yer silks and yer shawls
Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls
For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall
Wi’ the lads that were reared among heather

Now England can boast for the sweet-scented rose
And Ireland can boast for the shamrock she grows
But gi’ me the land, where the clear water flows
And the mountains are covered with heather

Awa’ wi’ yer satins, yer silks and yer shawls
Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls
For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall
Wi’ the lads that were reared among heather

 

[Aeris]

The streets were quiet tonight- save for Ella's own footsteps echoing off the buildings. After the chaos the last few hours brought though, Ella welcomed the quiet. It gave her a moment to fully process what had happened. She only hoped that in a few weeks time everyone would be in tip top shape once again. She continued onward, not paying attention to where her feet were taking her. It wasn't until she rounded a corner that she finally looked up.

"Oh..." Eleanor's heart lurched every so slightly at the sight of the now vacant lot in front of her. It hadn't always been vacant of course. Five years ago there had been a big house with a beautiful garden. Five years ago a well off family lived there without a care in the world. Five years ago the house caught fire, killing everyone who lived there while they slept.

Had it really been five years already since they died? Since she died?

Ella gave the area around her a quick once over. Only when she was sure no one was around did she step onto the property. Though she'd been here several times over the years, she never dared enter the property. She used to tell herself it was because there had been too many people around. Though, perhaps it was because she had been too scared to face her past. Now however, with the streets abandoned -and especially after tonight, Eleanor decided now was a better time than ever to do this, for her own sake if anything.

"Hello, mother, father...Henry..." Eleanor sat in front of the stones. After the fire, the government opted to make it a small gravesite for the Bennetts. Since their bodies had been nothing but ashes. It will help them rest easier people had said. And perhaps that was true for some, but Ella knew that in reality, no one wanted to build over a place where people had died. Something about it being bad luck or whatever. The gravestones themselves weren't anything fancy, fairly simple as far as gravestones went. Enough to show a family used to live here, enough to pay respects to the lives lost that dreadful night. Eleanor swore to herself that one day, when she had the money, she would buy her family better stones. They deserved that at least.

"I'm sorry I never visit you guys," She went on, "You'd be disappointed to know your perfect daughter is stealing from the rich most days. I haven't gotten married yet either, sorry mother." Ella nodded to the stone on her right. "I will someday. Don't worry." Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes. "I hope you know I think about you three everyday, even when I would rather not."

Eleanor reached up to take the hat off her head. It felt wrong to wear stolen items around her family. She tucked it into her coat pocket before fixing her hair as best she could.

"I think you'd like the friends I've made, if you forget for a moment they're criminals. The twins are lovely people- I think you would have liked Mary quite a lot mother. Benny is always telling jokes and helps lighten the mood when it's fowl. And Bruce protects us! Things didn't go great today, but we're all fine now." Ella's voice boke as the tears finally fell from her eyes. Any further attempt to talk was only met with more sobs. She didn't mind it though, the tears had been long overdue.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there crying. Perhaps it had only been a couple minutes, though Ella was willing to bet it had been an hour or so. Finally, Ella rose to her feet, wiping remaining tears and snot onto her coat sleeves. Gently, she touched each stone.

"Goodbye, I love you. I promise I'll try to visit more often." Ella bid her family a final goodbye before making her way back to the sidewalk. Her head ached from crying, and she was positive her eyes were going to be swollen for the next couple days, but it was well deserved.

Eleanor made her way in silence back to her own residence. It wasn't much, a small flat above a shop an older women owned. She had stumbled upon Ella two years ago, when she was still actively performing anywhere she could. She had taken pity on the young girl, who explained she had nowhere to go and no family in the area. After much convincing, the woman finally agreed to let Ella stay in the empty flat upstairs for a reasonable price. Before that, Ella had stayed in various inns around town, so it was nice to finally have a place to herself. Though the flat was quaint, Ella found it charming in a way. Over the two years, she was able to furnish the space and make it feel as close to a home as she could.

"I'm home!" Ella called out to no one in particular as she entered the flat. Some nights it was easier to pretend she had someone to come home too, that she wasn't alone. Tonight was one of those nights. Silently, Ella changed out of her day clothes into something more comfortable. Wanting nothing more than for the night to be done with, the young woman shut off the lights and tucked herself into bed.

 

[kaito9049]

It was odd; for as long as he could remember, Conor loved to run. The feeling of his feet pounding against the road, the wind rushing past his ears — even before it allowed him a sense of freedom he rarely experienced in the cramped city, it provided him a sense of tangible distance from his worries.

But walking sucked. That lone thought occupied his mind for about half his journey to the railyard. He probably would have had other thoughts too, if his legs didn't feel like jelly. He hadn't even run that much today, but sprinting at full speed for a few bursts and then standing around for an extended period of time had his muscles all out of sorts.

That was the trouble with walking. It let the running catch up with you.

Still, Conor had to admit that the motion helped loosen up his muscles again. And as the fatigue faded, so did his distaste for the activity. That opened room for other thoughts. They'd done well today, hadn't they? Mary and Astrid would recover, Bruce — Conor couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for the guy, as much as he'd thrown everything into a mess — would eventually find his relationship with the rest of the gang mended, and they'd all be on their way to the next heist. Still, ending this one at a doctor's office, it left a sickly feeling in the pit of Conor's stomach.

Cursed walking.

Conor tried to let his mind go blank until he reached the railyard. He was mostly successful, though he tensed whenever a carriage rolled by or a pedestrian walked toward him. His bloody sleeves were rolled up, and his mask and vest were bundled in his arms, but he was half-expecting someone to grab him and yell, "Ain't you the one who did the crimes?!"

So it was a relief when the smell of soot and rust signaled that he was home. It was mostly quiet, with but a few workers milling about. It was easy enough for Conor to slip by them; the gaps between cars provided plenty of spaces to duck through. Eventually, he found the carriage he was looking for. The white numbers on its side designated it as 217, but Conor always called her Old Aisling. He'd been living in her bones for the past few years. Least he could do is give her a proper name.

Conor opened the sliding door's lock with a small key he produced from his pants pocket. He pulled the door open with a screech, hopped in, and pulled it shut before anyone could investigate the noise — not that it was out of place here. He'd used to work this railyard from time to time; most of his coworkers moved slower than a square wheel. It also helped that Edgar, an affable gent Conor had befriended during his time running cars, oversaw the loading schedule, and for a low monthly fee was happy to ensure Old Aisling didn't need to be coupled.

She was a small carriage, a cargo car that hadn't seen use in years. Conor had tidied it up best he could, but he didn't exactly have a ton of trappings to decorate the metal walls. He'd thrown a mattress down on the floor, with a bundle of blankets covering it. A chair and desk took up another wall, and a small wooden chest in the corner held his clothes and a handful of other belongings. It was from the locker that Conor produced two books, the larger bound in paper and the smaller in leather. He lit a candle and flipped through the smaller, reading through the sums listed in the ledger, using a blanket to hide the flame — though not the thin trail of smoke — from the outside. Reading the tome was discouraging. It would take a hefty investment to bring even one of his family members to England — that is, if he even wanted that. Ma and Pa would hate it in London, and London ... it wouldn't be friendly to them.

