Legacy

by Travis Brett

  Roman considered this. “You’re right. We can’t just refuse the boy. But there is a way that means we don’t have to trust him, either.”

  Caleb frowned.

  “We’ll tell Sparks that we’ll trust him with his own needles,” Roman continued, “on the condition that he helps us capture Candle first. But we’ll—”

  “Never actually give him the needles,” Caleb finished. “And what happens when he finds out we were lying to him the whole time?”

  “That won’t matter,” Roman said. “Because there’s something I haven’t told you yet.”

  “So now you’re keeping secrets from us?”

  “I couldn’t say it in front of Sparks, but there’s a chance for us to end the whole Adrenalite problem. For good.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ashton Spencer. He’s the ex-ministry worker who helped Candle escape. But before that, he was working on creating a new version of defoxican — a serum that would permanently deactivate Adrenalites.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “It’s true.”

  Tan’s eyes lit up. “That would mean—”

  “I know. It would change everything.”

  Caleb blew out a cloud of smoke, then gave a low grunt. “Even if that were possible, where is Spencer now?”

  “Well . . .” Roman paused. “That’s the hard part. He’s been captured by Gavin.”

  “Ha! And let me guess, Gavin has him locked up in the Haven, the one place where we have no chance of getting to him.”

  “That’s our next mission. We need to get him out.”

  Tan coughed up a mouthful of potato. “What the fuck? We’d have just as much chance growing mushrooms from our arses.”

  “Despite that horrible comparison, Tan’s right,” Caleb said. “Besides, even if such a serum were possible to create, why should I want it used? Being a bounty hunter is my job. If there are no more Adrenalites then I have to go back to being a mercenary.”

  Roman turned to Ruby for support. She shrugged. “Tan’s right,” she said. “There’s no way we’re getting Spencer away from Gavin. Everything else is just hypothetical.”

  Roman sighed. “Listen,” he said to Tan and Caleb, “I know you both have very different reasons than me for being bounty hunters. But you know my reasons, so you know that even if you walk away right now, I’m still going to capture Spencer and kill Candle. Or I’m going to die trying.”

  Tan finished his last mouthful and pushed his plate away. “Ah damn it. Roman, you know I owe you everything. So even though I think this plan is a fucking disaster waiting to happen . . . I’m in.”

  “I appreciate it, Tan. Honestly.”

  Roman turned to Caleb. The giant kept silent, taking long, deep puffs from his cigarette. Roman reached into his jacket, pulled out his revolver, and laid it on the table. “If we do this,” he said, “and Spencer creates the serum, then I won’t need this anymore.”

  Caleb smiled. “For the record, I was already going to say yes.

  “Thank you.” Roman smiled. “Now, before we work out how the hell we abduct Spencer, we need a debrief. Caleb, did Sparks get any useful information on Candle before he was beaten to a pulp?”

  Caleb shook his head.

  “Damn.” Roman turned to Tan. “Did you find anything from Spencer’s apartment?”

  “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I found something.” Tan shrugged. “It seems that there’s more to Candle’s strange antics than just leaving candles behind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In the house, the fuse box had been destroyed, and every single wire was cut. Plus, he did the same thing in the neighboring buildings.”

  Roman frowned. Why would Candle destroy fuse boxes? Why did he care about the city’s electricity?

  The sound of screaming tore Roman from his thoughts. He sat bolt upright, picked up his revolver, leapt to his feet, and shoved through the crowd as he dashed for the door. His free hand reached into his coat and pulled out his defoxican needle.

  Bursting into the outside chill, he nearly tripped over a man curled up on the ground. The man screamed as he stared at his own arm — his own broken arm, to be specific. His forearm bent at a ninety-degree angle.

  Sparks was standing in the middle of the street, bouncing on his feet, grinning. Five men circled around him, obviously drunk. Obviously angry.

  Roman returned his gun and needle to his coat. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.

  The boy finally noticed him. “They started it. I swear!”

