“Tavon,” she spoke, ignoring her superior, “I'm a little bus— … what? Tavon! You broke my—oh god…”
7
Surviving The Times
--
Tavon
--
THIS PART OF THE STORY I’D PREFER NOT to tell her.
I didn't understand how Eze had come to start calling me Tavon, and I wondered why he’d given me that name for some time. Our confrontation with a regular beat cop changed how my caretaker came to see me in the coming years. My new name would start to mean something.
It was the day before my thirteenth birthday and, up until then, I'd felt safe—for the most part—when I was around the wandering salesman. We'd only had to move once, and that was merely because Major Sofie had decided to begin renovating the condemned buildings in which we were living. Luckily, we'd managed to find another spot in the Third Quadrant within a few days during the peak of winter—after which, we’d begun acquainting ourselves with new streets, potential customers, and aggressive hustlers.
On my own, I was a threat to local crews for reasons I didn’t fully understand but with the name-brand of Eze, they labeled me an overly loyal servant, a pet, and any hostility toward me vanished overnight. The irony was that there were times when it seemed as though we’d made a more than adequate income with the work we'd put in as a result of our combined efforts; despite that, it was always so much more of a priority to shoot up. To be happy and feel stable, I had to keep using Graidol when the two of us could have saved up to rent out a real place and work from an apartment that was less likely to get robbed. I can look back on our situation and talk about what we should have done all I want, but the two of us did what we felt we had to with Anubis often in tow.
And so, I stood with Eze on a corner belonging to a street name I can't recall. That day, we'd caught wind of a football game soon to take place in the area and so decided to sell jerseys and hats we'd scored from a sports store all the way in the Second Quadrant. I remember having a cart full of them and standing next to Eze as he started shouting at those passing by in the hopes of making just one sell.
Anubis had left us for another brief period of time, although he usually followed us around on any other day as if he were watching over our travels. I'd never seen Eze so blissful and excited, which was due in part to some speed he'd taken immediately after waking up but also a direct result of the sheer amount of profit we netted as our hard work gradually accumulated local interest. Everything was going well, and we were planning to celebrate my birthday the following morning at one of the more affordable restaurants in the area… but after several hours of watching the fruits of our labors come pouring in, we noticed that less people had taken to the streets and that our particular corner had become increasingly quiet. At first, I'd thought that Eze was yelling too loudly and subsequently realized that almost everyone was now avoiding our specific location. The game was near to the central portion of the Third Quadrant, and the surrounding area was managed by Major Sofie’s private police force.
We later found out that particular corner was a part of Officer Rowlo's daily beat, and he would hit that section of the Third Quadrant at nearly the same exact time without fail. Eze and I just happened to be unlucky and, with no one to warn us of the man's overall temperament, neither of us knew how to react to his decisions on that day.
Eze exhaled and proudly placed his hands on his hips while beaming at me. “Well, T, I’d say our fortune's just about run out.”
“No way, gramps. We just gotta relocate, you know? Somewhere people haven't been seeing us yet! This game is supposed to be big; everybody’s buggin' because the Lower-City has a good line up this year!”
He scratched at sores hidden below his unkempt beard. “Good teams come and go. Citadel people tend to get caught up in some trife matters and some of them forget how good they have it. They ain't got it like us, T; we were given a status in life meant only for those cut from the same cloth, ya know? And Fate has a way of making all of its pieces fit together…”
He started rambling like he always did, high off the same old shit and living up to his reputation as a babbling fool. I was about to cut him off when…
“Good morning, sirs! How's it going?”
The two of us turned to see a man garbed in an all-black uniform adorned with a variety of badges and symbols I didn't recognize. His thumbs were tucked into his belt, and he stood rather close to the carts while appearing to fidget around somewhat anxiously. Eze scrambled to compose himself and offered wide, fake smile.
“Ay what's good, officer! You just in time for a special we got going on for public servants! You see, we doin’ two jerseys for the price of one, two caps for the price of one, and—you already guessed it—a cap and jersey for the price of one of each! So, if you got some family you want to share with—”
“Easy, buddy; I'm not looking to buy anything, just need to make sure everything here is on the up and up. I’m Officer Rowlo, by the way.”
“Oh…” Eze appeared mildly disconcerted. “What can we help you with then, officer?”
Rowlo smirked. “I'm going to need documentation showing that you're licensed to sell merchandise in the Third Quadrant. Otherwise, you could be participating in 'solicitation.' That's not something you want me to get you on, because I can and will.”
I was a little annoyed, so I spoke up. “Why do we need… 'documents?'”
The officer stepped closer. “Because otherwise I can't verify that what you have here isn't stolen property or property belonging to the two of you—just show me your papers and we can clear this matter up real quick, okay?"
Eze tried to fake him out by rummaging through his pockets while knowing that he possessed no such credentials. “I apologize, brother, but seems like I left it all at home…” He held up his hands in defeat and smiled meekly.
“Excuse me?” The officer's expression changed to one of repugnance.
“I said I forgot to bring 'em with me on my person, ya see—”
“I heard what you said, sir, but you'll forgive me if that sounds a little off…”
Eze became nervous. The cocktail of drugs he'd taken that day didn't help his case either. “It's just an honest mistake, officer. I didn't remember.”