Indeed, it had been nothing short of a blessing that Conor came across the siblings. They didn't look down on him, and they didn't seem to care who joined their ranks, as long as they were competent and loyal. And the rest all had their qualities, too. Benny was a ball of energetic determination, Ella was a kinder soul than most any he'd met, Bruce — despite his outbursts — possessed an ability to force the world around him to bend to his will, and Astrid had a mastery of words Conor envied deeply. And if the doctor was going to be a regular face, well, it was a good thing they had someone to patch them up.

He sighed. At the same time, he had real family back home. And it had been longer than he liked since he'd heard from them. He'd have to stop by the Fletchers' house tomorrow. Conor had a special agreement with the postman; letters addressed to him would be placed under a painted rock a few feet away from the mailbox.

It was all adding up, Conor thought as he flipped through the ledger. Paying for food, bribes, the occasional medicine — the money he saved from living in a railcar helped somewhat, but he was a laughable distance away from what he needed. Hopefully the gang could get their loot fenced soon. It was probably best to lay low for a while, but maybe he could ask the siblings if they needed some side jobs done.

That is, assuming everyone recovered. Which they would, of course. No point worrying about it.

Conor sighed again and turned his attention to the second book he'd removed from the chest, a dictionary. He turned to a page he'd bookmarked, near charisma, and began reading, whispering each of the words until he felt confident enough in the pronunciation to speak them. He fell asleep somewhere around chrysalis.

 

[spottednewt]

“Do I get to touch the tools now?”

The words of the others felt farther and farther away as the young woman sunk into herself, Benny’s words reverberating off of the walls in her mind. For a time, Astrid felt as though she was stumbling around in the dark, being haunted by the memories of her clan.

“I’d rather focus on the more pleasant matter of fixing my leg.”

“ I suppose I can multitask.”

Faint and deafening all at once, Astrid was sure she’d feel a churning in her stomach if she could feel anything more than the fire in her shoulder –and cold, she felt impossibly cold.

“Benny, you have to tell my mother,” The words were loud and full - as though she’d been projecting across the room without even a thought of wavering. The continuation of conversation around her for another moment gave her heart pause before it sank into a deep pit of despair. They couldn’t hear her - she hadn’t spoken at all. The speeding of her heart rate made her injury throb harder, almost enough to mask the pain of the doctor’s needle.

I’m going to die. I’m going to they can’t hear me.

The thought passed more calmly than she’d expected it to - a feeling that dulled drastically in comparison to the fear she felt for being trapped in the dark; a prisoner in her own body. For one of few times in her life, she felt perfectly sure of her fate. This was it. The thought made her wonder if she’d regret all the wasted energy she spent carrying on about Bruce and the mincemeat in his head he called a brain.

I’m going to die, and I never told him that I could aim a pistol better with my buttcheeks.

No, she didn’t have many regrets, but had she more energy, she may have chuckled at the realization that she’d only taken the cash from one side of her bra - not the other. Astrid didn’t have enough sensation to be sure, but she reckoned that the gang would be burying her in a shallow grave bloodied up and asymmetrical. The spinning dizziness that made her nauseous just moments before now lulled her to sleep; a deep, dark, elusive sleep that was kept just out of reach by the echoing of their words through the abyss.

“Occupy yourself by finding me the wooden splints and a roll of bandages.”

“I’m gettin’ better at this doc! Maybe you should hire me.”

The conversation around her may have been chipper in different context and without the added edge of pain and annoyance in Mary’s voice. Without any more emotions left, O’Malley wasn’t sure if she was grateful or bitter. All she could truly think about was her mother, and how she might still be sitting exactly where Astrid had left her, staring at the wall in the darkness. Now they were both in the dark.

Without having Astrid to deliver groceries to her mother or drag her father home, she wondered if the two star-crossed lovebirds would ever cross paths again. If Cillian ever did clean himself up enough to make it home, he’d never know of his latest French exploits and her mother would surely know. If Astrid never made it home, Cara would be forced to fend for herself, and it wouldn’t be long before she’d be taken advantage of by delinquents not dissimilar to Astrid and the gang; or worse. Cillian. Even if they never knew of their daughter’s death, their hearts would surely be broken.

Somebody find Cillian O’Malley. Somebody for the love of all things good, set him right.

As feet retreated and the room grew quiet, the young smuggler could feel herself slipping down, down further into a dream-like state.

 

[Hard Boiled]

Despite the carriage's best attempt to rock her to sleep, Helena refused to join her sibling, who now lay slumped against her with her splinted leg across the entire seat. Poor Mary, she was probably still exhausted from the struggle of the fight alone. If things had only gone differently, they'd likely be partying the night away right now - and maybe even paying for their drinks. No point in lingering on what-ifs, she decided.

The detour to Dr. Blackburn's office had truly gone too well. As far as improvisation goes, Helena gave herself a mental pat on the back for that one. Both of her mates were alive, for now, and they had the loot. That is, if Bruce hadn't accidentally set it all on fire. She knew exactly where he'd stash it: that little shed of his in the courtyard a ways north, with all his other things. At least it was secure.

Thinking of secure, their home of the tavern was fairly safe place to hide, especially in the evening once the barkeep Miles locked up, but after tonight, there would be no chances taken. No, Helena wouldn't rest until the morning regulars showed up for their drink before work - the drunkards and bachelors who'd probably succumb to one ailment or another before the year was out. The ones she aspired to be the exact opposite of.

She used the frequency of bumps in the road as markers for how close to their destination they were. Surely enough, by the time they reached the pub, Bruce's handiwork had nearly broken the carriage down, it had another few kilometers in it at most.

Helena attempted to slip out from under Mary without waking her, to no avail.
"Uhp- Stay put, this'll take one second."

Mary sprung back to consciousness briefly; long enough to see Helena scooting away on the soiled leather, smudging the mostly dried blood beneath her otherwise fairly in-tact dress. She mumbled something that Mary couldn’t understand, but she smiled at her sister anyway. They survived. Against all, mostly Scottish, odds, they made it home

Helena hopped out the side of the carriage, waving for the driver to come assist her.
"Fine driving, Benny. Come on," she motioned towards Mary, slinging her arm around her shoulder the same as before and carefully pulling her out of the carriage with his help.

"Once we're done here, get rid of this tinderbox somehow. Burn it, roll it into the Thames, I don't care." She ordered as they moved towards the backdoor, to his dismay. Clearly, someone wanted his own coach.

Benny did, in fact, want his own carriage, so the disappointment he felt when Helena told him to discard it wasn’t a surprise. He had imagined himself rushing dangerously down the sloppy London streets, preferably with the cops hot on his trail. Knowing his daydream was a futile attempt to argue, he gave her an exasperated frown, but complied.

“Sure thing, Helena.” His voice held nothing but exhaust, but he gave her a quick smile to show he was still truly in good spirits.

"Good man."

Backing through the door into a supply room, the trio moved down into the cellar the twins had claimed one stair at a time, ever-so-slowly. Once at the bottom, they set Mary down on her haybale bed.

"Thank you. Right, bugger off."

Once Benny left and the twins had each changed out of their dresses, Helena stuffed them in a sack and tossed them into the pub's furnace, opting to hide her hat away instead.

"Look at us, Mary." She started, inspecting her new revolver she'd taken from the officer at the party. "Finally made it big time..."

 

[Pipsqueak]

Benny waved his hand at Helena, knowing she probably didn’t want him around any longer than necessary. He was quite grateful in that aspect as he could feel his tiredness begin to grow, fogging up his brain.

