by Mason Dakota
Finally, I caught a break and fell forward, colliding with the side of a parked car. The mob of reporters violently crashed down around me. I didn’t care whose car it was; I forced open the back door, pushing a few reporters back as I did, and climbed inside the vehicle. I slammed the door behind me. I fell onto black leather seats and lay there with my face against the interior. I caught my breath. The press slapped against the tinted windows with their palms as they continued to barrage me with their questions.
I ignored them as I sat up and found myself in a…limo! The back was long with an L-shaped seat made of black leather. A mini-fridge and mounted TV faced me. A black wall concealed the driver’s seat. I watched as it rolled down.
Great. Here’s where I get in trouble and thrown back to the wolves.
I was unexpectedly greeted by the smiling face of Thomas. He sat in the driver’s seat, and he wore a look on his face that told me he was either shocked I’d made it through on my own, or he was disappointed that I hadn’t been eaten alive out there. Either way, I couldn’t be happier to see the punk.
He opened his mouth to speak, but I quickly shut him up, shouting, “Get me as far away from here as you can!” His eyes widened before he spun around to fire up the engine. We pulled out of there swiftly, and I gave a pleasant wave and smile back to the press.
Day one of being a celebrity and I’m already building a brilliant reputation.
My stomach growled. I grimaced, missing my morning ritual of breakfast and a shower. Morning was my quiet reflection time, and I was a little ticked off that it had been ruined. Not waiting for an invitation to open it, I reached for the mini-fridge and took some fruit. Outside, Outcasts gave the limo odd glances as it passed by. Many of them, including myself, had never seen a limo in this part of the city.
I studied their faces carefully. So many of them were covered in dirt and grime and wore old ratty clothing. Many were homeless and sleeping in alleyways amongst the garbage. These were a people stuck, enslaved by Nobles, crushed by outrageous taxes. For many, survival depended on signing themselves over as what the Nobles politely called “lifetime indentured servants,” also known as “slavery”. Such a life promised at least one meal a day and maybe a roof, with freedom from taxes and sometimes a nice one-time payment sent to the family in exchange for the Outcast’s “willingness to serve,” as Nobles like to put it. Those who didn’t choose slavery were taxed heavily and forced to work multiple jobs with just enough pay to survive.
Nobles often wondered why all Outcasts didn’t just sign themselves over to slavery. Except slaves weren’t allowed marriage or the luxury of family—sometimes not even friendships. Some were physically beaten and tortured every day with laws that protected the abuser and not the victims. Outcast slaves were property and by extension everything they had was property of their masters. For an Outcast to sign themselves over to slavery meant they were desperate to survive.
Most would rather join Alexandra’s mob over a choice of slavery. The mob was the one organization in town that equally accepted Outcasts and Nobles. I guess it didn’t matter to them who held the gun and shot it. An Outcast could kill as equally as a Noble could.
I chose neither. Never could decide on my preferred death: a tortured life of slavery or a bullet in a street fight. Both sounded so pleasant, don’t they? I’d rather just steal from the Nobles and the mob and live happily on the spoils. At least my way, if things went astray, my death would be quick.
We exited the Outcast District. As we moved deeper into the city, several NPFC cars flew by with their sirens blazing. I thought I heard gunshots in the distance; maybe it was a car engine backfiring. Either way, it begged a question. I leaned forward and asked Thomas, “Driver, what’s going on?”
“Oh, I’m surprised you haven’t already heard. Chicago’s top officials are in an uproar, Sir, and it’s leaving its mark on the streets of this city. Last night there was a robbery, and the mayor’s private safe deposit box was broken into by someone. People believe the robber works for the Lady.” The Lady was a nickname for merciless mob boss, Alexandra Carline.
“People are outraged because the Mayor has a secret safe deposit box at the Lady’s bank, which many believe that means the two are working together. That upsets everyone and some have taken to protesting in the streets. At the same time, the Mayor’s furious over the fact many of his private files were discovered in the Lady’s own personal safe deposit box. The rumor is that the Lady hired someone to rob her own bank as a cover-up for the exchange, hoping the act would go unnoticed. I’m guessing those files hold something very important by the way the Mayor is responding.
“Since word got out, the Mayor has sent out the NPFC all across the city, using force to round up members of the Lady’s crew. He’s trying to identify the thief. Meanwhile, the mob is responding with equal measure. It won’t be long before both are shooting at each other. I’m guessing the thief took something very valuable for the Mayor to have started a war with the mob. But the only thing that has come out of it so far is bloodshed. Already there are reports of three people being hospitalized, and it’s not even noon yet.”
I leaned back in my seat and smiled. It hadn’t even been twelve hours from the heist, and already fighting had broken out between the two parties. It was an added bonus to have the city’s citizens protesting against their local Noble government. For far too long, the mob and the NPFC ignored each other, concentrating their efforts on the Outcasts of the city. The two parties collaborated and used each other for their own goals for years, staying out of each other’s way as the innocent between suffered.
One oppressed my people with cruel laws and taxes that keep Outcasts in poverty and slavery. The other used my people as favored meat shields to grow her mob. Now the two were at odds because their leaders, the Mayor and the Lady, severed ties due to my crime. The longer this separation lasted the better it would be for Chicago.
