Zenji snatched a medium-sized sack and sinched it to his waist until he needed it. Just get through this last raid, Zenji thought. The fight is tomorrow…I have to make it. I have to get out of the gang…

In the alley, another voice called out. Zenji turned to see Keliki sitting on the ground in the alley, waving at him. Zenji walked over, smiling. Keliki had been a friend nearly since he had joined the food gang. He had always helped Zenji get out of trouble and been someone Zenji could talk to. A pang of guilt hit Zenji in the chest, remembering what he had decided to do about all his friends and those in the gang.

He just couldn’t bring them with him when he left the gang the next day or so.

“You going on a raid?” Keliki asked. “Probably your last one, I bet.”

Zenji nodded, saddened by remembering how he’s going to leave them and never return.

“You have to be excited,” Keliki said. “But you seem a bit…I don’t know, sad?”

Zenji shrugged. “You know why. It hurts to think about leaving all of you guys.”

“Well,” Keliki said. “It’s not like there’s all that many of us to miss.” He smiled. “Sure, I guess you’ll miss me, but there’s quite a few here that also won’t miss you. You’re a fantastic competitor. You succeed on raids where others don’t always. Don’t blame them if they’re happy you leave.”

Zenji chuckled. “I suppose.” He stared off into the street at the far end of the alley, carts and other people moving by, a few horses as well, which were surprisingly uncommon now days. Zenji’s guilt had begun to lift somewhat. Keliki was a good friend to talk to. He, unfortunately, wasn’t the healthiest of kids, so couldn’t go on raids as much. That’s largely why he stuck it out in the alley, so he could at least watch for danger to the gang and the warehouse farther down the alley and could warn the food gang if there was trouble.

“Any threats the gang should be worried about this fine evening?” Zenji asked.

Keliki eyed him. “You think I’d be just calmly sitting here if that were the case? That’s a no, good sir.”

Zenji laughed. “Better for us, then. I think we leave in a few minutes.”

Keliki nudged Zenji in the shin. “You have places to go, people to save. Don’t mess this up. You have to be ready for tomorrow, you hear?”

Zenji nodded, solemn. “I hear you.”

Satisfied, Keliki nodded. “Good. I’ve said my peace. Now get out of here. You’ve got some food to steal. Your team will come running for you if you don’t leave soon.”

Zenji gathered himself, nodded, then started down the alley.

“As my pop used to say, ‘don’t screw it up.’”

Zenji laughed. Keliki always made up some kind of saying that he always claimed his father had said to him. It was all a big joke, since he didn’t have a father. It’s easy to joke about a father never known. That was common for food gang members. A lot of them were orphans.

Just like Zenji.

His mother came to his mind’s eye. Her tan, smooth face. Though, it wasn’t always smooth as he remembered. She would have dirt on her face frequently from the small jobs she would do to provide what she could. Her eyes were full of ambition, too. He always felt like she blamed him for what happened to her. She should, Zenji said. She’s gone because of me. But every time Zenji thought of her, her eyes never accused, only looked at him in fondness and love.

Zenji caught up with his group an alley down. They were waiting for him, but as soon as they saw him, they gathered their items, most now had sacks like Zenji suggested, then they began to move through the city like rats.

Zenji always let the group go first. He was older and larger than them, so it’d be a bit better for them to move first in case someone was watching. He’d still be hard to miss, but this way he could also support from the rear if someone was coming up on them from behind.

The sun was setting, a few red rays shooting across the rooftops. The palace and administration estates in the distance for the Emperor of Control were largely painted red from the sun since they stood much higher than most rooftops. Only some of the noble mansions were nearly as high. The thought of nobles made Zenji cringe slightly. They never seemed to be of any good use in the instances Zenji had run ins with them or with run ins with anyone he’d known.

There’s only one really good nobleman in this city, Zenji thought.

Zenji kept up to the group easily. He had his long legs to run and run he could do well. Not many in the gang could match his speed. He was unusually tall for his age, or for a Controlite for that matter. Some said he resembled a Progressian more, whiter features with lighter hair, but it’s not like anyone had seen them for nearly two decades anyway. Zenji wasn’t even sure what they would have looked like. His mother was Controlite, and she had never outright said what his father was, but he did know he was from another nation. He was probably Destructionite for all Zenji knew.