“Right-O! I’ll suspect you two’ll see me around sooner rather than later. Take care then!” He gave each sister a smile before heading back upstairs towards the awaiting carriage.

“Sorry ‘bout the whole carrot thing old lug. I forgot I’m allergic. I touch ‘em and poof! I blow up.” He dismissively shook his head then, unsure why he felt the need to lie to a horse about such a trivial thing. Taking his place back at the reins, the carriage once again jerked with unnatural movement as he steered them down to the Thames. Benny had tried to muster up his daydream again but his brain refused any sort of mental processes at the moment, so he was forced to sit with whatever thoughts were forced up. Unfortunately, most of them were about Mary and Astrid.

He had never been one to be sentimental, at least that he was aware of, but what had happened today had shaken him whether he allowed it or not. The gang was supposed to be untouchable. They had to be with this line of work. Why did it all go so wrong? He- They could have lost two members today if not for the doctor. If not for Helena. And what had he done? Added to the problem, per usual. The blatant fact stood out like a sore thumb as he turned a corner, causing his hands to tighten around the reins. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They were all supposed to be together, celebrating their newfound riches. They shouldn’t have to split up, he shouldn’t have to feel like this. And the coughing… the damn coughing. That posed a problem too, didn’t it?

‘See love, I find myself to be… Disappointed.’

‘I had more faith in you!’

Mary’s words at the party ran through his mind on repeat. She didn’t mean that. Couldn’t have. He did well, for the most part. He played his part, didn’t ask any questions- Well, he did. A few, actually, but they were all in good fun! Wasn’t he just as good as the rest of the crew? He supposed that answer depended on who you asked. And now Astrid had been shot, and he was supposed to retrieve her tomorrow! Why would they send someone like him on such an important mission?

Through his internal struggle, he had almost forgotten to tell the horse to stop. The sound of splashing waves had finally caught his attention, and he tugged quickly to drop them off just near the water. He went to unlatch the horse from the carriage quietly, glancing around to make sure nobody had decided to take a nice little stroll and happen upon him.

‘My friends dared me.’ He would say.

‘My mother said she’d hold dinner from me if I don’t drown her cheating husband’s carriage. It was bad news.’ Better. Nobody would go against a mother’s word.

‘I could kill you right now.’ He liked that one, but it was a tad bit aggressive. More Bruce’s style than his.

As excuses and threats were thought up if he were caught, his legs had other ideas. Just kick it, don’t waste time. And that he did. He kicked as hard as he could, letting the frustration and anger out just as Bruce had done. It took several times, but with an indignant groan, the carriage finally toppled over into the Thames.

“Awful night for you too, huh?” He asked it as the wheels were finally submerged under the hungry waves. With a small sigh and longing for a new carriage, he turned heel and began walking in no particular direction after giving the horse a gentle pat for a job well done. He didn’t have anywhere to go as the sisters did. He wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing now. He used to like being on his own, away from his crazy mother and alcoholic father. He could do anything. Since being with the gang, however, he felt lonely when they were split. He hated feeling lonely. They truly were his family.

Benny frowned as he made his way into an alleyway. The shadows were untouched by streetlamps, but he still managed to find his way around alright. He supposed, for now, he would go be someone else’s problem. His stomach rumbled agreeing, so with a confident grin, he made his way onto a doorstep. When his knock was answered by a confused and very tired man, Benny took his opportunity.

“‘Scuse me, sir, sorry to be a bother, but it seems you’ve got a burglar tryin’ to sneak into that back window of yours. If you hurry, I’ll bet he hasn’t even made it through.”

"Why didn't you stop him?" The man called as he pushed Benny out of the way and leaped down the steps. As soon as he turned the corner, the young thief made his way inside.

“Sorry, Mary. This’ll be the last one tonight.” His words sounded empty even to him. It would be ok though. Everything had to be.

 

[guac]

Once the gang had emptied out of her office, Shelley finally allowed herself to relax. The danger – at least the imminent kind – had passed. Truthfully, Shelley was more intrigued than scared by the end. This group was not what she would have expected of criminals. They were brutish, yes, but there was a strange warmth to the lot of them that Shelley didn’t understand.

She turned to face Astrid, who was now slumped on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“Oh, dear, who put you there?”

The doctor supposed she should take the opportunity to clean the blood from the examination table. Unfortunately, it would have to serve as the poor girl’s bed for the night. There was a small apartment on the second floor where Shelley often stayed – either when she had an early appointment after a night of excavation or simply for the times she could no longer stand to tolerate her parents – but she was not keen on the potential of ruptured stitches ruining her linens.

Though Astrid had bled quite a lot, it didn’t take long to get the table reasonably clean. Shelley turned back to her again, sighing.

“This bit is going to have to stay between you and I, understood?” The girl did not respond. Shelley hadn’t really expected her to, she reflected as she scooped up the girl from the floor, but she so abhorred the idea of anyone knowing about her physical strength. Besides it being unbecoming of a lady, it was also a fact that would raise the sort of questions that Shelley did not want to answer.

Astrid was light, at least compared to the bloated bodies Shelley was used to hoisting from their graves, so she was able to quite easily rest the girl back on the table. She didn’t seem to be in any kind of distress or discomfort, as far as the doctor could tell. She’ll make it through the night, at the very least.

Shelley turned her attention back to what she had been doing before she had been quite dramatically interrupted. She had thankfully dealt with most of the mess before her surprise guests arrived, but the money from the sale still needed to be moved to her safe upstairs.

She left Astrid and walked over to her desk, opening the drawer that was her customary stashing place. She lifted up the decoy stack of papers only to find nothing but the bottom of the drawer underneath them. Panicked, she shuffled through the documents, hoping to somehow find the cash hidden between the pages.

She slammed a fist down on the desk. That deceitful little mongrel! The redheaded street urchin had stolen the whole amount. Surely it had to be him. Though Shelley hadn’t paid much mind to the other criminals in the room, the boy was the only one who had accessed her cabinets, and with her full permission at that.

Ungrateful duplicitous bastard! She cursed herself for letting her guard down around an Irishman.

Blankly looking around her now mostly empty, bloodstained office, Shelley suddenly wondered why she was so angry. It had been years since her late night activities had been about the money. Truthfully, she had more of that than what she knew what to do with, now that she was solidly back in her father’s good graces. Still, to be fooled like that, and so easily… The thought was disquieting.

Benny would be back to collect Astrid in the morning, Shelley reminded herself, clenching her jaw. She would settle the matter then.

 

[Pipsqueak]

The next day Benny found himself waking up with sore muscles. Groaning, he took a moment to gather his surroundings, shielding what little sun was poking through the clouds out of his eyes. It was cold outside, but at least it wasn’t raining. As he forced himself up he went to start towards the street and nearly stepped off of the roof he had slept on in the process. The Irishman stumbled back with a gasp, forgetting he had crashed here while escaping one of the not-so-friendly citizens who, apparently, did not appreciate him drinking some of their more expensive wines. He had tried to make friendly conversation with them, but they had not been in a very talkative mood.

The sounds of the busy London streets broke him out of his daze, and as he peeked his head over the roof to investigate he became nauseous.

Great. He was hungover.

This was fine though, because today he would retrieve Astrid and everything would begin to get back in working order! He just had to get down without falling… He tried to retrace his steps from the night before with little success and ended up falling off the last foothold anyways, landing with a loud crash in the alleyway.

