“I don’t got time!” The boy replied. “T-there's ‘omething going down that my boy L needs to be in on!”
Lance got up from his seat and looked nervous. “Did we… did we get hit?”
The small, frail looking kid shook his head. “It's not that, i-it's j-just…” He stared at the ground for an extended period of time trying to find the right words. “It's N-Nathan.”
Lance's eyes lit up at the mention of his name. “That m— … his as— …” He rolled his eyes and attempted not to swear. “He disappeared on us after talking to the cops!”
“Yeah. And he's coming this way, too!”
“What? Why?”
The boy clenched his fists. “H-he came back telling people that you were the one who s-snitched and got Magellan locked up—and he's been s-saying that that girl you used to hang around gave you something! He’s callin’ your old g-girl a whore, L!”
Lance became furious. “Nathan screwed us more than that 'Davon' cat; he gave up everything, and now he has the nerve to come back and start talking about me? Me!?”
The boy shook his head. “I guess it's-it’s just a part of who he is…”
“What do you mean?”
“Idiot.” He rubbed his forehead and exhaled in irritation. “I'm s-saying that Nathan realized he could overpower a teen and t-take everything left of the Blood Disciples for himself. H-he realized he could c-change the story and make you out to be the snitch, and t-that's why…” He clenched his jaw. “We gotta punish him.”
Mr. Mauros frowned. Of all the kids and grown men who had come into his barbershop, this young one seemed to him to be the most hopeless. The barber attempted to reach out to the boy but did so cautiously; after all, he’d heard some vicious rumors about the juvenile: “Just one moment.”
“What, old man?”
Mauros breathed in hard and struggled to keep his temper from overcoming him. “I know about you, boy; I know things haven't been so easy.”
He laughed but stood his ground. “W-what d-do you know, pops? Tell me.”
“I know you grew up in the system…” Mauros looked sympathetic. “You always say you don't remember what happened, if you even had a family—But I know that some part of you remembers, boy, and I don't think that this is the legacy that you should be trying to leave behind, understand?”
The boy became quiet and extremely serious while pondering a spot on the wall. There was an emptiness to his gaze when he turned to look at the barber, clenched his jaw again, and said: “Your words don’t mean anything.”
--
Nathan and one of Ekwueme's old enforcers were calmly walking on the pavement leading toward the barbershop.
Ekwueme's operation had been taken over by a chain of command he’d established himself, and Nathan had negotiated his way back into a crew to whom he and Lance once swore they'd never return. Nathan's partner had remained stoic up to this point but randomly inquired: “Why’s it necessary for you to humiliate L? He's just some kid you used to run with, right?”
Nathan sighed. “People way up in the ranks decided that the best way to show my loyalty was to let L know that we were enemies in public.” He chuckled. “It could've been worse… they wanted me to put a bullet in him, but I pulled some strings and—”
“Now we're wasting our time with someone who isn't even a real competitor. L is fucking up his job good enough at this point. You sayin' someone higher than me ordered this bullshit? Are you strapped for this?”
“That's funny; why would I need steel for this cat?”
“I can't believe this is a legit task, Nathan.”
Lance and his companion quickly approached to the laughter of Nathan, who bellowed: “This is your whole crew now, huh?”
“Naw, fuckhead; they all tasked out.”
“Tasked out so much they can't roll with their friends? They find out you were gonna die today or something?”
Lance paled for a moment. “Die? W-w-what do you mean, die?”
The boy next to him said calmly, “It's pretty clear what it means, L; he came here to fuckin' ice us…”
Nathan placed his hands on his hips and smiled. “Fools. I'll only hurt you if you don't obey Ekwueme's replacement. My loyalty remains with our old crew, and that makes us enemies—plain and simple, kid!” Nathan stepped close enough to prod Lance in the chest. “The only way you'll be moving product is through and for us now, understand?”
