by A. R. Crebs
From above, Fountains was a beautiful city of white, silver and blue with expanded platforms of green grass and small trees. It was one of the most beautiful city-states in the world. Underneath, however, was a stark contrast. Being the poorer district of the city, the Underbelly was considered dirty and dank, never receiving enough sunlight to even create small pastures of green. Because of the forceful winds, many of the buildings didn’t even dare have windows. The few that did were small and made of thick panes of bulletproof glass, emitting tiny white lights in the dark structures. Underneath it all was a deep black hole dug into the earth’s surface used for mining precious natural resources and water.
The plane jolted, catching the gusting winds. From the speakers overhead, the pilot’s voice warned of turbulence. Lasting a couple of minutes, the plane’s jolting subsided as it sped to the side of the center plate where the airport was located. After landing, Aria and the others rushed to gather their things, Dovian returning his weapon to its natural state, and made their way into the terminal. The security checks were longer than necessary, but everyone was on red alert thanks to the recent attacks. Once outside the airport, Aria sighed with relief. James was waiting patiently for them beside the giant transport elevators that led to the upper city.
“Aria!” James quickly approached the woman, his arms open.
With a little bounce in her step, Aria rushed to the President and set down her luggage to return his hug.
“I’m so glad you are alright. I worry about you day and night, you know that?” he asked.
“I’m fine. I’ve got a good team,” she said, looking over her shoulder.
“Indeed you have. Heard you’re quite the sharpshooter,” Clarke said to Ivory.
“I try my best, sir,” Ivory replied with a smile.
“And Troy. How have you been faring?” Clarke asked, noticing the young man’s distant expression.
“Just fine, sir. Busy as hell, but that comes with the job description, doesn’t it?” Troy smirked.
“It does.” Clarke nodded. “And I can only assume you’ve been extremely helpful, too.” He looked up at Dovian.
“I try to do what I can,” Dovian replied.
“He’s been extremely helpful,” Aria added.
‘I bet he has,’ Troy thought bitterly.
Dovian gave the soldier a sideways glance.
Aria continued, “I don’t know how many times he’s saved my life.”
“And mine!” Ivory chimed in.
“Well, I’m glad you have decided to join their side, Dovian. Any help we can get is most appreciative.” Clarke then cleared his throat. “Now, I bet you’re wondering why we are here.”
“I am curious.” Aria nodded.
They remained in the center core of the upper and lower city and were completely encased in one giant superstructure that stretched the whole expanse of Fountains. From the small windows, they could see the massive hole far down below. It was quite menacing, appearing to threaten to swallow the city whole.
“Truth is–Walten is pissed. If he catches wind that you are in the city, he’ll send a team out immediately to detain you.” Clarke stood at attention as he spoke. “He seems to consider you all enemies as you are the ones responsible for the attack on Athenia. He has branded the four of you traitors.”
“What?!” Aria and Troy shouted at once.
“That’s bullshit!” Troy growled.
“Oh my,” Ivory gasped, her hands clasping over the dog tag hanging around her neck.
“I’ve tried explaining, but he won’t listen. He wants someone to blame, and you are the only tangible thing he can get his hands on.” Clarke looked upon Dovian. “I also fear he wants something from Dovian. I’m not sure why, but he has expressed an interest in Ivory as well.”
“Am I in trouble?” Ivory asked.
“I would like you to remain as close to Troy and Aria as possible,” Clarke told the woman. “They’re the best. I trust you’ll be safe at their side.”
“You also have me, remember,” Dovian said to her. Ivory quickly bobbed her head.
“But what about our channels?” Aria asked. “They could be monitoring them.”
“I’ve been using my private channel. It has top encryption. Walten doesn’t even know about the line,” Clarke reassured her. “As such, I would like you to leave immediately. There’s another plane departing in a little over an hour. Stay well hidden and remain close to the airport at all times. You will be going to Roma. I’m not sure why they would attack seeing as Roma doesn’t have a nuclear reactor, but the festivities do start later tonight.”