Zenji’s progeny aside, he still had very dark hair, nearly black, which was consistent with his Controlite heritage from his mother’s side. And on top of that, Zenji didn’t really think he was all that different from the rest of Control he’d seen. Sure, he was taller, but there were tall Controlites. They were just a little rarer than what he was told other nations had. Of course, that’s all speculation on Zenji’s side of things. He’d never really been anywhere but Tokeyama, the capital of Control.

Zenji pulled his thoughts back to the streets. People had begun to recede into their homes, readying themselves to sleep so they had the strength and energy for the next day’s business. Apartments laid above most shops in this quarter. It was a somewhat wealthy quarter, at least where the barracks was located. The group was just passing through to get to the location near the edge of the quarter. Because of the several stories of apartments above the shops, the buildings around them, only breaking a few times for alleys here and there, blocked a lot of the setting sun, leaving the street fairly dark. The lamplighters were beginning to make their rounds in the parts of the city that still had gas and wood-burning lamps. Some of the wealthier quarters were just beginning to implement galvanic lamps, powered by something Zenji didn’t understand, nor did he care to. He had other things to focus on.

They neared the end of the quarter where the barracks stood, streets leading to and from the large complex of buildings and bunks. The barracks often sat on the edge of quarters, allowing access to the quarters they straddled.

Beni pointed to the alleyway they had set to attack the shipments from. The lamplighter had just walked to the lamps the alley down from them and had them lit quickly. Zenji smiled, content being right. Beni just shook his head. He mouthed to Zenji, “You were right.”

The shipment was due to pass a little after sunset, while the twilight of the sun lit just enough light to see the clouds in the sky before the moons would be set to do so even more. If they had timed it right, which they had, it shouldn’t be more than ten minutes of waiting.

So, they melded into the alley like shadows, hunkered to the ground and refuse in wait of the caravans and shipments that brought supplies to the barracks. This was admittedly not the safest target for the food gang, but it provided a great harvest of food for them, if they got away. The biggest issue with going after a supply caravan was that if caught, the soldiers were less than likely to allow strays to escape. Zenji had only ever gone after one other supply run. It made Zenji nervous thinking about it. It had barely gone well last time, and they had lost a gang member last time.

But it was supposed to be different this time, according to the tips the gang had gotten.

Zenji noticed the sun slinking below all the surrounding buildings, only the clouds above holding the vibrant color, then readied his sack. So did the others who actually listened to him. Beni had not. He was always too proud to listen to reason, Zenji thought. No point hitting a supply caravan without the ability to take a lot away with you. Of course, it was risky regardless to go after the city guard, but if they were going to hit a high-risk target, might as well be with as much ability to haul away a good load as possible.

After a few more moments, the sounds of horses and carts rounding the corner came to life in the streets. The sound of a loud engine also accompanied the others. It was likely a larger cargo truck, which were not common, except for the city guard. There were not many motorcars in use in the city, other than those owned by the government or those by the nobility. They had special roads for them usually, allowing them to travel faster, but in the older parts of the city, cobble inhibited the speed of most of the motor vehicles. Carts with horses were still far more common. It’s not like Tokeyama was a part of Progress or anything.

There were stories, probably rumor more than anything, that told of great technology possessed by Progress, the old nation to the northwest, far northwest. But, only some of that seemed to make it to any other nation, except for maybe Destruction, which had ended up looting a great deal of the Ruins of Progress after their exodus. Zenji didn’t know much else, other than what the adults usually talked about on the streets.

The cart wheels and horse hooves clicked and clocked closer and closer to the gang’s alley hiding place. The group was ready, waiting to take their chance and grab some food. Hopefully, a lot of it.

The plan was to try and distract the few horses in the rear by some kind of commotion, then run up and load as much as possible, retreating into the opposite alley as fast as they could carry themselves.

But their first problem began to present itself.