The North District Bandits: Prologue

The North District Bandits1

Sarah Young bit her lip and moved the mouse across her mouse pad, watching the little icon swirl about the screen. A reporter for The Four Ridges Gazette, she was working a new assignment, one she had spent her entire Saturday morning researching. The current news was rife with the superheroes. The Pink Avengers and the Mantises. The superstars of the moment. Her editor was barking about something different, something other than the current crop of headline-hogging fluff.2

He wanted something different. Anything.3

"The North District Bandits," he suggested. "They were huge back in the day, still interesting today. Tomorrow is a big day for them. Go and dig up something new."4

"The North District Bandits," she mused, frowning. "Depression era. Kid Dillinger. Bonnie Ma Baker. Handsome Boy MacRoy. Baby Brains Malone. Hmm."5

Their exploits were legendary. Bank heists, kidnappings, basement lootings and one narrow escape after the other. The cost of taking them out of The Game ruined the DWA. But it quickly became obvious that she really didn't know much about what happened. She only had The Press reports of the day, just glossed over sensationalist pap, just like today, it must've been like this in even when we lived in caves. Apparently there was footage of Bonnie Ma and Kid Dillinger's spectacular escape from the The South End holding cell. Supposed pictures of Handsome Boy MacRoy holding up Rich Kid National Bank, the gleam in the girl's eyes obvious. Others of Baby Brains Malone, smiling his creepy, cheek scarred smile, a speakeasy dancer on each arm. 6

Most of it had never come to the light of day.7

She sighed then sat back. The websites didn't say much, all the articles overlapping, she had read them all before. She had uncovered nothing more than what had already been printed nearly 75 years ago. She smacked her forehead onto the desk and groaned in frustration. 8

"What's wrong, Sarah," asked her mom from behind.9

"Oh nothing, mom," she sighed. "I'm working on a new story and I'm getting nowhere fast."10

"Oh?"11

"The websites are a dead end," she said, sitting up. "The same stuff over and over and over again. My editor wants something new and I can't find it."12

"Well," her mom intoned cheerfully, "why don't you try the library? You'd be surprised at what you'd find in there."13

Sarah frowned. The library...14

Who would've thought?15

Sarah Young packed her gear then rode to the library.16

The librarian was Miss Walker, an old and crusty fuddy-duddy who was forever shushing the kids. He looked up from her papers and looked down her nose at unassuming Sarah. "Yes?" she asked, curtly.17

"I'm seeking information on the North District Bandits," Sarah said politely. "And I'm having trouble finding it. Could you help me out, please?"18

"The what?" she answered sharply. "I've never heard of them. Try the fantasy section, dearie. And do it quietly." She hmphed then turned back to her papers.19

Sarah rolled her eyes then sat at a table. "Stupid adults," she sighed. "They don't know anything. But how the heck can these guys be so legendary when almost nothing is known of their exploits? Or them? This assignment is already at a dead end."20

"Oh, I don't know about that," said an aged voice.21

Sarah looked up. An old man stood across the table, cane in one hand a box in the other. His grey eyes, matched to his hair, shone from his wrinkled face. His wool sweater, smelling of old, was stereotypical of his age group. He adjusted his glasses and smiled.22

"I heard you asking about the North District Bandits," he went on. "I'm afraid you won't find much in here."23

"You?" she asked dumbfounded. "You know about The Bandits? I thought when a kid grew up you forgot about all that stuff."24

"Ah," he said, waving his cane. "True. For the most part. Except for those of us who were there and refuse to grow all the way up. We remember. We remember very well. May I sit-?"25

"Nothing stopping you," she said, wondering about all this.26

He placed the box on the table then sat. "Do you know what today's date is?" he asked, finger tapping the table.27

"Of course. It's Saturday, November 27."28

"November 27," he repeated. "1935. It was on this day Baby Brains Malone was supposedly taken out of The Game in a shed by Alvin Parsons. You know of Alvin Parsons, yes?"29

"Of course. He was head of the District Wide Agency, formed by Superintendent Edgar."30

"Wonderful," he said then chuckled. "You have done your homework. Alvin Parsons was charge by Edgar to bring in The Bandits... by any means necessary. Baby Brains was the last to fall to the Paintball-Gat. Shortly after that Creepy Face Kyle was apprehended, these events marked the end of The Depression Era Bandits. This day always brings back memories, I'm here taking a stroll down its greying and uneven lane. A lane, I can see, that has led me to you."31

"Wow," said Sarah, intrigued. "You were there for that? You remember? I didn't know people could live so long."32

"Long," he said, sliding the box to Sarah, "I won't be living. Not according to my doctor. Open it."33

"What's this?" she asked, taking off the lid. He eyes went wide. Reels, pictures and papers covering some books. She picked up the one on top the held it up. "Good god," she whispered. "This is a picture of Kid Dillinger and Bonnie Ma getting into Superintendent Edgar's car. This is their breakout! They said it had been lost." She placed it down then picked up a book, labelled A.P. She opened then read... She slammed the book closed. "This is Alvin's journal, also thought lost. This is a Kid Scholar gold mine! Where did you get all of this?"34

"Why Alvin, of course." He leaned forward. "He gave it to me, over 50 years ago. And it's yours, if you're willing to listen to an old fool's tail."35

"You are no fool," she replied, offended at the self-effacement. "But how did you know I was going to be here?"36

"I didn't. I merely brought it along, as I always do, looking for the right kid to give it to. One that will set the record straight."37

"Absolutely," she said with pride. "I'm your girl. I'm known for my journalistic integrity. I'll write about what I find in this box."38

"Wonderful!" He clacked his cane then sat back. "Of course, I can only relate a part of the tale, the rest is in that box. And so we begin..."39

Sarah crossed her fingers and listened, intently.40

"The year was 1935. The Great Depression was showing no signs of slowing down. Juices like Smith's Organic were contraband, paving the way for speakeasies and organized crime. Money was tight, the rich kids hoarded what they had, they set up banks to lend cash out at exorbitant interest rates. Poor kids were having their bikes and scooters repossessed daily. The rest were just left to starve.41

"Times were never at their worst.42

"It was these conditions that gave rise to The Depression Era Bandit. They looted rich kid's basements and knocked over their back garage banks. They even kidnapped them, from time to time. To the general public they were just one thief stealing from another. There were many, but four stand above the rest, in both panache and press coverage. Our first, and arguably the greatest, one that went by the name Kid Dillinger..."