Flashback Watcher

[Mittle]

5 Spring 515

Mitt's head nodded until his chin rested on his chest and his arms went slack as he stood in the cool early evening on the seventh bell. A boot heel sharply striking the cobbles jerked him awake and he finally saw the target he'd been waiting for for that last three bells. At least the hood and cloak kept him warm. He had no idea how Hunter withstood that in the dead of summer or standing out in the cold in winter. Seriously who wears a black target on himself like this? Ah well, he didn't choose the night's assignment either.

The fifteen year old exhaled, rocked back on his heels and kept his glove hands loosely at his sides.

The target closed and locked her door, her hands fumbling over the lock's tumbler before it shut firmly. She looked over her shoulder, timid as a deer in hunting season and Mitt pointedly stared at her from beneath the hood. She instantly relaxed and struck out down the road with a basket over her arm and pulled her shawl closer against the chilly night. Mitt followed along on the opposite side of the street with his huge heavy stride. Walking swiftly, she crossed to the main road and hurried on to work, finally reaching the Cobbler's shop. She looked back at the cloaked hooded figure again for reassurance. Mitt nodded and the woman went in to her first night's owed back pay and work under the protection of a Guild. With no fear of retribution from her boss, as well as three other people there that hired a Watcher.

'This is boring as all hells.' Mitt thought, trying to stay awake. Ten bell shift at the Foundry and then standing around for ten bells at night on your feet to just be looked at. Why the fuck had he thought the Watchers were an elite group? Dumbass. Well, to be fair, he was only doing the stand there like a weirdo part right now. Realistically, he didn't think he'd be able to stay in this group for much longer. He'd noticed that they were all within a three inch range of the same heights and nearly identical weights so they could change posts and no one would be the wiser as to the switch up on shifts.

Something was going on in the window of the shop and Mitt immediately jogged over to cross the street and look inside. Uh oh. That didn't look good! Mitt rapped hard on the window with a large gloved fist and the old man let go of the woman's wrist, to walk toward him.

Opening the door he yelled out,
"Ya gotta fuckin problem buddy?!"
"Hands off the lady." Mitt said in low husky voice, louder than a whisper, quieter than a growl.
"Why watcha gonna do about it?"

Fuck! What was he gonna do about it? He was told to be a Watcher! They never ever raised a hand and controlled the situation without ever using violence that could be seen by an outsider. Think think! The tall young man slammed the door tightly closed behind the guy, purposely catching half his coat in it, effectively pinning him tightly.

"I said, hands off the nice lady. She has a Guild membership and you -will- pay her her rightful wage. We wouldn't YOU to have an accident, now would we?" growled Mitt. "When I let you go, you're immediately going to give her ALL of the pay she's earned. NOW." Mitt opened the door and put out the top of one large boot over the guy's foot so he couldn't move without falling backward.

The dirt bag tumbled to the floor, scrambled to stand up and scurried over to the cash till. He risked looking back at the six foot tall black-cloaked, hooded figure looming in the doorway and Mitt took a half step forward as if to cross the threshold. Placing a large sum of money in the woman's hands he looked nervously at the Watcher and went to sit at the back of the shop. That shop was entirely visible from the window, with no corner unseen. The tiny woman started to rush toward him so he put up a large gloved hand to quickly stop her before she got too close.

No no no! No close contact! If they can look up and see your face, you were history! Mitt swiftly turned on his heel and left to walk across the street again. To stand. And watch. It was safe work. The pay was as steady as the hours and as long as you followed the strict rules, you were good. But he could almost feel himself growing too tall for the group after only two moons.


WC 799

[Mittle]

A couple holding hands were about five paces from him, clearly not paying attention to anything but each other. Mitt barked out a sharp growl of "Back off!" and they stumbled backwards a bit before crossing to the other side of the road. Gods damn job was boring but wouldn't let him sleep. The rules clearly stated that no one could see your face or get close enough to even maybe see your face unless they also worked for Rat. No other exceptions ever.

His grey eyes scanned the inside of the Cobbler's shop and everyone seemed to be tucked in to concentrate on their work. His glance fell on the enormous piles of shoes and he could tell they'd have a lot of work ahead of them. Something dark and shadowy caught in his left peripheral vision and the tall teen looked directly at him.

