Life changed; it started to be a little easier, and it certainly beat getting thrown in the gutter. On our first day, Eze taught me different techniques to catch a person's interest and had me practice reading different people as we traveled the streets of the Third Quadrant. He taught me how to approach those with whom I wasn’t familiar and how to decipher moods—and thus being cognizant of knowing what to say depending on their moods. To begin with, the old man wouldn't let me talk to anyone unless I somehow convinced him to buy one of his own products. An idiotic idea. It took maybe a hundred tries, but I eventually got a win after convincing him to purchase a bag of microwaveable noodles. From there, I graduated from convincing him to buy useless junk to convincing homeless people to pick up what trash we had to sell. And from there, Eze had me walk up to average citizens and try to use lines like, “I think you're missing something to go with your style.” Or, “You could really use this for the rest of your life.” It sounded cheesy to me, but appealing to someone’s potential benefit and believing in the idea yourself went a long way.
I was Eze's top as well as only employee.
He told me that if I managed to make twenty-five a week, I could live with him for as long as I needed… but I don't think that man would've ever kicked me out on his own. He was trying to teach and hone in me what I’d need to survive.
I recall one time when we approached a gang that’d been running the streets around us for a while, and they offered the two of us a collective, dark stare…
But I was surprised when the group of them erupted in laughter and one of their members shook Eze's hand vigorously.
“My man, Eze!” The older man turned the handshake into a quick hug. The same guy saw me and got on his knee to say: “What, you just find out this fool your dad or somethin’?” He looked at Eze accusingly. “You gettin’ a paycheck off keeping him, pops?”
“Naw…” He said “It ain't like that.” Eze shook his head in complete dismissal of the notion.
One of them, who looked to be only a few years older than me and with only a metal plate covering the area where his nose used to be, stepped toward Eze and handed him a package of something. Eze reacted by moving over to his cart and taking out a wad of cash that he handed to the crew member.
“Well, let me get a look at him.”
The character who seemed to be their ringleader, an adult wearing a camper with a blue visor, stared at me in curiosity. “Short… but a sturdy-lookin’ motherfucker for a kid. He ain't got no leadership other than you, old man?”
“Ah, just you wait,” Eze expressed a toothy smile, “he's going to be a champion one day, ya'll hear? The greatest of all time.” Eze became cheery. “He's getting motivated watching me make that money. I started mixing some music—you know, some spittin' and singin' if ya'll would like to check it out?” Before they could respond, Eze kept talking and seemed to shake irregularly as he spoke. “Look, ya'll could be my signing partners—I could-could feature you on some good shit—And if-if you like my stuff on Vitality Log, I-I'll give you a fifteen percent discount on anything I have—what do ya say?! G-great deal, right!”
Their leader squinted at him and frowned. “Man, you real fucked up; you really think I want any of—”
“Aw shit!” Another of the crew uttered. “… he got Yolando shirts, man.”
One of the members was browsing through Eze's cart with someone else. Though most thought my caretaker was crazy, he knew how to strike a profit.
--
Janelle
--
Tavon was driven by Aaliyah back to her place to stay by himself before she’d then leave to review the incident with Lieutenant Shraeu and the Bureau.
Earlier, the two of them had been escorted to medics after the appropriate authorities had arrived on scene. By the time Tavon was seen by anyone, his back had begun to regenerate beneath a severely burned exterior; however, he felt slightly nauseated due to the shock from the explosion. The higher the duo of Tavon and Aaliyah moved up in the criminal food chain, the more their lives would be threatened on a regular basis.
The paramedic who assessed Tavon adamantly insisted that he be taken to the hospital for treatment.
“Sir,” he started, “although it’s perfectly within your rights to refuse treatment, I really think—”
“Fuck yourself.”
Tavon brushed the medic off and searched for Aaliyah. He soon spotted her speaking to a taller, large-framed man donning a grey suit. As Tavon walked over, now covered partially in a gown, he could hear the stranger yelling at her.
