Illegal King

by Mason Dakota

  I shuffled my feet and looked between him, the machine, and Raven who looked ready to pounce. The weight of the world pressed upon my shoulders.

  “War is coming. It’s time to decide who you’re with, Griffon. Will you help us overthrow this tyrant and give our people a chance, or will you only stall the inevitable and lose us the war that’s coming? This is the last opportunity I will give you, my son.”

  Could he be right? Am I the villain here? Did I jeopardize the lives of my friends for nothing?

  I faced a choice between two species in a war bound to happen. In my hands, I held the decision of how the war would go. Maybe my father was right, maybe our best chance of survival as a species was striking first, even if it played into what Adam wanted. But did that make it right? Was it really too late to hope for peace between our people? Has it really come to this that we kill each other out of fear instead of cause?

  The Griffon a year ago would not have hesitated to take my father’s offer. I once harbored a deep hate for Nobles. They took every ounce of blame I could spit out of my mouth—some still did.

  But I wasn’t the same Griffon as I was a year before.

  I’d discovered evil and good rested with both species. I’d met wicked Outcasts and gentle Nobles. I’d fought against despicable Outcasts and shared meals in my home with loving Nobles. A number of Nobles were counted as close friends—friends whom I trusted and relied upon.

  Their fates hung on my decision; however, was I not first and foremost an Outcast? Nothing could change that, so if I didn’t side with my own people then where would I side? I would be hunted by both species. I would be rejected, hated, despised by those for whom I had sacrificed so much. No side would rest until one side saw me dead. I wouldn’t be alone in the witchhunt. My friends, both Outcasts and Nobles, would be hunted simply for their friendship with me.

  I would be made an Illegal in all means short of genetics.

  Do I pull the trigger to stop my father and accept such a fate, or do I join my father and save my own people?

  There was no more time to rationalize. No matter what I did, I wasn’t coming out a hero. I would be remembered as a monster.

  But then I thought of my friends…

  …and what Chamberlain would do…

  He would have hope things could get better between our species.

  So I pulled the trigger...

  …and killed the chance my people had in this fight.

  Eighty-Three

  Red streaks of electricity spat from my pistol in quick succession. Raven and my father dove clear fearing I aimed for them. But I hadn’t.

  My shots struck my father’s weapon of mass genocide.

  One shot tore through a metal casing on the machine. The second caused the machine to spark in flames. The third vaporized the glass cylinder and the red streak mixed with the green liquid and combusted into a ball of fire.

  The boom sounded like the end of the world. Fire erupted across the trembling room. Metal screeched. Flames crackled. Everything burned.

  The shock wave threw me off my feet and around the corner moments before the flames followed and narrowly missed me. I bounced and cried out in pain. The second the noise ceased I heard my father scream, “KILL HIM!!!”

  Tempest Raven was on his way.

  Time to get out of here, Griffon!

  I jumped up to my feet and took off as fast as my wounded leg allowed. I gritted my teeth past the pain and forced myself into a jog. The blast propelled me forward. I rounded the corner to see the door that I had come through before. It didn’t mean freedom—not when I knew there would be an army of soldiers waiting for me—but it was enough to give me hope.

  I looked over my shoulder, then turned back to see Raven standing between the door and me. How the man managed to sneak around and cut me off was beyond me. With a blur of hand movements he disarmed me and struck me across the jaw with tremendous force. I slipped and landed on my back. I cried out in pain, but Raven didn’t care. He grabbed my jacket and slung me on the ground until I slid across the floor and hit a wall. It wasn’t the hardest hit I’d taken in my life, but with broken bones it was enough to take my breath away.

  Raven moved forward and I saw the fire in his eyes. I knew that this would be the end. I was a dead man.

  Well, it was a good run, Griffon.

