Upon seeing the whistle, a thought immediately enters Alex's mind. I-is this a joke? This isn't because the whistle isn't worth much, but rather the exact opposite.
The whistle is made of a lustrous silver that shines a dim orange in the light of the flames. Golden accents erratically line and twist around it, like tears in paper. It's as though it' been ripped apart and glued back together with gold. On the very top, the golden lines converge to form a simple symbol: a rolled up scroll torn in two halves, with a ribbon fluttering in the background.
It's an item that even the rich would flaunt, and is most definitely worth more than a dead rat.
Alex looks skeptically at the suited man. Is he just trying to show off? What's the point? No matter who you used to be, now you're just another eyesore like the rest of us. Showing off will just get you mugged.
To confirm, Alex asks in a questioning voice, "You want to trade the whistle?"
A confused look passes over the man's face and his tone turns innocent. "Is it not enough? I'll have you know, this is a very special whistle!"
Alex is speechless for a moment. Similarly, the other men sitting around the barrel fire gape their mouths slightly. Is he insane? Does he have no concept of value? This would make sense if he used to be super rich. But he wouldn't be here if he was super rich!
A few moments pass as Alex doesn't respond. During this time, the man grins and says in a teasing voice, "Judging by your silence, I see you want an explanation on its specialness!"
This snaps Alex out of his state and he hurriedly waves his hands. "No no, that won-"
"You see, this whistle is unlike other whistles." Alex mentally sighs. "It's imbued with special powers! In fact-"
Before he can finish his statement, the man sitting next to the suited man jabs his shoulder with his fist. "Come on Silas, don't tease the kid!"
Kid!? I've lived here longer than you! Although Alex is only seventeen, he began his life as a vagrant at the age of ten. Meanwhile, the housing crisis in Rifield only started around six years ago. So Alex is confident that there are few people who've lived on these streets longer than he has.
He gets ready to insult the man back, but he's yet again interrupted by the suited man, who, according to the previous man, is named Silas.
"It's true!" He turns his gaze back to Alex. "If you're ever attacked by a nasty beast, blow the whistle." He chuckles a little. "It hurts their ears!" To demonstrate, he puts the whistle to his lips and blows.
In the next moment, a grating screech fills the air. Not unlike nails on a chalkboard, but much louder and more irritating. Alex winces at the noise and puts his hands to his ears. The rest of the men, excluding Silas, grunt in pain and follow suit.
After a few seconds, Silas stops and his grin grows wider. "See! It does exactly what I said!"
No shit! For the second time today, Alex debates whether or not he should stab someone. Luckily for Silas, there are witnesses sitting next to him. So, Alex just glares instead.
Silas seems to notice his glare, and ignores it. Instead, he shakes his whistle-holding hand a little in front of Alex. "Well? Don't you think it's a good deal?"
For a moment, Alex is tempted to refuse the offer sheerly out of principle, but his hunger quickly defeats his annoyance and decides for him.
He grins a little and hands Silas the rat while taking the whistle. "It's a bit unfair towards me, but I suppose I can trade my rat for your whistle."
Silas gives Alex a dazzling smile in response. "Well, I hope I'll have something better next time!"
He laughs, Alex laughs, and the surrounding homeless men stare in bewilderment over the clearly unfair deal.
After finishing the deal, Alex doesn't waste any time and leaves the market. He doesn't exit Tetanus Town though, his fear of the fire obsessed psychopath is still present.
Instead he walks all the way to the eastern end of the makeshift town, and enters one of the few finished buildings there.
It's a one story building that was likely intended to be a restaurant. Its interior is completely wooden, probably to give it a rustic vibe, and a bar counter with a few stools sits near the back of the main room.
Nowadays, it's used as a pawnshop. A particularly clever man named Fry used the last of his funds to found it before he went broke in the housing crisis.
Thanks to his scheme, Fry is now the richest homeless person in Rifield. But not rich enough to get an apartment, so he also lives in the shop.
At the bar counter, a nail is hammered into the wood, and a string of twine is tied to it. The string stretches around the corner of a doorway and into another room.
Alex walks up to the counter and gives the string a few short tugs. A faint jingling sound fills his ears and a few moments later a groggy man in pajamas walks out of the back room and towards the counter while rubbing his eye.
He stifles a yawn and gives Alex a glance. "Alex, it's been a while since I've seen you here."
"It's been a while since I've stolen something."
The man, Fry, gives a chuckle. "You've been becoming more and more reclusive lately. You've got a stop watching so much TV, you're turning into an edge lord!"
Alex mentally sighs. Crap… he's right. I'd really rather not be like one of those cringy characters.
After mentally berating himself, Alex takes the whistle out of his pocket and places it onto the counter. "How much is this worth?"
Fry picks up the whistle and turns it around a few inches in front of his eye, inspecting for any deformities or signs of wear.
He doesn't ask any questions, that's the policy of his shop. He'll buy anything with no questions about the source.
This, along with his reasonable prices and the pistol he openly carries, is why people don't attempt to rob him or his store. It's a sign of respect and admiration.
After a few moments, Fry lets out a defeated sign and places the whistle on the counter in front of Alex. "From what I can tell, it's not fake. You should sell it to a jeweler or an actual pawn shop. I don't have the cash to buy it."
Alex stares at him stunned. He had suspected that the whistle was real gold and silver from the luster and the weight, but it's still shocking to know for sure!
He does his best not to let his surprise be known and gives a small nod. Then Alex makes a sheepish smile. "You wouldn't happen to have any food, would you?"
There's no way he's leaving Tetanus Town until at least the morning, which means there's no way to sell the whistle, which means there's no way to get money to buy food!
Fry gives Alex an annoyed look, but then he sighs and starts walking to the back room, talking over his shoulder and he does. "You're lucky I'm such a generous guy, and that I take pity on kids like you."
I know, that's why I asked. Alex silently chuckles to himself as he waits for Fry to return with some food.
I wonder what it'll be? Fry is one of the few of us who can afford to regularly grocery shop, so I bet he has something good!
As he waits, Alex salivates, listing the possible delicacies he can obtain. However, just as he gets to beef jerky, his nose twitches and an all too familiar scent fills his nostrils.
It's smoke.
What!? In an instant Alex whirls around, searching for the source of the smell. That's not possible!
He sweeps his gaze across the room. They didn't dare try anything before. There are too many people!
Finally he locks on to one spot, and a small gasp escapes Alex's mouth. A sense of dread and resignation filling him. But we are at the outskirts, with only me and Fry.
At the entrance of the building, the door is engulfed in flames.