“Detective Aaliyah, how many times have we talked about ‘heroic intervention?’ How many, really?”
“Enough.” She replied without looking at him. “We saw probable cause and decided to take the opportunity. What's wrong with that?”
“Who's 'we?'”
“Us.” Aaliyah pointed to Tavon and then herself.
The suited man paused for a moment…
He extended his hand to Tavon and said, “Detective Aden Kaust from the Dawn Bureau. Nice to meet you…?”
“Tavon. Just Tavon.”
--
“… —something with a 'T.' I'mma go with Travon.”
“He had a fade, I think… some dark hair. Curly. Not really short or tall. Kind of weird eyes…”
“Weird how?”
“I can't describe it, to be honest. It was like they had some kind of darkness in them, like I was looking at death, you know?”
Death…
--
Tavon
--
Eze planned on giving me a cart filled with merchandise to push around on the streets of the Third Quadrant. We utilized a grocery store in a local neighborhood, and Eze arrived there in one of the uniforms belonging to a store employee. After I’d helped him load a batch full of food, hygiene products, and different workout supplements, we brought my cart outside to his and shared the load as we booked it back to the condemned shelters we’d come to know as our home. Once Eze was ready, he would head back out into the world and sell the same products at lower prices. He had me take a different path through the Third Quadrant and told me to avoid anyone who “stared for too long.”
I didn’t really understand how the currency worked in this city; all I knew is that I was helping Eze make a decent amount of fast cash while he explained that most all transactions were being moved online. That’s when I’d first heard about regular currency being abandoned in favor of a new credit system confined to a secure Citadel network. That system is just now about to be used citywide. The concept of “cash” will soon be nonexistent.
Nevertheless, we had the means available to make our names known. Eze’s Goods quickly became a trusted, popular brand to the only customers we managed to acquire—people who were often others like us. My newfound reputation slightly changed the way Quadrant dwellers viewed me, as now I was at least of some use to them. The only bad territories to operate in were areas near markets like the very first one I'd entered when I’d first been brought into the city—that, and any Zone police station. Once Eze had established his routes after years of dodging muggers and cops, he'd continued to polish his strategies and maneuvered the Lower-City far better than I’d ever hoped to do so on my own.
And Anubis stayed around, although he seemed to appear less and less. The beast didn't eat or drink very often, but it's sheer speed was unmatched by any animal. He could catch birds and mice effortlessly but simply let them go each time he'd made a successful attempt.
My opinion of Eze was never higher in those first few weeks when we’d become something close to real merchants. In the little downtime we had, he’d tell me about what kids my age were into, what sports to play, and advised me to make everyone believe I’d always been his son to avoid too much scrutiny. I later came to see a different side of him.
After a few stealthy raids on larger markets and vendors we’d deemed to be asses, the money we came up with gradually accumulated. Eze wa
s spending most of our profits on something else, though. Something he wasn't planning on telling me about.
During one weekend, I came home from a “shift,” wherein I'd sold a few different things to help us stay afloat. We’d been squatting successfully in the same area for months now. I strolled in while stating: “Hey Eze, we gonna be eatin' good ton—”
Eze was propped against the wall, out of his senses.
So far, the old man had made me too kind, too innocent. I moved closer to peer at a needle lying next to his arm—one that had been tied at the bicep, resulting in his veins appearing more visible.
Eze shook himself awake and wiped the drool from his face upon noticing my arrival. He looked at me lazily and said with a sheepish grin: “S-sorry, kid… this stuff is worth everything to me.” His eyes were somewhat obscured by a sheen of red. “But don't you try it, boy—d-don't you dare let yourself get hooked on something you don't understand!” His head shook abnormally. “You d-don’t know nothin’ about it!” He started to rant. “There are some things not worth knowing. It's the dusk… another place hiding in our own. A deep dream, T—you can’t wake up!” He scratched his neck nervously before he said, “Just know that God is looking at you.”
