Flashback Tricks of the Trade[Buras]

[Roscoe]

32nd of Summer, 508 AV It was just another hot, sunny day in Sunberth. Roscoe had come to enjoy taking an afternoon stroll through the town, allowing him to both unwind and think, and to keep an eye out for anything worthy of note- or worthy of taking. It wasn’t wasn’t always simple finding work for him and the guys, with all the bigger syndicates around to take the spoils. But there was enough. That was all that mattered. As long as there was enough to be had, and to be had fairly, life could go on… Suddenly a breeze swept in over the town from the sea, carrying with it so many things. The smell of salt. The taste of watery adventure. The creaking of the old rickety buildings. The sound of leaves and grass rustling, as though it was all in response to one another, as though the city was speaking. Having a merry little conversation. When he was a boy he used to think things like that. He remembered telling Andreas how he thought the ocean breeze was asking for sugar, ‘Like how the lady next door does’ and the city was creaking back ‘No..’ Andreas thought it was funny the first time. But after that he remembered him telling him that he needed to toughen up and be more of a man, that the ocean didn’t have anything to say and it certainly didn’t need any sugar. He was a hard man, but Roscoe missed him. Missed the late drunken nights. Missed the lessons of how to throw the best punch, or which kind of bottle was the best for smashing drunks in the head with. Missed the days when he would regale him and the customers for hours on end with the wildest, most hairbrained tales of his days as a mercenary. He was sure at least half the stories were false, but he could never be sure. To this day he still believed that he had thrown the bear off of the boat. As he lingered in nostalgia, the sounds and sights of the outside world slowly began to trickle in, like his mind was a wooden floor with gaps too big and someone spilled a pint. As he began to pull back to the real world, he noticed a group of three men standing around a young boy. He recognized them as a rival gang. A bunch of real petches. He also noted that the boy, though he was obviously younger and smaller than any of them, looked like he was going to put up a fight. ‘Hmm’ Roscoe thought to himself, ‘you don’t see people with balls like that very often these days.’ On that note, he resolved to help the kid out. Maybe he would be willing to join his crew. So without a moments hesitation, Roscoe walked over to the group, standing squarely behind them, as of yet unnoticed. He tapped the one in the center on the shoulder. Roscoe relished the moment, as the petcher turned around to see who had touched him, as his eyes met his, as he knew instantly who he was dealing with, and as he closed his eyes to brace himself for what was coming, preemptively flinching as Roscoe buried his fist into the mans right cheek, knocking him square on his back.

[Buras]

Why did this have to happen to Buras. He's been good, well as good as you can be in Sunberth, listened to his mom and dad. He hasn't even thought about joining a street gang. But here he was, being beaten by some members of the Dogs or whatever the hell they wanted to be called. He wasn't going to take it lying down though. He was giving as much as he could, kicking shins and punching stomachs. But there were three grown men, and one kelvic that was still a kid. But luck seemed to shine on Buras. For a man, a complete stranger, walked up, tapped the ring leader on the shoulder, and when he turned around, punched him square in the jaw. The other two were shocked. Who was this man, deciding to come help this little gutter-shyke? The shock wore quickest off of Buras. Rounding on the man to his left, he punches as hard as he can at whatever he saw. One of those punches, unfortunately for the gang member, was to the family jewels. Taken by surprise and unable to put up any resistance, he drops first to his knees, then onto his face. Now he turned to the final gangster. Out numbered, the gangster runs away with his tail between his legs. Buras wanted to leave too. But he could almost hear his mom in his head. "Say thank you to the nice man" she would say. And she would keep telling him to until he did. So, reluctantly facing the stranger, Buras mumbles loud enough to be heard. "Thank you for helping me." Then he tries to squeeze by. But they were in a rather narrow alley, with the man standing in front.