  One of the men took the opportunity to stumble at Sparks, fists flailing. In a heartbeat, Sparks sent him to the ground, then jumped on his back and stomped on the back of his head.

  The rest of the men began to back away.

  Roman, on the other hand, marched forward and punched Sparks in the face.

  Sparks stumbled backwards, clutching his cheek. “What the hell? I told you, they started it.”

  “But you enjoyed it. You’re an arrogant, violent and naive kid. And all this—” Roman pointed back at the man with the broken arm “—just proves why I can’t trust you.”

  “I’m not a kid.”

  “That’s the term you take offense to?”

  Sparks scowled. “Shut your damn mouth or I’ll leave. And then what will you do? You’ll be screwed. I know you need my help because you’re weak!”

  Roman raised his fist for another blow.

  A hand caught him by the wrist.

  He turned to see Caleb holding him. The giant shook his head, his jaw set and a fury behind his eyes that rivalled Roman’s own. Roman let his arm go slack. Caleb released him.

  Roman turned back to Sparks. “I don’t need you,” he growled, then left.

  * * *

  Ruby caught up with him halfway down the street. He knew she would come. Part of him wanted her to. A small part, though. The rest wanted her to just stay away.

  She fell into step alongside him without saying a word. She carefully curled a bowstring around her fingers, weaving complex patterns through her fingers. He looked away.

  Ruby spoke first. “You can’t keep taking your anger out on Sparks. He’s just a boy.”

  “Just a boy? You saw how he fought at Lady Luck — that wasn’t a kid. That was . . . something else.”

  “I saw him with an opportunity to kill us, or at least leave. Instead, he chose to help us.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything.” Roman quickened his pace, wishing to get home as soon as possible. “He’s still an Adrenalite. You saw how he fought. He enjoyed every moment of it. Just like he enjoyed beating up those men tonight.”

  Ruby ran out of string to twist and was left with a maze of web twirled between her hands. With a flick of a finger, it unravelled.

  “He fights like a boy who has been trained to fight,” she said. “You can’t blame him for enjoying it — it’s probably the only thing he’s been told to do.” She grabbed Roman’s shoulder, pulling him to a halt. “Just admit that it’s not Sparks you’re angry at.”

  He pulled away from her. “Drop it.”

  “You need to talk about it.”

  “I don’t.”

  He resumed walking, shivering against the cold. The street was empty except for a pair of drunks ahead, leaning against each other for balance as they stood beneath a flickering streetlight. They ignored Roman as he passed.

  Ruby followed. “Can you not see the way Sparks looks at you?”

  “I try not to look at him.”

  “He’s desperate for approval.”

  “No. He’s not. You heard him back there — the only thing he’s desperate for is a fight, and he’s mad at me because I won’t let him fight everyone he sees.”

  “He’s only mad because he doesn’t understand why you hate him. Think about it. He probably never had a father figure in his life, and then you come along—”

  “I’m not the boy’s father.”

 
“But he needs one.”

  He stopped and turned to her. “Why? It wouldn’t change a damn thing! Don’t you get it? They’re all monsters.”

  “If he’s so evil, why didn’t he turn on us at Lady Luck?”

  Roman didn’t have an answer to that.

  Ruby folded her arms. “It’s still not Sparks that you’re really mad at.”

  “I told you, drop it.”

  “Only if you stop taking it out on Sparks. He’s just a kid.”

  “He’s an Adrenalite.” To Roman, the words felt more bitter than rado-weed. They choked him even harder. “You know how many we’ve caught by now — some of them were boys, but that didn’t mean anything then, did it? We killed them or sold them to Juliette, all the same. Because their age didn’t change what happened to the people who got in their way. It didn’t mean a damn thing to Stevens.”

  There. He said it.

  He wished he hadn’t.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Ruby snapped back. “He was my brother! I haven’t forgotten how he died. I was there when we found him. Don’t forget that.”

