Castle Paradox

[Valigarmander]

The skies finally cleared, the moon and stars that had just earlier been shrouded beneath the dark clouds were at last visible. Arcadia, the so-called City of Peace, lay in ruin, destroyed by its own incessant violence and corruption. The Church was burnt to the earth, the City Hall shot out, and the proud Knudsen Center, once the tallest building in the West, now collapsing while fire fighters try in vain to extinguish the blaze sending a thick pillar of black smoke into the night sky. Every now and then, an explosion would rip the sky, roaring deafeningly like the ravenous hounds of Hell.

The streets were devoid of humanity, save the police vehicles navigating the avenues. Businesses and public centers were in lockdown, and people were prevented from leaving their homes. A deep, robotic male voice spoke calmly over the city loudspeakers, trying to assure the citizens that the danger would soon be over.

The North Tower, a mile from the city center, was quiet. The rain-plastered windows glistened in the moonlight, while occasionally a person would peek out through the drapes to the burning tower far away. And as the clouds parted in the sky, the moonlight shone down upon the streets beneath the tower to a depressing sight.

Sprawled across the pavement lied the broken and blood-spattered body of a young man who had fallen from the Tower. His eyes were closed solemnly, his left arm held across his reddened chest. No one saw him. No one heard him. Only one person alive knew him. And that person was standing over him.

The woman looked down at the body with a bleak, sullen frown. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she bent down to examine it. Her hand stroked the boy’s face gently, almost lovingly, as though she was saying goodbye. When she brought her hand back, a crumpled note was in its grasp, taken from the boy’s body. She stood up to read it. As she did, little tears fell from her face onto the paper to mix with the blood.

When she finished reading the letter, she solemnly folded it up and placed in her pocket. “Ma’am?” a voice said from behind her. She turned around to face a tired-looking police officer. “You shouldn’t be walking around on the streets right now. It’s very—” He stopped, glancing over her shoulder at the body lying dead on the sidewalk. “Ah, Christ, not another one.” He turned around and pulled out his radio. “Dispatch, I’ve got another ten-forty on 13th and Kennedy, at the southeast entrance to the North Tower.” The voice on the other end replied, and the officer nodded his head. “Yeah, and there’s a woman here who—”

He turned around. The woman was gone. She had left no trace behind, no touch, no breath, no sound. She had vanished into the darkness of the night, never to be seen by human eyes ever again, for she had had enough of the city and its wicked inhabitants. She knew she had tried her best to save them, to save those she loved, but all in vain.

And so, as the evening came to a close, so did the criminal municipality of Arcadia. Its buildings crumbled and citizens burned alive, victims of their own iniquity. Not a single life was spared; every evil soul sent hurtling into the Great Beyond. There were no longer any heroes in Arcadia, only villains. And as heroes work only to help others, villains work only to destroy others. It was that never-ending chain which led to the downfall of the city.

The woman stopped. She stood at the edge of the dying metropolis, her long hair blowing in the night breeze. She glanced backwards at the city one last time, and then disappeared into the night.

Hope you liked it. It's the prologue to a story I've been working on called "Dead City." You can read what I've got so far here.

[Devi Ant]

Absolutely beautiful in all it's grievous meaning. We have a bestseller here guys.
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Activate point A by sliding slide B through points E and Z, so that the Joint TO touches the Vector 6, however avoiding an impact with vectors 34 and 5, which both are positioned at the edge of the said object near point R. Period.

Remember, Giz! You MIGHT get that candy, if you only behave well... Only.

My Art

[RyuJinzo]

Very interesting!
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St. SeiyaRyu
< Envoy Of Ur >

[Lyhn Sohler]

Looks cool. When are you going to have the next chapter up?

[Valigarmander]

Now.

[Artimus Bena]

Hi Val, Bena here.

I'm not sure if you were looking for critique, but I'm a writer too, and I've been a part of a few serious writing forums in my day, and this being a forum, I thought perhaps you might appreciate some deeper feedback. Most of it is wording and flow though, the premise and scene structure itself isn't really lacking.



"a deep, robotic male voice" the word male here just sorta seems like over-explanation, and it bogged down the sentence. Does it really matter if it's male?

"the moonlight shone down upon the streets beneath the tower to a depressing sight" perhaps: "to *reveal a depressing sight" ?

