4- A World In Flames

Pillars of flame extend towards the sky, belching clouds of smoke that make the crumbling buildings seem like a mirage.

Sweat beads across Aster’s face as she reaches the center of the square. She is dimly aware of a deep scratch across her arm. She must have scraped it against the wall when she began sprinting, though how she got here seems to be a blur now.

Feeling impossibly small she turns, watching as greedy flames lick the sky. Time seems to slow. The bar and room atop it begin to tremble, sending the roof crashing down onto the lower floor, the entire structure buckles with the sudden weight and collapses, becoming little more than a pile of rubble in seconds.

Aster watches in mute horror as her childhood home disappears. The noise the crashing beams make must be deafening, but the sound seems muffled to Aster.

The falling beams send a spray of sparks across the square. Aster doesn’t flinch as they hit her. The fragments of burning debris begin to nibble away at her jacket in what seems like slow motion. Her eyes are still riveted on the collapsed building in front of her as she absently pats her clothing, brushing the glowing embers onto the ground.

A bolt from the bar’s metal roof rolls towards her feet, spinning on the pavement like a newly minted coin. Aster lets out a choked sob. She remembers the summer before The Baron was murdered… Was it really just last summer?

She had spent every night on that roof, crawling out of her bedroom window to join Luca and Oscar after dark. The trio would sit there in silence, allowing themselves to believe for a few tratarious moments that there was something out there for them. Something other than gang rivalries and abusive fathers. In those moments, the moments where the real world faded to the periphery, they let themselves dream. Little things… blasphemous, rebellious things.

Luca whispered one night that he wanted to adopt kids. Not to further a gang, as he and Aster had been raised, or to be cast aside as Oscar had been but to care for. To swing onto his shoulders when their legs got tired and rock to sleep at night. He whispered as he said it, as if he were admitting to a great sin. It was ironic, Aster supposed. Only among The Gentlemen would such a selfless dream be considered selfish.

Oscar wanted to open a clinic. To use his ability to heal those who couldn’t afford Myriad’s Healers. Oscar’s time on the streets had shown him too many dying people unable to afford help.

Oscar always whispered that it wasn’t right to put a price tag on someone’s life, but Myriad seemed to disagree. Myriad ‘employed’ most Healers. He had taken Oscar’s parents to serve him, forcing them to heal the wealthy. He would have taken Oscar too had the boy not been defective. Oscar could knit bone, muscle, and skin back together, but he was unable to mend nerve endings, so he could not take the pain away from such injuries. It was ironic that his weakness had saved him from Myriad, but sometimes life is odd like that.

Aster wishes she could have a dream like theirs. A sweet dream, one of gentle love. She stayed silent that night, as they shared their hopes. How could she explain that while they dreamt about caring for others at night she was awake, gun stances and combat tactics racing through her mind, only able to fall into a restless sleep when she could picture Myriad lying dead at her feet.

These thoughts scared her. She reminded herself of her father, quick to hate and slow to trust. She had sworn that she would never be like him, but when she closed her eyes she could only feel the warmth of a gun in her hand and smell the metallic wetness of blood across cobblestones. There was no ‘happily ever after’ in her fairy tale. If only she could share Oscar’s dream...

The thought of his name snaps Aster back to the present. “Oscar,” she bellows, sprinting towards the pillars of fire. She screams but the sound is lost to the cackling madness of the flames around her. Frantic, she paces the edge of the flames, stomach churning.

She stills for a moment, her eyes locking on a collapsed building across the square. When Luca had brought Oscar to The Gentlemen he let him stay in the attic of the armory. Now the armory was gone, a pile of ashes in its place. Did he… Aster cannot bear to finish the thought. She collapses to her knees, a strangled gasp escaping her throat. The gasp fades to a coughing fit as a gentle breeze blows smoke from the fire towards her. Her eyes blur as tears rush to them and…

There.

Out of the corner of her eye Aster sees something move. She is on her feet in a matter of seconds. It is painful to turn away from the flames, but she forces herself to follow the motion into an alley. She squints at the sudden darkness, her eyes aching as she turns a corner and cannot see the light of the fire any longer.

She stills, blinking as her eyes adjust. Pools of darkness become more solid and suddenly Aster can see people lying on the pavement, fearful eyes reflecting the distant starlight. She is relieved that so many of The Gentlemen have survived, but as she scans the faces a growing sense of dread builds in her stomach.

“Oscar?” She breathes, forcing the words out of her throat. Several people whimper, as if her words will bring Enforcement down upon them, but their faces fade to the background as she watches a familiar head of brown hair turn towards her. Relieved, she rushes towards Oscar.

He is stooped over a body, hands shaking. As Aster approaches she can smell the blood. She kneels by the injured man’s side and is reaching a tentative hand to comfort him when a familiar hooked nose glints in the dim light. She snatches her hand back to her side with a quiet gasp. Fallon lets out a rattling sigh as Oscar uses his abilities to mend a deep slash on his side.

Aster supposes she should be furious that her friend is using his abilities to heal her enemy, but for once the anger burning inside her is quiet. It is hard to feel anything but pity for this man. Oscar looks up with a start as he notices her for the first time.

“Aster. Oh, god, I’m so glad you’re alright.” Satisfied with healing Fallon’s injuries, he slowly stands, giving her a light hug before pulling away, turning to the next injured person.

“What happened?” Aster whispers.