“Awe hell.” Benny’s voice came out strange and gurgled as he rubbed his head, taking a moment to gather his wits and once again start back out in the streets. It was a few more moments before he had decided on his route, hoping he was even going the right way. Eventually buildings began to look more familiar as he walked- the dark green house with a broken pipe out front, then the display window of some store that sold old people's clothes and then, just as he turned a corner, he came face to face with the unmistakable stone structure of the doctor’s office. A smug smile played along his features as he walked up to the front door and gave two short knocks.

“Doc! It’s Benny, your lovely assistant! I need in… er, please!”

The doctor opened the door almost immediately. She had been waiting on his arrival since the early morning, pacing around her office as she formulated her plan. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but the boy was much more disheveled than he had been the night before. Shelley stomached her surprise and took him in with her rehearsed disapproving glance.

“Come in and sit down.” She turned away from him and strode towards her office, not bothering to check if he followed. “I believe we have an important matter to discuss.”

Benny could have sworn the temperature dropped just a bit more as soon as he stepped through the doorway and into the building.

“Right, hello to you too…” He mumbled, rolling his eyes and going to sit down on the chair she had pointed him to. He watched her closely, noticing the way her whole body seemed to tense up. She looked a bit like Helena and Mary when they were in a bad mood. To make matters worse, Astrid was nowhere to be seen, and he felt his heart leap just a bit at the discovery. Still, he leaned back as soon as he sat down, crossing his feet in front of him and giving Blackburn a wide smile.

“What can I do for ya doc? Ya got Astrid all fixed? She’s alright, right?”

“Astrid is just fine.” Shelley took her seat behind her desk, across from Benny. The girl had awoken that morning, her color and her wits both seeming to return to her. “She’s patiently waiting for you upstairs. Before I bring you to her, I have a curiosity to settle.”

Shelley paused, giving her theatrics a chance to sink in. She watched Benny’s face for any hints of guilt or understanding.

“Tell me truthfully, Benny, do you think me a fool?”

The young thief ruffled his already disheveled hair, still watching Blackburn’s carefully as she took her seat. He positioned himself on the edge of his own now, sensing this conversation wasn’t going to be just about Astrid. His sluggish mind worked carefully through whatever this could be about, until he came to the realization that she had been here all night. She had all night to look through each individual drawer, and he forced himself not to look in the direction of the cabinet. Benny bit the inside of his cheek in thought, although his head was pounding and he didn’t really have the patience for whatever lecture she was about to give him.

He tilted his head to the side, letting his hair fall in that direction.

“I’m… not exactly sure how you’d like me to answer doc. I think you’ve got a wonderful personality!” He beamed at her, although by the looks of things his “charm” didn’t seem to be working for him all that well- though when did it ever.

“Are you cold? I’m cold, it’s a bit chilly in here. Perhaps I should check on Astrid, make sure she’s not too cold, you know.” He stood as quickly as he could from his seat through his nausea and turned to look for the stairs.

“Hm… uh, you got a map for this place by chance?”

“Benny. Sit down.” Shelley anxiously stood up from her chair. The conversation was not going as she had rehearsed. “I- You didn’t let me- God damn you, just listen!” She stomped her foot impatiently, then caught herself, embarrassed. She brushed her curls out of her face and straightened her skirt.

“If you would like to avoid involving the police, as I imagine you would, then all you must do is return what you stole.”

Benny took a deep breath and turned to look back at Blackburn, one eyebrow raised in question. He was about to ask what exactly she wanted, but her outburst shocked the question right out of him. Making for the seat he sat down again with a huff, resting his head in his hands.

“You’re not my mother, you cannot bark orders like that.” Despite his attempt to protest, his current state didn’t allow the desired brutish look he was going for.

“I don’t know what exactly you’re tryin’ to get out of me Miss Blackburn.” Miss Blackburn? Maybe he hit his head a little too hard when he fell.

“All of the crew was in here, so whatever you’re missin’ I’d look elsewhere. My hands are clean!” He raised them to show the good doctor, but one look for himself caused him to self- consciously rub them on his slacks. They were quite dirty from the events of last night.

“Figuratively speakin’... and anyways, it’s certainly not my fault you’ve been stolen from! Perhaps you shouldn’t leave a whole stack of cash right in the open with thieves amongst you!” It took a few seconds to realize his mistake, and Benny pursed his lips quickly as if he could take what was said and shove them back down his throat.

“If- if that is what you’re missin’, of course.” Well, so much for playing dumb. There were a few moments of silence as he found his shoes incredibly interesting suddenly. Then, with a sigh, he squinted back at her with a hardened expression.

“Alright look. First off I doubt you’d be so willin’ to call the cops, yea? You’re not as slick as you think you are, doc. I’m not the expert here…though I do think I should be… but no doctor who’s got her own practice makes that much and stashes it. I mean really, you’re talkin’ to a criminal here mate! You’ve got some shady business goin’ ‘round here, and I don’t know what exactly that might be and I don’t really care. I just want to get Astrid back home, and I’ve got a splitting ache in my noggin and would appreciate you not yellin’ to the gods.” As if to show his good faith, he went to retrieve the money out of his pockets. Half for the doctor, half for him. That seemed fair enough!

“Here, tell ya what. I’ll- huh.”

He searched his pockets, but found only the roughed up bottom of them. He was so sure he’d left it in his right pocket!

“I’ll- I’ll get the money to you when I see that Astrid really is alright.”

Shelley had hoped the boy would talk himself into a corner, but it seemed her opponent was more capable than he looked. The doctor was genuinely stunned into silence. This common guttersnipe had not only stolen from under her nose, not only shaken her composure, but had managed to thoroughly demolish any leverage she had. Was all of his bumbling charm just a clever facade? Shelley was intrigued.

Regardless, she had to get back the upper hand, one way or another.

“As I told you, Benny, there is no need to worry about Astrid.” She sat back down at her desk shuffled through some of her many scattered documents to feign disinterest.

“Are you familiar with baseball? Let’s consider this your strike one.” She looked back up at the boy with what she hoped could be considered a chilling gaze. “The stairs are through the archway and to the right. Be on your way.”

“B-baseball?” Benny scrunched his nose in confusion as Shelley returned back to her seat once more. Her gaze froze him for a moment, making him feel a bit more vulnerable than he was comfortable with. With her dismissal he was quick to leap from the chair, noticing the anxiety crawling its way up to his chest.

“Good, so I’ve got two more strikes to go, right? Won’t let ya down, coach!” With that he zipped over to the archway she had directed him to and took two stairs at a time, careful not to trip himself up through his nervousness. One lonely door stood at the top of the squeaky staircase, and he opened it slowly to find Astrid patiently waiting on the bed in a small, brightly lit room.

“‘Mornin’ priestess! Get it? ‘Cause you’re holy now!” He snorted at his own joke as he moved to help her up.

“How are we feelin’ today? Didn’t I say I was going to get you all sorted out?” He had to admit it was incredibly relieving to not only be back with one of his crew members, but find that she was, indeed, in a much better condition than when he had left.

Astrid didn’t feel like she had her wits or color about her quite yet. She sat atop the bed, swaying slightly as the far-off conversation between Benny and the Doctor rang in her ears. The green hue to her face deepened as she pulled herself to her feet. Changing altitudes made her stomach lurch. In that moment, Astrid was feeling a lot of things; but mostly nauseous.

