@mizal
Apologies for the lateness.
It was a dark and stormy night, the night sky covered by damp cloud cover, broken only by the occasional flash of lightning. Gabe was on his way home from a long day of working in the mines. He was tired and wanted nothing more than to simply fall into a dark, dreamless sleep on his mat on the floor of his apartment. But he was still cautious, peering around and occasionally touching the handle of his knife for reassurance. Faces leered at him from the shadows, looking for a quick way to make some money. Not that anybody had any these days. Luckily, he was tall, standing at 6’9” with broad shoulders and big, calloused hands from years of working in the mines.
It wasn’t always like this. He could still vaguely remember a time when he had enough to eat, and the streets were safe to walk on at night. He and his parents would go for long walks in the moonlight, until far past his bedtime. But it all changed in an instant. A new currency, dubbed the Brexit Buck, was introduced. And everything went to hell after that. Gabe remembered cold, hard nights on the streets and a never-ending feeling of hunger that could never be stated, not even on those few nights when his parents scraped together enough money to get a half-decent meal, including an entire loaf of bread and two cans of soup.
Gabe shuddered, and pulled the ragged remains of a coat around his broad shoulders. Light spilled out of the bars still open at this hour, as well as drunkards and others that sought to find solace within the depths of a tankard. He could hear drunken cheering, singing, and cries for help as the ones that preyed upon these people reached their intended goal. Most of these people had no money, and were drinking still only because they were selling their children and wives, or the bartender took pity on them.
He walked past another bar, which was teeming with gang members and shady people. A gunshot rang out, and someone screamed. Another person ran inside, wearing a brown duster and going quickly. Gabe frowned.
If he was a detective, getting his fix would be even harder. After all, highly caffeinated tea had been outlawed ages ago, long before he was born. He was taught in school that it was outlawed because it was highly addictive, and that it caused many cancers and illnesses that two times out of seven were fatal. The only reason Gabe was still working in the mines, even with his lack of sleep, was tea. But somehow, he still hadn't died yet. Some said it was from his strong metabolism. Others said he was just simply lucky. He didn't really know which one it was, but he was thankful he wasn't dead quite yet.
He shrugged. One detective probably wouldn't be very much of a match for the syndicate henchmen. Normally, there were around four or five to keep customers from not paying up. He strode inside, hands in his pockets. The syndicate thugs and the man in the duster were facing off. A thug yelled something incoherent, and then all hell broke loose. A storm of bullets whipped around, along with pebbles and fists and kicks. The detective was a whirlwind of destruction, taking out three of them within the span of five seconds.
Gabe stood frozen near the door. He had never seen anyone try to defy the syndicate before, and win. The syndicate took what it wanted and crushed those that stood in its way. And then it was over. The detective stood there, breathing hard. He then perked up, and walked into one of the back rooms. Gabe followed, trying to step as quietly as possible. They went into the backroom, where the henchmen normally took the people that didn't pay to be beaten. Gabe quickly hid behind barrel. The detective pulled some sort of device out of his coat and said something into it. A creepy smile spread across the detective's face. He opened one of the barrels, and peered inside. Gabe's eyes widened.
Stacks and stacks of tea lay there, hundreds or maybe even thousands of tea bags, more than he ever knew existed. Could he sneak around and take as many as he could carry? He had seen what the detective had done to the henchmen. It was risky, that was for sure. But it sure could be rewarding.
Sighing in resignation, he slowly pried open the barrel in front of him. There was a small creak as the lid of the barrel finally gave. Gabe froze. The detective hadn't heard it. Gabe breathed a small sigh of relief, and scooped up several handfuls of tea. The detective still hadn't moved from his position, and was still talking into his device. Gabe slowly scooted over to the door. The door had been left open, and Gabe dashed through. He immediately started to run. The detective by now had heard him, and would be coming after him. Gabe dashed through all of the alleys and shortcuts he knew, not stopping to catch his breath nor slowing down for fear of getting caught.
He finally arrived at his apartment, and collapsed on his mat. He now probably had enough tea for a year, before he needed to get more. Then he heard a knock on the door. "Mr. Itch?"
Gabe got up and walked to the door. "Wh-Who i-is it," he stammered, trying to keep the fear out of his voice but failing miserably. There was no reply. Gabe slowly opened the door. A fist slammed into his gut, followed by a knee to the face.
"Enjoy jail, thieving scum." The detective's face was leaning over his. That was the last thing Gabe saw before he blacked out.