“You didn't remember what? How to be a citizen like the rest of us? Tell me, sir, where do you live?”
“I don't understand…”
“I mean, where are you coming from today? Do you have a residence containing the paperwork I’m requesting? Is this your son with you right now?”
Eze grew red in the face and began to fidget as he struggled to form a good answer in his mind. “W-we're just humble people trying to make a living, officer, I swear. Look, we sellin' jerseys and hats for a steal; who's your favourite team, eh? Are you going to the game, and are you bringing your family with you—do you need us to find you tickets-”
“No sir. I'm trying to figure out why you're selling merchandise without a fucking license! If you want, I can cuff you right here because now you’re committing obstruction of my routine. It's people like you who try to screw over the system and act like you're on the moral high ground!”
I decided to say what I could to help: “Sorry, b-but he's telling the truth! He just wants to help you the best he can!”
“Was I talking to you?!” Officer Rowlo retrieved a worn baton from his waist and widened his stance. “Solicitation as well as obstruction of justice are both criminal offenses, and it seems as though not only do I need to book you today, Mr… 'Eze?'” He peered at the sign hanging from the vendor's cart. “But this kid needs a better role model who won’t teach him to disrespect officers of the law!”
I don't know if you completely understand how a user's mind works; it's generally something that only makes sense to them, and so Eze did the only thing he knew how to do under the influence of some pills and a large hit of Graidol still barely coursing through his veins.
Eze hurriedly grabbe
d one of the jerseys from the cart and held it close to the officer while shaking and desperately pleading for his forgiveness: “Here, take one! Take them all if you want—we don't mean any harm, officer! We'll give you whatever you need! It’s for you-for your family-and for your fr—”
In a split second, the black cylindrical shape of the baton collided with the junkie's head with a resounding thud and sent the man's weak body to the concrete. Eze looked up in bewilderment and raised a frail arm in defense, but the officer lunged forward and sneered as he repeatedly started bashing the vendor!
My only friend in the world shouted: “Please, officer! Please! S-stop!” as the baton bashed his cheekbone from the side and fractured it open as blood flowed from the wound.
Officer Rowlo prepared to deliver a more powerful strike and hefted his weapon in the air with both of his arms before exclaiming as he swung it down and—!
… His forearms were halted in the air by my own crossed in front of me.
The Zone cop's expression turned fiercer as he uttered, “Fucking nuisance! It's like the Citadel scum keep breeding more and more of themselves!” He grunted as he moved the baton away and made a half turn before sending a heavy kick toward my stomach!
And normally, that's all it would've taken for a kid that age.
We were both surprised when I'd deftly ducked my entire body under the attack—in fact, Rowlo was so staggered that he tripped on his other foot before clumsily falling over onto his ass.
“You brat! How did you—Nevermind,” he grumbled, “I’ll teach you not to assault public servants of the Federation!”
Rowlo was quick but uncoordinated as he rolled onto his knees and propped himself on his hand to get to his feet and move toward me again! Right into my open palm that I extended and held firm as the space between the bridge of his nose and eye were violently forced against it, causing him to drop both his baton and cradle his face as he tumbled forward. Rowlo took a few shaky steps before steadying himself and flying into a blind rage which turned red the sickly pallor of his own skin. The officer delivered a right hook so swiftly that I was only able to halfway stop the amount of force that buried itself into my right cheekbone! I fell back but didn't seem to feel any pain and thus was able to collect myself as Rowlo leapt onto me and prepared to jab at me with everything he had! I moved my head in time as one of his fists smashed against the ground beside me and followed up myself with an uppercut to his jaw before I entangled his arm between my legs and jerked it out from under him with all the strength left in my body—enough to cause it to bend and then fracture within only a few seconds as I applied further pressure. Officer Rowlo cried out in pain, but I wasn't finished…
At this point, something else entirely had taken over my waking mind. I think witnessing what happened to Eze and knowing that I was about to be attacked triggered something from some time ago. I don't know how I knew what to do in this situation; my body moved by itself, as if it recalled something I’d long forgotten. I let go as power surged within me.
I became feral.
I extended Rowlo's broken arm and began to batter it with a series of hits that caused the officer's face to erupt in tears as he struggled against me! I then hammered a reign of blows across his exposed face and remember uttering an animalistic noise satisfied only by the cries of my opponent!
I felt Eze's arms cross themselves in front of my chest. With all his might, the vendor moved me away from the officer and shouted in my ears: “Stop it, T! That’s ENOUGH!”
He started to drag me away, my eyes affixed to my enemy; the job wasn't finished. Officer Rowlo could barely speak anything comprehensible and was on the verge of fading out. But I couldn't bring myself to hurt Eze, even if all of this was in our defense.
“The hell’s wrong with you, boy?! What kind of devil taught you that—because it wasn't me, T! It certainly wasn't me!”
I was about to try to break free—to simply shrug him off… but as I glanced back, overtaken by rage, I saw the only person who cared for me full of tears. It softened my heart in that moment; Eze didn't believe in hurting a soul, no matter what their crime happened to be.