“She threatens you again and she’ll be wishin’ she hadn’t saved my sorry arse,” Astrid mumbled to Benny. While she didn’t have any ill will towards the woman, the way she spoke to him struck a raw nerve - even if Benny deserved it. Grasping at the bedside table, and then the wall, Astrid made her way over to the door, her left arm very clearly out of commission - especially as she knocked it against the tabe limply and gritted her teeth against the shock it sent up to her shoulder. The doctor had told her something about tendons or nerves that morning, but Astrid had been too busy planning her escape. O’Malley’s blue-and-splattered-red dress rejected her attempts at smoothing it out, a condition that worsened as she dug into the front of it to procure the wad of cash she’d gathered from a few of the nobles the night before.

“How much was it?” The question came through gritted teeth as she counted. Astrid had gathered a small fortune from some of the party-goers to secure a cargo ferry, but who was to say how much a shady doctor had squirreled away? –Better yet, what were the chances that Benny had lost or blown that sum in a single - particularly shitty - night.

Benny felt the soft smile play over his lips as he reached for her, touched that she seemed to care so deeply about his and the doctor’s spat. Leading her carefully back down, he came to realize he never actually bothered to count the money.

“Lots. A whole stack, probably enough to buy a mansion! You’ll be the first to know the amount as soon as I get it back.” The pair made their way to the door, Benny acutely aware of Blackburn’s presence just behind them. Without a parting word he lead Astrid outside, offering her an arm, and let her lead the way back home.

 

[Hard Boiled]

Sitting in her puddle of anxiety, Helena hadn't moved from the barstool beside Mary's mat for nearly the entire remaining six hours of darkness post-mission. Not until the morning birds began their songs did she finally stand, tossing aside the half-empty packet of cocaine gum she'd been working on throughout the night. Kept her sharp between the ears, it did - the slightest movement of her injured sister and she was on full alert, ready to engage any possible threats that could walk through the three entrances of the pub. She felt it in her bones: one day, the man would come knocking for this. For now, though, she had unfinished business to attend to.

She stretched her limbs with audible cracks as each joint's tension was released, placing Louise on the stool in her place.
"You're in charge." She whispered to the doll, taking one last glance at Mary before climbing the stairs out of the cellar.

Big iron on her hip, Helena slipped out the door labeled PRIVATE into the pub proper, where only two others stood: Miles, the owner, and a newly hired barmaid whose name was of no consequence to her. Miles vouched for her, that was good enough.

"Mornin', Miss Helena." Miles greeted through an Irish accent thick as molasses, shining the glasses behind the bar.

He knew better than to ask about the night before, though it was more than obvious to anyone who thought twice who'd shot up the party. Hell, half the regulars were counting the days until the gang pulled a stunt like that. Luckily for them, the law preferred not to rub shoulders with the greasy commoners that pass through establishments like these, and people valued their tongues too much to say anything. Why should they care, anyway? More interesting papers in the morning. So long as he wasn't needed, he'd be no more than a fly on the wall.

"Morning." She returned, pretending not to pay them any mind. Helena undoubtedly trusted the fifty-something year old to keep any unwanted guests out - any troublemakers around here were a bunch of toddlers compared to the Russians he'd faced in Crimea some thirty years ago as a younger man.

Before either of the others could strike up a real conversation, she was out the front door onto the damp sidewalk of Queen’s Way.

During the twenty minutes or so it took Helena to walk southbound towards Benjamin's current residence, she considered how the coming interaction might go down. Either he was safe and sound, waiting patiently as she'd expect him to, or he was with the police, living or not. Perhaps the fuzz would be there instead, just waiting for her to knock so they could arrest her too. She patted her pockets for another tablet of gum, cursing once she remembered where she'd left it.

Despite the bottomless pit in her gut, Helena pressed on, ultimately finding herself on the steps of a boarding house across town. She'd stopped by a couple times since she'd met the Yankee, though she'd never been past the lobby.
She pounded the metal door knocker several times, standing back with crossed arms.

The door swings open after a brief pause and a kindly-looking older gentleman steps into view, every inch of him oozing grandfatherly charm.
"Sorry dear, but my only spare room is accounted for. You'll have to look elsewhere." He says apologetically. Henry Tudge isn't often one for company, and knows Benjamin is quite the same, so by now he's become rather adept at turning away unexpected visitors. Without waiting for a response, he begins to nudge the door shut, only to be stopped by a boot in the doorframe.

"I need to speak with Benjamin. Tell him a girl's looking for him." She spoke quickly without breaking eye contact, though keeping a similarly friendly tone. She'd ask once more if she had to, probably not a third.

Mr. Tudge's brow rises, wrinkling his face even further than it is in its natural state. "Oh." He says simply, his tone changing rather abruptly. "Well I'm afraid Benjamin has never come up short on a payment due to me, dear, and I rather doubt he failed to pay your required fee for company." He replies.

Helena sucked her tongue in her mouth to stop herself from smiling, staying put while the gentleman roused the beast. Mary would be proud.

There's an audible grunt from deeper in the building, followed by Benjamin's tired rasp. "Let her in, Henry. She's alright."

With a shrug, Mr. Tudge opens the door wider and steps out of the way. "Apologies, miss. But you should know he's in a rather sour mood." He whispers hurriedly, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

"I'll be gentle." Helena flashed Henry a smile, entering and waiting for him to close the door before regaining her constant scowl.

Benjamin is seated on a nicely upholstered couch, a snifter of brandy in hand and a dour look plastered on his face.
"If you've come for the loot, it's in that bag." He says curtly, gesturing with his glass at a worn-out looking sack set on a chair by the door.

"I've come to make sure you're alive, you twat." She responded, a clear difference in the tone of "twat" between Benjamin and Bruce.

Given the volume of his voice, Helena assumed it was safe to speak freely.
"Still in one piece, eh? How'd you make it out?" She inquired, peering down into the sack he mentioned. Sure enough, it was packed full of bank notes and other loot from the gamblers he'd been so chummy with.

Benjamin nods slowly. “Aye, one piece. Can’t say the same for all the folks that rabid dog shot down for nothing.” He answers bitterly.

"He shot Astrid." She told Benjamin bluntly.
"...Accidentally, in the crossfire." She clarified, strolling across the room and tilting the bottle of brandy beside him with her thumb to read its label. Quality liquor, probably looted off some Dixie's corpse, by her guess. "We took her to a doctor, says she should live through the night, at least... Mary's got a bum leg, too, she'll be fine. Everyone else is accounted for."

“Fucker should hang.” He adds, draining the rest of the contents of his glass before setting it on the nearby end table.

"Bruce will hang if Astrid says he'll hang." She told him finally, releasing the bottle. Bruce nearly took Astrid's life, it should be her decision what is made of his. At least, Astrid should get first say. Besides, for all she knows, Astrid bled out five hours ago and the lovely Doctor Shelley Blackburn is currently squealing to the cops. In that case... Best not to think about it.

"Think I give a shit what Astrid has to say on the matter? Or is nobody but me thinkin' bout the corpses and kids?"

Helena sighed. Without a second thought, she knew he was right, but that's now how they operate. Ultimately, Helena and Mary had allowed Bruce to run with them, and had done nothing but encourage his behavior until now. So much for a second chance after prison - they tried to pet a burning dog, and got bit.
"We're criminals, mate. Our job is to endanger people. We came into a room of drunk civilians waving guns, and someone got shot." She shook her head. "We were sloppy. A lesson learned, a mistake not to be made again." They both knew it wasn't that simple, but that was not a conversation to be had right now.