I grabbed a small tub of a thick, yellowed substance next to Eze and took his needle as well. I then used one of my shoelaces in a lousy effort to reduce circulation to my forearm. He’d spent everything on this. The only profit remaining was the little I’d just managed to gather. I was angry that Eze had kept this secret from me, and so—being a stupid kid—I insisted that I’d have to take part in this ritual.
The vendor simply smiled at me and shook his head. “Well, I guess I can't blame you, son. We all got our vices for separate reasons…”
I filled up the syringe with a serum belonging to a street drug known as Graidolin—or, “Graidol.” It completely relaxed a user, taking their senses hostage. Everyone has a set way of interpreting reality, but substances like Graidol take people outside their normal way of thinking; it makes them privy to different perceptions. To me, a kid with only Eze to depend on, it was the perfect escape from what I thought was a crappy situation. A vein popped in my arm. A broad, blue canal. I shot up.
Afterwards… well, there's no way I could ever tell you all the things I imagined while high.
The most important thing to me is this: I shot up Graidol, and it was the very first time in my life that I’d ever felt safe, content. All of what had happened to me seemed to evaporate as trivial recollections and left behind the impression that my existence was great in that moment in time. It’s a relief, you know? Like a burden’s being lifted from your mind—if only temporarily. It felt worth it. Eze continued talking and laughing, but I couldn't make out anything he said. As my high began to peak, I peered at distinct lines across his face and began understanding better who he was in that moment.
I viewed a man who'd lost everything.
Eze had chosen to ride a wave of optimism he’d created for himself, and the Graidol more than helped with this personal mission. After using it once, I could understand how someone would give up their dreams to keep pursuing that feeling. It was comforting… up until I started seizing and having repeated visions of:
A man who bore an unending stream of tears. He crudely melted away to expose a symbol I didn't recognize, and the figure quickly changed to form a door that I moved to open. I proceeded down a long, ruby carpet encircled by nothing but darkness. I felt the room fade away and become a cliff where I viewed a vast twister swallowing everything in its path while hovering toward me. My body stiffened; I become petrified as I was taken by the coming storm and startled into a conscious state once more.
I became alert after realizing that I'd vomited behind the den, ruining my clothes. I gathered my strength and headed back inside while wondering if I’d sobered up. Eze and I now had something else in common; I could relate to someone for real. Being able to feel as another does, it gives a type of strength.
It wasn't long after that I met my first cop.
6
Footsteps in the Dark
--
Janelle
--
“I WON’T LET YOU DO THIS, KAUST!”
The Dawn Bureau Office was filled with stunned silence as everyone working on the night of Vendela Andrewa’s assassination halted in their tracks to observe Aaliyah confronting her Sergeant. Her colleagues had noticed her agitation at least once, but now she was standing with her face mere inches away from Kaust as she yelled at the top of her lungs: “You're out of your fucking element!”
Aden Kaust initially tried to calm her by condescendingly placing a hand on her shoulder, but she responded by pushing his arm away and violently prodding his chest. “He has nothing to do with this shit! I know you think you're a hotshot know-it-all on a glory mission, but my friends aren't about to be a part of another one of your conspiracy theories!”
At that moment, Zola Bali, a fellow operative and close friend of Aaliyah's, stepped in between the two.
“Enough!” She demanded with a surprising display of authority despite her lower rank. “Aaliyah,” she looked to her friend calmly, “he's your superior officer. Period. You can't talk to him like any fool off the street—he’ll write you up, and it’ll be your whole damn career on the line!”
“That doesn't mean he can just interrogate my friends whenever he feels like it!”
Kaust, allowing his blood pressure to drop for a moment, spoke up: “I don’t do paperwork on people… I’m not going to play ‘Dad’ to my subordinates; I accept disrespect is just part of the career.” Aden shrugged before glaring with accusation at Aaliyah. “Although this Tavon cat… He sounds like more than just a 'friend.'”