  He approached me and I saw something sharp in his hands before he lunged forward with unnatural speed and stabbed me in the leg. I screamed and looked down to see not a knife in my leg…but a syringe with some kind of blue liquid. Before I could process what I saw he injected the liquid into my leg. I could only stare in disbelief. He seemed expressionless and void of all emotions as he emptied the syringe. Then he pulled the syringe out and pocketed it so fast I questioned if what I saw had really happened.

  Oh, great. Now what has he injected me with?

  “I gave you the cure,” he whispered.

  I licked my lips and whispered, “Why?”

  He straightened up to his full height and said, “I would die for your father, but I do not kill Outcasts—especially when it concerns the son of my leader. I am choosing to show you mercy this once, but interfere in our plans again and I will break my vow.”

  After that he turned and vanished out of my sight. I stayed there on the ground. I didn’t quite have the capacity to fully process what just happened.

  The door to the ventilation room suddenly blew open. Dozens of soldiers rushed inside and swarmed around me as I lay there motionless. A soldier rushed toward me, lifted his rifle and smashed the stock against my face knocking me out cold.

  Well, you did good Griffon. You saved the day…and destroyed tomorrow.

  Eighty-Four

  Smack!

  It’s never difficult to be awakened by the force of a punch. My abuser wore the typical red battle armor of an Imperial soldier. I woke in similar fashion to how I was knocked out to begin with—and by the same people!

  The soldier stood over me with his hand closed in a tight fist. As my vision cleared to process this wonderful bit of information, the soldier proved to be all too eager to ensure I was fully awake…with another punch to the face. My face whiplashed to the side and I tasted blood.

  “Wake up swine! Orders are that you have to be alert to see this.”

  “See what?” I moaned and mumbled through a mouth full of blood. I tried to move and found I couldn’t. My left hand was positioned high above my head in handcuffs. My broken right arm dangled in some kind of harness strapped to my chest. I sat upon a dirty floor in some kind of jail cell with my feet shackled to the ground and my waist chained to the wall.

  These weren’t normal handcuffs either. These were special handcuffs unlocked only by an access code. They were also tamper-proof with a built in trap. The slightest tampering and the same electricity that shot out of blasters would slice off any limb in the handcuffs. I had one on each limb and a large one around my waist. I was happy to remain submissive. Not that I cared to be locked up. I didn’t have enough energy to even lift my head.

  “This,” said the soldier as he stepped back and exited the jail cell. Outside on the other side of the bars two soldiers were setting up a small TV. They messed about with the wires that covered the floor and the remote until finally a picture appeared on the screen.

  It showed a close up of Emperor Adam Rythe’s face. He began a public address.

  “Citizens of Chicago,” he said. The words echoed in a mike somewhere outside, probably in Town Square more likely.

  The Emperor continued, “Your courage and endurance during these harsh months is admirable. The trials have not been easy. Lives have been lost and there will always be scars from these days. Your innocence has not hindered the cruelty of your oppressors. But your cries for justice have been heard and they have been answered.”

  There was a ringing of applause. Adam seemed to soak in it. He waited until the crowd settled down before he started again.

  “As I spe
ak there are men and women working diligently to restore order back to Chicago and bring it to its former glory. Within a few days power will be restored all across Chicago and I personally promise you that you will have warm homes to sleep in come winter.”

  Another round of applause brought the Emperor a smile. The man was a perfect politician.

  “However, simply turning the light back on doesn’t always make the monsters disappear. There are still threats lurking, attackers who attempted to take advantage of you. They have many faces, from the Sabols who assaulted your police headquarters, to masked terrorists such as the villainous Shaman. Each of these will face justice. That I promise you. But a new threat has recently emerged, arising from amongst your own trusted leaders. Several hours ago my men stopped an Outcast bent on global destruction. This Outcast planned on releasing a virus believed to be able to target the Noble gene and kill us. If my men had not stopped him, we would be facing genocide and the demise of this great city that has stood the test of time.”