[Roscoe]

'Wow, kid sure can fight' Roscoe found himself thinking, watching as the boy managed to nail one of the gangsters right in the stones, totally disabling him. The third guy had the sense to at least run away. Roscoe managed to make a mental note of his face in case he ever ran into him again. Petching dogs. They were probably looking for him, meaning this kid deserved a thank you for helping him get the drop on the cowards. But it seemed as though the boy had other ideas, trying to squeeze past Roscoe. He didn't budge an inch. Roscoe had no intention of letting the kid go that easily. He had learned in his time leading the gang that when you found talent like that, you couldn't just let it sit. It needed to be nourished, cared for. The way he saw it, this kid, at least for today, was an infant crime lord. He had all the trappings- Lived in Sunberth, getting in fights way out of his league, winning them, meeting people like Roscoe- he would make a fine man some day. But for today, Roscoe would be as a maternal mother to this youngling, and give him the nourishment needed to foster a productive life as a member of Sunberthan society. "You don't think I'm just gonna let you leave, just like that, do you kid?" Roscoe asked, being obviously rhetorical. "Stay here. You're about to get a lesson in life, courtesy of yours truly." The man Roscoe had decked started groaning, looking to get up. Ros ended that possibility, delivering a swift and fierce kick to the rib cage, raising the body ever so slightly off the ground, and dropping him down with a small but remarkably hard to watch crash. He even spat on him for good measure. "Anyways. Kid, do you know what separates you from punks like these? You've got stones. You're not a coward. That pitiful petch who ran off? A coward. These airheads who thought it would be cool to attack a kid? Cowards, afraid to face a real man." As he spoke, his voice began to crescendo and the passion was intelligible on his face, in his voice, in the way his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. His thoughts raced to days gone by, when he used to be the boy getting pushed around by some punks on the street. When he just let that happen. No more, he'd decided. And he wouldn't just leave this kid to the same fate, Roscoe would give him the choice he'd wished he'd had. "You could have done like most of the people I've met and just given them what they wanted or let them beat up on ya. But you didn't. I admire that. You aren't a coward." He paused to let the kid respond, when the other man, whom the boy had smacked in the boys, started to move again. A grin flashed across Ros' face as he looked to the boy. "So kid, am I right? Are you ready to be a man? Or are you just another coward?" 'Petch, forgot to ask his name. Ah well. We'll get there.'

[Buras]

Once it was obvious Buras wouldn't get around, he gives up and stands there. Why wouldn't he let Buras leave? What did he want? Then he started talking. He called Buras brave, in a strange sort of way. Buras was shocked at being complimented. His parent praised and complimented him when he did good, but that is what parents do. This was a stranger. True, he saved him from a beating, but still. So, when there was a pause, Buras didn't say a thing. "So, kid, am I right? Are ou ready to be a man? Or are you another coward?" 'I ain't a coward' Buras thought to himself. Walking over to the downed man, Buras gives him a good kick, But it is nothing like the stranger's. It didn't lift the man off the ground, barely caused him to groan. But, in the end, it kept him down. And, in imitation of the stranger, Buras spits on him. Buras was interested. His ma and pa taught him to read and write. They said they taught him everything he needed to know. Being a kid, Buras was very curious, and being a crow kelvic just made him more so.

[Roscoe]

Roscoe watched as the boy processed what he was saying, seeing a look of dubious curiosity form on his face as he wondered why a man like Roscoe would save him, much less give him accolades. And when he pushed the boy to strike against his foe, he could see the strength well up in him, as he took the determined look upon his face that marked any man or woman of action. The countenance that betrayed a life unsatisfied with the status quo. It was the look Roscoe was hoping to see, and reassured him that this boy- no, this young man- could truly amount to something, given proper oversight and training. Roscoe watched, amused as the boy unleashed his strongest kick on the downed man, still clutching his privates. It wasn't as strong as Ros', but that was to be expected. He was even more amused, and to tell the truth a little flattered, when he took his emulation of Ros to the next level and spat on the man in like fashion to what Ros had done moments earlier. Satisfied with this performance, Ros crossed his arms and grinned before speaking. "See? I knew you had it in you. I knew from the moment I saw you. My old man used to tell me that there are two kinds of people in this world- the weak and the strong. And kid, you're not weak." He gave the words a moment to process, observing his new friend. The look on his face betrayed a childlike curiosity. Roscoe has piqued his interest and it was clear, at least from his body language, that he did want to learn more. Seeing that took Ros back to the old days, when Andreas was still alive. Long days carrying drinks and cleaning mugs. Learning how to throw a punch, where to look in a bar for the best improvised weapons. How to properly flip a table for maximum effectiveness as a weapon or a shield. He appreciated the curiosity his new companion exhibited. "I can tell you want to know who I am, and you probably want to know why I saved you, and what we're doing now. Well," He said, pausing to spit before resuming, "My name's Roscoe. I lead a crew around these parts. These fools, I expect, thought you were one of my men. It's only right that I help. But the reason for what we've got going here? It's like I said. You're strong. And I wanna help you be stronger. Like me. So listen. I know where the rest of these punks have set up shop- there aren't many so it shouldn't be an issue. I'd like you to come with me. If you're game, follow me." Roscoe waved his hand to indicate that he was leaving now, and just about started walking, when he stopped abruptly, realizing what he had forgotten. "Oh, by the way kid, what's your name?"

