“I’m not willing. I could.”
“At least you wouldn’t be alone.”
“I wouldn’t?”
“Yes. Now that we have a Dragon, I thought—”
“You don’t have a Dragon,” I interrupted angrily. “I have a Dragon. It must work without Dragons—this bloody dependence only brought us into this crappy situation! The people first must learn to fucking clean up their own mess.”
Nicholas stared at the floor. “You must be right. But we’re not far enough yet. We need a somewhat stable base first. We don’t have anything left. The police are corrupt, the military infiltrated, the Frostdragon plant sabotaged, the people frightened. Nobody wants to do the first step. We must wake them up.” Now he lifted his gaze. “Once the wheel is turning, it must work without help. But the dark hole we’re inside is too deep. We can’t do it alone. Please, Jo. We need Velvet.”
Dragon crap. I didn’t want that. It only caused pain. Nor did I want to be just a fucking street rat. It felt so darn good when people looked up to me instead of ignoring me or treating me like dirt. It felt so darn good when I introduced myself as Velvet, and the people admired me.
Most of all, it felt good if people looked at me so full of hope as these soldiers who had accompanied me to Vegas—these soldiers who had followed me to Japan so that I wouldn’t have to face a Dragon all alone. How often had someone done as much for me before?
“Dragon—” I started a curse, but then interrupted myself and thought of Achrotzyber. It seemed no longer appropriate to curse Dragons if the only one of this kind was my partner, or was it?
“You don’t want it. If that’s your last word, I have to accept it.”
“Well. I really don’t want it. But I’ll do it anyway.”
“Now I don’t understand.”
“Crazy, ain’t it? That’s Velvet.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Hello, Cap.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Sit down if you like.” My gaze kept fixed on the Severn River feeding the Chesapeake Bay before me. This was the easternmost part of the campus, farthest away from buildings and people. In the distance, the lights of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge were sparkling.
“I thought I’d been quiet. But you don’t miss anything easily, do you?”
“That can be life-saving sometimes.”
“Here?”
“Call it a habit.”
He sat down next to me and gazed over the water, too. “Well—you’ve kept your part of the deal and accompanied us here. The Cartel’s decapitated, the girls are cared for, and now you’re free to go where you like. Do you already have an idea?”
“New York.”
“Hum. Wouldn’t be my first choice. Might be quite bad. No place for a beautiful woman.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
“No matter. I tell it like it is. And you? You don’t really want to go to New York, do you?”
“Very surely.”
He leaned to the side and examined me from head to toe. “That’s not funny.”
“No, I’m not going there for fun.”
“Hum. Shall I bring some boys with me?”
“You’ve got your duties.”
“You know that the boys would go anywhere for you, don’t you?”
“Anywhere is a wide term.”
“It’s meant like that. The ZONE—well, we’ve been there already—or the end of the world, no matter. Together with you, we’d even face a Jelly lander.”
Oh damn!
Sadly, I knew he was serious. He believed in what he said. He should only be committed to his oath of office and his country, but if he or one of his men would have to choose between me and his oath, what would be the result?
It would be better if he didn’t have to choose. In any case, I didn’t depend on that.
“Luckily, that’s not on the agenda. But thanks for the flowers anyway.”
“You’re welcome. If you need anything else, just tell me. You have my number. And watch out for yourself, okay?”
“I’m very, very careful.” I meant it. I’d only have a look around in New York. I’d only find out how the wind blew.
I wished.
My gaze followed Cap until he turned around the sports grounds. It was really nice to know people cared for me. However, the last thing I needed to explore New York was a score of Marines.
I’d go alone—there was no alternative. And if I did, why not now?
Achrotzyber.
It didn’t take long until his scaled head broke through the surface before me. It was time for another interesting talk, during which I had to sell myself as Dragonish as possible, so that he didn’t come up with the idea of challenging my lead role.
“You have called me, Mistress.”
“Mighty, I’ve decided to go to New York.”
“What does that mean?”
“Trouble. In New York, the law of the most powerful applies.”
“I do not understand. You will take the lead there, so why does that mean trouble?”
“I’ve put it imprecisely, and you lack information about human collaboration. As opposed to Dragons, not the individual’s objective power counts, but the subjectively perceived power of a collective of interest.”
“Please explain.”
“Power doesn’t count if it’s not perceived. So far, my power isn’t perceived there, as opposed to the local rulers’ power. With power demonstrations, they’ve supported the subjective perception of their power.”
“So there are objectively perceivable criteria.”
“Exactly. Subjective perception means to extrapolate the objectively demonstrated power with regard to one’s own person.”
“In which way?”
“If your neighbor was shot down after having resisted, you would consider whether you want to resist.”
“Oh. I understand. If you want to resist, you must fight the shooter.”
“And here, we reach the collective of interest. The shooter isn’t alone, but a member of an organization of persons who help each other because they regard it as useful for their individual interests.”
