“When I was about fifteen or sixteen years old,” Edgar took a smaller sip from his coffee again, “my baby brother Roderick and I went into a restaurant looking for a job. It was one of those fancy places you saw in Valiant Magazine. You paid fifty credits for a meal the size of your palm.” He chuckled. “Roderick hated it but it was the only place we hadn’t checked out yet. I mean, we were willing to do anything to get some food in us. We were tired of table scraps in alleys”
“So we walk in there, and the first thing the host says to us, the first thing, is is ‘the trash eats out back’.” Edgar was still holding his mug and waving it around, “Roderick and me, we just–we look at each other and we walk out. We come back in with paper bags over our heads and two empty pistols we had on us. Robbed the place and every single rich son of a bitch in there for ten-thousand credits.” A laugh escaped Edgar while he told the story, darting his eyes between Finley and the table. “We ate like fucking kings that night. So I make a few calls, and we get a crew together. Started out with just me, Roderick, and Charlie, but got a couple more as time went on.”
Edgar finished his coffee and put the mug down. “We hit anything that had money. Stores, trucks…Eventually we hit the credit banks. Jesus, I mean nothing could stop us. We had so many credits, that–that we just started handing some out.” His voice began to fall, “They put our faces up everywhere, The Nott Family Gang. They knew us, yeah they knew us.”
“One day we get in over our heads, we ambushed a Kill-Unit convoy thinking it was a credit transport. We lasted about two minutes before me, Roderick, and Charlie are all bleeding out in the middle of the road.” Edgar grabbed the top of his mug and squeezed, like it was a magic lamp that he wanted a wish out of. “I spent a year rotting in some Government prison. Eating whatever they gave me. All because one of my crew sold us out, lead us right to those fuckers knowing what we were doing.”
He stood up and clanged the spoon into the mug, turning to walk into to the kitchen. “Don’t you sit there and lecture me about right and wrong. Don’t tell me about people starving. Fin’, there is no ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ in this world, not anymore. There’s only survival. “ As Edgar made his way to the kitchen he stopped again, his back turned to Finley, “These people, there’s no fighting them. What happened to us will happen to you and that Teddy kid if you keep at it.” He sighed deeply, “When Mortimer introduced me to you, I swore I’d tear the skin off of anybody that laid a finger on you. Hate me all you want kiddo.”
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