"Just keep your trousers on next time you see him. We'll meet on the first of the month, a week and a half from today." She took a few banknotes from her side pouch and stuck them into her shirt so they were sticking out, gesturing towards the loot bag as she moved for the exit. "And for God's sake, bloody hide that somewhere."

Two minutes and thirty seconds after she'd entered, Helena strutted out the door with her "payment", giving Mr. Tudge a wave goodbye.
"Cheers."

 

[Hard Boiled]

𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗢𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗗𝗢𝗖𝗨𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗙𝗜𝗘𝗗.
𝗔𝗡𝗬 𝗨𝗡𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗭𝗘𝗗 𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗖𝗢𝗣𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚, 𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗕𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗜𝗦 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗛𝗜𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗣𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗕𝗬 𝗟𝗔𝗪.

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚃𝚈 𝙾𝙵 𝙼𝙸𝟻 - 𝙴𝚅𝙰𝙻𝚄𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙾𝙵 𝚀𝚄𝙴𝙴𝙽𝚂𝚆𝙰𝚈 𝙶𝙰𝙽𝙶 - 𝟸𝟽 𝙽𝙾𝚅 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟷

[Page 12 of report]​

(Excerpt taken from London newspaper The Daily Telegraph, issue of May 19, 1879, front page headline.)

MURDER ON THE STREETS!

SUNDOWN last night, a team of up to twenty armed
thugs stormed a party of two-hundred people on
Gerard St. in the West end! The ruffians stole whatever
they could find, robbing poor partygoers at gunpoint and
swiping anything within arm's reach. At least four deaths
are reported, including one officer of the Metropolitan Police
who was viciously beaten after witnesses claim the leader, a woman,
ordered her men to fire on the crowd before fleeing the scene!
Will this be the last we see of this gang of villains? More on page 4. ​

---
FOLLOWING the pyrrhic success of their first proper outing, THE QUEENSWAY GANG appears to have gone underground for a short while. Whether this came of necessity or individual choice is unknown, there are no real sources on the matter besides (the archaeological goldmine that is) HELENA NEVITT's journal.

It can be assumed that the latter is true - they're not the type to hide, unless it's in plain sight.
---
(Excerpt taken from HELENA NEVITT's journal. See transcription below, spelling errors corrected.)




"June 1st, 1879

Can't believe it's only June. Feels like every day lasted a month since the party. Mary's leg hasn't quite healed, but she is chipper as always. Still don't know what to do with Bruce. I'll be damned if Astrid won't have him drawn and quartered herself. We will be meeting today for the first time since that night, I pray this won't end in blood as well.

p.s.,
Remember not to wear favourite hat whilst working."

---

Mary came to the door just in time to see her dear sister close her journal. The flashy cane that she had been using for a few years to aid in her theatrics had become a genuine and necessary mobility aid, but Mary refused to let herself be slowed down by something as trivial as a broken bone. Disguising her limp as best she could, Mary grimaced through the pain and put on a smile as she entered the room.

"Are we ready to head out now, dear? We've been sitting on this gold for too long, I do believe."

"Uh- yeah."
Helena glanced up from her lap, capping her various colored fountain pens and returning them to her satchel. Besides Mary, the last person she'd spoken to from the gang was Benny, to confirm Astrid was in fact alive. Assuming nobody had been killed or captured since then, the gang would be accompanying them to a meet to finally get rid of the loot.

Mary had spoken to an old...acquaintance of theirs...who they believed would be able to find a buyer for their illicit goods - in fact, they were correct. The deal would be tonight, sundown.

"Has everyone been told when to arrive?"

"Yes, love, everyone has received the notice." Mary smiled and gave a mock bow.
"Our wonderful low lives will arrive at 7 o'clock here, apart from Bruce, whom I told 7:20." Mary winked at her sister. "We can't risk a brawl breaking out if Benny or Conor cause offense by trying to walk through the door at the same time as the brute."

"Good..." Helena grunted in return.

Trouble or not, they'd need Bruce for tonight - they were going deep into unfriendly territory with enough gold and silver to buy the pub twice. Split between eight people, plus the loose banknotes they'd collected, this would be quite the payday. Naturally, this would not be an evenly cut pie; Mary, the mathematically capable of the two, had decided that she and Helena would seize no less than twenty percent of the earnings each, leaving ten percent for the other six. This was more than generous in their minds - after all, without them, there would be no money at all. Besides, Helena knew as much about the cuts as anyone else in the gang. If she couldn't count it on her fingers, she wasn't counting it at all.

As 18:50 rolled around, the twins found themselves posted up in their usual spots: Mary in her throne, a semicircular booth in the back corner, and Helena pretending to mingle with the other degenerates at the bar. Even with the droplets of laudanum she'd mixed into her drink, Helena found herself unable to sit still. The tapping of her boot against the floor beneath her stool turned to a stomp as she finally stood, pacing over to her sister and sliding into the booth beside her.

"They're gonna kill him." She sighed out of her nose, staring at the entrance. With every new patron that entered the pub, she expected either a flood of police or bloodthirsty mourners to follow.

Mary was distracted by the newspaper she was reading and was only half listening to her sister.
"Look dear," she spoke up when it sounded like it was her turn, "it appears we're famous." Mary pointed to the top of the page and read the snippet of them aloud. She paused at the end and scoffed.
"Really, 'gang of villains' is a bit much. Sure, Brucie and Bennet were a tad too explosive for my liking, but I was hardly villainous." She grinned and looked up at her sister before realizing that she didn't seem to be in the mood for digs.

Helena glanced down at the paper upon Mary's response, her pupils constricting as they centered on the headline. The paper was dated a few weeks old, Clearly Mary enjoyed reliving the moment.
They're gonna kill us.
She thought to herself with a shake of the head as she returned her gaze to the door.

"Here, love," Mary said, flipping the newspaper. "Let me tell you a joke!" she quickly scanned the jokes page of the newspaper until one caught her eye. "Oh, yes, this one is delightful." Mary cleared her throat and sat up straight, her spectacles slid down her nose to assist with the reading.
"A man is at a restaurant. He calls to his waiter, concerned, and says, 'Sir, there is a button in my salad.' The waiter looks at the salad and replies, 'Sir, that is only the dressing.'" Mary shot her sister a wide smile. "Simply delightful, isn't it?"

Lost in her thoughts as she was, even Helena couldn't help but break focus and crack a chuckle. Hopefully the gang would be in a laughing mood as well.

 

[kaito9049]

By the time Conor had walked his third lap around the pub, he wondered if he wasn't being a tad paranoid.

He'd taken the proper precautions, making sure he was wearing a completely different outfit than he'd been the day of the heist, and keeping his collar up and shoulders slouched. Even without the wardrobe changes, no one seemed to give him a second glance. It wasn't that the young evening strollers who passed him on the street — loudly debating where to fill their bellies with overpriced beer — appeared to consider him unworthy of attention; it was that they didn't even seem to notice him at all, forcing Conor to sidestep their path to prevent their colliding with him.

It was sometimes a helpful thing, to have others' gazes slip off him like a cow's coat on an oiled snake. Conor would be lying if he said it wasn't frustrating at times, to be so naturally invisible. But today, nearing the pub door for the fourth time in the past hour, he wasn't about to complain.

