Nobility

by Mason Dakota

  Finally, seeming to be satisfied with his work, he spoke.

  “Tomorrow, Chicago will tear itself apart. Tonight the rich and powerful of Chicago will turn on each other, and by morning the poor will rise up to join them in the slaughter. You started the battle two days ago, but once the poor know that their leaders who swear to protect them mean only to enslave them, they, too, will rise up. There will be no escape for any in the city. Then Chicago will be bathed in darkness and the silence of death. From the ashes, Nebula will rebuild Chicago into a city for the people. There will no longer be Noble or Outcast. There will only be humanity in all its ugly glory, ready and willing to separate itself from its past and embrace a brighter future. You may see us as the villains, but we seek the same thing, equality for all.”

  “We are nothing alike! Killing thousands won’t make us equal, nor will it make you heroes.”

  “Equality is in the eye of the beholder these days. The Empire claims its citizens are equal, but we both know the truth. Everyday Outcasts suffer various forms of slavery and death on a regular basis. Nebula promises to change that by altering the course of history.”

  “So that’s your real target then, to overthrow the Empire? And destroying Chicago is all a part of the plan. Taking down one tyrant to replace it with another?”

  Ziavir shook his head and said, “You don’t see the whole picture. This is just the beginning of the end. Nebula’s altered and changed history in the shadows for centuries. They have taken others from power just as much as they have raised new organizations and governments. What else ought to be done, when powers meant to protect become tyrants seeking to enslave? Human nature survives by one single principle—to take and enslave thy neighbor.

  “That is why the world welcomes dictatorship! The separation of genetics makes us two species, not one! History does not change. All that changes are the toys we use to achieve the same goals. That is why the government and the people need to change. Nebula will do just that. They will unify all men and women as equals, even if that means tearing down the greatest Empire the world has ever known.”

  “You’re psychopaths, all of you. You don’t intend to save. You intend to enslave everyone.”

  “All men are slaves to something. We seek only to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You are just not able to see it. You think me a villain, but what have you done to convince me you’re any different? You survive by taking what does not belong to you. Just earlier today you ordered the death sentence of two innocent boys who were wrongfully accused. You did so simply to protect your friends, whom you just abandoned to chase after me. You are selfish. How does that make you any different than me? You try to deny it, but we are on the same side here. You can either stand on the side of history in the beginning of peace and justice, or you die as our enemy.”

  “How is killing thousands the answer?” I shouted back. I felt my blood rising and my hands shook with frustration.

  Ziavir sighed deeply and said, “Nothing changes without the spilling of blood.”

  I shook my head and aimed my pistol at Ziavir’s heart. “I won’t allow you to do that.”

  “There’s nothing you can do to stop it. Chicago was already on the edge long before we arrived. We merely applied the correct amount of pressure. Chicago has been killing itself for the past two days. After tonight things will only increase. By tomorrow night, when the streets are swimming in blood, Nebula will flip the reset switch and whatever is left will be the beginning of Chicago’s rebirth. I no longer serve any purpose in the grand scope of what happens next. Killing me won’t change anything.”

  I clicked the hammer back and said, “No, but killing you will certainly make me feel much better.”

  Ziavir smiled, confident in his victory. It was the same confidence, the same smile, he showed right before he shot that Noble woman on the monorail. He reached up and put a pair of ear plugs in his ear and said, “Good luck with that.”

  Suddenly some sort of silent black aircraft appeared right behind Ziavir, shooting straight up from street level. It made no sound as it flew and even with all the city lights I struggled to see it in the dark. It appeared winged with hover-pads and propellers and a narrow base between two massive wings.

  The wind coming off the aircraft’s propellers threw dust and bits of rooftop gravel into my eyes. I covered my face in the crook of my arm to shield myself as the force of the wind drove me back. A spotlight brighter than the sun and nearly as painful to see shone off the black devil, lighting both Ziavir and me. Suddenly, a paneled door opened on the side of the aircraft and some person in black combat gear appeared. He was mounted on a large machine gun rack.