“I’m sorry… I can’t right now,” Oscar pleads. “Too many people are hurt.”

“Of course. They need you,” Aster mutters numbly, watching as Oscar walks away. She turns to a group of women curled at her feet for answers, but they shy away as she approaches, whimpering.

Resigned, Aster returns to Fallon’s crumpled form. Slowly she eases him back until he can rest against the alley wall. Though Oscar had stopped the bleeding, pain still glints in Fallon’s eyes. Oscar had always been ashamed that he could not heal nerve endings, but he was the only healer The Gentlemen have. Flaws or not he had saved lives tonight.

“What… what happened?” Aster attempts, stumbling over herself as she forces the words out. Fallon stiffens, as if noticing her for the first time.

“Why are you here?” He growls, moving a hand towards the gun at his side. Aster’s heart rises to her throat, palpitating as if it wants to break free of the ribs that cage it. Taking a deep breath she pushes the feeling aside.

“I came back because of Charlie.” Fallon’s fingers go limp, and the gun hits the alley floor with a gentle clatter.

“You found her? My Charlotte?” He whispers, his voice suddenly fragile. Fallon scans the alley behind Aster, looking for his daughter.

“I’m sorry,” Aster stutters.

Then, she freezes. What is she doing? Apologising to the man who was moments away from killing her yesterday…yesterday? Had that little time really passed?

Hesitantly, Aster continues. “This is all my fault. She thought I left because I was going to find Luca, and she followed me last night. I didn’t know she was there until this morning.”

Aster flinches, waiting for the inevitable reprimand. Instead, she is met with a whisper.

“Where is she now?”

“On the edge of Gentlemen Territory. I was bringing her to you, but I had her stay hidden when the Enforcers came.” Fallon lets out a muffled sob. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to leave her alone… I just thought…”

Fallon cuts Aster off, placing a hand on her knee. As she looks closer Aster realizes that a sad smile has replaced the typical snarl on his face.

“Thank you. Hiding her will save her life. At least one of The Gentlemen will make it out of here alive,” he chuckles, a hollow, desperate sound. Aster freezes.

“What?”

“For all the shit we gave you about destroying The Gentlemen, turns out you were the only thing keeping us from Myriad.” Fallon winces, shifting against the wall as he turns to face Aster. “You know Myriad. He picks off people when they are weak. When they are alone… when there’s nobody else to tell the story of their capture.” Aster nods, Luca’s face flashing through her mind. Fallon continues. “Turns out Myriad was only waiting to attack The Gentlemen until you left. Someone who’s immortal doesn’t exactly bode well for his whole ‘you can’t prove I’m corrupt if you’re dead’ policy.”

“But… you’re not dead. You got out,” Aster murmurs, relieved.

“No, we didn’t,” Fallon whispers, a tear running down his cheek.

“What are you talking about?”

“Myriad sent Tracker.” Fallon murmurs, defeated.

Aster freezes, suddenly going cold. Myriad has hundreds of healers at his disposal and even more Enforcers, but there is only one Tracker.

The man that killed her father.

Aster stills, looking at The Gentlemen clustered around her, at Oscar still valiantly trying to help the wounded. Useless. All of it.

For the first time she understands why The Gentlemen are not running. Tracker would find them, regardless of where they are. He is a Scanner, one of the people Myriad uses to defend The Keep.

Scanners could detect the signature each person’s powers give off, so nobody could get within a mile of The Keep without being spotted. Tracker, however, was far stronger than your average Scanner. He could track specific powers, allowing him to find anyone no matter where they were in the city.

He will lead a team of Enforcers to The Gentlemen and hunt down any who escape, until the faces of rebellion are little more than mutilated corpses left in the alley, a monument to Myriad’s power.

Already Aster can hear the Enforcer’s bikes firing in the distance. She knows they will be here in moments. Desperately, she turns towards Fallon.

“What do we do?”

“Not much we can do, darlin. Die with grace, I suppose.” With a gentle sigh he leans his head back against the brick behind him, closing his eyes.

The bikes are getting louder.

“We have to do something,” Aster screams, addressing The Gentlemen around her.

“And then what?”one jeers halfheartedly. “We run and Tracker finds us before the sun can rise. We fight and Enforcement kills us.” Aster looks at the sadness in these people’s eyes, the heart of a rebellion prepared to be snuffed out like a candle in the dark.

Aster feels a familiar anger rising in her gut. How dare they sit here and let her father’s work go to waste? How dare they betray Luca’s memory… how dare Myriad cripple them like this?

She embraces the anger. It is easier to think without useless emotions getting in the way.

Then, something clicks. She strides over to Oscar, grim determination written across her lips. Firmly, she presses her pistol into his hand. He looks up at her in shock, turning away from a bleeding woman.

“Once you told me you would stand with me when the time came, no matter what.” She is surprised at how calmly the words come out, despite the growing nausea in her stomach. Oscar nods, his eyes going wide. “That time is now.” Aster stands, walking towards the front of the alley. Her heart drops when Oscar does not follow. She feels tratarious tears rise in her eyes. Of course he will not follow. When had anyone followed her?

A moment passes.

Then, silently, Oscar appears beside her, thin fingers gripping the pistol by his side.

“I keep my promises,” Oscar murmurs. Aster turns towards him, grim determination in her eyes.

“And I keep mine. I will protect these people.”