[Buras]

Buras wanted to be stronger, to be more like Roscoe. He was everything he hoped to be, strong, brave, etc.. The strongest man Buras knew before Roscoe was his dad. Some people said, that when his dad was younger, he could lift a sack of flour and throw it over his head. Roscoe could probably throw two. He led a crew? Was that like a gang? But his mom and dad told him only ships had crews. And he said those people thought he was part of Roscoe's crew. 'Well, tagging along won't hurt' As Roscoe was about to leave, he suddenly turned around and asked for Buras' name. "M-my name is Buras, sir" (his mom said it was rude to call an adult by their name.) When Roscoe turned back around to leave, there was a flash of light, and then another. If Roscoe was fast enough, he would have seen Buras' clothes like nothing happened, but there was no boy. If he were able to see through the clothes, he would have seen a flegling crow, prime feathers still growing in, but with a lot of fluff still. If he was to slow, he would have seen Buras adjusting his shirt. He did that when he was excited, sometimes. He hoped he would grow out of it. Either way, Buras would follow Roscoe, practically clinging to his side. Have to occasionaly jog to keep up. He was off to learn how to be stronger.

[Roscoe]

"M-My name is Buras, sir." Ros' new friend replied to his inquiry. He had to chuckle at being called sir, it was the first time he'd ever been called that that he could remember. Things had always been so casual when he was younger, Andreas was Andreas, and you called the customers by their names. Sue, Rick, Anne, whatever they wanted to be called. But sir? That was for people with good upbringings and time and money. The thought of actually using the word himself rubbed Ros the wrong way. There were no kings in his world, no higher authorities deserving his recognition and honor, no man who could demand homage or fealty. Ros was the king of his kingdom, and he liked it that way. He started to imagine what kind of life Buras must lead that would have him talking that way. 'I bet he still has his parents.' Ros thought to himself, 'Or maybe he just has strict guardians or something. You don't just learn to talk to people like that when you live in a place like this. But maybe he's not from here...' As they began to walk, Ros thought he noticed a bright flash of light behind him, but he was too caught up in thought to register it immediately. When he did eventually turn around, all he saw was Buras, adjusting his shirt and hustling to keep up. He was momentarily vexed, as he was certain he had seen something, but he eventually just chalked it up to his eyes playing tricks on him. 'I really need to work on eating a better breakfast,' He thought to himself. 'Can't have my mind playing tricks on me just because I'm hungry... Maybe we ought to stop for a moment and eat. It'll give me a chance to learn more about Buras as well...' As they walked he noticed they were passing one of the many small food stalls throughout the city, this one peddling some dried fruits and vegetables. Ros turned around to gesture that Buras should follow him, but he could see that he was practically clinging to him as he walked, and that no direction was apparently going to really be necessary in this scenario. With that squared away, Ros walked briskly over to the stall. "How's about a pound of some of them raisins, friend?" He said, dropping a Miza on the countertop as he was handed the raisins in a small cloth sack. He then proceeded to find a spot nearby to sit and lean against a wall, while they ate and spoke. As he worked to unravel the knotted sack and get at its delicious contents, his stomach growled violently. He let out a small chuckle, and decided to ask some questions while he worked on the task at hand. "So, Buras. What brings you to these parts? You live here? You got family or something?" He was finally able to unravel the knot. He hastily grabbed a handful and crammed them in his mouth, chewing slowly, savoring the sweet flavor and relishing the feeling of food in his mouth and stomach as he swallowed. This took several seconds, and when he was finished he let out a sigh of relief, before holding out the sack for Buras to help himself, since there were still probably about three quarters of the raisins left.