Lance grew red in the face before he batted away Nathan's arm. In a flash, Nathan’s ally retrieved his gun and casually aimed it at Lance. He scowled as he spoke, “The man said no bullshit, did he not? Will you disrespect the legacy of Ekwueme by laying hands on a mem—nevermind!” The man snorted. “I'll kill you where you—”
The man clutched his side and cried out as a slender, black blade was withdrawn from in between one of his ribs.
Using a combat knife designed to fit between the digits of his hand, Lance’s companion dashed around the gunman and began stabbing him repeatedly in every opening he could find and tore the weapon from his grasp!
In the background, people began to gasp and scream at the horrific sight; Mr. Mauros came out of his shop with a shotgun and screamed: “Enough! Stop!”
Lance was taken off guard and so didn't realize it when Nathan swung his fist and struck a blow to the side of his jaw that knocked him off his feet. Nathan followed up by getting on top of Lance and started throwing more jabs at his former partner! It only took a second before Lance's friend noticed and quickly came to his friend's aid. He began thrusting his weapon into Nathan's lower back until the older man turned and tried to block his attacks. Despite his desperate attempts to stop the kid, he received several deep wounds across his arms. The boy lunged, stabbed Nathan through his cheekbone, and then followed by thrusting the weapon into his jugular.
The sound of sirens grew closer as he backed away from the two men, who were bleeding out upon the ground.
“Raiko!” Mr. Mauros screamed, his voice tinged with sorrow. “How cou—” He began to tear up, knowing he couldn’t open fire on two kids he’d tried to shepherd for some time now. “Why would you do this?!”
Nathan rolled on the ground while clutching his injuries; a pool of blood was growing around his form, and he quickly felt his will to live escape him. Lance, being softhearted in nature, ran over to the bleeding man's side and hesitated before he got too close.
“I'm sorry, Nathan… I-I don't know what to do…”
Nathan went into cardiac arrest, his eyes great saucers that looked at Raiko in disbelief. While one hand grasped at his chest, the other reached toward the boy.
The local police had arrived on the scene and quickly surrounded everyone who was armed, including Mauros.
Raiko, his hands covered in crimson, looked back at Mr. Mauros and said calmly, without stuttering: “They weren't important.”
--
That afternoon, the Zone D police used videos taken at the scene to assess the situation. An officer working the administrative data looked up from her laptop and said, “Repeat the story to me again: Lance—who wants everybody to call him 'L', is just as much of an instigator as Nathan. Nathan's pal, who the hospital has booked as Kungo, becomes nervous and brandishes a weapon at a minor. The minor is triggered and attacks the two of these guys with some kind of 'knife' you can't find in any store—at least, any that I know of—and we lock it into evidence as the thing that put Nathan and Kungo in critical condition at the hospital.”
The officer at the scene, who was a close friend of Detective Kaust, nodded his head. “And the minor goes by 'Raiko.' The only record we have of him is as a ward of the Federation, an orphan…” The cop scratched his head. “Old 'L' will probably make it out of this okay, seein' as his dad is a pretty important guy. Raiko, on the other hand…” He shook his head. “Whatever shot Raiko had as a good, upstanding citizen is gone now. If the two fellas he shanked pull through, he's being tried and going to jail for attempted manslaught
er. If they both die, then he'll just be put away for longer. The kid doesn't really look crazy, either.”
“It's just such a shame.” The woman replied. “This shit happens far too often.”
--
Such a shame, indeed. The Citadel Prison was its own twisted world.
President Derek had developed a pretty cynical view of crime. Dawn Federation law had changed to reflect a more intense stance on all offenders, which eventually caused the construction of the Hanging Prison: an immense building of stone that hung from the lower reaches of the Lower-city via a series of reinforced chains placed throughout the Citadel to support its incredible weight.