“You shut the fu—” Aaliyah started toward him but was pushed back by Zola, who shushed her and pointed to Lieutenant Shraeu's office door that briskly swung open as if on cue.
The scent of alcohol wafted from the room and preceded the tipsy but mostly serious Lieutenant as he eased himself out of his command suite. Shraeu wearily strolled over to stand before the three of the detectives, placed his hands on his hips, and sighed. “I hope all that noise means that there's another update I need to hear concerning the Andrewa Case? I get called in over a charity worker's suicide and suddenly everyone’s acting like this type of shit isn’t a common gig here—”
“—Respectfully, Sir, it wasn't a suicide.” Kaust interrupted.
“Right-right…” Shraeu rubbed his eyes and shook off his exhaustion.
Aaliyah looked at her Sergeant incredulously. “How can you say that when our medical examiner hasn't even confirmed—”
“Aaliyah!” Kaust raised his voice. “We both know that wasn't a suicide. You saw the signs of struggle for yourself! Vendela wasn't trying to go!—besides, she was netting enough of a fortune to set her family up for life. Sir,” Kaust turned to the Lieutenant, “all we need is express permission to examine the gold mine of info we’ve just uncovered, and Aaliyah's friend might even be able to help us! C’mon, this same guy's been making cameo appearances all over the Citadel; any time things make a turn for the worse, your ‘friend’ always seems to be in the middle of it!”
“Tavon was just there to help me in case I needed backup! He didn’t come so that you could bend him to your hero’s agenda!”
“And why couldn't you take someone who actually works here?” Aden raised an eyebrow while maintaining a facade of indifference false enough to anger Aaliyah even further. “Do you even know what 'Tavon' does for a living? Where he sleeps? His favourite color?”
“That's his business and nobody else's,” she replied defiantly.
Kaust approached her with concern. “But those are the kind of questions you should be asking, Agent!”
“His favorite color?! What the hell are you on—”
“How do you know he wasn't at Vendela's place before all this happened to conceal evidence?!”
“Why the fuck would—�
�
“Stop!” Shraeu exclaimed loudly. “Everybody shut up for a second and let's go with what we know, okay?” Shraeu folded his arm across his torso and rested his chin in the hand belonging to the other. “Detectives, I want the two of you in my office. Even though Sergeant Kaust decided to throw away his… professionalism by arguing with a subordinate about a confidential matter, l-let's try to act like grownups here and focus on the essentials. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir!” Aden Kaust was too quick to rush into the Lieutenant's office with Aaliyah bitterly trailing behind him.
Shraeu glared across the whole of the division and said, “Any word of this gets out and I'll have your fucking jobs! Get back to work. Now.” He glanced over at Zola and softened his gaze for a moment.
“You got it, Sir.” Detective Zola offered him a smile, betraying thoughts that she'd all but buried.
Shraeu smirked before turning to close the door leading into his office behind him.
Kaust began, “Sir, I really think we're close to—”
“Calm down, Sergeant,” Shraeu casually strolled over to his seat, retrieved a bottle of cognac from a hidden compartment in his desk, and poured himself a glass. Before he started in, the Lieutenant offered the two of them a drink. Kaust shook his head, but Aaliyah hurriedly grabbed the glass and chugged a portion of it before setting it back down on her superior officer's desk. Shraeu smiled.
“Look…” He exhaled as he spoke, “after the resilience the two of you have shown me in a very short amount of time, I already consider you guys my 'war heroes.' Shit—Sergeant Kaust worked extra hours to solve a mystery that could’ve had some kid killed by the people we work for, and to me that's damn good work fit for a member of the Dawn Bureau.” Shraeu paused before continuing. “And Aaliyah here, although she's proven to be the most reckless member of the team, might as well be fulfilling tasks and taking on cases intended for Sergeants. The two of you are a fuckin’ headache to work with, but you've done right by me. You guys make me look like I know what I'm doing when I'm on a review board. And for that… thanks.” He seemed sincere.
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