  And the gun pointed right at me.

  A less than manly sound came out of my mouth, and I dove behind an air-conditioning unit directly on top of the skylight overlooking Kraine’s penthouse. I glimpsed unrecognizable bodies lying on the floor below.

  While that black devil of an aircraft remained as silent as air, that gun proved louder than thunder. Its sound vibrated off every surface. The sound crashed through the air just after the lethal bullets it followed, shaking my bones and stealing my sanity.

  Streaks of red redecorated the rooftop. I dared not move, dared not rise to fight back in fear of obliteration. I curled up into a ball in the fetal position and prayed for mercy. Tears rained down my cheeks as I screamed and screamed until my lungs ached as badly as my bones.

  The gunner sprayed wildly, blinded by the flash of his own gun. A fog of dust and concrete coated the air, burning my lungs and throat. Shards of concrete sliced past me. The metal air-conditioning units shredded. Metal screeched with banshee screams. The gunner aimed at the doorway to the fire escape and the entrance exploded in shards of metal and concrete and fire. In all the noise I heard something like glass shatter. Suddenly my stomach rose and the air whipped around me.

  I fell.

  I’m not sure how far I fell. I only knew by the end I heard my screams over the roaring above. I hit the glass chandelier and it broke my fall. My vision exploded with a white flash of pain. My flesh burned with fire. My lungs lost their air and the sensation of drowning overwhelmed me.

  I bounced, literally, off the chandelier and it fell with me as a partner destined for the grave. I smashed onto my side, landing on a serving table which collapsed under me. The chandelier hit the floor a half second after me and glass shot out like a grenade in a million different directions. Glass cut into me at my legs, side, and face.

  I lay there lost in the pain and unable to move. I…felt…everything…and nothing. I moaned and tried to move onto my back. It hurt, and it took what felt like an eternity, but I did it.

  I saw Ziavir waving goodbye from above as darkness washed over me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I swam in darkness. Free of pain. Free of sorrow. Alone. The darkness wrapped me like a cold, wet blanket. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Everything smelled of ash and dust. I tasted…shadows.

  Beep.

  The noise sounded invasive and…so wrong. It vibrated through my senses like a shock of electricity and disappeared as quickly as it invaded. The feeling of my body gone, I forced my senses outward, seeking that strange sound. I swam through the darkness, through thick mud filled with vines pulling me back.

  Beep.

  There it was again—getting closer! I forced myself forward—if there was such a direction. Everything felt lost. So empty.

  Beep.

  It sounded so close I stretched with my mind’s eye to grab it. I struggled forward and slowly, inch by inch, a light dawned. It was as invasive as the sound. Despair flooded through me, because I knew reality waited in that light. A reality of heartbreak and hopelessness. One of lost and brokenness. One of pain.

  But it would be real and was where I belonged.

  I surged forward into the light, cracking free of my cocoon of darkness. The beeping grew louder and faster, morphing into a strange electronic rhythm. I focus
ed on that sound as the darkness yanked at me in resistance. Gradually my senses returned with the poignant smell of…hand sanitizer. I opened my eyes, which felt like breaking through water’s surface. I gasped and threw my head forward, shattering the darkness.

  I lay in a bed in a small hospital room. A heart monitor beeped. An IV drip was connected to my arm. I wore a light blue gown and was covered in bandages—most stained red. A white curtain with orange flowers drawn around me lay open just enough for me to see the far wall. The wall had a white board that listed doctors and treatments. The room smelled of chemicals. A small black TV hung in the corner.

  The TV played a news special of the city’s current events. The images were ugly. A banner cut across the bottom of the screen reading that Mayor Kraine had issued martial law across the entire city. Images of NPFC officers in black combat uniforms fighting with violent citizens filled the screen. The authorities used ballistic shields, asps, and tear gas, and the citizens—both Noble and Outcast—retaliated with whatever they could grab.