"Dammit Tracker you almost scared the shit outta me!" Mitt growled in irritation.

"That's your own damn fault for not paying attention to and being aware of your surroundings. At all times. The hoods we wear limit your vision drastically so it forces you to turn your head and literally...-watch- you idiot."

He was getting damn sick and tired of being called stupid, dumb and idiot. His nostrils flared and he huffed on an exhale. He was exhausted and the hours were a hellish nightmare.

"Just do your damn job without making the rest of us look bad." Suddenly scolded Hunter from his right side. This time it really did make the teenager jump as the other Watcher arrived as stealthily as a whisper of smoke at midnight.

Mitt glared hard at him with dark blue eyes and thought back to how stupid he'd been to ever think this was some kind of super cool elite awesome job to aspire to!

"That was a solid, clever technique with the boot over the foot earlier." Hunter commended him quietly.

He was there? Where the hells was the guy hiding then? And for how long? So he'd been keeping a watch on -him- for a bit then..

The fifteen year old looked at the guy on his right and nodded, trying not to say anything to be called stupid again. Returning his attention to the shop they looked through the large front window as one of the older men stood up and reached for his coat. Leaving quietly, he nodded to the Watchers and the three of them looked at him in unison.

"That's Jaygo. He owes a metric fuck ton of money to someone but it's cheaper to just pay protection to Rat. He's headed off as usual to Brega's place right now so you better follow him quickly. Oh and I have no idea how long he'll be there either. Stalker will find and relieve you at the end of your shift."

That was a shitty dangerous place to be walking or standing alone for bells, but Mitt would have to suck it up. Entirely clad in black like a walking target for someone to pick a fight with him hanging around a whore house at night like that. And as a Watcher he couldn't use overt violence in front of anyone. Stupid rules. Tracker jabbed him hard in the ribs

"GO!"

Mitt lifted his boots and jogged a half a block behind Jaygo, making sure he was fully visible and took up extra space as he followed. Suddenly from across the street, two blacksmith friends from the Foundry waved at him and gave him a thumbs up. He barely stopped himself in time from automatically waving back at Larmis and Breg. The teen instead, calmly nodded at them and turned back to Jaygo--Fuck! Where'd the guy go?!

The tall teen jogged quickly, knowing the route to Brega's from here, if only vaguely. Two large figures were very close to the older man now, almost a half a block away. He pushed himself to a burst of speed that carried him rapidly across the road, down the block and just barely stopped himself short of running into the old guy's heels. Mitt had no idea how heavy and terrifying his very loud running tread was at midnight in Sunberth through a dark street, but it saved him from a messy and potentially dangerous situation. The two shorter guys abruptly veered off and turned back in the opposite direction. Jaygo just smiled smugly at seeing his big tall Watcher with him and Mitt glared at the little creep from beneath the safety of his hood.

The Watcher walked calmly across the road from Jaygo, walking parallel with the guy so he wasn't standing directly in front of Brega's. That would just be begging for trouble or a severe ass kicking at the very least. A pitch black narrow alley way was just to the right of Mitt and he looked around carefully before backing into it. He leaned tiredly against the dirty, crumbling brick building and moved the sides of the hood away from his ears to hear better. It was a dead blind alley and he knew no one was currently there-for the chime. With his back and sides secured, he could watch Brega's from the safety of utter darkness.

Hopefully he didn't fall asleep or anythi--a drunk started pissing on the wall, barely four paces from him and Mitt rolled his eyes and made a face as he tried to stay silent. A runnel of urine trickled down the sides of the dirty cobbles to join with all the other filth that Sunberth had to offer. The drunk shook twice and turned around to stumble into the whore house for seconds.