“Please, T! This isn't you! We have to get out of here; we gotta leave this place—forget about the cart! I’ve got money to move us somewhere else, somewhere better.” He gave a pleading smile. “Don't you mind people like this; they don't understand what it's like for us…”
He let go of me, and we started to run to escape as far as we could.
8
Move On Up
--
Janelle
--
DOCTOR RUSTAM GREW UP A FARMHAND, an orphan whose parents had given him up as the result of a broken marriage and their lack of means to adequately raise him during that time period. He was alone for most of his youth, because his employers and peers had seen him as short-tempered and somewhat dimwitted. But Rustam, who was determined beyond anything to reach his goal, eventually became a renowned surgeon in the Citadel. In fact, he was the unofficial doctor used by most of what remained of Enrec in the face of a new government. Most of it was thanks to Avva, a war veteran who was one of the most popular female freedom fighters in Federation.
Avva tried to convince the doctor over the years to develop his own practice and begin treating Enrec members at lower rates than the rest of the public, and, even though he fought his feelings with everything he could, Rustam found himself completely in love his real-life hero. Unfortunately, he never worked up the courage it takes to sometimes say what’s contained inside of us—mostly out of the fear that he could lose Avva forever…
And so he did, after she passed away in labor under his care. And the only one in the world who was more devastated than Derek, the father, was Rustam. Using discrete channels in his privately-owned hospital, Rustam managed to smuggle Derek's newborn son away from him in order to fabricate a lie the President would come to believe. After all, Avva's last words to Rustam after he accepted the responsibility of parenthood were as follows:
“If it's a boy, then his name is Amour… a girl, then Wendy—I always liked that name. But if you're unable to do even that, Doctor, then assure me of one thing…
“Keep him from Derek. Whatever you do…”
Rustam complied with her last demand, and Amour's death was faked; Derek was given the body of another infant who had been stillborn. Despite the doctor's attempts to calm him, Derek threatened to destroy Rustam and stopped at nothing to see everything he’d built completely destroyed.
It was only a week later when Rustam's group of private practices were hit with both a class action lawsuit and a personal lawsuit issued by the President for malpractice. Subsequently, Rustam managed to input Amour into the government's medical system under a series of false entries. But soon he found his license to practice taken away from him and returned home one evening to discover that someone had stored all of their weaponry in his attic. Despite never contacting them, the authorities quickly arrived; however, Rustam escaped with Amour and fled an official order from the Dawn Federation to apprehend and put Rustam on trial as a suspected terrorist. Because of this, he fled the Citadel as well as all countries occupied by the Dawn Federation and, at first, tried to establish himself as a traveling, independent doctor under a different name.
As Amour grew older, he realized that he and his “father” were greatly impoverished, living payment-to-payment. In spite of this, his situation only caused him to admire Rustam to a certain extent, and he eventually became part of the reason why the physician was able to establish himself as a popular healer. Amour was a living ray of sunshine and frail by appearance with a meek heart. He was a fast learner and turned out to possess steadier hands than the aging Doctor Rustam as time progressed.
In the end, the two of them put their minds together and focused on villages that were recovering from the aftermaths brought about by an infantry unit from the United Clans of Wanre. Wanre was on a mission to claim territory recently lost after
a civil war which divided the region, and so they sent a series of battalion-sized elements to conquer old lands. And while Rustam and Amour became well-loved due to their efforts, it was only a matter of time before the duo made a mistake that cost them everything.
--
Amour forced his face into the dirt. He wanted to escape with his mind somewhere safer than where he was… anywhere else.
--
Doctor Rustam and Amour were treating a village they believed had been attacked and ravaged by roaming soldiers. But for some reason, they received more money offerings here than any other place they’d decided to help in their travels. People seemed to be well-off and approached them with no concerns for cost. Later, it became apparent why…
Rustam had been set up. A local battalion decided to terrorize this settlement and return later after hearing that a physician would be visiting to help. Wanre lacked field medics and thus resorted to recruiting prisoners and wandering doctors like Rustam. But Wanre's army wanted more than just that, and they decided to conduct a complete raid of the village. Thus, all around Amour, soldiers butchered fathers in front of their families, raped men and women who’d tucked themselves away in hidden corners, and burned everything in sight. He wanted to fight back but didn't understand how, and he couldn't find Rustam anywhere amidst the chaos. Amour cried “Father!” as he wandered trails littered with the dead.
His eyes lit up when he spotted an officer, a position with status he was unaware of and to him was a man dressed in a clean coat decorated with a variety of given honors. The officer approached him initially, exclaiming, “Well, would you look what we got here… where's your parents, miss?”
The Wanre officer mistook Amour for a young female, and he quickly grabbed his arm. “How about we spend some time alone, eh? What's stopping us—I'm a handsome guy, right?”
Amour pulled away from him. Although people had mistaken the aspiring medic for a girl before due to his more feminine appearance, he never imagined that he'd be confronted with such a horrendous misunderstanding. “I'm not going anywhere with you! –Where’s Doctor Rustam—where’s my dad!?”
Angelos Odyssey Page 35
