In the early morning light, the sky burned.

White clouds drift across the deep red sky, mixing with plumes of grey smoke being spat into the air. The busy London streets came alive under the blaze. Motorcars trundled up and down the streets, children kicked their school bags, and men dressed in their best suits headed to work. A familiar routine fell over the city.

From the gates of Newgate gaol, Kit Jones emerged with a mischievous glint in his eye and an itch to get back in the game. He paused in front of the gates that sent many a man running scared and took a deep breath. After five months languishing in the depths of the gaol, he welcomed the warm London air on his skin and the scent of motorcar engines and the Thames in his lungs. It might not have been fresh air, but it was a hell of a lot better than the stale stench of a Newgate cell.

Across the street, a familiar figure pushed themselves off a crumbling brick wall, a cigarette dangling between dirt-covered fingers. He crossed the street, not caring about the cars, smoke from his cigarette twisting into the air.

"Alright, Jonesy?" he said, taking a long drag on the cigarette and flicking the smoking ash to the ground.

"When'd they let you out?"

"Little over a week ago. Reckon they'd have enough of me."

"That ain't hard, Rob." Kit snatched the cigarette from his friend's fingertips and let the familiar taste of smoke and tobacco fill his lungs. The irony of a petty thief being called Rob was not lost on either man. "What about the others?"

"Still locked up. Don't reckon they'll be out anytime soon. All the more for us, eh?"

Kit took another long drag off the cigarette and flicked the small butt to the ground, crushing it beneath his worn shoes. "If you say so. Come on, let's get out of here before we're arrested for loitering."

"Right you are. Got a job in mind if you're game."

"When ain't I?"

Kit raised an eyebrow at his friend, pulling his jacket off and throwing it over his shoulder as the London sun burned. The two of them stepped away from Newgate. They followed the city's twisting streets, with Kit eyeing up the motorcars in search of the dark green Rolls Royce he always dreamed of. He'd risk it all for a car like that.

The two men smoked cigarettes and kicked loose stones along the streets. Kit relished the feeling of the sun on his face, the smoke in his lungs, and the excitement humming through his veins at whatever job Rob had lined up. He knew the risk of being caught so soon after his release, but he had an itch that needed to be scratched, no matter the cost.

When they reached Mayfair, one of London's richest areas, Rob and Kit stopped on a street corner. Kit puffed on the cigarette with his cap drawn over his forehead and his face partially obscured by the fabric. Bankers hurried through the streets in their crisp suits. Women stared through shop windows to admire the latest fashion and jewellery on offer.

Kit flicked ash onto the floor. A passing banker shot him a look of disgust and he promptly blew smoke into the man's face. The man glared at him, stalking away with an exaggerated cough.

"What's this job of yours, then?" Kit asked. He dropped the cigarette to the ground.

"You remember George Phelps?" Rob paused. "Who am I kidding, course you do. Well, the sneaky little rat got himself a decent payout for turning us in. Been keeping an eye on him and he's got his eye on an engagement ring. Had the thing reserved. He's s'posed to pick it up today."

"And we'll be waiting for him when he does."

"Right. Thought you might like it."

"I've spent five months in prison, thanks to him. Don't see why he should reap the rewards for betraying us. I'm going to enjoy this."

Kit cracked his knuckles, grinning at Rob. Since his imprisonment five months before, Kit had been waiting for the opportunity to get back at the person who betrayed them. He wanted nothing more than to make George Phelps pay for putting him behind bars, for him to suffer the same way the gang had. The opportunity had fallen right into his hands and he would be a fool to turn away.

They stood on the corner of the street, backs pressed into a wall, and watched the jewellers opposite. Women peered through the windows with parasols over their heads to protect them from the sun. Men dressed in laundered suits accompanied them or wandered in on their own in search of a gift. Kit only had eyes for one young man.

He watched a lone man emerge from the shop, his face on full display. The scar on his left cheek made him a distinguishable figure, and Kit elbowed Rob in the side, pointing him out. In mutual agreement, they pushed themselves away from the wall and jogged across the road, avoiding the motorcars. Kit pushed a banker out of his way, anger coursing through his veins the closer he got to the rat.

George Phelps walked on, oblivious to the danger he was in. He whistled to himself, a sound that angered Kit that little bit more. Kit grabbed him by the edge of his jacket, an outfit no doubt purchased with his payoff for betraying them, and forced him into a nearby alleyway.

"Get off me!" George tried to wrestle his way out of Kit's grip, but Kit simply tightened his fingers against the fabric.

"No chance."

George's eyes widened as his back slammed into a nearby wall. "Kit. I-I didn't know you were out."

"Got out today. Thought I'd pay you a little visit. A rat like you should be scurrying through the gutter." Kit leaned in close to George's face. "Was the money worth it?"

"You don't want to do this Kit, you just got out! You don't want to put your freedom on the line for me."

"Waiting to get my revenge on you has been freedom from the hell you sent me to! I'm going to enjoy this."

The corners of Kit's mouth turned upwards in a menacing smile. He drew his right arm back and slammed his fist into George Phelps' jaw.

~~~

First Published - February 1st, 2024