“Kalina!”
“You're not just some fucking killing machine—you're mine! I didn't marry a military drone.”
“And you can't expect me to be here at all hours of every day! Why can't you understand that if I don't pull this shit off…”
“What? The Citadel's gonna burn to the ground if Brock isn't there to save it?”
“I thought—”
“You thought what? —and why can't you man up and just say 'No!' when it's time to say 'No?'”
“I’d do anything for this Marriage…”
“It’s loveless, Brock.”
22
Mysteries of the World
--
Tavon
--
I STARTED ON THE PATH to the Fourth Quadrant.
Major Kohaku had taken a small piece of the Citadel and removed all facilities designated for law enforcement. He wanted to create a completely free market governed by the populace and lead by the strongest in the Quadrant, and so it became my safest bet. I could find somewhere to stay if I chose a side in the ongoing conflict brewing within the Fourth Quadrant. Not many are aware of this, but Kohaku had a lot invested in one of the larger syndicates, a collective that eventually caused my personal reputation to soar pretty dramatically; they played a crucial part in my journey to become an assassin.
Unfortunately, the only direct route to the Fourth Quad was through a rather intricate subway system suspended just over the World Below. Most of Lower-City trains had been modified with the same technology used for cruisers, enabling them to course much faster throughout the Citadel. Because of this, only two circuits were used—one leading to my destination while the other lead to a checkpoint placed before the exit to the outside world. I don't think you can get out of the city that way anymore…
For me to make it to the Shimazu Prefecture in the Fourth Quadrant, I'd have to transfer between three different trains over a period of three hours due to the sloppy scheduling. Overall, however, it was a quick trip to be able to escape far from Dfari and his crew. Even without them pursuing me, the real threat was everyone else considering I was on my own again. I'd managed to cop a backpack large enough to contain Ovo's “Lifeblood.” When I'd gotten time to look through it all, I couldn't really understand at first; I wasn't the brightest kid sometimes.
In one of the containers, it was just ammo; large rounds off all types neatly condensed into one general area. Initially, it didn't seem like much but only due to how well Ovo's men had arranged the presentation of his prized stash. And in the other suitcase:
A disassembled machine gun as well as a weapon intended for launching explosives; it was rather heavy in comparison.
Ovo was to be absorbed by a gang with superior numbers, but this shipment of weapons to his cell in the First Quadrant… it meant he'd been planning something against his own allies. I kept wondering how much my interference might affect what he'd set into motion; hopefully, Ovo would fall in return for taking away the ones I loved.
The Fourth Quad’s changed a lot since then. Now, the Shikon Clan are in charge of things under a different guy—it's not so much a free market for gangsters anymore. Despite the way it appears, the Fourth Quadrant, when I was sixteen, was divided into the Meiziki, Uesugi, and Nagao syndicates. There was also the Shimazu, a small sect having recently become a vassal gang under the rule of the Uesugi. It was an entire area of the Citadel run solely by mob bosses under the supervision of Kohaku; additionally, most of them were fighters and insisted on battling it out with each other over control of the Quadrant. Their shared struggle profited the Major, who ultimately decided who was supreme between the three and gave them more assistance with their efforts at striking profit and controlling the market.
I only wish I would've known a little more upon arriving at the Shimazu Prefecture.
I'd expected more of the same from this Quadrant: unkempt Projects, small businesses, and neighborhoods existing on the edge of poverty. Considering the Citadel was complex in its design, I'd assumed it'd be easy enough to disappear into the Fourth Quadrant and stake out my own living without having my identity discovered.
But the Syndicate Prefectures themselves… they were unlike anything I'd ever witnessed.
Instead of the rest of the Citadel's mostly modernized infrastructure, the Fourth Quadrant existed as a massive, mostly open plain of concrete as well as tilled fields containing condemned and decimated buildings positioned next to tents and shelters, shelters made by the native mobs. The only other constructions were merely sections of hyper rails descending into portions of the Quadrant, which possessed a tenshu in the center housing Major Kohaku himself.
He was said to be an eccentric leader, one who'd been appointed by someone President Derek held in high regard. Because of this, he'd been given free reign over the way he controlled his territory, and any media involvement would result in immediate prosecution of their respective outlets.
The Citadel was still rebuilding back then.
--
When I'd arrived in territory shared by both Uesugi and the Shimazu, no one had warned me to come with a story already prepared; I was supposed to have a reason why a teenager would be wandering around a paradise for thugs. The Quadrant wasn't controlled by any form of law enforcement, and so all authority had been delegated to the respective members of each Syndicate. Those gang members patrolled and monitored everything that ventured into and out of the Fourth Quad.
They were worse than the most corrupt police. Most of the enforcers were decked out in very little in terms of actual body armor. Rather, they dressed normally to cover themselves as a thick coating of some transparent substance acted to either absorb or repel bullets. It worked quite well, and I eventually learned that it was an idea unique to the Uesugi Syndicate.
I stepped off the subway train to the barrel of an assault rifle being shoved in my face.