  Roman couldn’t forget. It had been the first time he had seen the destruction an enraged Adrenalite could cause. He remembered the smell of blood. The whimpers. Ruby’s scream when they found Stevens’ body. The touch of the pavement against his knees when his legs gave out beneath him.

  “Then you haven’t forgotten who killed him,” Roman said. “An Adrenalite.”

  “I know that.” Ruby jabbed a finger in his face. “And whichever one it was, I hate them so damn much. They took my brother from me. My brother! Do you understand that Roman?”

  He believed he could. Steven’s was the closest thing he ever had to a brother.

  “But I . . .” Ruby paused. “I don’t hate Sparks. It wasn’t him.”

  “But it could be.” Roman’s shoulders dropped. He felt exhausted. “Every time another Adrenalite goes wild, more people are left without brothers. Without their best friend. What if Sparks is the next rogue? Damn it, what if he kills you?”

  “Roman, listen to me.” Grabbing him by the shoulders, Ruby shook him angrily. Her slender arms were strong. “What will it take to prove to you that they’re not monsters? Look at Sparks — if he doesn’t prove that there is hope for Adrenalites, then you’re the one who’s hopeless.” She pushed him away. “And don’t you fucking dare prove my faith in you is wasted.”

  She left him there, standing in the middle of the street, alone.

  The streetlights went out as Roman let out a long breath. He decided not to follow her — his urge to return home had gone. Instead, he wandered an aimless path through the broken down streets, grateful for the solitude.

  He cursed himself for getting angry at Sparks. Now there was no way the boy was going to help him abduct Spencer. And without Sparks, did Roman really have a chance?

  He paused mid-step. There was someone else he could go to for help.

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself. He hated the idea of asking Juliette for anything.

  11

  Reformation square was as ugly as ever.

  Roman scowled and dug his hands deeper into his pockets to protect them from the mornings chill. The rising sun was hidden by an overcast sky, leaving a dampness in the air that sunk into his bones. His left hip ached the most; he didn’t even bother hiding his limp as he approached the Security Ministry.

  One of the militia patrolling the square blocked his path. Roman didn’t recognize him.

  “Where’s yer two buddies?” the militia asked, his breath turning to mist as he spoke. “Did they finally get sick of you, or did ya get them killed?”

  Roman’s scowl deepened.

  The militia chuckled. “You ain’t got no bounty with ya either. What ya here for then?”

  “Your mother sent me. I’m here to teach you to talk properly.”

  “Fuck you. If ya don’t got a good reason to be here, then bugger off.”

  “I’m here to see the Captain.”

  The militia stepped aside. Roman limped past him, thankful to be alone again. He didn’t feel like company today. Truth be told, he didn’t feel like anything today.

  The Science Ministry loomed to his right. He forced himself not to look at it. It was a reminder of his old life, when Stevens had been alive. A far simpler life. Looking back, it should have obvious to them that such a life could never last in Legacy. Nothing ever did. That was the whole point of radiation.

  So he kept his eyes focused on the Security Ministry. Juliette would be inside, safe and comfortable, guarded by her personal army that should have been protecting the rest of Legacy. How could Roman possibly convince her to help? She was nothing but a fucking coward.

  He didn’t believe he could, but he had to try anyway. Such was life.

  Today, Regan guarded the door to the Ministry, along with two other militia. He snickered when he saw Roman. “Back so soon? And empty-handed, too. I knew you’d come crawling back to—”

  “Shut up.” Roman pulled his revolver out of his jacket and thrust it into Regan’s chubby hands. “Try not to get any of your stench on it.” He side-stepped around Regan and strode into the Ministry before the militia could react.

  Behind the reception desk sat the same pointy-chinned man as last time, methodically shuffling through papers. Roman snatched a stack of binders straight out of his hands. The man cursed, then looked up and saw Roman, then cursed again.

  “I’ve got a deal for you.” Roman faked a casual, upbeat tone of voice. “You tell me where Juliette is, and I won’t rip these precious files of yours into pieces and make you eat them.”