Meanwhile, I hoped the rest of the populace might finally be motivated to stand up for themselves. My interest rested primarily with the Outcasts, but the voice of Nobles protesting against their corrupt officials only gave more fire to the Outcast cause. If Nobles were willing to protest with Outcasts, seeing only a bleak picture of what was normal everyday life for the Outcasts, then I was not going to complain about temporary street violence.
Things are truly changing now.
A little while later we pulled up in Downtown Chicago, and Thomas parked the car in front of the Mayor’s office. I threw open the car door before one of the men out front could do it for me, and handed the doorman my apple core once he opened the front door. He gave me an odd look and I strode on by with a smile. I was in too good of a mood to care.
The lobby I entered was marvelous with eloquent furniture and artwork laid out around the room. The floors were of white marble and in the center of the room was the emblem of the Mayor’s office. There was a young female secretary behind a large curved counter on the far side of the room. I could tell the woman was a Noble just by the disgusted look she gave when she saw me, a definite Outcast, in such a place. Then again, maybe it was my sloppy, just-out-of-bed look. I figured it was a mixture of both, and continued my examination of the room.
To my right were rows of leather chairs, with a few business men sitting reading their papers or playing with the latest gadgets. Behind the secretary’s desk were a bunch of elevators. To my left stood a crowd of three men in suits, talking. In unison, they threw their heads back laughing, likely at some cheesy joke that I would never understand or think as funny. Once they saw me they ceased to laugh and stared at me like the secretary—with disgust. They made no eye contact and stepped away from me.
Large framed paintings of the past Mayors of Chicago since the Empire’s birth covered the lobby walls. The portraits arrayed across the rooms featured individuals in spectacular and intimidating poses, like they were kings of old. Some of them might have been such in Chicago.
The Mayor of Chica
go wasn’t elected by the people, but was appointed by the Emperor. There were no term limits for the Mayor. This was because Chicago, one of the few places in North America that survived the Abandoned War, was such a crucial city for the Empire’s economic structure that the Emperor chose specific individuals to run it. In my opinion the Emperor just wanted a puppet to help enforce his control over the city in his absence. But since the Mayor was so special, he was treated as royalty and ruled Chicago as would a crooked prince. I guess it was better to think of the Mayor as a Duke or Jarl than a mayor. But I guess the Empire didn’t want to give the full impression of tyranny, so they stuck to more democratic terms with tyrannical implications.
I whistled as I entered the lobby, and casually brushed a hand through my hair. I’d never been in the Mayor’s building before. A lot of power and money went through there. To Chicago and its people the building perfectly represented the Empire, but to Outcasts like me, it was the symbol of everything corrupt and evil in our world. I often fantasized seeing it burn to the ground.
Thomas appeared at my side and said, “If you would, Mr. Nightlock, follow me and I’ll take you to see the Mayor.” Seeking to speed things along, I gave neither word nor nod as I fell into stride behind Thomas.
Hearing my name appeared to grab the attention of every lost soul in the room. It was like everyone in the room remembered what last night when they heard my name called. Even the secretary looked up with a more pleasant expression. Her smile became warm and inviting—even for a Noble. The men in suits rushed forward to shake my hand and introduce themselves with their big pointless titles and job descriptions.
Politicians, every one of them.
I gave them nothing, not even a passing glance, as I pushed through them much like I did the press earlier. It felt good, if even only for a second, to make them feel how they made every Outcast in the city feel every minute of every day. We stopped in front of the elevator and Thomas pressed the call button. Immediately the doors opened. Thomas and I slipped inside. The politicians wanted to enter as well, but, still a frustrated from the press, I raised my hand and whispered, “Don’t even think about entering.”
They gave shocked looks after my stern words. A week ago, that would have resulted in my death warrant. But things were different now. I was protected by the Mayor’s immunity. I was untouchable, and I was relishing it. The elevator doors closed and I saw Thomas press a button on a side panel. The elevator lurched beneath my feet before shooting up its shaft. I had to balance myself on the wall after being hit with sudden motion sickness.
I hate elevators.
In less than a minute, the elevator stopped. It made a cheerful beeping noise, and opened to the top floor of the Mayor’s office. A big floor space housed many cubicles and doors. I followed Thomas through the maze and down a few hallways until we reached a smaller hallway housing only three doors. Cushioned benches sat against the right wall. The door straight ahead of us had a digital screen that read, “Mayor Josephus Kraine. Available.”
“This is your stop, Sir, and where we depart from each other,” said Thomas. The hint of joy that laced his words was unmistakable.
I smirked back at him and lied, “It’s been a pleasure.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow just before turning around. He left me standing there. I held my breath and posture for a few more seconds before sighing and looking back down the hall toward the door. So there I was, about to meet the Mayor of Chicago. With a snap of his fingers he could have me killed. Or worse—though my imagination failed to tell what could be worse than death.
If I don’t play my cards right, today might just end with my death.