"Sprawled across the pavement lied the broken and blood-spattered body of a young man" *lay

"His eyes were closed solemnly" Solemnly was another word I found bogging down the flow

"Her hand stroked the boy’s face gently, " When I rearranged the word gently to, say, before the word stroked, it seemed to flow better. You might even consider saying, "her gentle hand"

"As she did, little tears fell" This is good, but I felt like you were telling us all over again that she was crying. This whole sentence actually is sorta weird and clunky.


Good luck on your book, goodness knows it's never easy.
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SACRE BLEU!

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[Valigarmander]

(Psst, don't tell anyone I'm here. I'm supposed to be gone for a while to give everyone a break from my n00bing. But thanks for the help, criticism is the thing I need most with my story if I ever hope to make anything out of it. Keep it coming!)

[Valigarmander]

Hey all. It's I again. In an effort to sucker in more people to reading my story I'm posting part of the first chapter here. I hope to get some criticism...

This is the first chapter, or at least part of it. I wrote this when I was in the hospital (cuz I tried to kill myself ). I like the descriptions here, but I do feel like certain parts seem like they were written by a little kid. Oh well. Please critique.

THE FIRST DAY

“In Pace.”
- Motto of Arcadia; Latin for “in peace.”

David Kohler awoke to the high-pitched squeal of his alarm clock. Groaning loudly, he fumbled for the snooze button, but after half a minute of groping around for it he simply pulled the power cord out of the wall. Rubbing his forehead gingerly, he rose from his bed. The boy turned his head to look out his one cloudy bedroom window to the endless succession of chrome skyscrapers cast against the red-hued morning sky. Another day was beginning in his home of Arcadia.

The City of Peace.

The boy lazily stepped into his bathroom and began washing his face. He looked up from the running sink into the mirror momentarily, and frowned at the reflection staring back at him. A pallid face marked with scratches and scars from countless brawls; his cheeks sunken and dark bags under his eyes caused by lack of sufficient nutrition. His messy brown hair took orders from no one. He had a long, thin nose, prominent lips, and soulless blue eyes that had the same empty look as those of a dead man’s.

David dried his hands on a stained washcloth and walked back into his spacious apartment room. In actuality the room was very small, but it appeared to be much larger than it actually was due to the fact that it was nearly empty of any furnishing or valuables. He let free a big sigh, glanced back into his room once more, then exited.

He emerged from the apartment building to find his three friends waiting for him on the steps. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked them.

“Usual,” replied Andrew, the oldest one of them all. He had a bony face and greasy shoulder-length hair he had dyed black. He wore a sable Metallica T-shirt and was bobbing a cigarette up and down between his lips.

Anne nodded in agreement. She looked quite mousy with her short, curly auburn hair and thick glasses. She had her arms crossed over her belly self-consciously, since she was under the false notion that she was overweight. The girl was holding a page of a newspaper, the bold headline reading “Rebecca Ashford, Arcadia’s Master Thief, Strikes at National Bank.”

The third and youngest one, Zack, was a skinny redheaded boy. He wore a distinct L-shaped scar on his left cheek, a prize from a deadly encounter he’d had with a crook one night nearly a year previous. He was shuffling through a deck of Magic cards, seemingly uninterested in the rest of the group.

The four teenagers hung out regularly, meeting early in the morning and doing things together, not inhibited by commitments to school, since they had all dropped out. They were social outcasts, and often referred to themselves as “The Losers” because of the matter. While they weren’t the most criminal group of kids in the city, they did get into trouble fairly often, meaning police often kept a close eye on them.

After a short exchange of greetings and high-fives, the four kids removed themselves from the apartment porch and started walking down the street together. It was early on in the morning, yet the roads and sidewalks were still bustling with people, hurrying off to work, school, and other callings.

“The townspeople are as welcoming as ever,” Andrew commented as an angry motorist gave a boy on a bicycle the finger. Zack giggled.

The city of Arcadia was a small 21st century metropolis located in the northwestern United States. While it was intended to be a family town, it had a very high crime rate, and organized gangs ruled the streets. Though much of the police force tried their hardest to capture the criminals, there were many corrupt officers who were open to bribery and blackmail. Even the Chief of Police, who claimed to be doing his best to stop the gangs, was known to turn a blind eye to certain criminal activities when given enough cash.

David grunted as they passed a recruitment poster for a gang known as the Helots. While being Arcadia’s most powerful criminal organization, the Helots were the gang David despised the most for the murder of his own family. He thought of their untimely deaths every day, and hated the Helots more and more for it.