  The crowd suddenly gasped and I heard several cries of panic. The Emperor was publicly announcing that the Nobles of this world were not as invincible as they thought. To a Noble this was a nightmare coming true. One woman in the crowd screamed in response. My father was right, Adam would twist this situation in some way to get the results he wanted.

  Well, I’m glad to see they at least caught my father.

  “This culprit goes by the name Griffon Nightlock—your former Outcast Emissary,” said the Emperor.

  I moaned and closed my eyes. It’s all I was capable of doing.

  You had to see that coming Griffon. The blame always falls on you.

  “I assure you this man will receive justice for his crimes,” said the Emperor. A ring of applause from the crowd echoed across the air at the Emperor’s words and a smile stretched across his wicked face. He looked directly into the camera and I knew he meant his smile just for me. Then he turned away to look back out at his audience.

  “However, this Outcast was not alone in this affair. He had an accomplice—one that has plagued your streets for the past year. He is a murderer of Nobles, an instigator of riots and other acts of extreme violence, and he is believed to be partially responsible for the power outage across Chicago. That makes him responsible for every death from starvation and exposure amongst your loved ones. This man I give you is none other than Shaman!”

  At that the Emperor waved his hand to the side and the camera panned out to show soldiers leading Shaman onto the stage with cuffs upon his wrists, ankles, and waist. He wore only the Shaman mask and an orange neon jumpsuit. With the camera panned out I could now see the hanging noose and an executioner standing behind a lever.

  “Thomas!” I hissed in panic.

  “This terrorist has thought himself outside the laws meant to protect our citizens simply because he wears a mask! No one is above the law! But I leave his fate with those who have suffered under his oppression. What say you, citizens of Chicago? What shall we do with this criminal?”

  “Hang him! Hang him! Hang him!” cried the audience.

  Emperor Adam Rythe smiled wickedly and said, “City of Chicago, I give you the man behind the mask!” At that the Emperor reached over and ripped off Shaman’s mask so the camera could zoom in.

  Except it wasn’t Thomas.

  It was Gabriel.

  My heart skipped a beat. I began screaming as loud as I could. Spit flew from my mouth. Tears flew from my eyes as my body convulsed. I thrashed about in my bonds causing a wave of pain to flood through my body. The handcuffs beeped, arming their lasers and readying to fry off my limbs if I weren’t careful. But I didn’t care. Disbelief overwhelmed me. There was no fight in Gabriel, no fire of defiance. He was calm, quiet, and serene. That meant he was where he wanted to be.

  Gabriel must have a plan; he always had a plan. Surely he’ll escape. He would never have allowed himself to be captured if there weren’t some kind of plan behind it all!

  The crowd roared with excitement and bloodlust as soldiers forced Gabriel forward onto the stage. I waited for his escape, the moment where he broke out of his bonds and fought free. They got him onto the stage peacefully and tied the noose around his neck. Still, he didn’t fight back. They secured him in place, and he never resisted. My eyes were glued to the screen as I hoped to see some miraculous escape.

  But none ever came.

  He stood there proudly, as straight as he could with the noose tight around his neck. He looked into the camera—into my very soul with those eyes of his—and simply nodded. I knew the message he sent to me right then, the same message of our last private conversation together. Then the camera moved back toward the Emperor where Adam Rythe raised his hands and said, “Chicago! Today you have your justice!”

  Emperor Adam Rythe pulled the lever and Gabriel dropped.

  It was over in an instant.

  I continued to scream even after my voice went out. Tears soaked my face in that dark jail cell. Spit and blood flew from my mouth until it was dry. My neck grew sore from head thrashing. Pain washed over my flesh, which came close to being fried off by the handcuffs. But none of that compared to the hollowing grief within me. My friend was dead before my eyes. A good man. A mentor. The closest thing I ever had to a real father.

  Dead.

  The two soldiers who had set up the TV pointed and laughed at me, but I paid them no attention in my fit of sad panic. They reached over and turned off the TV before leaving the room. They closed the door behind them and suddenly all light in the jail cell snuffed out.