My age or disheveled appearance didn’t matter; I was just as much a threat to them as any other guy. I was abruptly surrounded by a large group of Shimazu wielding sabers and voltage-inducing batons. The majority of them sported sapphire-toned kabutos which obscured their faces with the golden masks of demon caricatures. The one who confronted me, his helmet displaying an ascending spike spiraling skyward atop it, seemed to become more furious the more I stalled.
“As-salāmu ʿalaykum.”
I stuttered. “Uh… what?”
He looked at the others before peering back at me and shaking his head. “One more chance, kid.”
The mobster paused for a moment to allow me to process what he'd just said.
“As-salāmu ʿalaykum.” He repeated. “Respond in five.”
“Uh, I…” I struggled to think of an answer that could work.
“Four.”
Maybe they'd understand if I just—
The mobster rammed the barrel into my skull and knocked my frame against the ground. I seized and subsequently shook before rapidly coming to my senses in time to hear the man order:
“Take him to the fuckin' site! When you arrive, confiscate his bag just in case he's got somethin' we need to know about, hear me?!” He growled and then proceeded to jab me before stepping back and readying himself to fire if I made a move.
His colleagues began to strike me down before forcing me along to a special camp they'd prepared for people like me. From behind, I heard the man continue to shout: “We can't turn a pussy like this into a fuckin' soldier. Just get him hooked on our shit and put him on the streets to… advertise—and fuckin' hurry up or I'll make you into one, too!”
“Yes, Milord!” The group of them uttered in unison before going on to take me to the site. They let me keep my bag, possibly thinking it was only filled with worthless personal belongings.
--
Uesugi had become a very wealthy syndicate due to its sales strategies involving several different illegal and overly-enhanced substances. In order to generate more revenue while under the constant looming threat of
rival gangs, their boss decided to begin exploiting the new educational methods and virtual system being employed by simply contacting young “associates” through social media.
After recruitment, some teenagers were groomed into soldiers; others were forced to become dependents. The Uesugi had decided to create and extort their own crew of junkies. In return for providing protection and, occasionally, shelter, several younger adults were made to become addicted to a substance before being sent back into the streets to become mascots for their organization's product. Because of their resulting success, the Uesugi mob boss was able to double his own ranks so that he could hold territory that had already been spreading his foot-soldiers thin.
Despite the focus on making their organization a major player in the Fourth Quadrant, the following exchange was a very unexpected turn of events and is perhaps the very reason why I came to be who I am now…
--
A total of four guards had been delegated to escort me to what the Uesugi called the “Hive.” It was where they would remove what sanity and independence I had by drugging me in an endless cycle. I knew that I had to break free of this, to get away from these people and find sanctuary somewhere.
But they maintained their weapons affixed on my form—they were professionals, after all, people who'd been accustomed to an ongoing war for control of their respective district. It was all some twisted play by Kohaku, but he'd unknowingly created a cesspool of mobsters. A cesspool which could threaten the Citadel itself.
“Ay, Souin,” one of them said, his tone expressing clearly his own boredom, “why you think boss passed on this one?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” he shrugged as he strolled aside me, “kid doesn't look like some scrawny punk. He's gotta little meat to him, even more than some of the boys we got trainin' to be soldiers now!”
“Tch. Zander…”
“What? We've been short on guys—”
“Just shut up.” Souin sighed. “No point in questioning a Lieutenant's orders…”
“Damn right about that,” responded Zander somberly.
“Aw shit…” Uttered another one of the mobsters known as Gola. “Did anyone check his bag—"
“What did I just fuckin' say—”
A cruiser crashed into one of my capturers, whose name was never made known to me, and snapped his vertebral column as his body soared forward into a nearby hut.
Simultaneously, a figure garbed in thin plates of red armor overlaying a white robe and mask leapt out from the back seat and, wielding a double-bladed axe, decapitated Gola while landing and subsequently pursuing Zander! Zander attempted to electrocute his attacker, but the assassin growled defiantly while forcing himself through the baton's pulsations.
The newcomer wasn't just some gangster; he was a Samurai. Someone who's skill and loyalty to his leader proved exceptional in the underworld of the Citadel. The samurai lunged forward, tearing open the carotid arteries of his targets throat with one precise movement!
He proceeded to seek out the remaining Uesugi member before realizing he'd been ambushed from behind. The samurai turned in time to view a slash directed at his head! He narrowly tilted to avoid the strike but knew this might be the end; he'd been too reckless…
From the rigged driver's side of the cruiser, one of the new arrivals leaned out and shot the remaining target, preventing him from delivering a potentially lethal strike. Without hesitating further, the samurai pivoted and elbowed me with enough force to knock me unconscious.
This time, I lost Ovo's stash…
--
There were certain details about Dfari’s relationship with my old crew’s boss that I wouldn’t come to understand until later when I’d matured slightly.
Ovo, operating mainly from the Third Quadrant, had already planned a raid that would target the constantly expanding Meiziki Syndicate. Their leader, much like Ovo, had decided that increasing his territory in opposing directions and absorbing weaker crews would grant him enough power to dominate the Fourth Quadrant. Thus, Ovo’s crew and the Meiziki warred before the former’s eventual surrender and offer of an alliance between the two powers.