Anne, who had also suffered loss at the hands of their triggermen calmly tore the poster from the wall, ripped it in half, and deposited the pieces in a nearby garbage can. “Heartless killers,” she muttered under her breath.
There were two gangs that ruled the city: the Helots, and the Turbs. The two seemed more like large corporations than organized gangs, inhabiting massive skyscrapers and holding great power in the city, often beyond that of the law. The Helots and the Turbs were in a perpetual deadlock, battling each other with no end in clear sight. As these two gangs remained at the top tier of the Arcadian crime world, smaller gangs fought it out below them. All in all, Arcadia was a city of gangs.

Zack yawned loudly as they walked around a subway entrance. The sun was rising higher in the sky; it was about eight o’clock in the morning. They crossed the street to the city park and took their seat beneath a big equestrian monument. Andrew, who had finished his cigarette and discarded the filter earlier, replaced it and lit it up, slowly inhaling the thin smoke and releasing it in a relieved sigh.

David crossed his legs and brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “So, what’s new, guys?”

“Same old crap here,” Andrew mumbled.

“Uh-huh,” agreed Zack, who was once again busying himself with his deck of trading cards. David nodded, and turned to Anne. “Anything new with you and Link?” he asked.

“Nope,” the girl replied, blushing slightly at the mention of her new boyfriend.

“Well, then,” David said, throwing his arms back behind his head. “What do you all want to do now? We’ve got all day.” The group remained quiet for a while, aside from the sounds of Zack flipping through his cards and Andrew exhaling loudly. Finally, David broke the silence. “All right, how about this,” he explained. “We all go down to the corner store and get some burritos or something for breakfast?”

Everyone nodded in accord. But as they all got to their feet, they were approached by a large group of angry-looking punks. Andrew let the cigarette drop from his mouth as he moved in front of his friends defensively, while David removed a switchblade from his pocket.

There was some murmuring amongst the mob, until a large figure worked its way to the front. He was a tall, fearsome-looking man, who seemed only a few years older than Andrew. He had close-cut hair and a pale, ugly face. David recognized him as someone he knew and hated, Gregory Black.

“It’s okay, guys,” Andrew snorted. “It’s just Greg and his skeleton crew.”

“Andrew! David!” Greg laughed loudly. “I was just in the neighborhood with my boys here and I thought I’d say hello to you!” He smiled sinisterly.

“We’re not afraid of you and your goons, Greg!” David spat. He stood adamantly before the thug. Anne was behind him, a look of concern on her face, while Zack had produced a knife of his own and was now nervously waving it back and forth in front of the gang.

A Latina girl clinging to Gregory snickered at them. She seemed a little older than David and looked like she could be pregnant. “You kids should watch what you say,” she sneered. “You wouldn’t want to get on Gregory’s bad side, now!”

Andrew scowled. “Piss off. We haven’t done anything to you.”

Gregory raised his hands and grinned. “Hey, do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth, boy?” Andrew glared at him, grinding his teeth. After a brief moment of silence, Gregory stepped forward and spat in Andrew’s face. His cohorts laughed loudly as Andrew wiped the spit from his brow. “Well, I just wanted to say hi,” Gregory said. “So I’ll be leaving now.” He ushered his cackling followers away and, balefully lowering his head at Andrew and his friends, growled, “You four had better watch your backs from now on.”

Andrew watched the mob leave the park and round a corner before he snarled, “Stupid asshole.” He wiped his face again. “Thinks he runs a gang or something.”

David replaced his knife. “I didn’t think we’d have to see him around here for a long time.”

Zack, whose face was now stricken with a panicked realization, exclaimed, “Wait! That’s the guy from school, right? The fire guy?”

Anne looked from Zack to Andrew to David, confused. “Who was that? You knew him?”

David nodded. “He’s an old ‘friend’ of ours from back when we went to high school together. He’s the guy who tried to burn the place down, remember? It was in the news.” Anne gasped in recognition of the arsonist. David continued, “He was a bit of a bully in school, but we showed him, right Andy?” David and Andrew swapped high-fives as another confused expression appeared on Anne’s face. “Ah, it’s a long story,” David explained. She had gone to a different school than the others, so she didn’t always know about everything they’d refer to.

David then turned to the sour-looking Andrew, frightened Zack, and befuddled Anne, and said cheerfully, “So, how about we get ourselves those burritos?”

[Battleblaze]

Why don't you put this much meaning/effort/goodness into you're games?
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Indy OHR! and National OHR Month Contest going on now!