Conor hadn't spotted any undercovers during his circuitous walk, and he figured that the sisters would have given some warning had they detected danger, so he placed a hand on the door handle and prepared to enter the business. Unless, he thought to himself, they'd been captured before they could send out a signal. Unless this was all a trap.

The door suddenly flew open, bursting his anxieties. Conor yelped and sprang back, narrowly avoiding an older man who had clearly sipped a few too many as he stumbled through the doorway. Conor watched as the fellow trudged down the street without the faintest apology, then took a few breaths to collect himself, still holding the door handle. Well, if this was a trap, it was very cleverly designed.

He stepped into the pub with a fluid motion, still half-expecting to be tackled to the ground. But only thing that greeted him was the familiar scent of spilled beer and the low rumble of whispered confessions between sinners too ashamed to see a priest. Conor felt his muscles relax, and he took a step to the bar to order a whiskey. The sisters, he noticed as the bartender poured him a glass, were huddled in their usual corner booth. The sense of relief that rushed over the man surprised him, though he felt a cold pang at the sight of Mary's cane. Even so, the fact that she was well enough to be up and talking was — well, it was more than some got.

Conor acknowledged the two women with a raise of his filled glass, then took a short drink. It was a work night, and he couldn't risk being thrown off balance by too eager a swig.

The thought prompted Conor to take a careful look around the pub. He was the first one to arrive, it appeared. More interestingly, he'd gotten there before Bruce. He figured the sisters would want to talk to him before everyone else — he couldn't see them sweeping the flour under the dog, as Mum would say — but if that wasn't the case ... would Bruce be coming at all? Conor had figured nights ago that it was too dangerous to cut Bruce loose, but it was unwise to let his actions go unaddressed, especially after what happened to Astrid. Then again, Conor wasn't the brains of the operation; surely the sisters had a plan.

Conor took a second sip and pushed off from the bar, striding over to where the Nevitts sat. "Boss," he said, nodding to Helena before looking to Mary. "Boss. Glad you're still breathin'. If you don't mind my saying so.'"

He wanted to ask about Astrid, and Bruce, and Benjamin, and all of them. Was everyone still safe? But he fought the urge down, a bit embarassed by how much willpower doing so took. He knew the sisters didn't like to explain things twice, and he'd get his information soon enough once the others made their entrances.

 

[Pipsqueak]

Eleanor stared blankly at the piece of paper in her hands. It’d been weeks since the less than successful mission and she hadn’t so much as heard a peep from the gang. Truth be told she had begun to wonder if she would see them again, whether it was because they had been caught or simply fled town. Heaven knows Ella would do that in a heartbeat if she had it in her. But she didn’t. And now she was throwing her freshly washed brown coat on and stepping out of her flat to meet up with her lovely friends.

The streets of London were a bit crowded despite the weather. Ella looked up at the overcast skies. If luck was on their side- and she prayed it was for once- the rain would wait until later tonight, when everyone was tucked safely into their beds. Eleanor sighed, worrying about the weather should be the last thing on her mind. She needed to have a clear head space for when everyone met up at 7:00, and be ready for whatever else the sisters had planned.

“Right Eleanor, get a move on or you’ll be late.” She muttered to herself before walking onward towards the pub.

Of course for Benny, being on time to the meeting was simply a dull little melody that played at the back of his mind as he worked his way through a crowd of people, his card deck shuffling mindlessly in his hands.

“C’mon Alfie, keep up!” The young thief called over his shoulder, and a few seconds later the sheepdog trotted back up to his side, a dopey look resembling a smile playing across his furry face. The two had played this game all morning, where Benny would make his way down the street or through an alleyway, and nearly every minute he had to call Alfie back to his side before he wandered off again.

“Wonderful day for a card trick, don’t ya think?” His next interest had finally been spotted by the vendor in front of a small flower shop Benny hadn’t even known existed until now. The older woman turned suddenly at his voice before her face lit up in a delighted smile.

“Oh, you know tricks boy?”

“Ha! Do I know tricks? ‘Course I know tricks! The best kind! Here, take a seat.” He took the lady by the arm, thankfully with only a minor fuss from her, and sat her down on one of the benches displayed prettily outside of the shop.

“Alfie, lay down now! Lay down,” with no response, Benny shrugged, “Eh. He’s a work in progress. Now I- Oh!” Dark eyes had been scanning the area as the conversation continued, personally hoping for an audience, until he caught sight of a familiar tangle of red hair.

“‘Scuse me miss, I’ll be right back! We need witnesses, you know.” Jogging up to Ella with newfound excitement, he didn’t bother calling to her. He wrapped his arm around her dainty shoulders before yelling across the street to the expectant woman.

“Ya see, most people think I’m a cheat after they witness what I can do! Did I mention I’m psychic?” The woman scrunched her nose at the word.

“I don’t believe in that nonsense.”

“Oh but it isn’t nonsense you see! This lady here can testify, isn’t that right?” He turned to Ella with a wide grin, hoping she’d catch on. The two gang members hadn’t played this game often, but Ella was one of the best signalers when it came to the “mind game”, as he called it. She simply stood behind the victim and signaled whichever card they pulled. The two had perfected it after three games.

Ella had been busy lost in her thoughts as she made her way to the pub. Was everyone okay? Were they still upset with Bruce? She hadn’t forgotten the sadness in his eyes that night. Her thoughts wandered beyond the gang back to her family. In the last couple weeks she’d visited only one other time, as promised. The visit had been the same as the first, ending with her eyes puffy from tears and sniffling all the way home. It would probably never get easier either, but she was happy to be visiting after so many years avoiding the encounter.

It was then she felt an arm wrapping around her shoulders. Ella’s head snapped up to see Benny’s smiling face. Her anxieties were quickly washed away by the sense of relief. She had never been so happy to see someone in all her life! If Benny was doing fine, then she decided it was safe to assume the others were alright as well.

She listened as Benny spoke to an older woman, quickly realizing the scheme that was about to unfold. It’d been quite awhile since the two had played this lovely game, Ella just prayed she wasn’t as rusty as she felt.

“It’s true ma’am!” Ella gave the woman a shy smile, “I don’t know how he does it! It’s truly incredible!”

“Oh really?” The woman looked between the two, as if deciding whether or not this would be worth her time. When she didn’t move from the bench Ella took that as her cue. She pulled away from Benny’s grasp, taking a position behind her.

“He’s the real deal ma’am!” She shot Benny a mischievous smile from behind the woman, watching silently as she pulled a card from his deck.

Ella took a quick peek of the card as the woman pulled it from the deck before placing it face down in her lap. Four of hearts. Easy. Her eyes met Benny’s as she made a swift motion to her own heart whilst holding up four fingers.

Benny took his own place in the woman’s direct line of sight, Aflie now newly energized with Ella’s presence. The thief cracked his fingers before crouching, a polite smile drawn on his face. Oh how he missed this game! He had been eyeing the pretty bracelet the lady wore on her right wrist before he had approached her just minutes before, and as soon as Ella gave the signal, he returned one of his own. A small finger tap to his wrist, almost unnoticeable except to the one it was directed at.

“Alright love, think real hard about that card you just picked. Think of it with every ounce of your thoughts,” He motioned wildly with his hands to give her a visual depiction of just how much thought she was supposed to think, “And look at me now. That’s it- Oh! I’m seeing it now!” Benny grabbed his head dramatically, feigning complete shock at the faux image he had “received”.

