2- The Confrontation

Aster could hear them. The whispers on the street below shook the walls- walls that were never thick enough to begin with. She pulls her hair back with shaking hands, forcing out each shuddering breath.

It had been three hours. Three hours of staring at the ceiling, knowing what she had to do but being unable to do it. Now, the time has come.

The choice was simple, really. Forcing her hands to still she steps out to the street below.

People line the square. Aster had forgotten how many Gentlemen there were. Only a handful bother to attend her meetings. She forces her chin up as she steps into the square, forcing a smile of grim determination upon her lips as she climbs atop the platform, ignoring the slurs whispered at her back. The Baron used to give his speeches here. It was where he seized power over The Gentlemen… and where Aster risks losing it.

Within moments the whispered slurs give way to furious screams. Aster resists the urge to clamp her hands over her ears.

She feels a pebble ricochet off her back, bringing with it a sharp sting. It takes all of her willpower to keep looking forwards. Inwardly she is grateful she had thought to wear a black shirt. The color hid her blood much more effectively.

She walks to the center of the platform.

Oscar stands in the front of the crowd, looking up at the platform with fearful eyes. Aster tries to catch his eye, but Oscar has turned to the crowd, scanning anxiously. For a moment Aster wonders why Luca isn’t standing with him. The friends were nearly inseparable and Luca promised to be here if anything went wrong. Panic spikes in Aster, but her attention is snapped away from scanning the crowd as the platform creaks behind her.

Fallon steps up. There are streaks of grey in his black hair, and a scar that runs from his eye to his mouth, curling his lips in a permanent scowl. Here, lit by the flickering streetlights, he seems ready to snap Aster in half. He extends a hand to his side and several of the bolts holding the platform together rip free, crumbling to dust in his hands. With a flourish he throws it into the crowd as if it is confetti. They roar, chanting his name until it becomes an unintelligible drone.

The last time The Gentlemen cheered this way it was for Aster’s father. For a moment her lip quivers tratariously, but she bites down on it. Hard. Now is not the time for weakness.

Fallon steps to the front of the stage, voice booming as he addresses the crowd.

“Brothers. Gentlemen. We have anticipated this day for a long time. Look at us: a filthy group of mongrels, raiding shops just so we have food to put on our tables at the end of the day.” A roar of outrage echoes from the crowd. “We used to be more than this. We used to be the heart of rebellion, feared by Myriad himself. And now? Now we are nothing. Because of her.” He extends his arm, pointing at Aster with a fury she had never seen in him. Could this be the same man who once stood behind her father, always so patient and calm?

Aster still remembers that day, years ago, when he had brought her an orange. Fruit was never shipped to Frey. Nobody had enough money to buy it, and even if they did, Myriad had banned its import to the city. Fallon brought out his knife to cut the fruit, rubbing brown flakes of blood off the tarnished surface before cutting the orange into neat slices for her. If she closed her eyes she could still pretend she was that little kid, giggling as the sticky fruit dripped down her chin.

But she was not a little girl anymore, and this was not the man who brought her oranges. Aster barely keeps from flinching as another rock ricochets off her shoulder. Fallon continues his monologue.

“Tonight, as it has been done since The Gentlemen were founded, I will seize the title of Baron. The first warrior to surrender or give their life loses the title. To attack one may use any means necessary.” He grins at this, spinning a small bar of metal on his fingertips, as if to remind everyone that he is a Smith. With me as your leader we can control metal itself, his spinning fingers seem to say.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Aster finds herself scanning the crowd once again for Luca. She can’t find him.

“Aster,” Fallon growls from across the platform.

“Y-yes?” She stumbles, forcing herself to look away from the crowd.

“Answer my question.”

“What question?”

“I said, are you ready to begin?” The crowd snickers. Aster can almost hear their thoughts.

Who does she think she is? Can’t even answer a simple question.

She hesitates, making eye contact with Oscar in the crowd. He mouths something she can’t hear, pushing his hands away from his body. Go.

She wants to. She wants to turn and drive her fist into Fallon’s throat, this man who has the audacity to humiliate her in front of those she leads, but deep in her gut there is a sense of wrongness. She turns to Fallon.

“Luca isn’t here,” she whispers.

“What?” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Trying to distract me? You know you cannot stop this. The right to challenge for title has been set in stone from the day The Gentlemen were created.” The crowd cheers wildly at this.

“No,” she hisses, voice cracking. “You don’t understand. Luca. Isn’t. Here.” Fallon’s eyes go wide. He looks up at the crowd.

“Who knows Luca’s location?” he booms, his typically fearless tone laced with undercurrents of anxiety. Those assembled whisper among themselves, shifting from foot to foot. Nobody comes forwards.

Suddenly, the harsh glow of headlights illuminate the square. A motorbike squeals past those assembled. They shy away from the vehicle like rats in an alleyway, some letting out yelps of fear.

