slate gray | { mau / fee }

It was actually his parents’ fault, when he thought about it. They were the ones who were set on having so many children. One of them was bound to be bad at all this. If it had been any of the others, this would have been a real job and not some kind of distraction so that Maugrim would get to feel like he contributed. That’s why no one was with him. That’s why no one ever was. Because Maugrim’s jobs were just busywork, ultimately ineffective. Which was fine, in the grand scheme of things. He’d been bad at planting flowers, so his mom never asked him to do it again. He’d been bad at fishing, so his dad usually went alone. And that was good. He hated planting flowers and he hated fishing. Honestly, he hated most of the things his family did. But it wasn’t ever enough to curb the need he felt within himself to please them.

He cursed under his breath, hands stuffed into his pocket, gaze never higher than the ground as he stomped on through the remnants of the rain. The Square was bustling, little ants coming out of their hiding places now that the weather was gone, ready to start their days again.

He stopped short of a large, ugly-looking building, with gray cement walls and barred windows. This should be easy, he thought, folding his arms across his chest. The humble couldn’t afford good security; Maugrim didn’t even see a doorman. He stood outside the door for a few minutes, trying his best to be unassuming. He even lit up a cigarette and took a few drags off it before someone finally opened the door and he was able to sneak in after them.

Floor plan. Floor plan. Floor plan. Ah.

Right there where everyone could see it, hanging just inside the entrance. He looked over both shoulders before ripping it off the wall, folding it up, and shoving it into his pocket.

That was it. That was the extent of what had been asked of him. A map that had every available exit on it. Just in case, his father had said. Pfft. Just in case was never needed.

Now that he was done, the rest of the day was his. He never had anything in particular to do, but he counted each moment of freedom as a small personal victory. At least there was no one who’d get disappointed with him when he wasn’t doing anything for anyone.

He’d taken up shop on a bench by the pier, pulled his coat closer against him as he watched the mindless gray waves roll against the top of the water. There were at least a few bodies down there. There had to be. A man whose wife had caught him cheating. A kid who’d fallen in when no one was watching him. It felt strange, watching all those people boating around out there when he thought about it like that. It was like playing at a graveyard, really.

He hadn’t noticed the boy until he was walking right past him. Young, around his age, in no hurry. One of Maugrim’s few strengths was that he typically knew everyone, but that boy’s face drew up a blank. He watched him after he passed, his careful steps. The kind of boy who was used to being unnoticed, Maugrim guessed. One of the gloves tucked into his back pocket fell to the ground, and Maugrim decided to take advantage of the moment.

He didn’t know him yet, but he wold.

“Hey!” he called, jogging over and picking the glove up from the ground. Fighting glove. So he was a career. Another of Maugrim’s few talents was his ability to punch things well. His mom said he was destructive, and whether or not it was on purpose was beside to point.

“Dude, you dropped this!” he shouted.