'it's not worth the money, you can trust me on that pal.' The teen thought with pure disgust. But then again, that guy didn't have the same free access to eighteen of Rat's skin trade like -he- did. That was free and that definitely still wasn't worth the money. He sighed quietly in the darkness, trying not to think of just how many nights he'd been conned into total exhaustion and waking up in that skanky dirty room filled with way too many people. And what was with always throwing the money at him to give them? That-

Jaygo's nasty ass was easily seen pumping through the window on the second floor and the teen cringed. Ugh. That guy is just nasty. He shifted his tired feet as quietly as he could, ignoring his cold feet. But seriously why did Rat always have him throw the money at them personally? He wasn't their pimp for gods sake. And try as he might, Mitt had never been able to remember actually reaching that room awake. He'd woken up there countless times, but had no idea where there place was. Uh oh-trouble!

That gross old bastard was fast! And so were the two guys that immediately headed toward him.

"Hsst!" Mitt hissed loudly to get Jaygo's attention, which in turn got his pursuers' attention. The six foot black cloaked figure stepped from the darkness and motioned to the little creep. As soon as he was close enough, Mitt quickly stepped right behind Jaygo and started shoving his large boots onto the back of his heels, forcing him to walk faster. He reached a gloved hand and grasped Jaygo by the back of shirt in a vise grip.

"Move it!" he said in an irritated growl. "Walk faster."
Mitt risked a quick glance over his shoulder and the two guys were already headed back into Brega's. Phew.

He simultaneously let go of the creep and walked a few paces from his right side, keeping his body between Jaygo and the thugs. The old guy stumbled drunkenly for a bit but slowly, eternally, eventually they made it all the way across the damn city. He was officially out of Daggerhands territory so the tall teen quickly stepped back to the other side of the road to watch from twenty paces away. Safely back in his own area, the tall teen stayed silent as his grey gaze followed. Jaygo made it to his door and looked back at his Watcher. Mitt nodded back.



WC 1,366 Total WC 2,165

[Mittle]

Mitt looked around him nervously and this damn sight blocking hood was no help! The teen's edgy dark blue eyes roamed for anything, anywhere that might offer a smidgeon of some kind of cover when he was so close to stepping into another gang's territory. He was glad he was at least cloaked and unidentifiable to any possible passersby. Well fine, if he had to be stuck out in the open, then he at least had the darkened lamp post to lean against. There was an uneven waist level rickety fence not too far away but it was worse than useless. It was a good marker for territory. Areas that he really needed to stay extra alert in. On the upside, at least the fifteen year old was far too nervous to feel even as close to sleepy as he did before.

His feet hurt like mad after a ten bell shift and nine and a half bells into this one. Mitt leaned against the post, stretching out his legs and trying to rest his weight on his heels to take the pressure off of them. He started to raise his arms to his chest, but immediately put them back down again. Stupid fuckin' rules. No distinguishing postures to tell you apart from any of the other Watchers. You have to be perfectly interchangeable.

False dawn gave Mitt a smidgeon of hope that time might be passing even a little bit and he smothered back a yawn. His breath clouded out frosty before him and he blinked a few times trying to clear his thoughts.

A couple people across the dirty cobble road left their houses, ready to panhandle for the day. Fascinated blue eyes watched them as they shoved rags in their clothes to fake a hunch back while the woman next to him cleverly held up her leg to put a stocking over it to look like an amputee. She motioned at her partner to wait for her while she went back into the house. A grey wigged ancient old one legged woman exited the house where the--hey! Ok that was tricky. Give credit where credit's due! The wily young pair were now completely transformed as a middle aged hunchback man and an ancient one legged woman with a cane.

'The shit ya learn at this job.' he mused and shifted his weight. The sky still hadn't brightened yet and Mitt thought for sure it was getting near the time his shift ended. The tall young teen looked skyward and life chose that perfect moment to start a frigid soaking down pour.

Lovely. Just beautiful. Life just got so much better with that nice addition to his shift. Mitt hunched his shoulders against the hissing, freezing rain that soaked and pelted him mercilessly and sighed heavily. It was a great way to stay awake? Now he was cold, soaked, bone tired, sore and--his stomach suddenly growled loudly demanding food. Hungry. Yes, hungry too dammit. Well at least some things could be done. Mitt walked to the side of the rickety wooden fence and finally pissed. He sighed in relief, finished and shook. If Mitt hadn't looked down at that moment, he never would've seen Stalker walking toward him. Finally he had at least some advantage this shift with those guys sneaking up on him! Mitt turned around and greeted Stalker in angry growl of a voice,

"Beautiful morning isn't it."