[Buras]

"I live here, my parents live that way." he says pointing in the general direction. Being a child, he thought that was all that was needed. His parents lived over there, everyone knows that. Seeing the offered bag of raisins, he takes a handful. Shoving them in his mouth almost as greedily as Roscoe had. It wasn't that he wasn't fed, he had three square meals a day. But his parents don't waste a copper on what they don't have to. As a result, most sweet things were left out. Only on rare occasions did he have any, and those he savored bite by bite. As Buras eats, he wonders how two people, a man and a kid, who didn't know each other moments before, where to take on this other crew. 'Hope someone's going to help us.' He didn't know he said most of these thoughts out loud, with a mouthful of raisins.

[Roscoe]

Roscoe watched as Buras eagerly consumed the raisins, and figured he must have been hungry as well. Roscoe took some more as well. Somewhere in the midst of all the chewing, he heard Buras mutter something along the lines of ".... Somebody.... Help us" With all the rest of his words lost in the sounds that come with having a mouth stuffed full of food. He couldn't be sure, but Ros figured he was probably somewhat worried about the two of them taking on a gang by themselves. It caused Ros to chuckle slightly when he thought about it, and then lead to deeper thought as he walked mentally through the different ways this could play out. He had imagined it would go fairly smoothly, not too different from how his rescue of Buras had gone, actually. He would bust in, put one of them down pretty hard, maybe draw some blood, and the rest would give up at that point. At least, that was the hope. After all, it wasn't like they were exactly the definition of courage or toughness. They had people out here attacking a kid. These weren't the kind of men who would require a lot of... discouragement to keep them out of Ros' way. Alternatively, there was not real guarantee that things would go like that, he realized as he thought it over. After all, if they had 3 to spare to come beat up a little kid, one could deduce that they probably had a good few more waiting at home. Ros considered himself pretty tough, but he was by no means 'beat up 10 guys solo' tough. He learned that the hard way a long time ago. That was back when he realized that Andreas had a powerful philosophy, but it was lacking in some areas. Andreas would have considered it cowardly to back off from fighting a foe, no matter what, anytime, anyplace. And to an extent Ros agreed. Once you start a fight, there is not backing out, no flight. You finish what you start, period. But Ros had learned that there was a lot to be said for picking your battles, for not just fighting for the sake of fighting and just doing it because you can. Sometimes, you had to be careful. After all, Mizahar is a dangerous place. And any leader worth his salt will recognize that or die- or worse, get his followers killed. Out of the corner of his eye, Ros noticed a sudden flurry of strange looking movement. He realized after a moment that is was the men they had fought earlier, still recovering from their injuries, limping back home. Suddenly, eyes met as they saw Roscoe and Buras sitting there, eating their snack. Roscoe tapped Buras on the shoulder and gestured toward them, wanting him to see what happened. There was a moment of uninterrupted tenseness as Roscoe stared them down. They were hurt and obviously didn't want to start another scuffle right now. Ros thought quickly through the issue. 'To let them go or take them down one more time for good measure? But we aren't in a small alleyway anymore, this is wide petching open. Anything could happen. Already decided not to take this back to their home....' He nodded to them, and they continued walking, nodding back before hurrying on their way. "Now Buras, I'm sure you're wondering why I let them go like that. Let me explain." He spoke slowly and calmly, before taking another mouthful of raisins. "You see", he then swallowed, "Sometimes being strong means passing on an opportunity to fight. Some people call that mercy, but not me. I call it sending a message. They're going to go back to their leader now, and they're going to tell them how you roughed them up, and how I showed up to help. Their failure proves that we are superior, and now everybody will know that. We don't have to go and trash their homes or beat them up now, you see. Because they will fear us anyways, as they should. Do you understand, Buras?"

[Buras]

When Roscoe pointed, Buras turned and looked. There they were, the three men that tried to beat him to a pulp, standing from across the way, staring at them. Buras tensed, he was ready to go after them again, to return the favor. But, instead, he stood there with Roscoe, looking right back. After a very tense moment for Buras, Roscoe nodded to them, and the surprising thing was, they returned it. If he was just arrived, he would have thought them friends, with two having gotten into a fight and lost. Buras didn't have to wonder about it, not for to long anyway, because Roscoe explained it. Sending a message he called it. Well, it certainly was a message that they would understand. "I think I understand why. But couldn't them not coming back have left a message to?" But as he said those words, full understanding blossomed. "Oooh, now I get it. Why get even more hurt when we don't have to." Confident in his answer, Buras nods his head, as if knowingly, with a smile on his face. He was learning already. But what next?