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London was a hell hole painted gold. London was a graveyard for the hopes of man but a playhouse for those born without the need of hope. He knew the graves well: one was his mother’s.
Dio wandered the dark streets, feeling ease in the cloak of midnight but on edge by others that seek to share it. The darkness of the streets was the closest to the warmth of home he'd felt since his mother died, even in the bitter winds. One night, in the shadows, another made his presence known.
“This curb taken?” He asked, his voice painting him as an easy end gutter boy. Despite it, Dio didn't protest and let the other sit besides him. His hair was tangled and greasy, freckles dotting his face only to break away at a long scar along his face, eyes hidden behind stubborn licks of straw he called hair. They jingled like one with a working pay, but his look betrayed his baggage: he was clearly a cutpurse.
“If you're planning on adding to your little haul, don't bother here. This place doesn't have scraps enough to sate a mouse.” Dio said bluntly, putting one hand closer to the pocket with his knife in it. The cockney boy smiled, showing crooked teeth and a peculiar sharpness to two of his lower canines, almost like tusks.
“Nah. Ain't in a shakedown mood,” he laughed, pulling a roll from his shirt, cracking and flaking under his fingers. He took a bite from the stale roll before putting it back.
“Ya know,” he said through the crumbs. “I erd you got yer own little gig up at the pubs. Chess, right?”
Dio didn't say a word, only wishing that the cockney would at least share the roll if he intended to make himself a nuisance with small talk.
“Never could wrap my ead round that, chess. Who bets on a game where one person could floor ya so easy?”
“The same idiots that leave themselves open.” Dio replies, the cockney boy seeming to get a kick out of the response as he swallowed
“This is why I prefer cards: much easier to cheat a man when yer hand’s your own business. With chess, it's aaallll out there.”
Dio squinted at the irony: the boy complaining about openings all the while wearing his heart on his sleeve.
“I know what kinda person you are, Dio. You shuffle ya pawns around, shuffle your people around, until all that's left is you…”
Dio squinted, putting his hand firm around his knife now as the cockney stood up.
“It why I prefer cards... You can always stack the deck. Whaddaya say? Wanna play a hand of B n E?”
They pulled a knife of their own, keeping the end pointed toward the ally’s exit as they talked.
“B n E? As in breaking and entering?” Dio sneered, the street boy smiling even wider.
“Yup! How bout it, eh?” He stuck out a dirtied hand and winked. “Partner?”
Dio glared at his hand, tracing him back up to meet his mess of hair.
“75, 25.”
“50, 50”
“65, 35.”
“Yer a real stubborn git, ain't ya. Fine. How bout 55, 45?” The boy sighed, clearly tired of bartering, but Dio was not one to quit so fast.
“60, 40. Take it or leave it.”
The boy gave a final groan before pushing his hand out farther.
“Well then...partner... It’d be nice to know my fall man’s name.” Dio said, standing with the cockney’s hand in his own.
“Robert,” they replied, parting their bangs with his knife, a few hairs fluttering down. “Robert E. O. Speedwagon.”
Speedwagon was a deft climber, taking up a cane abandoned in the river to assist his ascent. His knife made a fine lever, windows bending to his will with minimal effort. Sitting in the sill, Robert lowered the cane to Dio, who took the handle and let himself get pulled, practically walking up the brickwork.
“You better have a plan, Robert.” Dio whispered as he climbed in, the rougher child giving the cane a few triumphant twirls.
“Well, sorta,” he replied as he dug into a cabinet and pulled out a tablecloth. “Just pinch anything sellable and get the hell out.”
Dio rolled his eyes before carefully moving to drawers and cupboards. While they were no fine china, they could still fetch a pretty penny to the desperate and the cutlery looked even pricier. Putting the items to his chest to muffle any clatter, Dio put the dinnerware in the makeshift sack. Closing the doors with care, he searched the room for more valuables that would go unnoticed at first. Slipping into and out of pantries, Dio took to thieving like a natural.
Speedwagon, however, seemed much less cautious, opening doors with reckless abandon. The moseyed about the flat like he owned it, like the whole of London was his plaything. He plucked a candelabra from the mantle, grinning ear to ear as his eyes caught the glint of more silver and gold goodies. He slipped into the bedchambers, the sleeping occupants none the wiser to his entry. He ignored them in favor of the jewelry and the clothes. With stuffed pockets, he plucked the gentleman’s hat up with his cane and dropped it on his head with a smile. Sliding the door shut, he was met with a scowling Dio.
“Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” He hissed, slapping the hat off of his head. “You could've been caught.”
“Ah, but I wasn't,” Speedwagon replied, slipping the bowler hat back on his head and poking Dio’s nose with the cane. “Get your mind out the chessboard, Brando and help me get the loot on the street.”
Dio grit his teeth as Speedwagon sauntered over to the table cloth sack, emptying his pockets of stolen goods with a satisfying symphony of clinks and jingles. He tied the ends of the cloth together, the bulging cloth soon swung over his shoulder. Speedwagon hooked the cane on the window sill and motioned for Dio to descend first. The lighter blond took to the window, still a bit cross. His descent was a bit rougher without Robert's assistance, but still manageable for the lithe child. Giving him a thumbs up from the street, Dio waited for Robert with crossed arms. A second cane whizzed through the window to Dio, clattering just at his feet. Looking up back to the window, Robert made a motion with the cane from the window, miming propping up something. Dio took up the cane with another roll of his eyes, getting poised at the building’s side with the old rod. The bag was slowly lowered out of the window, Dio keeping it against the wall with his own cane as Speedwagon descended separately, closing the window behind him. As his feet meet the pavement, he helped Dio ease down the sack, quickly taking the lead with it as they neared the ally where they had met, taking a turn into the old stone corridors aside it. Pulling it along until the road shifted to near darkness, Robert stopped abruptly, the sack bumping into his shorter partner with a few pieces of cutlery tumbling to the floor. Dio looked past the large hall to find themselves in front of a sort of shop, Speedwagon giving it a few knocking kicks.
“Oi, Wang! Got ya more stuff!” He yelled, Dio wincing at the harsh accent raised to an even more grating volume. There were faint footsteps from inside the building, the door soon swinging open to reveal a short Asian man, eyebrows furrowed and clearly tired. Even as Speedwagon complained about the door slamming into his face, he eyed the sack. He motioned for them to come inside, Speedwagon abandoning his complaints to pull the sack inside.
The shop was littered with oddities in jars, miscellaneous items, and potted plants, the haul being laid out on a large table in the room’s center. Whist Speedwagon haggled with his fence, Dio took the opportunity to look around the shop, finding that the man had all manners of toxins, hallucinogens and depressants at his disposal. Looking over the vials and bags, Dio let his mind drift away from the stone walls...
He knew how he would use his cut.