Because of its design, the Hanging Prison was known for swinging in the wind and producing a nauseous, unbalanced sensation felt throughout the prison. The tale goes that the President lost family members to street violence during the time when the Citadel was just a group of factions fighting for control of the city. In chaos, Derek saw a need for order and thus made it his life's goal to harshly punish those who did him any wrong. He wanted the Citadel Prison to be the type of world that withered away the minds of its inhabitants. To him, it was Justice that the facility was known for causing prisoners to become insane and, if they didn’t turn suicidal, evolve into even more dangerous versions of themselves at times.
The Hanging Prison consisted of levels, much in the way that the Citadel itself consisted of its own divisions. The levels were developed to establish classifications of criminals. After the Dawn Federation had implemented its federal authority, the government decided to fund a program of neurologists and psychological professionals whose sole purpose was to interview every prisoner. They also reviewed files and looked over family history before deciding whatever level the prisoner “belonged to.”
On the First Level, the Hanging Prison, naturally, housed more petty offenders. Small time thieves, muggers, and similar criminals were placed in cells with three other individuals at a time.
The Second Level was known for more discrete crimes: insider trading, hacking and stealing private information, and most white-collar criminals were known to be placed here in cells designated for two.
The Third Level was reserved for more high-profile crimes such as murder, rape, and kidnapping and housed one prisoner for each cell.
The Fourth contained the men and women thought to be the most depraved in society, and they were left mostly alone in solitary cells to slowly go mad as the prison perpetually swayed through the air. The Fourth Level was a prohibited section of the Prison, and it was only accessible by Dawn Bureau agents or Dawn Knights. It's said that the final floor of the Hanging Prison was its own bastion of insanity. People placed on the Fourth Level were rumored to have drastically changed in appearance and appeared to be more creature than human.
Raiko was tried by a High Court in the Upper-City and sentenced to ten years on the Third Level followed by five years of psychiatric hospitalization. His case had made public news, and, although he was only a young boy who was just about to turn sixteen, the jury quickly sided against him. The problem wasn't the crime so much as Raiko's complete indifference toward what he’d done.
The lawyer appointed by the court suggested that Raiko explain that he was terrified and merely reacted on impulse. When the magistrate appointed over the case inquired as to why he'd murdered Nathan (Kungo survived), Raiko nonchalantly replied: “They didn't matter.”
It was this statement that quickly became used as the headline of every news outlet looking into the case. Raiko wasn't showing enough remorse for the crowd; he seemed as though he'd already accepted his fate long ago and didn't apologize. And at every one of his hearings, Mr. Mauros sat behind him with Lance and tried to show support.
Despite feeling bitter about the event, Mr. Mauros eventually admitted, “Raiko is loyal, Lance. You can say that much.”
The boy was transferred to the Third Level in a solitary cell. They took away both his belongings and his contact to the outside world and only offered him an old, grey uniform and a bedroll. Because Raiko had become infamous, he received the worst treatment possible from the guards and often was forced to starve for several days.
Some of the other prisoners would occasionally get some time to leave their cells and go outside for “recreation.” That option was never offered to Raiko, and he was only let out to use the community bathroom. Several of the other prisoners simply glared at him and threatened him; they thought he was arrogant, and—in a way—Raiko was. A misunderstood orphan raised in the system, he understood loneliness better than anyone else; thus, he was able to make his home in a cell barely tall and wide enough to contain him.
It was some time before he was visited by a stranger wearing a rather extravagant suit. When the newcomer first visited, he obscured most of his face with a hat and a pair of shades that seemed wholly unnecessary for how dark it was. He waited in front of Raiko's cell and asked: “Are you finished?”
Raiko, despondent and detached from what had happened, refused to answer; the stranger then disappeared.
Raiko's new friend came to see him at least once every week and asked different questions, questions which Raiko continued ignoring…
Finally, the boy had enough and, without realizing that he no longer stuttered when he spoke, demanded, “What group are you with, huh? You some sorta psych dude they send to… —I don't know, analyze me? You buggin' me the fuck out, man.”