“It’s… certainly the four of hearts!”

“Oh, magnificent!” The woman clapped her hands as she handed the playing card back to him.

“You were right!” She happily turned to Ella, but Benny was quick to draw her attention back.

“I told ya! I’m truly a wonder. Everyone I know says so.” He hopped over to her, spreading the cards in front of her face and laying a conspicuous hand on her wrinkled one. A small diamond ring sat prettily on her finger, but his touch was light enough to not cause much attention.

“Ya see, there’s really no trick at all…” His winded explanation to prove his point went on for at least five minutes, even after he had snatched the diamond and pocketed it. Finally, with a bored sigh, he took his cards and shuffled them as he walked back to Ella.

“We really must be going now, it was a pleasure.” With a wave goodbye he called Alfie to his side and the three made their way along, Benny laughing to himself all the while.

“I’ll bet she didn’t even have that many thoughts to begin with. A true psychic wouldn’t have even gotten it! Speakin’ of, did you get it?” The ring was beautiful, but he had taken enough rings to last a lifetime and more at the party last week. A bracelet was… well, it was different somehow. A new shiny thing to goggle over.

“Oh, Ella! Ya know, I haven’t seen you in forever! Good thing too, I’ve been workin’ on my reading, I think you’d be impressed. I’ll bet I could even out-read Benjamin, and that’s sayin’ somethin’! You know how good the French are with words and what have you. Where are you headed?”

Ella nodded along as Benny explained his tricks to the woman, a small smile played across her lips as she watched him swipe the ring. His signal earlier had not gone unnoticed as Ella too, had taken note of the bracelet around the woman's wrist.

“Yes, we should be on our way now. It was lovely to meet you!” Ella gave the woman a quick hug, carefully being sure to pocket the bracelet as they pulled away. She made sure to keep her face ever so slightly turned away, just in case this lady happened to also be a “friend” of her parents. The last thing she wanted was a scene in front of Benny. With a final goodbye, she turned and began walking with Benny down the street.

“Benny! You have no idea how happy I am to see you alive and well! These last few weeks have been quite dreadful! Oh my! Who do we have here?!” Ella smiled down at Alfie as he trotted beside them. She looped her arm around one of Benny’s as they walked, “And why yes, I did!” With her free hand, she retrieved the bracelet from her pocket to hand it off to Benny.

“I’m happy to hear that!! You’ll no doubt be the best reader in all of England before you know it!” Ella couldn’t help but laugh at Benny’s question. “Benny love, we’ve got a meeting at 7:00 sharp remember!”

“Ah, right-O! Nearly forgot.” Benny let out a guilty chuckle as he accepted Ella’s arm. The girl’s sentiments didn’t go unreciprocated, although he didn’t voice his relief either. Instead, he moved his attention to the sheepdog behind them.

“Ella, meet Alfie! Alfie, meet my good friend Ella! He’s hardly civil, but he’s good at distractions. Met the guy while I was walkin’ by the houses a few streets down! He was practically beggin’ to run with the crew, so I took him. He loves me. Alfie!” The dog, who had just been so attentive, had stopped to sniff around one of the street lamps along the path. At Benny’s call he sidled himself to the boy’s side.

“Terrible attention span. It’s like takin’ care of a child.” He clicked his tongue as they turned a corner. The pub was only a few buildings away now.

“Think Helena’s still mad? I’ll bet she chews Brucie out the minute he comes in!” A part of him really felt bad for the guy, but another part of him wanted to watch it all go down. It was always amusing to watch the twins yell at someone. Unless that someone was him, of course.

As they neared the entrance something seemed to have piqued Alfie’s interest, because in the next moment, before either Benny or Ella could stop him, he ran straight into the pub.

“Aw hell! Alfie quit it!” Benny broke away from Ella’s grasp and barged into the pub after the dog, looking wildly around until he found his companion sniffing around the bar.

“Alfie! C’mere! Stop that!”

“Sir, get your dog out of here!”

“What do ya think I’m tryin’ ta do ya loon!” The man seemed to take offense at the name, but the young thief had no time to stop and apologize. Not that he would have anyways. Benny bolted towards the dog, almost tripping over a nearby table, and grabbed Alfie by the scruff before he could run off in another direction.

“Bad dog! Bad! I will not talk to you anymore until you behave!” Plopping him just outside of the bar’s entrance, the redhead huffed and made his way to the back where he had spotted the twins and Conor.

“G’day you lot!” He greeted the three of them as he nudged Conor over so he could sit.

“How’s the bum leg Mary?”

“He seems to love you!” Ella smiled as the sheepdog trotted up next to the thief upon hearing his name called. As they rounded the corner, her heart lurched at the sight of the pub, the anxieties from earlier taking front and center once again. Her worries were once again pushed to the side as Alfie broke into a full sprint into the busy pub. Benny broke away from her as he chased after his new friend.

“Alfie! Hear boy!” Ella called after the sheepdog as she too chased him into the pub. She burst through the door just in time to see Benny apprehending Alfie and making his way back towards the entrance.

She patted the dog on the head once he was back outside, “It’s okay Alfie. Just um…try to behave next time alright? See you later boy!” With a final goodbye Ella entered the dark pub once again.

Eleanor could hardly contain her excitement upon seeing the sisters and Conor sitting in the corner booth. She quickly walked over to greet her friends.

“Hello loves! It is truly wonderful to see you three doing alright!” She glanced at Mary, happy to see her up and moving. She plopped herself next to Benny.

“Mary! How are you feeling dear?”

 

[queendilettante]

Mary smiled at Conor from across the pub. She appreciated the well-wishes, though she found herself hard-pressed to take it too seriously. Mary merely suffered a leg fracture. It was Astrid who nearly lost her life, and at the hands of one of their own, no less. She was dismissive, at least to the degree that was possible, when the two of them were being treated by the somewhat creepy doctor, though she found herself regretting it. Mary couldn't even begin to let herself consider that they'd lose a member on their first major heist. Taking a threat like that seriously would have just been too much. It was a mess, but she smiled at Conor to pretend as if it wasn't.

Though, before she could respond to him, a rather large dog barreled into the pub. Naturally, chaos ensued. Miles shouted a swear, numerous patrons, startles by the beast, accidentally knocked over tables, chairs, and their glasses. The dog seemed just as confused as Mary and Helena, stopping itself in the center of the room and looking around at the surprised patrons. "Lord, what in the f-" Mary spoke into the chaos, before being interrupted by Benny and Ella barging in quickly behind the stray. Of course.

When the destruction had settled down, Benny took a seat next to Conor and was jovial as if nothing had happened.

“How’s the bum leg Mary?”

“Mary! How are you feeling dear?”

"My oh my, a bombardment of inquiries." Mary grinned and slightly bowed her head to both Benny and Ella but did not raise herself from her seat. She was taking great care to disguise the severity of her limp and her energy needed to be preserved for the night to come and all of the walking that was going to come with it. "You'll be pleased, I do hope, to know that I'm well on the mend and getting better every day." She was lying, of course. Her leg pained her near as much as it had after Dr. Blackburn had come back to the pub to replace her splint. In fairness, her insistence on walking around with support from her cane was not doing her many favors.

"If you don't mind me responding with an inquiry of my own, Bennet," Mary started, narrowing her eyes on the red headed boy. She shot her eyes to the entrance where he placed the dog and then back to him before continuing, "What do we have there?"