"Really Hammer? You're a fuckin meathead that should be working with the likes of Basher instead of making us look bad. You turned your back on the house to piss! Seriously how stupid can you be? You stick out like an Ox standing next to greyhounds. And what was that move at Brega's? You're history with the Watchers. You just can't handle being an adult. Fuckin' grow up and go away." Stalker threw the bag at Mitt's chest for him to catch it.

"Hunter was rooting for you that you were smart. That you had potential. That you could make it. He was wrong. And If I ever catch you crossing gang territory, I'll personally kill you myself. Dumbass."



WC 691 Total WC 2,856

[Mittle]

The money hit his chest, but not nearly so hard as Stalker's words. Mitt stood there open mouthed, the rain plastering the hood to his head.
"I thought -all- the money went through Rat....?"
"We stay independent with our own strict rules. Rat gets zero say in what we do. He only gets a discount on hiring our services only."

"I'm in debt to him for a hundred fifty a week for me and my dad for you guys' protection!"
"Damn kid, he's gougin' the fuck outta ya. We would've charged ya the same price for a full moon. For both a yas."
"But Rat said--"
"You hired through him, not directly through us. And after the shit you just pulled tonight, we'd never let you hire us personally."

Mitt hefted the money bag in his hands and it had to be twice what he made in a week at the Foundry for a single night's work! What the fuck had he done?!

"Even if you'd done perfectly tonight, you're at what? A hundred forty five, hundred fifty pounds? You're a monster kid. And in case you haven't noticed..." Stalker looked down at Mitt's straining boots on his big feet. "You're still growing."

The fifteen year old looked down at his feet, knowing the boots were too tight even though he'd only had them under two moons now. That was so much money! And he blew it!

Stalker shrugged. "I'd say your next move is either debt and money collector and join Basher. You've already got the name for it... in case you hadn't noticed. Hammer. I think Rat decided your fate the moment he called you that."

In a surge of rebellious defiance, Mitt swung out a fist at Stalker who easily stepped aside and laughed.

"Return the gear to Rat--Hunter doesn't even wanna look at you. Go home, eat the food your momma made ya and get some sleep kid. You're overtired and cranky." The man's voice drifted off and he seemed to blend in with the slim dark dead tree that Mitt hadn't even noticed the whole entire time he'd been there.

The sky lightened a little and the icy rain needled him from the sky and bouncing up from the ground, even through the coarse heavy cloak. As soon as he reached an alley way, he turned down it and stood by a pile of trash. Mitt removed the hood first, then the heavy long cloak and gloves. Rolling it into a tight bundle, he tucked it under his arm and walked slowly to Rat's meet room.

Memories of all those times at the pub with Rat and the Five always saying 'hammer' before everything they said loudly. Molly and her knowing condescending smirks. Those scenes when he was so tired filtered slowly into his exhausted mind and they were over the top theatrical. He was an idiot. A big dumb sucker. This whole gods damn time, they'd played like a mark. He kicked out angrily at the trash and a mischief of rats squealed and scurried out as a homeless guy threw a liquor bottle at his head in retribution.

Mitt ducked a second too late and it caught him in the temple, bouncing to the ground and breaking into one of the puddles. He didn't even look at the man. The teen turned back onto the main road and walked down the middle of it, with his blue eyes cast low on the cobbles before him.

Rat was nervous but he worked keenly not to show it. That stupid fuckin' kid had broken at the twenty-fifth Golden Hour! Now he was gonna have to pay DOUBLE for the Stryke's protection! Weak useless gods damn moron! Working as a collector wasn't gonna pay for that doubled amount and he was too damn big to put on as a higher paying dung farmer again like eight seasons ago. Time to buckle down on the man-no more babying him and he can buy his own damn shit like a fuckin' man. Rat had paid for new boots six times in four seasons! Mitt was bleeding him money now.

The older man gave a greasy pleased smile and exhaled. The kid still owed him plenty of money. He'd just stop paying for Mitt and his dad's Watchers. It was no longer his problem and he'd work the dumbass into the ground until he broke down like the ox that he was.



WC 743 Total WC 3,599