"Aeth calls PHC an anti-semite; PHC blames anti-semitism"
-squall

[Valigarmander]

...i don't know...

[Battleblaze]

They'd be alot better and you'd get mroe respect around here.

[Valigarmander]

I know. In fact, I'm working on a game right now (yes, I am planning on finishing it this time) called Paxia and I might put up a journal about it but people would just bash me for that hunk of uncompleted crap called Revelations. So, uh, yeah.

[Battleblaze]

Comes with the job Val.
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Indy OHR! and National OHR Month Contest going on now!

"Aeth calls PHC an anti-semite; PHC blames anti-semitism"
-squall

[Valigarmander]

Well, it's been a while, but I guess I'll post the rest of my first chapter here for everyone to read. After all, this is what Story Time is all about. The stories.


It was later in the day, about noon, when the four kids had eaten their breakfast, roved town a bit, and then eaten their lunch. Zack was sitting on the curb in front of the small store he and his friends frequented, hardly filled by, yet completely satisfied with, his two-dollar lunch. Anne was getting a drink from a nearby fountain, while Andrew was peeing behind the building and David was counting their remaining money.

“Bad news, guys,” he said. “We’re down to a day-and-a-half’s worth, so we’re either gonna have to fast, be thrifty, or find a way to make more money.”

“We could—,” Andrew started as he bent over to zip up his fly, “—go empty out the donation boxes in the department stores.” Anne shot him a look of deep disapproval. “Hey, they’re supposed to go to the poor, right?” he said in his defense. “Well, we’re poor, so the money would have gotten to us anyways.”

“I just wish we could find an honest way to make money that didn’t involve doing work,” said Zack with a dreamy smile.

David chuckled. “Yeah, that’d be nice. But until they invent magic, we’ll stick to stealing.”

Anne sighed. “Well, that’s all good, but I have to go see Link soon. He’s waiting for me in the subway.”

“You go do that then,” Andrew replied lazily. “I have to go see someone about now, too.”

David shrugged. “Okay, you both go then.” He and Zack waved the two off, and when they were gone, Zack sighed. “Well, I’m open all day. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t care,” David sighed. He slumped over on the ground and watched the clouds roll across the sky. The sun had passed through the center of the cyan threshold and was now falling back towards the horizon as the afternoon progressed. David looked moonily at the heavens, his eyelids becoming heavy. He decided to close them for a minute, just for a minute…

He opened his eyes, and saw that he was in a church. There were people sitting all around him in the pews, wearing their formal Sunday attire. David turned his head to the left, and was shocked to see his parents sitting next to him, silently listening to the sermon. He looked to the right, and saw his older brother seated next to him, impatiently tapping his fingers against his lap.

“Give thanks to the Lord,” recited the minister, “Who is good, whose love endures forever. Who can tell the mighty deeds of the Lord, proclaim in full God’s praise? Happy those who do what is—.”

David heard the church doors swing open, and several people looked back down the walkway. He followed in suit. Into the church marched several men bemasked in dark hats and trench coats that for some reason sent a chill of terror down his spine. Some of the people in the pews began whispering, and he saw his mother raise her hand to her mouth.

The minister, his preaching interrupted, spoke to the intruders. “Can I help you?”

The man at the head of the group, pale-skinned and wearing dark shades, shouted, “Where is Marcus Kohler?”

David saw his father slowly rise from his seat and step into the alley, lifting his hands as though trying to calm the men down. “I-I’ll go peacefully, if you just—.” He never finished the sentence. David watched in horror as the man in black reached beneath his coat and produced a short-barreled machinegun, and raised it to his father’s chest.

“NO!” David screamed. Suddenly, he was no longer in the church, he was back on the curb in front of the corner store, sitting next to a startled Zack. He looked around in a daze, staring back dumbly at his bewildered friend. “W…what just happened?” he asked breathlessly.

“You dozed off a few minutes ago,” answered Zack, “and then you just started screaming!” His look of shock slowly melted into one of sympathy. “Was it the… ‘dream’ again?”

David wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I don’t…” he stammered. “I don’t… I… Yes, it was.” He sighed loudly. “It’s been getting worse.” He shuddered. Ever since the horrible incident six years ago, he had been suffering from nightmares of his family’s murder. However, the dream never used to get as far as it did this time. He shuddered again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Zack suggested tepidly.

David shook his head. “No, it’s just a dream. It’s not real. It’ll go away eventually.” He pushed himself off the ground. “What time is it?”