Technology is rare in Frey. Anyone with enough money to purchase a motorbike had left the city long ago. The only bikes left belonged to Enforcers- Myriad’s way of enforcing the laws he had created. A woman steps from the bike, pulling a helmet etched with Myriad’s silhouette off her head before approaching the platform. The crowd parts around her, seeming to shrink as she passes. Fallon freezes as the woman approaches him, a familiar piece of paper in her hand.

Discipline order. The words flash through Aster’s mind, and suddenly the air leaves her lungs. Not Luca. It couldn’t be for Luca.

“Are you the father of Lucas Grey?” The woman asks, voice bitter. Fallon swallows, tightening his fists at his sides.

“Luca? Yeah. He’s my kid. What about it?”

“This is his discipline order. He was caught defying Myriad an hour ago. I am sure you are aware of our strict regulations regarding harassing government employees?” The woman thrusts the paper towards Fallon.

“Yes, but..”

“Your son attacked an Enforcement officer. He deserves execution, but Myriad is kind. he will spend a life sentence serving our ruler instead.”

“LUCA WOULD NEVER ATTACK-” The woman cuts Fallon off, extending a hand towards his chest.

“Are you suggesting that Myriad has made a mistake?” Her words are sweet, honey dripping over broken glass. Her fingers twitch, a spark of electricity crackling between each fingertip. A Tazer. They were Myriad’s first choice for law enforcement. One brush of their fingers and you would be knocked unconscious… or worse. She extends her fingers. They are mere inches from Fallon now- close enough for Aster to hear the buzzing coming from them.

“Of course not. Myriad makes no mistakes,” Fallon spits bitterly, taking the paper from the woman. The buzzing hand returns to her side.

The woman turns, strides across the square to her bike, and is gone in a matter of moments.

The square is silent. Aster makes eye contact with Oscar and something breaks within her. His eyes are brimming with tears. She had known Oscar for under a year- he was living on the streets before Luca found him on patrol and brought him to The Gentlemen. He was a quiet kid, all angles and bones. He used to remind Aster of an alley rat, scuttling away at the slightest noise. He was a spiteful kid when Luca first introduced him to Aster, always looking to pick a fight, but over time his sharp edges had softened. Luca had that effect on people.

Now, though, Luca was gone. Aster wraps her arms around herself, rocking back and forth on the stage.

“He didn’t attack that guard. Luca would never do something like that,” she whispers, fighting back tears.

“No, he didn’t attack anyone,” Fallon seethes, new hatred glinting in his eyes as he looks at Aster. He steps away, turning towards the front of the podium.

“My son was taken today. By Myriad. He was on patrol, keeping us safe from intruders on the north perimeter. Who was on patrol with him?” The crowd is silent. “I said who was on patrol with him?” Fallon is screaming now, tears dripping down his face. Nobody steps forwards. “That’s right. Nobody was on patrol because she is leading us. She has abandoned us all.” He flicks a thumb in Aster’s direction.

Aster growls, a quiet sound deep in her throat. It was just like Fallon to use his son’s capture as leverage to gain the title.

It was ironic to hear Fallon talk about being abandoned. Fallon hadn’t talked to his son in four months, ever since they had an argument and he kicked Luca out of the house. Luca refused to tell Aster what it was about. She only knew that he had shown up in her room one night, his left eye swollen shut. She called Oscar and he was able to heal the skin, but he couldn’t make the pain go away. That was the first time she had seen Luca cry, as Oscar held Luca’s head in his lap, gently resting his fingertips on the swollen skin, a faint light pulsing from them as the black eye faded.

How could Fallon stand before The Gentlemen, forcing a tear to his eye when he was the one who abandoned his son in the first place? Ever since the fight Luca had been picking up more and more guard shifts to keep away from his father.

Aster bites her lip. Who was she kidding? Yes, maybe it was Fallon’s fault that Luca was on that shift, but it was her fault he was alone. Nobody respected her enough to show up for their assigned guard duties. For them there was nothing left of The Gentlemen worth protecting.

Fallon continues to drone on.

“Luca will be killed by Myriad because of her. I am sick of this, dancing around our leader because she can’t bleed. She doesn’t have to bleed, though. She just has to surrender, and immortality doesn’t make you incapable of pain. We fight. Now.” Tin cans and bottle caps lying in the square suddenly hurtle towards Fallon’s hand, forming a crude club. He hefts the monstrosity easily, turning on Aster without a spark of remorse in his eyes. She knows what she must do.

“No,” she whispers.

“What?”

“No,” she says, raising her voice. “I will not fight you. For six months now I have been your Baron, picking up this mantle in the name of defending my father’s honor. I know I have failed. I have failed you all. I surrender.”

With a numb hand Aster takes her father’s pin out of her breast pocket. It is suspended in the air for a moment, glinting in the dim street light before Fallon catches it, looking in disbelief at the rusting metal in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Aster yells, addressing the crowd. “Fallon does not deserve this medal. I can see the thirst for power in his eyes… but he will lead you better than I have. I know you will not forgive me for the hardship I have inflicted upon you, but I hope this can be a step towards making amends.”