  The receptionist frowned. “I wouldn’t appreciate that.”

  “So we have an agreement?”

  “For your information, the Captain has given orders to let you see her, whenever you came in. Your threat is quite pointless.”

  Roman tossed the binders back onto the desk. “I still don’t regret making it. Where is she?”

  “The Captain is currently in the basement.”

  “There’s a basement?”

  “You can access it by the elevator in that corner.” The receptionist pointed. “Only the first level is still in-use, as the lower levels have . . . collapsed.”

  “Pity it wasn’t the whole damn building.”

  Roman joined a queue of employees waiting at the elevator. The employees quickly began moving away from him, switching to other elevators or the stairs. Soon Roman was left waiting alone. He preferred it that way.

  The steel doors opened, revealing an empty interior. Roman apprehensively stepped inside. He was tempted to head to the upper floors, break into Juliette’s office and search her documents for more information about Ashton Spencer. But no, if he was caught doing that, he would lose what little chance he had of gaining Juliette’s help.

  The doors slid closed and the elevator descended. Roman’s chest tightened. He imagined the power going out and being trapped inside these cramped walls. It would be just his luck.

  The ancients may have built an entire city, full of amazing technology and wonders, but Roman didn’t think elevators ranked high amongst their accomplishments. Damn unnatural is what they were. He could only imagine what it must have felt like to be inside an airplane.

  He wished he’d brought Tan with him — his friend’s endless stream of shit-talk would have made a welcome distraction from where he was, and who he was here to see.

  The elevator stopped. The doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit corridor, empty except for a lone militia leaning against the wall, absently twirling a pistol in his hand.

  Roman stepped out of the elevator. “What are you guarding against? Rats?”

  The guard dropped his gun in surprise. Cursing, he hastily picked it up and pointed it at Roman, hands shaking.

  Roman chuckled. “Not used to company, are you?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Juliette wants to see me.”


  The guard slowly lowered his gun, but suspicion was still plainly written on his boyish face — he was barely a teenager, baby fat still in his cheeks. “She didn’t say anything about you.”

  “Well if she did, I’m sure it wouldn’t be nice. Where is she?”

  “Uh . . . I’ll take you to her.”

  “Lead on.”

  The boy kept glancing back at Roman as he guided him down the hallway. One door was open as they passed and Roman glanced inside. Just a bare office. He didn’t know what he had expected. Was this where the Adrenalite experimentation had been happening? He shuddered at the thought.

  “What’s your name, boy?” Roman asked as they turned down an adjacent corridor.

  “James.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Old enough.”

  “I doubt that.”

  James shot him an angry look, but his bright green eyes displayed more fear than rage. It was pitiful really. Juliette must be desperate if she resorted to enlisting kids this young.

  “So,” Roman continued, “what made you decide to join the Security Ministry?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Call it curiosity.”

  James puffed up his chest. He still looked pathetically tiny inside all that body armour. “I joined to protect this city.”

  “And right now, stuck in this basement, do you feel like you’re protecting the city?”

  “I—” James paused. His shoulders slumped. “No. I don’t.”

  “Well, at least you’re honest.”

  The corridor came to an end and James pushed open the last door. “The Captain’s in here.”

  Roman laid a hand on the James’ shoulder; the kid trembled so much he nearly fumbled his gun again. “If you want to actually make a difference in Legacy, find me,” Roman said, “I can promise more than empty hallways.” He stepped through the door.

  It was a hall. An underground hall. He stared in wonder, marvelling at how such a place could exist. A hundred men could have comfortably fit in this room. A single bulb glowed in the middle, its light barely reached the walls. The air was cold and stale. Roman was tall enough to reach up and touch the roof, he gently prodded it — it was hard to believe a place so spacious could be underneath the entire Ministry building. What magic had the ancients crafted that made this roof strong enough to support a skyscraper?