  Both sides succeeded in only one thing, tearing Chicago apart.

  An image popped up on the screen of an elderly woman beating a man in the street with her purse over canned goods before being tackled by authorities. Clarissa?

  The feed cut back to a male and female in a newsroom saying how allegations were coming in from the survivors of the ball the night before. Some claimed that Mayor Josephus Kraine hired mercenaries to try to kill them and terrorize Chicago. The reporters claimed nothing had been heard from Kraine or his office about the allegations. Josephus Kraine had resorted to locking himself in his office with NPFC officers stationed outside to protect him.

  The newscaster shared images from outside the Mayor’s office. A mob held signs calling for Kraine’s impeachment and screamed at the television crews and NPFC officers guarding the doors.

  I groaned uncontrollably.

  Ziavir was right. People only respond with hate, and nothing I do helps.

  An itch formed on my forehead and I reached up to scratch it, or at least I tried. A jingle and a biting in my wrist told me I lay handcuffed to a bed.

  Just when I think my luck can’t get any worse.

  “Glad to see you’re awake,” said a voice. My head shot to my side and white hot pain blinded me. I cried out and hid my face in my pillow.

  “Take it easy or you’ll rip out your stitches…again,” said the voice, unrecognizable in the swirling sea of light and darkness. My head pounded and I ground my teeth.

  “Who’s talking?” I moaned.

  Gabriel stepped into my view “Forgotten me already? How hard did you hit your head?”

  I didn’t know whether to be happy or angry to see Gabriel. Our last conversation had gotten ugly. He convinced me to steal evidence against Kraine that ended up assisting Ziavir’s own agenda. That demanded answers. He kept secrets from me, and I didn’t like it—even if he did claim it was for my best interest.

  “What are you talking about? I just tripped, that’s all,” I said behind an easy smile.

  “I think we need to redefine your definition of tripping. Because if that’s what you classify as a ‘trip’ then I’m a beached whale.”

  “Well I didn’t want to tell you like this, Gabriel, but you have been getting fatter. The others didn’t want to tell you, but I care enough to let you know.”

  He chuckled and said, “I’m shocked you survived. The ball was a massacre. You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed…or your back broken with that fall.”

  I coughed and said, “Whoever said luck had anything to do with it? I’m just awesome.”

  Falling into a fit of coughing after claiming you are awesome somewhat negates the claim.

  He shook his head and said, “Just try to avoid walking in front of any black cats or under any ladders for a while.”

  I tried to move once I felt the blood pumping through me. I gave him a strong eye when the handcuffs jingled. I glanced down repeatedly at the handcuffs.

  Message loud and clear here, Gabriel.

  He sighed and said, “Victor Carmichael ordered that you be handcuffed and have guards stationed outside your room. They want you for questioning later…when they get control over Chicago.”

  “More like he wants me locked up so he can blow up the city.”

  “This is serious, Griffon. Your actions endangered not only yourself but the rest of Chicago. A lot of people are dead, and many more are in danger of similar fates with evidence pointing back to you.”

  “My actions?” I snapped, “Everything I have done has been for Chicago! I’ve been trying to save it!”

  “And look what your actions have caused!” He pointed at the TV monitor.

  “I am one of the few who know the truth. The city is in chaos, but eventually people will start asking questions of those in leadership. Thanks to Kraine, that includes you. Both you and he will face judgment for this disaster. Rushing off blindly after Ziavir ignored the real threat. Your personal need for revenge left this city without the help it really needed.”

  Suddenly the TV made a loud static sound that caught our attention. On the screen appeared Ziavir’s face. The camera angle depicted him in some kind of factory complex. A window behind him showed parts of Chicago, but I didn’t know where. At the bottom of the screen, a countdown clock read 5 hours 55 minutes. And it ticked down.

  Then the devil spoke.