“I understand that, too. Those who resist must form their own collective.”
“Correct. Forming such a collective counts as resistance, though, and is punished accordingly. So the power structures are stabilized.”
“I understand. An open forming of communities is made difficult.”
“That’s what I meant by the law of the most powerful.”
“Is that not so with all humans?”
That was an interesting question. “Actually, yes. The goal of the people I talked to is to replace this kind of collective with another. This collective shall be perceived as powerful, too, but the rules for living in this collective are different. It’s not about the fear of physical violence but about mutual respect and peaceful living together.”
“The maximizing of gain not for the single collective, but for the whole?”
“Exactly.”
“I understand. The advantage of this principle lies in the fact that a larger share of the whole profits. So a larger number of individuals is interested in supporting the collective. This in turn leads to a higher performance.”
“Exactly. Moreover, this collective wastes less energy and resources in violent conflicts without prohibiting fruitful creative dissent.”
“That is logical. I do not understand why a collective should aspire and maintain the suboptimal solution then.”
“Don’t forget the premise. First, there must be shared interests. In this case, a part of the interests lies in the application of violence itself. To cause others’ physical pain counts as a value in itself for some of those individuals.”
“That sounds sick.”
“Correct. This is how we assess the legitimation of this kind of collective. It is a disease pattern that must be fought.”
“I understand the analogy. That means that the whol
e must create antibodies.”
“Correct, Achrotzyber. There we’re arriving at my person—I’m such an antibody.”
“According to the information gained from my memory so far, in principle this applies to all Dragons.”
“True. But I don’t want you to act.”
“Why not, Mistress?”
“To stay within the analogy—I want to prevent the virus from becoming immune to the antibody before the latter is strong enough to be truly effective.”
“In this case, I must accept your assessment. I lack the respective experience. However, I conclude from your words that your visit to New York is dangerous.”
“First, I will scout the city. That’s not dangerous, at least not for me. Once I have sufficient intelligence for an assessment, I will decide whether I can become effective. You can stay near me anyway—the place is at the coast, too.”
“Good. It is logical to keep the option of my assignment open, despite your caution.”
That wasn’t what I had said, but I didn’t correct him. No, on no account did I plan to set a young, inexperienced Dragon on the heels of a criminal gang, and most of all not a Wyvern. That wasn’t good for the criminals—who cared?—and not good for him, but most importantly it wasn’t good for his reputation. Even if no one would shed a tear for the gangsters, the Wyvern so far had had a bad press. I wasn’t inclined to stir trouble from this direction, too.
Bad enough, that I myself would appear in a rather dubious role. So dubious that no one except the President should learn about his call for help. Neither Cap nor my Companion knew that this journey wasn’t my idea alone. And why? Because I was vain, because I liked being admired. Because I could look beyond my own nose. Because I couldn’t duck out of the responsibility. Because I wasn’t the damned egoistic asshole I’d so much like to be. Because I was a Golden One—because I was myself.
“I will try to reassess and understand the events in Japan based on your explanations,” Achrotzyber announced. “I have been part of such a sick collective, correct?”
“Worse, Mighty. You’ve been the tool of such a collective, you’ve been deceived about relationships and goals, and you had no chance to compare your own interests with those of the collective first. This is another characteristic of this kind of collective.”
“This is a complicated world, Mistress.”
“Let’s deal with something simpler now. Carry me to New York.”
Part Three—Reconnaissance
Chapter Nineteen
Carry me to New York sounded so easy—always north along the coast, about two-hundred miles beeline. Unfortunately, using the water route, you had to swim almost as far southward to the end of Chesapeake Bay before you could travel up the coast.
Even for us, who both had never been in New York before, the harbor entrance under the Verrazano Bridge was easy to find, but thereafter I had to make up my mind where exactly I’d want to go—Brooklyn, Queens, Bronx, Manhattan?
As I didn’t know any of the boroughs, it didn’t matter where I started. I could collect intelligence everywhere, and that was all I wanted. Explore, not interfere. Observe attentively, listen, remain inconspicuous. Only the harmless Jo should be seen, not the infamous Velvet. Neither should my black suit with the skull logo appear, nor my claws or a golden armor suit, otherwise I could as well announce my arrival on the newspapers.
The southern tip of Manhattan was an obvious choice. The sight of the evening skyline from the water alone made me curious, and the little park at the shore to the left—westward—of the terminal for the large ferries was well suited to go ashore inconspicuously.
The ferry terminal should give me first bearings. One thought dried me, another adjusted my camouflage, before I covered the short distance and entered through a door that was fixed in open position.
My idea was correct, as I could have bought a city map here—if I had brought money.
So I stole the map, found a quiet place, and learned it by heart. Then I neatly folded it again and returned it.
The way once around the island, along the Hudson up the western side to Inwood Hill Park, parallel to the Harlem River to the East River and along the entire eastern side back to the southern tip, would be about fifty kilometers long.
