Eternity Zero

Chapter 2

        “Better be a good ‘aul, Kai,” grumbled Al, ”I near singed me ‘air.”
        “I got some richies!” Said Killian.“It’s fine!”
        “Better be! Lord knows I didn’t adopt ye for your good looks.” he mumbled.
        If there was anyone to be described as the love-child of a toad and a rat, Albert Burroughs was it. He had adopted Kai from the orphanage where he had been “incarcerated,” and put him on the road of crime. There was little to be liked about him, other than his skills as a firedancer.
        “Well, ‘and it over!” he said.
        That night, as Albert counted his coins, Killian wondered why the performer wasn’t living in luxury. They had certainly stolen enough, but after every little heist, he lost all the money, and they ended up sleeping on the roof of some inn or tavern. Was there some sort of bottomless pit he threw all the goods in, or did he just gamble huge amounts of money whenever he felt like it? He would go out at night, who knows where, and came back with nothing but the beer on his breath.
        Sometimes, Kai wondered what his parents had looked like. Eleven and a half years ago, he had been found on the steps of an orphanage. Being abandoned wasn’t abnormal, nineteenth century London was a dangerous place, after all.
So, he never knew his parents, other than one little memento, an emerald green bowler hat. The dark green band squeezed his head, but at least it kept him focused. They would have been Irish, for sure. He had freckles dusting his nose and cheeks, with eyes that matched his hat. His hair was fiery red, as if he was one of Al’s torches. After he turned ten, Alfred came. He remembered the heavy, leather boots ringing through the hall, and the children peeking out of their dormitories and looking for their potential parent.
        After they saw him, of course, they looked no more. Long, greasy hair, hanging around his impoverished, dirty face. Clothes that hadn’t been washed for months on end. He had muddy brownish grey eyes, and a scar running down the left side of his face, temple to chin. Not an accident, but the deft work of a knife, and he had many knives. His nose was hooked, like a vulture’s. Not the kind of person you’d want hanging around your kids. But in that orphanage, they were anything but their children. The self-proclaimed “masters of the house,” only cared about the money.
        Okay! Thought Kai, Creepy beggar murderer! Hand ‘em over! What a ridiculous place.