“Festivities?” Troy asked. “To celebrate the peace treaty signing?”
“Precisely. Roma will be having a masquerade ball that begins tonight to kickoff the celebrations. It’ll be the perfect opportunity to go in covertly to see what Euclid’s up to. The festivities are supposed to last all week; it’s the first time in decades they’ve been able to hold their tradition. Originally, all of the elitists of the world were invited to attend, but since the attacks have been wiping out city-states left and right, Roma is still in a state of red alert. This means there won’t be many people of value outside of Benvenuto attending, and he doesn’t give his celebratory speech until tomorrow night at his home where the grand ball will be taking place. It would be the perfect time for Euclid to strike. But, like I said, there is no reactor. And with the attacks occurring on a daily basis, I am unsure as to why Euclid would infiltrate tonight since Benvenuto won’t be addressing the public until tomorrow…unless he plans on taking out masses during the masquerade later this evening.” Clarke rubbed his forehead. “This guessing game is a little mindnumbing. There is also the possibility that he’ll attack elsewhere since we’ve interrupted his plans twice now.”
“No,” Dovian spoke up. “He will continue as planned. What day is today?”
“Saturday,” Aria answered, looking at her DNAIS.
“It’s the day of the Sabbath. Euclid will not attack today,” Dovian said. “He will continue as planned tomorrow.”
“How can you be sure?” Aria asked.
“Rules are rules. Evil or not, you don’t mess with the day of the Sabbath. People have been struck down for less,” Dovian explained.
“But I thought Sabbath was on Sunday,” Troy said. So he did know a little something about the faith.
“No, not traditionally,” Dovian replied. “Trust me, he’ll attack tomorrow. Besides, I doubt he’s healed from yesterday’s fight.” He unconsciously squeezed his hands into fists.
“Just to be safe, I’d like you all to leave on this afternoon’s flight in order to get away from this place and as far away from Walten as possible,” James advised.
“We will.” Aria set her alarm.
“And take these with you.” Clarke pointed to a few heavy crates. “I’ve already got them tagged and ready to board the plane. They have plenty of new ammunitions for you to use, even a few grenades. Also, Camery’s got some new reinforced suits for you to wear. They have the highest form of defensive shields I’ve ever seen–Plasma Shields. These shields have a dual-layer plasma helix. The shields pull in ambient energy. As the energy intensifies, the shields squeeze particles together, creating a rebound effect. It’s similar to Saray’s technology but only stronger. Ivory, you have a new weapon. It’s more stabilized than the last and also has cloaking mechanisms like Aria’s and Troy’s. Dovian, he developed something for you as well. Not sure if it’ll be of use to you.” Clarke lifted the lid to one of the crates. Grabbing an item, he handed it over to the Sorcēarian.
Dovian gave the item a curious look. It was circular and almost flat. A glass-like gem adorned the center, making it look like a pendant. Small lines decorated the outside of the jewel. “It’s a frequency tuner. Looks like a top model.”
“What’s it do?’ Aria asked.
“It should help me to tune into different frequencies, allowing me to teleport similarly to the way Eucli
d does.” Dovian smirked. “Interesting piece of technology. It almost looks Sorcēarian in nature. I’m curious as to how he developed it.”
“You’ll have to ask him that. I don’t know a thing about it.” James held up his hands.
Dovian twisted the gem in the center like a dial. His form twitched and vibrated. In a flash, Dovian was in the center of the group and then standing directly behind Clarke. “Works well,” he said.
“You may want to be careful where you use that thing. I think a few people noticed.” Aria folded her arms. She looked at the hundreds of people walking through the pathways. A few gaped at them in interest; some others quickly walked away, glaring from over their shoulders.
Aria flinched as an arm shot out in front of her, a long piece of paper dangling before her face. It was a flyer to one of the churches in the city. Swiftly, Aria snatched the item from the stranger’s hand.