“One twenty-three,” Zack answered, glancing down at his wristwatch. “Why? Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No, just wondering.”

“Good,” Zack responded dejectedly. “Without you, Andrew or Anne, I’d have nothing to do all day.” He shifted his position on the sidewalk.

David sighed. “I wonder what they’re doing right now…”

—————————————————————————————

Anne descended the steps into the subway. The worn out station was filled with people, some anxious ones wearing suits, constantly looking at their watches, and more casual people listening to music and patiently awaiting the arrival of the next transport. The girl wandered apathetically through the transit station, until she reached a lonely platform, where she saw the boy of her dreams leaning against one of the concrete barriers. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Lincoln Meyer, or merely Link to his friends, was a tall, muscular boy from downtown Arcadia. He, like Anne and her friends, was a high school dropout, but he was quite intelligent, and had been expected to graduate at the head of his class. However, he claimed that school was too boring for him and he left. Now, he spent most of his time gadding about the city.

Nearly a week-and-a-half earlier, Anne had been walking home from a movie late in the evening, and was approached by a thief with a handgun. When she explained to him that she had nothing of value on her, he raised his weapon for the kill. But then Link, who had been sneaking up on the crook from behind, kicked the gun from his hands and knocked him out with a blow to the face. Anne and Link had been going out ever since.

Anne approached her boyfriend and greeted him with a hug and a peck on the cheek. Link returned the favor. “How have you been, babe?” he asked coyly.

“Great, but I’m even better now that I’m with you-u!” she cooed. She placed her hand on his shoulder snugly as they walked away as one.

They snuck onto the arriving train without paying for tickets, and rather easily too, since there was so little security in the run down station. In the train, Anne and Link took their seat across from a sleeping black man with no shoes and an anxious-looking fellow with messy hair carrying a briefcase. The transcity subway was often an incubator for motley folks like bums, thieves, punks, deckers, thugs, and other spiteful people. Normally, Anne wouldn’t go near it, but she felt completely safe when she was with Link.

The train door slid shut, and the cool, calming voice of the announcer appeared on the speakers. “Now departing Station E2, leaving for N4. Please do not move around the transport when it is in motion.” The train began moving, slowly picking up speed as it left the platform. Anne turned in her sear to gaze out the window at the lights in the subway tunnel which were zipping past more and more rapidly.

Link coughed loudly, as though clearing his throat, and Anne turned her attention to him. “Good weather we’ve been having, huh?” he asked amiably.

“Great weather!” answered in a cheerful timbre.

Link shifted in his seat. “So, what have you been doing recently?”

“The usual.” She smiled. “Hanging out with the Losers.”

Link nodded. “Yeah, they seem like a cool bunch of guys. Anything else?”

Anne shrugged. “Not really. Just you and the guys. I don’t have much else to do.

The boy placed his arms behind his head to rest on them. He sighed, and said, “Do you know of a gang called the Helots?”

Anne’s sunny attitude quickly evaporated. “Yes, I know them all too well! They murdered my uncle!”

Link nodded understandingly. “John Turner, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes! He was like the father I never had! And they just took him away from me!”

Link frowned sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I lost my brother to a gang called the Turbs. He was shot right before my eyes.” He sighed. “I miss him every day.”

Anne sniffled. “Why did you bring up the Helots?”

“It’s just—,” Link started, before pausing briefly, then starting again. “It’s just that I have a lot of family and friends in the Helots. And I…” He choked. “I know you hate the Helots, and I can understand why. But I love my family and my friends, and I know the gang can’t be completely evil.”

Anne looked dumbfounded. “I don’t… I… I don’t know what to say…”

“Look,” Link said in an irritated voice unlike his own, “I just want to try and convince you that the whole gang can’t all be bad. I just want you to be more unbiased towards the Helots. You trust me, don’t you?” He looked at her questioningly.

“I… Of course I do,” she answered uneasily.

“Good,” Link replied calmly. “I knew I could count on you.”

The voice on the speakers sounded. “Station N4, Sunset Pavilion and North Tower. The train will stop for one minute to allow boarding and unboarding of passengers. Have a good day!” The nervous-looking man sitting across from them got up from his seat and muttered something, then moved towards the door.

Link smiled. “Great! It’s our stop!”

Anne nodded insecurely. As the train slowed to a halt and she and Link stood up to exit the transport, she couldn’t help but feel as though either, if not both, her illimitable trust in her perfect boyfriend or her immeasurable hatred for the Helots had both been shaken.