The stranger tilted his head up slightly to reveal a somewhat elderly face containing what seemed to be a very genuine smile. “I did a little research on ya, feel me? Let me break it down for you, cat: I talked to Mr. Mauros about your… situation. He spilled everything you’ve said over the years; cat really cares about you, though, boy. You keep tellin' people that ya don't know where you come from, am I right?” He leaned in. “But it's all right, son, you ain't gotta lie anymore behind closed doors. I'm here to hear you—”
“Who the fuck are you, old man?”
The stranger chuckled and maintained a humble appearance. “See, you gonna learn about these kinda things in time…” He possessed a very soft-spoken, musical kind of voice. “Just tell me what went down, kid, and I might be able to reach out to you.”
“I don't need no help, fool!” Raiko edged in closer to confront the visitor. “I'm not a damn liar, neither! I don't remember! –I don't remember!”
Tears welled up in Raiko's eyes for a moment; he fought to keep them at bay. The stranger looked sympathetic before admitting, “I believe you, son. I wanted to think somethin' taught you the type of ability it takes to near murder two men—much less to kill off one. The other barely managed to make it out of the hospital, and here you are. No scratches, nothin', why, that's talent if I've ever seen it!”
Raiko laughed through his tears, shook his head, and leaned on the bars. “What you gettin' at, old man? Who let you in here, anyways? There ain't no guards in this place…”
A smile flashed across the visitor's face. “You probably don't know enough about Citadel history, do ya? It's some shit they don't be teachin' kids nowadays because everything went digital…” He sighed. “You may as well consider me an agent for a cause, ya feel me?”
“I don't even know what that shit means, fool!”
“Settle down. Settle down, little man. Does the name 'Angelos' mean anything to you?”
Raiko mocked him. “It's part of some fuckin' myth.”
“Myth?” The stranger was taken aback.
“Well, I mean, word everywhere is that Angelos is a part of the government—like they get contracted and stuff. They kill people. But I know that shit's not real! People be talkin' like they're livin’ shadows, motherfuckers who can kill without gettin’ in a whole lot of trouble.”
The visitor became solemn. “It's not a myth; it's a tradition, my man.”
“What?” Raiko was puzzled.
“Angelos selects who it wants. From the youngest to the oldest, ya dig? –And it teaches them to overco
me their weaknesses…”
“Is that what this is about?” The boy became defensive once again. “You're a recruiter? Look, I was ready to off those two fools ‘cuz they was ready to off me and my friend! I'm guilty of what happened; I'll do my time! This is what my fate has gotta be, I guess.” He stared down at the ground sullenly.
“You've been blessed, my man.” The stranger said calmly. “You have power that could be used to cut away all the bad from the world as you and I know it. I want to offer you something that will give your life the meaning it deserves…
--
When Raiko turned sixteen, he was initiated—only a few years before Tavon—as a Footsoldier in Angelos.
The Grandmaster of the Citadel branch of Angelos had personally recruited him, and it was well known that the Grandmaster could read anything he wanted to about an individual. To Angelos, Raiko was someone who'd grown up without a family and had, so far, lacked an identity. Raiko was the type of kid who could become anyone if pushed in the right direction.
But there was an issue…
He may have known his way around basic combat, but it turned out that this was all the real skill he possessed. Raiko could barely read, had never really sat through a full class, and only knew about life on the streets of the Citadel. Because of Raiko's inexperience, Angelos normally wouldn't have been able to use him.
Against the Grandmaster's wishes, Raiko was admitted into Angelos but also signed up for a project run by Dar-Tech. He was to be a subject in Project 12-1, and was told he'd remain in prison for only a week until they'd come to 'retrieve' him. The boy would never understand how desperate his situation was about to become until much later.
21
Gimme The Loot
--
Tavon
--
DFARI'S BOSS WAS A WELL-KNOWN PLAYER on the streets: Ovo. I don't know why he went by that, but I'm assuming it was meant to make people forget about who he once was.
Angelos Odyssey Page 50