Nobility

by Mason Dakota

  The image showed a headline that read, “Mayor Kraine hires Outcast for high ranking political position. Has Kraine finally lost it?”

  Courtesy of Ralph Erikson.

  He wrote the article yesterday. I wondered what he’d write after he met me. The rest of the article essentially said I was worthless Outcast garbage. It was meant to tear me down and shame Kraine. It was nothing different than what I heard every day of my life. The only difference was that I represented the Mayor and I hadn’t gotten off to a good start.

  “I got caught up in traffic. I’m sure you know what a torture rush hour can be,” I lied. Apparently, I am such a bad liar that even the buffoon Kraine saw right through me. That or he was so used to lying and hearing lies all day he was brilliant at spotting them.

  “Don’t lie to me. Thomas checked your apartment. He said you weren’t there. But I don’t have time to question where you were. We have a lot of work to do, and I need to leave early to prepare for the ball tonight. I’m expecting you to make an appearance.”

  It wasn’t a question or an offer anymore. It was a command, and I guessed because I worked for him he had the right to issue orders to me. Still, I put on my best fake smile and said, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Good, good. Now remember this is for the Red Glove Society. A tux is required.”

  Great. Now I have to spend the rest of my cash to rent a tuxedo.

  “What’s the Red Glove Society?” I asked.

  “Chicago’s most elite, annual social gathering. The city’s most influential members of society attend every year—invite only. The society’s name shows respect to the Empire, but wearing the red gloves is optional for members. No Outcast has ever been invited, so feel honored, but don’t dare show up wearing the gloves otherwise you’ll be thrown out. The party is at seven tonight at my penthouse suite. Here. I’ll write the address down for you. Bring a date.”

  “Um, what?” I asked, bewildered. I hadn’t given any thought to this ball and the thought of having to bring anyone would never have crossed my mind.

  Now not only do I have to go, I must bring a date as well? This just keeps getting better and better.

  It wasn’t the idea of having to ask someone to go with me that worried me, even though I had no idea whom I would ask. It was the idea of bringing someone into the line of fire.

  I thought of Evelyn. For a weak moment I wished she were here to accompany me. But that life was over, and I needed to move on. I pushed away my thoughts of her, which was difficult, and focused back on my circumstances. Nebula was expected to be at the ball. That meant the possibility of danger for anyone I brought with me.

  “I can see that bringing a date makes you nervous. Your invitation is for a plus one, and it’s expected that you bring someone. Just please don’t bring someone off the street. I won’t accept any more shame from your actions, so make sure she cleans up nice enough not to embarrass me. We will even make the exception that she can be an Outcast,” said Kraine.

  I could only nod. I had been blindsided so many times in a few days—scratch that hours—I felt like a deer stuck in the headlights of oncoming car after car. If I were a Noble I would be worrying more about developing crow’s feet and personal comforts, not life and death and liability.

  “I must be off soon to prepare for tonight. But first, sign your contract,” said Kraine as he set a folder before me.

  I opened it and began skimming through the pages. Kraine, meanwhile, got up from his leather seat and walked around his desk. He propped himself up against the corner of the desk to my left and handed me an expensive black pen that probably cost more than the shoes I wore.

  “It’s just simple paperwork stuff that says you agree to the terms and conditions of your employment. Nobody ever reads those anyway, am I right? This also deals with your background check so make sure you write clearly and truthfully to all the sections,” he said as I took the pen. I did not say anything as I continued to read through the paperwork. I was not about to let myself get blindsided by carelessly signing it before I read it. As I completed a section I would sign and initial where needed. But I froze when I got to the section that asked me to swear I had no criminal record and had never committed a felony. It was not a long or a very noticeable hesitation, but it was enough for Kraine to notice.

  He read over my shoulder the section and then gave me a raised eyebrow look. I refused to look up at him as I pretended to continue reading. But the section was shorter than some of the previous and I had spent more time reading this one than I did the others. But I really didn’t want to sign that line. Do not get me wrong I was willing to do it; in fact, I needed to do it.