—————————————————————————————

It had been another long day for police officer Ian Bradley of the APD. His shift had begun earlier than usual this morning, having been called in to help clean up the mess left by the recent violence between the Helots and the Turbs.

“You look pretty tired,” commented his buddy Williams.

Bradley yawned. “Yeah, I haven’t been getting a whole lot of sleep recently. The job’s been hell on me.”

A strong man of thirty-five, Ian Bradley was a worthy police officer. He had spent ten years at his humble post and was one of the APD’s most recognized men. He was nearly six feet tall and had curly black hair as well as stubble of a beard. He was married and had a seven-year-old daughter, both of whom he wished he could spend more time with.

Just the other day the Turbs had made a pre-emptive attack against the Helots in a massacre in the South District, a neutral zone. The assault had wounded and killed many gangsters, the majority of them being Helots. The Turbs considered the battle to have been won in their favor, and the Helots had been forced to retreat from their posts at the District. This was only one of many fights between the gangs during the week.

Bradley sighed. “I hate to think at what might happen today. The Helots are probably pretty riled up at their loss yesterday, and who knows, maybe the Turbs will get cocky and move into Helot turf.”

“That’s a lot of thinking,” Williams said.

“Between Spenser and Giorello… We’ve really got our work cut out for us.”

“You do too much. You really ought to take a day off.”

“I don’t know…” Bradley yawned again. “If I’m not here to assess the damage who will?”

Williams smiled. “Ian, we have a whole team here. You’re not the only one who has this job. If you take one day off, it won’t make a difference.”

“Well… Okay, maybe I will take a day off. Maybe on Thursday.”

“Ata boy,” Williams chuckled. “You deserve some time off. Don’t worry, I can take care of your work.”

Bradley smiled. He was at last able to spend some extra time with his family. Things were finally starting to look up for him.

—————————————————————————————

Andrew paced the sidewalk in front of the Knudsen Center impatiently, glancing down at his watch every few seconds. “That stupid Lars,” he grumbled to himself. “He was supposed to be here half an hour ago!”

It was about two o’clock in the afternoon, and Andrew was getting very cross with his tardy friend. He had made an over-the-phone appointment with his associate for precisely one-thirty, post meridiem, in front of the Knudsen Center, in the middle of the city of Arcadia. And now, his buddy Lars was running very, very late.

Andrew looked down at his watch again. Two-oh-four already! He looked up angrily into the crowd surrounding him and was mildly relieved to see a thin figure pushing its way through the people. When it emerged from the throng Andrew gave a slow sigh of allayment. It was a short man with messy hair and a briefcase.

“S-sorry I was so late, mate,” the man said breathlessly. He wheezed noisily.

Andrew’s frown did not fade. “You said one-thirty. It’s two-o-fricken-clock!”

“I said I’m sorry!” Lars Fleming was finally catching his breath. “There were some complications back at the North Tower, so—.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Andrew said firmly. “Next time, don’t be late.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a cigarette, which he placed between his lips and lit up with a gilded lighter he had gotten from a wealthy man whose pockets he had picked. Andrew inhaled the smoke, then breathed out slowly. His disposition immediately pepped up. “Enough arguing, pal. Let’s go for a little walk.”

The two strolled down the street together, both more at ease than before. Andrew coughed. “Kind of dangerous, meeting right in front of the Helot base of operations, eh?”

“It’s the place they’ll least expect us,” Lars assured him.

“So, is the… ‘Thing’ in that suitcase you have there?”

Lars nodded. “It’s all right here. When we get to a safer place, I can show it to you.”

Andrew grinned, the cigarette still dangling from his mouth. “I can hardly wait.”

“But remember!” Lars whispered to his companion. “You can let nobody in on this! Not your family! Not your friends! This secret is between us, our superiors, and the Lord Almighty!”

“I understand,” Andrew replied, as they continued walking down the sidewalk together. He inhaled deeply from his cigarette. Lars Fleming was an agent of the Turb gang, the violent rival of the Helots. He had begun meeting with Andrew after they struck a deal involving a lot of money from the Turbs and a few tips on Andrew’s behalf. Andrew realized the dangers of working with a gang, but he was prepared for it.

What business the two had together, few knew but them. They hardly knew each other, yet they spoke like the best of friends. Though it wasn’t quite apparent to them yet, or anyone else, their dealings would spell the fate of themselves, their friends, and the entire city of Arcadia.

[Lyhn Sohler]