  Alone in the dark, the only sound accompanying me were my sobs echoing off the walls.

  Eighty-Five

  Angelia Foss came out of the bathroom wearing clothes Alexandra gave her and a towel wrapped around her head. She looked at Ziavir who still sat by the window with his blaster pistol and watched the streets below.

  “You’re not going to rest tonight are you?” she asked.

  Ziavir never turned to address her. “As long as I am here, you’ll never be safe. That means I can’t sleep until my mission is completed.”

  “And Miss Carline?”

  “She’s asleep in the other room. There’s room for you to join her.”

  Angelia moved and sat down on one of the couches facing Ziavir. She rubbed her hair with her towel. “She’s special to you.”

  Ziavir took out the ring in his pocket and moved it around his palm and between his fingers. Then he put the ring back in his pocket. It was the only answer he gave to her question.

  “I’ve ruined things for the two of you, haven’t I?”

  “Adam ruined things. Not you,” Ziavir whispered.

  There was a silence between them. It unnerved Angelia, but Ziavir seemed unaffected. He looked like a statue, always on guard as he eyed the streets below.

  “You’ll be safe with Alexandra. She will give you a new life, a new name, a new job.”

  “Thank you…for everything,” Angelia whispered.

  “I was just fulfilling the mission my Emperor gave me.”

  Angelia sighed. “I miss him already. He was a good man.”

  Ziavir stiffen his back and licked his lips. “I think I’ve figured out why you mattered so much to him—why he wanted you somewhere safe—why he claimed the future of the Empire rests with you.”

  “You have?” The pulse in Angelia’s throat quickened.

  “The baby. It belongs to Bretton, doesn’t it? That would make an Illegal an heir to the Noble throne.”

  Angelia ducked her head. After several silent breaths she whispered, “I loved him, and he said he loved me, too. I know it sounds silly for the most powerful man in the world to love the woman who did his laundry. It might have even been a crime for me to speak with him, but he was the one who noticed me. He would leave me love notes and flowers in my locker. On a number of occasions he gave me the day off and did my job while he paid for me to explore the city. He was a good man who’s interest I should n
ever have earned.”

  “Yeah…that sounds like Bretton.”

  “He wanted things to be kept a secret. He wasn’t married and didn’t have an heir and things were growing tense with the Senate. I think he suspected that the Senate was planning something against Him. He wanted me kept safe and hidden. But then I got pregnant.”

  “And everything changed,” added Ziavir.

  “I had never seen him so happy.” Tears fell down Angelia’s cheeks. “He said he was going to abolish the segregation between Outcasts and Nobles. He said he was going to change things so that our child could grow and one day rule in a world that would accept him. He said we were going to get married and be a family.”

  “It was that dream that would lead to his death,” Ziavir whispered.

  Angelia covered her face with her hands and sobbed. With each movement of the child within her she wept harder. But then a hand rested upon her shoulder and she looked up to see Ziavir kneeling before her at the foot of the couch.

  “My lady…Empress of the Noble Empire…and bearer of the child you carry…I vow I will do everything in my power to keep you and your child safe. I swear it on Emperor Bretton’s throne, I will do whatever it takes to make the dream Bretton had a reality.”

  Angelia wrapped her hands tightly around Ziavir’s neck and together they wept.

  And Ziavir meant every word.

  “You will need a new name, for sure. How about Linda, Linda Blair?”

  “That…that sounds nice.”

  “Yeah…I thought so.”

  They stayed like that until Angelia fell asleep from exhaustion.

  Ziavir left both women behind in the morning. It was the only way to keep them safe and keep his promise.

  Eighty-Six

  I could only tell time that passed with the number of nightmares I experienced each time I closed my eyes. They always had certain elements: rope and dead men. After the sixth nightmare, the door to my cell opened. White light washed over me and revealed my pitiful state of existence.