As Aster leaves the stage the insults typically hurled at her are absent. She walks to the bar in silence, breaking a little inside as the joyous shouts of victory echo from the square behind her.

Fallon holds the pin high in the air, grinning as if he had slain a dragon instead of overthrowing a teenager.

Someone finds a speaker and music begins, screams of joy echoing into the night. Aster finds herself wondering if they even care that Luca is gone. As Baron she tried to bring these people closer together, to create a world where they could depend on one another. She should have known better. In Frey you look out for yourself and only yourself. Her twisted ideals never stood a chance.

Aster enters her room, perching on the edge of the mattress. The last time she was here Luca sat beside her. Now she is alone. She fishes a ratty backpack from the corner, filling it with the few possessions she has left. A change of clothes, a small revolver, and her father’s knife. She hesitates before adding this, wondering if she even deserves his parting gift, but stuffs it in the bag anyway.

The Gentlemen may have forgotten about her for the time being, lost in the frenzy of celebration and new beginnings, but Aster knew it wouldn’t last. She had to get out of here.

She pauses for a moment, letting a single tear make its way down her cheek. Then, she takes a deep breath, forcing all feeling deep into the pit of her stomach. It was better to be numb. She would have time to think about Luca later.

Pulling a black coat over her ratty t-shirt she makes her way down the steps to the bar, knowing exactly which ones to skip to keep them from creaking. She has lived in this musty room her whole life, and though it had never felt like home it was certainly better than being alone on the streets.

Sometimes, though, you have no choice.

She hesitates upon entering the bar, listening to air rattle through the ancient vents.

Something is wrong. Someone is here.

A part of her welcomes this- welcomes the rush of adrenaline that fills her veins. It pushes all thoughts of Luca from her mind.

Silently she eases her backpack to the ground, taking the revolver out of a side pocket. She waits for several agonizing moments before something glints in the darkness. There- in the corner.

With a fluid motion she flings herself through the air, landing on her knees and sliding as she nears the corner. Effortlessly she twists her hands around the man’s neck, putting him in a headlock before he can cry out. A moment of adrenaline-filled fury passes before she realizes the familiarity of the gasps echoing from the man’s throat. She releases her arms at once.

“Oh my god. Oz, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? I didn’t mean to… well, I did, but I didn’t know…” Aster is frantic. Finding her flashlight in the darkness she quickly locates the boy’s crumpled form. He lets out a muffled groan and Aster breathes a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, Ace. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Oscar coughs, sitting up. His cheeks are a bright red, sparkling where tears have trickled down. “Luca always says I’m too quiet when I enter a room. I just wanted to say goodbye before you left,” he mumbles.

Silently, Aster pulls him into a tight hug. He tenses, but soon goes limp in her arms, chest heaving as he sobs quietly.

“You should come with me,” Aster whispers. “I’ve seen the way The Gentlemen treat you, throwing you to the ground as if you aren’t one of them. Before they kept their distance out of respect for Luca, or rather, Luca’s father. Now they’ll eat you alive.”

“You know I can’t go back to the streets,” Oscar whispers. “I was dying when Luca found me. Not physically, but it got a little harder every day to wake up, to force myself to eat something. I can’t go back there again.”

“I know,” Aster mumbles resignedly, climbing to her feet. She helps Oscar up and stumbles to retrieve her abandoned backpack.

“You could have beat Fallon, you know,” Oscar says. “I’ve never seen you fight, but I didn’t know you were in here until you had me in a headlock. I was talking to one of The Gentlemen and he said you broke a Builder’s nose. Why did you surrender?”

Aster crosses to the window, looking at the people dancing outside.

“I wanted to bring Myriad to his knees,” she chuckles. “These people just want to survive. They don’t want a revolution driven by revenge. They just want a leader.”

“But you are a leader,” Oscar says, joining Aster by the window.

“No. I’m not.”

Oscar shakes his head sadly. “You don’t understand. When my parents were killed by Myriad I swore to never be a part of something again. It seemed like that was the only way to keep from being hurt. I came to The Gentlemen because Luca forced me.”

Oscar hesitates, as if wondering if he should continue. After a moment he does. “I was going to leave the next night, you know. Walk to that bridge by the river. The one people go to when they’re ready to die. I think I had been ready for a long time.” He goes silent, looking into the night sadly.

“But you’re still here.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I found something to believe in.”

“The Gentlemen?”

“No. Luca’s kindness, of course, but also your passion. That fire in your eyes will bring the world to its knees one day. I just hope I get to stand beside you when that happens.”

“Don’t put your hope in me. I’m not who you think I am,” Aster whispers, voice breaking. How could she, a girl with no powers, bring the world to its knees?

“That’s alright. You don’t have to be who I think you are. I’ll still be on your side.”

“Then you are a fool,” Aster spits, heaving her backpack over her shoulder before throwing open the metal door. For a second Oscar’s wounded face is reflected in the polished steel, but she quickly throws the door closed behind her and stalks into the night, not trusting herself to look back in case her step wavers.