Despite their inferior numbers, Ovo sought high explosive weaponry he believed would give him the advantage if he conducted skirmishes against Meiziki’s leaders. However, there was only one who commanded the division sent in an attempt to occupy the whole of the First Quadrant: Ovo’s father.
The father, who’d renamed himself as Mendo Meiziki, turned out to be an even more merciless guy. Ovo boldly and foolishly attacked Mendo’s people, expecting Dfari to reinforce them after the main assault proved to be a failure.
But Dfari had been lying.
He’d continued reassuring his boss that his group was still bringing the needed firepower, and they didn’t. Ovo was wounded in the ensuing firefight and was forced to ultimately surrender the First Quadrant.
And Dfari’s fate… revealed itself to be much worse.
--
I remained silent in a cruiser belonging to the Nagao, Meiziki’s only formidable rival in the Lower-City. They’d blindfolded me and shown themselves to be gentler than I’d expected for a group of thugs in a mostly quiet ride through the fringes of the Citadel. I never figured out the path there exactly, as the Nagao had hidden themselves away in the deepest crevices of the country, away from public attention.
Before I finally allowed myself to fall asleep, the figure in red armor seated to my right nudged me and broke through the lull, “You don’t seem too worried, kid… all those people were killed in front of you—must be in shock.”
“No.”
“No?”
I didn’t know how to explain, but I wasn’t concerned anymore. There was a reason they hadn’t executed me yet.
The speaker chuckled. “I think I like this guy; he’s got more guts than most fools, at least!” He socked me in the arm.
I winced.
The driver spoke up in a soft-spoken and eloquent manner. “We don’t recruit kids.”
“But we question them?” The female member in the passenger seat responded.
“Ugh,” The driver sighed. “Don’t make me explain to you in front of a stranger why a clan does what it needs to do.”
“Easy now.”
“Easy? We just left a murder scene!”
“In Uesugi territory,” the female voice retorted, “Major Kohaku doesn’t care about them anymore.”
“It’s just…” The driver exhaled heavily once again. “They’re getting better at catching people like us.”
“Samurai?”
--
It wasn’t long before we’d arrived on land that had been synthetically terraformed to create a “beach” of sorts at the eastern edge of the Citadel. The rag around my eyes was hastily removed, exposing me to a different part of the universe.
At the edges of the city-nation, two immense hyper rails extended into an oval-shaped station suspended several hundred feet above a false oasis containing only group shacks formed from operating cells of the Nagao. In the center of the territory owned by the syndicate, there loomed a shrine formed from stone and clay and constructed by members of the gang long after having established their homeland in the Citadel. It blocked my view of the Sun as we approached, and I was almost able to make out what could’ve been land beyond the edges before the Nagao grew hastier.
“The Elder is about to begin his daily ritual! If we don’t make it on time—”
“Aren’t you his son?”
He laughed. “That’s how I know we have to hurry. That bastard won’t let us have an audience if we’re not aligned with his life!”
“Such disrespect…” The man in red armor next to me observed.
“He’s too old-fashioned.” The driver replied.
“He’s the shepherd of this clan, Naizo…”
My hands were soon unbound, and I was allowed to walk freely up a flight of wide, stone steps toward an obscured peak. At t
he top of the climb, a plateau was crowned with a stone shelter built over a series of specially sewn rugs and a colossal, stained glass mural that illuminated an older man garbed only in a black robe. Despite his age, he bore long, white hair draped over a beard and mustache having long since grown into a gruff forest. A scar running through his right eye revealed that he’d been blinded, most likely in combat.
He’d taken his seat upon the shrine floor and crossed his legs. Before him, he’d carefully placed a quite lengthy blade on a stand between the two of us.
“Show respect, fucking kid!” The armored foot soldier jabbed me in the side with brass knuckles before shoving me to the ground, “You will BOW before our venerable leader! You have been privileged to see the Elder of the country’s strongest army!”
“Put your mind at rest, Rokshasa—and cease cursing in this place.”
Rokshasa complied while expressing mild embarrassment, “Yes, Elder!”
I remember their leader as straightforward but not necessarily a cold man. Elder Nagao studied me, concealing his own feelings in the process and allowing the area surrounding our group to fall into an uncomfortable silence. I’d been instructed to seat myself in the same manner now as the clan’s boss; it was the Nagao’s way of encouraging intelligent thought inspired by conversation in which the two participants were, if only for a moment, considered equal.
At last, Elder Nagao acknowledged me: “The thief has arrived at my doorstep. Seeing as the world has forsaken its duty, I will stand to judge you. Do you acknowledge my authority?”
I hesitated for an instant, wondering what the true implications of his questions meant. “I… guess so.” I responded.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Naizo exclaimed.
“Naizo!” Elder Nagao glared at him scornfully before looking back to me without seeming to be upset in the slightest. “The thief is honest.” He nodded before smirking. “I didn’t expect that one so young would be brought before me, and yet no family has claimed him for themselves—tell me, can you fight?”
I thought over my response. “Yes.”
Angelos Odyssey Page 52