  If I did not Kraine could have me arrested and I could be hanged before the day was over. But if I was ever caught and they had records where I testified I had never committed a felony, when I had…a lot, they wouldn’t only publicly execute me, but they would also hunt down my associates and kill them.

  It was the Empire’s way of making sure Outcasts kept their word. Once again, I wasn’t just putting my life on the line. I was jeopardizing the lives of those I loved. And our lives hinged on the pen stroke of my signature.

  “Is there a problem?” asked Kraine. He tested me. Maybe he had set me up all along to my own noose. If I ever stepped out of line all he had to do was kick the stool out from under me and my friends and I would hang.

  “Nope, no problem at all.”

  I quickly signed everything without reading a single sentence more, and handed him the contract. He smiled his well-practiced smile and said, “Good. Now come with me. I’ll show you your office space.”

  He got up and headed for the door but stopped to look back at me. I guess I was a little slow moving. I felt weighted down. But I stood and followed him.

  We stood there awkwardly at the door waiting. For a second I wondered if we waited for something to happened. He kept glancing at the door and back at me before it finally clicked. I suppressed a sigh, reached past him and opened the door for the Mayor.

  “Why, thank you,” he said in a sarcastic tone as he stepped into the hallway leading to the elevator.

  Arrogant jerk.

  I watched him press the button to call for the elevator and thought, Oh, so you can hit the elevator button, but you’re too good to open a door. Kraine turned and smiled at me and I did the same in return. The moment he turned back around, I scowled.

  Once inside the elevator, Kraine pressed another button in the elevator to the floor just below this one and instantly I could feel the elevator start to move. I hated elevators oh so very much by the fact of my complaining stomach. I just felt miserable today.

  “I must admit you took longer than expected to accept my offer, but I always knew you would. I do believe your holding this position will allow us to do a lot of good in the city. Our poor Outcasts need help every day, and that will be your weight to carry now,” said Kraine.

  So, I take all the responsibility but have no power to do any real good? Am I simply the scapegoat for Outcasts’ complaints?

  “I’m honored to be here,” I said, playing along with his game as the elevator stopped and the doors opened into another office full of cubicles. The room buzzed with the tapping of keyboards and people carrying papers and briefcases from cubicle to cubicle.

  Nobles shouted to each other across the room, and many chatted on telephones. Every Noble had his own cubicle, but I saw that Outcasts weren’t permitted individual work space. The Outcasts rushed about delivering mail and coffee and appeared to perform only mundane and often humiliating tasks for the Nobles.

  We moved through the cubicles until we came to a wooden door on the far side of the room that had a sticky note with my name on it. Outside the door sat a woman so old she looked deceased. Her gray hair was falling out, leaving ugly patches of scalp, which she apparently tried to hide under a crocheted hat. Her clothes were stained. Her wrinkles had wrinkles, and she smelled like cat litter and hard cand
y. She wore a mustard yellow blouse with a dark brown cardigan over it. Wrapped around her pencil-thin neck was a string of wooden beads, each end attached to a stem of her glasses. She looked so frail; a strong wind might break her ribs.

  “Griffon, I’d like you to meet the lovely Clarissa…your secretary,” said Kraine with a mocking smile.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Clarissa’s hand shot out so fast that I flinched in fear that her arm would pop off. For a woman so old she was quick. If she noticed my startled nature she hid it with a warm smile that only a grandmother could pull off. It was oddly comforting.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nightlock!”

  I shook her hand lightly, afraid it would break in my grasp. Her hand was sticky. “The pleasure’s all mine,” I said. I released her hand and she rewarded me with another smile as I hid the fact I wiped my hand on my pants.

  “Clarissa will be handling all your appointments and anything else you need from her.”

  “Is that right?” I asked Clarissa—hoping she would say no.