One walk up the twenty kilometers of Broadway should give me a first impression of the city as well. Of course, I began this mission with due caution—a young woman, alone at night, in a city ruled by organized crime, that couldn’t be good in itself.
Accordingly, I remained camouflaged initially. Not regarding the fact that I hadn’t brought any clothes, I wouldn’t show myself at all as long as I had no clue about the local rules.
The way from the terminal to the next subway station was free, but beyond, four grim-looking guys were leaning to a black Martian and controlling access to the city.
Nobody tried to get past them. The people coming from the ferry instead tried to keep as much distance as possible, to not glance at the four, to not stand out.
The subway was out of the question for me. In this crowd, I couldn’t remain invisible. Moreover, I didn’t expect to gain relevant insights down there.
Behind the checkpoint that couldn’t stop me, the roads were deserted. Right after starting my walk, at the northern end of a small square, I passed the polished bronze statue of a bull with lowered head. Originally, this must have been the symbol of the New York Stock Exchange, now it rather looked to me like an allegory for the citizens’ oppression. As long as they kept their bearish reluctance, the criminals had an easy game. But wasn’t a bear a dangerous predator, too?
For now, the stray radiation of several fusion reactors promised danger. The sources couldn’t be far away. I was confident anyway that my camouflage would hold.
Their presence was interesting per se. It was logical that Jana had left a few suits behind for the Las Vegas headquarters, but I had expected her to take all further suits with her to Japan—so New York was worth another exception. Even more interesting was the fact that the Cartel headquarter databases hadn’t mentioned these suits.
At the corner of Broadway and Wall Street, four more guys were sitting on bulky poles, which were seemingly retractable into the ground. They appeared very relaxed—no wonder, as they surely knew about the camouflaged suit behind them. So the world economy’s old finance center, meanwhile a crime turntable, deserved heavy guarding? I memorized that for later. Tonight, in my first night, I left the exciting heart piece behind me like the unlit Trinity Church.
Before me and to the left, I sensed three more active suits overall. Why? Seven blocks later I knew more—one guarded the mayor’s office, located in a small park. That matched—if the criminals’ money was controlled at Wall Street, then they probably controlled the people’s oppression from here.
I memorized this for a later visit, too. At the moment, I was more interested in the surroundings. The shop windows along the roads were dark and empty, and the same applied to the windows on the levels above. The southern tip of Manhattan was a ghost town.
Chapter Twenty
North of Canal Street, behind another checkpoint, the picture changed drastically. My nose provided the first warning—there was a stench as if from hell. Piles of garbage rose along the curb. Near the building walls, flies were swarming above yellowish puddles and brown droppings. I almost wouldn’t dare to look into the side alleys, from where I smelled blood and decay. More than once, I saw pale bones sticking out behind a corner. Rats openly played on the road. Bad luck for one of them—I was just hungry for a free snack and couldn’t afford to be picky.
The stench held on for three blocks, up to Broome Street. There, the air became better. Garbage was still present, but nicely collected in bags in or next to the containers. People seemed to be better able to control their needs here, too.
Or was the area behind me deliberately maintained so? As warning and deterrent for citizens—or as a clear sign of the citizens’ displeasure toward the cit
y rulers?
Too little information, Jo.
Footsteps sounded from the next corner. Four young men purposefully crossed Broadway there. All four wore red, baggy tracksuits and sunglasses easily pushed up. One of them played with a butterfly knife.
This time, I deviated from my course and followed them eastward. If I wanted to learn more about the rules of play in this city, I had to watch the people playing.
Only half a block on, two of the boys disappeared into a diner, and the two others waited at the curb. Good—so I could squeeze through between them and the house and peek through the window.
The two red were already served. An older man, obviously the landlord, gave them a bundle of notes. The knife hero watched his partner counting the notes, while the landlord was nervously gazing at the knife again and again. Their body language told me a lot more.
The boy with the knife wouldn’t hesitate to use his knife. He knew no restraints, just the opposite—he was eagerly waiting for an opportunity. However, his fellow—and leader?—was only interested in the money. The sum was satisfactory, so he nodded at the landlord and then directed his knife hero toward the door. He appeared professional, worked with brains instead of anger, like someone who wouldn’t kill the cow as long as it gave milk, someone who wouldn’t carry the threatening to extremes. Did they offer protection in exchange? The way the landlord reacted, he seemed to have come to terms with the fair deal.
And the two behind me? They seemed to have a rather decorative task. They were followers who’d tuck their tails away at the slightest sign of real danger. They appeared neither threatening nor experienced to me, but only nervous.
I had learned what I wanted, so I withdrew.
Soon it was no longer possible to simply walk on the lanes. The farther I went from the death zone, the more cars were about.
There were no more skeletons in the side alleys, but bums. There, it didn’t smell like decay and piss, but like booze, old sweat and piss.
Lioness’ Legacy IV—Torment Page 7