  “Citizens of Chicago! I present to you, Judgment Day. Your government, seeking to enslave you, has betrayed you. The rich and powerful have exploited you! The corrupt remain in control. Your hands are bloody. Payment…is due. Therefore, Chicago shall be baptized in fire and darkness and blood tonight at six o’clock. Ash will fall. The powers that created this state will suffer the most. Nothing shall ever be the same for those cursed to survive the night.

  “Choose today how you shall spend your last day. Be with those you love and cherish them. But take today what you believe you deserve and give such equally in return to others. If you are poor and oppressed, rise up and settle your accounts. If you are abused, return the shame. If you are hurt, cause it in others. Shame the shamers. Kill the killers! Take from the takers! Tear down the walls of corruption, for tomorrow those left shall begin to rebuild. Crush bone, cut flesh, feed your desires for pleasure and greed and revenge this last day, for you will never get another chance to feed your wickedness. Pray for your redemption and forgiveness, because if you live you will be blessed with the chance to earn it. You have until tonight.”

  Then the image disappeared.

  “That message has been playing every hour on the hour since dawn. Consensus is that he is referring to some sort of bomb capable of blowing up the city. The people are taking his advice. Fear is causing people to panic…violently. There’s rioting and fighting in the streets. People are killing each other over the smallest disputes. Buildings are burning and the city is dying.”

  “What about the military?” I shouted in disbelief.

  Gabriel shook his head and said, “The military is busy conquering new lands for the Emperor’s greed. Anyone else is stretched thin with disputes breaking out all across the continent. Nebula didn’t just strike Chicago. Every major city in the Empire is suffering some catastrophe. We are talking about a massive strike against the Empire. The Emperor’s resources are stretched too far to stop what’s happening here.”

  “The NPFC?”

  “They claim they received an anonymous tip that the bomb will detonate if anyone tries to escape the city. Their main priority is establishing a perimeter around the city, and their second is to try to maintain Kraine’s order for martial law. But their numbers are too weak after days of fighting the mob.

  “What few soldiers the Emperor spared surrounded the city to insure that nobody escapes until the NPFC finishes their jobs. They are making sure nobody gets past the blockade. There’s no stopping what’s happening. Nebula planned for everything—likely years in advance. I’m sorry
Griffon, but it’s over. You did your best, but you didn’t stand a chance.”

  I shook my head. I refused to accept what he said as truth…even when I knew it to be so. It couldn’t possibly be over already.

  How can everyone just give up? How can the Emperor abandon us?

  “But those in charge of the NPFC are a part of Nebula!”

  Gabriel only nodded, his eyes downcast.

  “Gabriel, you need to get me out of here! We can get Chamberlain and the others and stop Ziavir ourselves. We can still stop this!”

  “That’s the other bad news. Last night…when you fled to go chasing after Ziavir…one of Ziavir’s mercenaries tried to shoot you. Chamberlain dove in the way and…was shot in the process. He nearly died there. If it weren’t for Alison…he might have. He’s alive but in bad shape. You abandoned your friends and now one of them lies in critical condition in a coma. His odds don’t look good.”

  I’ve suffered a lot of pain in my life, much of it physical, and some of it emotional.

  But nothing quite hurt to the degree of those words.

  I broke down in tears. My heart shattered. My body convulsed. My voice cracked. I gagged with pain. My soul cried out in agony. I never wanted any of that to happen. I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me. All along I had imagined myself to be the one to receive the punishment for my sins. I wanted to pay the price myself, not force those around me to pay. Not Chamberlain.

  He had always been my hero…but I had proven to be his greatest enemy.

  “I want to see him,” I whispered.

  “He’s…being treated by a doctor that I know who is willing to secretly treat Illegals. Chamberlain is in a coma at Michael’s house.”

  “So take me to him.”

  Gabriel just stared at me. I understood the loud and painfully clear message. “You’re not going to help me out of here, are you?”