  She nodded fervently and said, “Yes, Sir. For example, you have on your schedule today a meeting with Commissioner Carmichael. He just called requesting to see you immediately. And you are expected at a press conference later this afternoon in the town square.”

  Gulp.

  Round two with Nebula today and it isn’t even noon yet.

  No doubt Erikson already passed the word around in their little terrorist cell, a few of whose members I’d already identified. I assumed Carmichael might not be as forgiving of that knowledge as Erikson was.

  I wanted to run. I wanted to quit on the spot and get out of there. You don’t challenge a bunch of murderous psychopaths and expect your next encounter to go well. It was all smoke I was throwing around, but maybe they didn’t see it that way. I had no choice but to smile and say, “All right. Thanks Clarissa.”

  “I would advise you not to miss another press appearance. This morning was your single free mistake. You miss another one of those and there will be consequences.” said Kraine as he beckoned me toward the door behind Clarissa’s desk. We entered a room I believed must have once been a large broom closet.

  It was smaller than the cubicles outside the room. The walls were a depressing light gray color with hints of yellow stains. The odor of cleaning chemicals took my breath. A central wooden desk sat so close to the walls I would have to climb over the desk to get into its chair.

  The walls were empty. The chair behind the desk was old and worn out; and I felt the pain it would cause my backside. In front of the desk was a single metal folding chair. The carpet was a soul-sucking gray and covered in large dark stains. I didn’t want to know the stains’ sources. Trash, candy wrappers, and cigarette butts littered the floor. I deduced it was definitely an old broom closest when I spotted mops and brooms in the back corner.

  This is what being a hero in Chicago gets you.

  “Here we are. I’m sure you will feel right at home here,” said Kraine. I clinched my fists at his insult.

  “Thank you,” I said using all my willpower to make it seem like I appreciated the prison cell I had to call my office.

  “A personal trainer will be here shortly to give you a crash course in public speaking and appearance. We can’t have you disgracing this office again, but unfortunately time is money and we do not have the time to get you fully trained. Take good notes. After that Thomas will drive you to your first appointment. Before you go let me give you your signing payment as the new Outcast Emissary.”

  Trainer? Payment?

  I had no time to question Kraine before he pulled out a large yellow envelope and handed it to me. “I must be off to prepare for tonight. I’ll see you then.” Then he left the room and shut the door behind him leaving me alone in the trashed-up closet space.

  I opened the envelope and spilled its contents on the table and my heart skipped a beat. No, that’s not nearly accurate enough. I think I had a mini heart attack, or maybe I even died for a second or two. I mean, how does someone react to getting an envelope stuffed with hundred-dollar bills? As my mouth hung open wide enough for all the flies in the room to fly into it, I counted the stack. Five thousand dollars!

  Five thousand dollars! And Kraine threw this around like it was chump change!

  My excitement quickly evolved into fear as I stared at the cash. I’ve seen Outcasts murder other Outcasts just for the few bucks in their pockets. This was a lot more than a few bucks! I know it’s strange to first be afraid when you get so much money, but I was not protected by the law like a Noble who can carry around that much cash and feel secure. Even the thought that Kraine gave me the payment in cash made me think he was trying to make it harder to hide and therefore more likely to get killed on my way home tonight.

  However, seeing that money gave me hope because I knew more would come. With that I would not have to worry about the day to day struggles of finding food or having a warm safe place to sleep at night. I could move out of that apartment and buy a home. I could buy a car of my own and stop having to borrow Chamberlain’s. I could eat at the places where I’ve always wanted to eat and buy the things I’ve always wanted to buy. No more stealing. The possibilities seemed endless, and that was only my first paycheck—a signing bonus of all things!

  But Chamberlain’s final words to me that morning rang through my ears.

  Was this what he meant when he said power corrupts?

  Right then I knew Kraine had just made a five-thousand-dollar down payment on a scapegoat…me.