“It’ll be a good message this week. Always is,” the man said. He was about Aria’s height and appeared to be similar in age with Mr. Clarke, having peppered hair himself. The man also wore thick-rimmed glasses, which was rare to see since most people had surgery to correct their vision. Most likely, the man was too proud for surgery. Most people in the Underbelly had some sort of difference compared to the citizens above. Here, instead of fearing the differences, they embraced them. Needless to say, the people on the underside were much more united than those above.
Aria eyed the pamphlet once again. Listed on the bottom was ‘Roy’s Printing Press.’ Something even more rare was the use of paper. Anymore it was considered wasteful, and things such as printing and parchment were no longer useful. Leave it to the Underbelly to use something from ancient times in a world full of technology. It was their way of “sticking it to the man.” Though the things the underside people did hadn't always made much of a difference, let alone any sense, Aria wasn’t going to judge. They at least remembered their roots and had a consideration for history.
“Been a long time since I’ve seen a church,” Aria muttered.
“A church?” Dovian asked, his eyes lighting up.
“We have one of the most beautiful down here!” Roy beamed enthusiastically. “And the pastor is great! You’ll be surprised; why don’t you give it a try? Won’t hurt.”
“No, thanks,” Troy grumbled.
“I would like to see it,” Ivory cheered.
Roy gave the tall, busty blonde a wide-eyed stare. “See? Can’t say no to a pretty gal,” he laughed.
“We do have plenty of time,” James said. “And it has been a terribly long time since I’ve seen the one down here.”
“You’ll love it! The sermons are great, and they are televised all over the city.” The man was very animated if not a little bit neurotic. He gestured toward the numerous screens lining the tops of the buildings down the side streets. “If you notice, the Bibles in the cathedral were printed in my shop! My family has been printing the books for generations. There’s something about holding a real book, the way it feels in your hand, the smell!” Roy sniffed the newsprint in his hand. “You can’t get that with your digital books, no way! If it weren’t for that daggum technology, my family’s business never would have gone under. I used my life savings to bring this thing up and running again after years of sitting empty.”
Aria gave the man a strange look. Only in the Underbelly would something like Roy’s business be able to make money.
“People here like to gossip, so I started my own newspaper! Who doesn’t like hearing about all the news that’s been going on? I tell you, those darn elitists up above are trying to withhold information from the people! It’s wrong! The people care more about those celebrities on their shows than the way their money is being spent. I mean, people got to speak up. They got to let their leaders know who’s in charge!”
“So, what do you think about the events that have been going on around the world?” Aria asked, interrupting the man’s little rant.
“Demons!” he said with no faltering whatsoever. “It’s those daggum demons that are causing all the trouble. It’s getting close to the end. I ain’t joking!”
Troy held a hand to his forehead. Was this man serious?
“You’re one of those conspiracy types, aren’t you?” Troy asked.
“You’re an idiot if you don’t believe it. Now, I’m not saying all of those strange conspiracies are true, but I can say that some are, and there’s something funny going on around here. I think the demons are in charge, always have been. Those suits up there, controlling all of our money, making all of the rules, they’re being controlled by them!” The man pointed upwards, swinging his arm.
“Interesting theory,” Dovian said with a crooked smirk.
Roy’s eyes bugged at the sheer monstrous height of Dovian. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re the tallest daggum man I’ve ever seen!”
“I get that a lot.” Dovian frowned. “So, where is this church?”
“Just down the block and around the corner.” Roy pointed.
Turning, Dovian looked upward, noticing the massive buttresses and points of the gothic-style cathedral. He gripped his chest, gasping in awe.
“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Roy asked.
“Most beautiful thing I’ve seen since I’ve left home,” Dovian murmured. He walked away from the group, eyes on the cathedral, mesmerized.
“Home?” Roy asked.
“Ives,” Dovian muttered quietly as he strolled away.