Part of me wanted to make a clear run for it. A stupid decision. They knew where I lived. Word of my arrival had likely already reached him. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t run. I was stuck; there was no escape, and I was afraid of what awaited me inside that office. I knew things would never be the same again after I took that next step inside.
“Well there’s no use stalling the inevitable,” I said.
CHAPTER SIX
I moved closer to the door but froze as I heard voices inside the Mayor’s office. They first sounded like little murmurs. Feeling my blood stir with excitement, and not wanting to miss out on this opportunity, I smiled gleefully as I slipped carefully to the door and pressed an ear close to its hard surface.
“I get robbed by some masked lunatic in the middle of the night and you’re telling me nobody can seem to find the man responsible?” said Mayor Kraine.
Glad to know having a mad terrorist loose in the city is less important than your piggy bank.
“He simply disappeared, Sir. The bank had only five security guards spread out. Too easy for someone experienced to slip away,” said a second voice I didn’t know.
“Of course, security was low! Who would be crazy to rob a bank owned by Alexandra?” shouted the Mayor.
I couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Please tell me at least one of your men have turned up something while questioning Alexandra’s crew!”
“No, Sir, and if I’m allowed to speak freely, I must confess I don’t believe she’s involved. All evidence points to this thief trying to frame her as much as you. I’m not confident she had a part to play and your orders are placing my men in harm’s way,” said the second voice a little frustrated.
That has to be someone high up in the NPFC to refer to them as “his men.”
“She is guilty in this; I know it! This is just like her to stage a robbery on her own property to throw off any suspicion she did it. She’s done it before! How else would someone rob me so easily if she didn’t have a hand in the whole thing? I want her brought in immediately and charged! I’ve played nice with her for far too long. It’s time things changed!”
“Sir, she’s untouchable. If we go near her, her lawyers will sue us again and we’ll lose millions, just like last time and the time before that. Arresting her will bring this city only further into debt, which means higher taxes for the citizens of this city. Chicago’s Nobles would only be pushed to support her. From their point of view, she’s innocent for once. But if you continue down this path, I promise you she will retaliate against us and the city will support her.”
“You’re telling me that because she has money and power that I, the Mayor of the of Chicago and nephew to Emperor Adam Rythe, am supposed to simply roll over and show my belly to her like a dog?”
“Sir, I think you need to focus on the bigger picture. It’s not her you should be worried about, but the people. This incident makes you look bad. The Lady has never held a good spotlight, and now it appears like their governing body is in league with her. All your speeches about stopping the mob mean nothing now with this evidence against you. Citizens will suspect you’ve been in her pocket all along and they will act against you. My men have already stopped two small riots this morning. More will come. The people are losing their trust in you to lead them and will demand your resignation, regardless of who your uncle is, unless you carefully handle this. Attacking Alexandra ignores the people and the real problem. If you aren’t careful this might even fall back on our Emperor and we both know what will happen then. You must win back the people’s trust before this gets out of control.”
There was a long pause before Mayor Kraine said, “Let’s get something very clear. I’m your boss so you will do as I say. Find what was taken from me. Nothing else matters, not Alexandra and not those idiots outside these walls. Those stolen files cannot be allowed to see the light of day. Alexandra has them, I’m sure of it. I want those files and this thief found immediately. Burn down her mansion if that’s what it takes. That is an order! Leave the people to me. A few fancy speeches and promises to fund more charities will be all it takes to calm them down. It’s all it ever takes. And I’ll appear a hero again in their eyes and all will be forgotten. But if those files get out then all of us are dead men—that’s me and you, Victor! So, I don’t
care what it takes; take back what was taken from me!”
“But, Sir…” said the other voice.
The Mayor suddenly pounded his fist on a table, and shouted in fury, “That is an order! I will not discuss this matter any further!”
There was a moment’s pause, and I was half tempted to knock on the door before the second voice said, obviously trying to change the subject, “On some different news then, my men have made some progress in their search for Zia—.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s already been taken care of,” replied Mayor Kraine swiftly.
That’s odd.
“Sir, the people will wonder why—”
“The people,” interrupted Kraine with gritted teeth, “have nothing to worry about because I tell them such. As far as they are concerned there was a malfunction on last night’s train, and nothing else. If people knew the truth, then what you fear will certainly come true. Thankfully there is no footage of Ziavir—and any witnesses can be paid off. The situation with Ziavir is taken care of, and you would be wise not to mention it again. So, if you enjoy your cushioned job, you’ll do as I say and focus all your efforts on finding the thief. Otherwise I’ll find someone else who can cooperate and follow orders.”
That bit caught me off-guard.
Why would the Mayor give no thought to a terrorist, and what did he mean by “taken care of?” Is he really thinking he can bury this so that nobody knows what really happened? Am I here just so he can buy me off, too?
There was a moment of complete silence. I could almost feel the stare down on the other side of the door. I imagined the tension between the two men was so thick you could cut it with a knife. I held my breath, fearful that the slightest noise would give me away. Maybe four long and silent seconds passed, but it felt much longer.
“As you wish, sir,” said the second voice.
“Good. Now leave before my guest arrives,” snapped Kraine.