  As reality clicked, I felt more anger at myself. A nice paycheck was all it took to tempt me. I had promised myself I would stand above, and I was already sinking on my first day. Was cash my tipping point? Surely my moral code was stronger.

  I heard one of Gabriel’s many lectures, “Adversity tests and molds everyone, and nothing is a greater adversary than one’s need for power. The individual who receives power must first learn to overcome his own nature. We are born and groomed to be selfish. It’s not that the great individuals of this age didn’t face that, it’s that they chose something more important than themselves.”

  The yellow envelope also held a small black cell phone, likely so Kraine could easily reach me the next time I ran late, but the cell phone made me uneasy. I’d heard Michael talk about them before and how they could easily be traced and bugged. I planned to get Michael to check it out before I made any calls.

  I pocketed the phone and money just as a knock came at the door. It was the personal trainer Kraine had mentioned. The man was short. He hunched over. He had snow-white hair that covered the sides of his head and left a light dusting across the top. He was of Eastern Asian descent. He wore a plaid shirt with dark green pants and suspenders. His socks were thick wool and a brown lighter than his loafers.

  A pair of glasses with big circular lenses hung loosely on the tip of his nose. The glasses made his eyes look three times bigger. His arms were covered in liver spots, but I did make out the word Outcast on his left forearm. The little man craned his neck far back to get a full view of me.

  Where does Kraine find these people!

  Barely saying a word, he shuffled into the room. He wasn’t rude. He resembled a man who was content with himself and could look past a person’s gene code. I liked him.

  “Me—Daffy—teacher! You—student. I teach you posture and speech. Your posture bad—very bad,” he said.

  A tiny man incapable of making complete sentences is teaching me public speaking? Sure, I’ll play along.

  I quickly stood up to my full height to please him. He gave a single nod of acceptance and began to rub his bottom lip with his thumb. “Good. Good student—good teacher,” he said. I got the feeling English was not his dominant language.

  The irony continues.

  I suffered through the next two hours of Mr. Daffy teaching me how to speak and move. Every time I messed up I got a swift slap from the ruler that Daffy bra
ndished like a sword. It wasn’t long before my hands and arms were covered in red stripes. The speech lesson was gruesome, and I felt like I got nowhere. I started doubting my intelligence. But I remained pleasant with the little man. It wasn’t his fault that Kraine tried to sabotage me.

  I left my office after Daffy and headed down to the basement to meet Thomas, so he could drive me to my first meeting. My knuckles were stinging from Daffy’s harsh blows and my jaw ached from all the speaking exercises. Any time for me to give another speech would be too soon. I feared what it would be like in front of a real crowd. If they were even slightly as critical as Daffy I was in for trouble.

  Thinking about my circumstances proved effective in forgetting about my lessons and nerves. I reflected: in the span of a few hours I’d discovered a secret terrorist organization, exposed one of their members privately, and painted a target on my back and on my friends’ backs. We were prey to psychopathic predators. I’d potentially burned down a bridge, or at least fractured it, between my best friend and me. And I’d officially sold my soul to the political game.

  Normal day…right.

  I entered the garage in the basement of the building and there was Thomas in his chauffeur outfit and hat waiting for me by a midnight black sedan. At least in public I did not give off the impression that my office was a broom closet.

  “Good morning, Mr. Nightlock.”

  “I hardly think that it’s still morning, Thomas. In fact, I’m starving; let’s swing by somewhere to get some food before my meeting. Do you think we can do that?” I asked as I moved toward the back door of the car. Thomas opened the door for me with a big forced smile on his face. I got the feeling that he was told (probably by Kraine) to be extra chipper to me. Or maybe it was just because I was technically his boss. I had to smile. Me in charge of a Noble? Who would have thought.

  “I’m sure we can make time for that, Sir,” he said. I slipped into the back seat and he shut the door after me. I happily sank into the soft leather, enjoying its comfort to my aching body. Thomas put the car into drive. I stared out the tinted windows and watched as we passed countless men and women in fancy clothes returning from their lunch breaks.