“Ives?” Roy pushed his glasses further up his nose.
“Um, thanks for the information, Roy,” Aria said quickly before trotting after the Sorcēarian. Ivory and James did the same, not wanting to lose track of their party. Troy heaved a sigh, following the others, trailing behind.
“Wait…Ives?!” Roy asked again, staring at the scarlet-robed man who was already at the far street corner turning toward the church. “Can I interview you?!” Roy shouted, quickly lifting up his old-fashioned camera to take a picture of the group, but he was too late.
Beautiful was an understatement. The cathedral was awesome in architecture. The peaks nearly touched the digital cloud ceiling of the enclosed city. The sharp angles twisted and poked outwards, creating a stunning, yet eerie effect. The doors were massive, made of wood and old metal. The structure looked like it came straight from ancient history–straight from Ives.
Even Troy stood gaping at the giant cathedral, his mouth hanging open. “Would not want to be the one who had to design this thing,” he muttered quietly.
“It’s fantastic,” Dovian whispered. A smile spread over his face. He looked like a kid in a candy store.
Aria’s eyes darted to the men standing outside the entry doors and the sides of the building. They were in shiny silver armor purposefully given an old-time design. Their faces were hidden behind helmets with pointed wings for ears, and the front of their armor was covered with a white cloth adorned with a long red cross. Soldiers of God were what they were called. They were a privately funded mini-militia whose only job was to guard and protect the cathedrals. Many wealthy men put a lot of money into protecting the last of ancient history’s faith. Their leathered hands squeaked as they squeezed their large rifles. Apparently, Dovian seemed to be a threat as he neared the church, his hands touching the stained-glass window. One guard in the front slowly neared the group.
“What’s your purpose here?” he gruffly asked.
“We came to watch the sermon,” Aria replied, trying her best to not use a lethal tone with the man.
“The doors have already been closed for this sermon. You can watch from the outside,” he said.
“Outside?” Dovian asked in disappointment.
“Can you at least let him in? He can stand and watch in the back,” Aria suggested.
“Sorry, I can’t do that.”
Dovian frowned.
“There isn’t one seat you can give to him?” Troy asked with disbelief.
“Hey, I said no. It mean
s no. You’re not from around here are you? I can tell by your clothes. You’re one of the up-siders. Churches down here, they fill up fast. Can’t you tell?” The soldier pointed behind the group.
The streets were full of civilians, all staring upward in anticipation at the vid screens. It was incredible. The city seemed to stop just for the sermon. In their hands were the small pieces of parchment handed out by Roy. The unity this side of the city had was inspiring.
“What’s the matter?” An old man dressed in regal robes approached them.
“Sir, you should be in the church. It isn’t safe out here.” The soldier quickly readied his guard, two others running up to join either side of the pastor who was beside them.
“Son, I grew up in these streets. I’ll be fine. Now, what is the matter?” The old man appeared to be very kind and gentle. His blue eyes were very pale, an indication as to why he lived below.
“These people wanted to sit in on the sermon, but I told them we were already full.”
“Pish-posh!” The old man waved at the soldier. “I cannot turn away a group who is in need of prayer.”
“I understand if you are full, but could you at least let our friend inside?” Aria asked, pointing at Dovian.
The pastor turned, facing the Sorcēarian. Giving a loud gasp, he immediately dropped to his knees. “My God!” he shouted, his eyes enlarging.
“Sir! Are you alright?!” the soldier asked.
“In all of my years…” the old man stammered. He quickly gestured the making of a cross over his face and torso. Dovian watched him carefully, his expression unreadable. “I never thought I would actually come face-to-face with a real Soldier of God!”
Dovian bowed his head slightly, still remaining expressionless.
The other soldiers quickly followed the pastor’s gesture, falling to their knees and pointing crosses over their bodies.
“You, you are a Sorcēarian, are you not?” the old man gasped. Aria feared he was going to drop dead at any minute from a heart attack.