The Undoing Of Villains | ✓

four

four

THE PACKING DISTRICT was out by the harbor. By six o'clock, it was buzzing with activity. Sailors, workers, captains and all kinds of assistants scurried around like ants, filling and emptying ships of varying sizes. 'X' had told me to wait in Packing, which was why I stuck around the entrance and the large, obscenely bright sign declaring the border of the packing district. 

I hoped 'X' would approach me and not leave me hanging around alone like an idiot. I really did. I already stuck out like a sore thumb, since I was the only person around here not lugging around a box. I felt shifting eyes sticking on me, people murmuring about how suspicious I looked. 

A person dressed in a long coat, skulking around the entrance to Packing? Yeah, definitely suspicious. The place already crawled with all kinds of smugglers and traffickers, so people were bound to wonder. Thankfully, I only had to wait a few more minutes before a small figure darted through the milling crowd, gradually coming closer to where I was standing. 

I kicked away from the wall I'd been leaning against, narrowing my eyes at the small figure approaching me. A child, without a doubt.  The closer it got, the more of its features were highlighted by the lampposts dotting the entrance. Big, almond shaped eyes flanking a small nose, and a head of dark, springy curls neared me. The child's body was hidden beneath a too-large coat, and fingerless mittens covered the small hands poking out of the large coat arms. 

"Charlie?" asked a small, tinny voice and I nodded carefully, studying the child. Judging by its long hair and the tone of its voice, I guessed it was a girl. 

"That's me."

"I'm X's messenger. She asked me to come get you." She said again, reaching for my hand, "I'll lead the way. Take my hand."

"Sure." I replied. About a million doubts were assaulting my sane conscience, since I was blindly following a child into the fray of the Packing district. 

Oh, well. 

X was a mysterious figure. I'd never gotten the grasp on who she - as the child had said - was, but now I'd get to meet her in person. Hopefully I wouldn't end up in tomorrow's newspaper listing the latest casualty. I couldn't say I was experienced in lightly-illegal underworld deals, but sometime's going to have to be the first. And this was mine. This child probably had a million times more experience than me in these kinds of slightly illegal ordeals. 

Oh, well, I thought again, attempting to match my pace to the child's. She had small, lithe legs and weaved in and out of the busy crowd juggling around heavy boxes, while I feared I'd knock someone's load over and end up with a crate on my head. Nevertheless, I endured, hurrying along with the child. She seemed confident in knowing the way, and the farther we sprinted the less dense the crowds became. Soon it was just us slinking along the edges of closed, dark warehouses, shadows trailing our steps. 

The moon had risen, now a bulbous, glowing circle in the dark sky. A thick, cloudy haze covered the stars, and so the moon's eerie light mixed in with the dimly yellow light of the streetlamps. The noise from our footsteps echoed in between the dark buildings, but otherwise it was silent. We passed rodents gnawing on trash spilling out of a garbage can, them baring their teeth and scurrying away as we ran past. 

Boats lay anchored to the docks on our left, and I spared a glance at the pathway of light carved by the moon in the pulsing water, at the way the boats bobbed atop the water. In this lightning, the dock's water resembled a cold, silky sheet of dark oil, and I found myself wanting to get away from the edge. There was something there which repulsed me, and I somehow found refuge in the child's firm grip on my hand.