Wine O'clock (E 1.2)

Location: Downtown Archipelago - The Tower
Time: late night



Edmund,

Blue Light pushes the cart behind you as you head back up the metal stairs. He has a bit of trouble getting the cart to go up, but not much more than bringing it down here. Once you reach the second story, you head back to the elevators hoping this time you won't be stopped. Was this just a little power play from Millions? Did he only want Canary and didn't care about you? Or is putting John with you all he wanted? A sneak look at the place to confirm if Princy met with the other families including the three newbies: O’Connor, Arness, Soth. Millions wasn't invited to that soiree. What reason did Princy tell Lucius give to exclude him?

The guard who stayed behind pushes the button on the wall to call the elevator and he gives you and John a nod as you enter the cabin. Blue Light pushes the cart in behind you. What floor number do you hit?

I press the button to take us to the 53rd floor, its gentle glow confirming our intended destination.

Of the 57 stories, the top 10 are set aside for the most elite families. Princy’s family is in that mix. Millions has the top 3 floors to himself, his family, and his staff. Apparently, all the higher floors have been heavily modified internally since the cataclysm. Their original purpose seems to have drowned with the rest of the city.

A delicate lurch presses me down as the elevator begins its ascent. I hope Princy and Lucius have had some meaningful time to process the events of the day. I’m not exactly sure what they were talking about, but I know Princy is very concerned with the poor and has been growing more and more discontent with the growing gap in social class. Just one of the many reasons I admire him and his family. I wonder if he was actually trying to build interest in building a political platform? That would seem to explain the specific guest-list.

I feel pressure change in my ears as the altitude continues to increase. I force a yawn to mitigate the discomfort.

"If I may John, how long have you been working for Millions? Are you enjoying your employment here?"

"Indeed." I’m truly grateful that she has found some stability here. "Your words ring true."

The rest of the ride is relatively quiet, though it doesn’t take long. The hum of the lifting mechanisms is soothing. I wonder what Blue Light is thinking? A delicate ding announces our arrival to the floor, but the doors don’t open yet. These upper floors require a retinal scan in order to open. It prevents just anyone from being able to visit.

The scanner works quickly and efficiently, the rear doors of the elevator open. The upper floors are split between 2 families each. The front or rear elevator doors simply open according to the identifying retinal scan.

As we leave the elevator together, we enter a large greeting room. It is mostly used as a coat room and waiting area for guests. Princy is almost never in this room, I’ve only ever seen him in here as he passes through. Wendy and Dez, on the other hand, are a staple feature out here. Princy discovered the pair of twins busking with their guitars a couple years ago, and was determined to offer them a position here to play. They are both reclined on a lavish, massive leather chair. Their duet gently reverberates from their corner, each dancing perfectly between harmony and melody of whatever piece they are playing.

They don’t even seem to notice us as we pass through to the entry hall. Before we reach the door, I gesture John to have a seat on one of the several chairs where she can watch Wendy and Dez lost in their creative process.

"Please have a seat, John." I notice Dez look absentmindedly at me over her shoulder. "We’ll be just a minute or two, then gladly make our way back."

John's expression softens when she hears Wendy and Dez playing and she gladly takes a seat near them. Blue Light tries to mask his shock at the floor you call home. His eyes scan the place as he holds his mouth tight. You can tell he's never been in a place like this. He nudges the cart forward to see the next room, the next wonder.

Was the danger all in my head? I wonder to myself as Blue Light and I walk the halls toward the den I last saw Princy speaking with Lucius. I soak in the sounds of our shoes tapping down the hardwood halls, appreciating the slight squeak of the cart’s wheel, now feeling like we are so close to getting this job wrapped up. A sense of relief still setting in - it feels as if I have been underwater for the past 30 minutes.

Heading down the hall, I’m already able to pick up the sound of Princy’s conversation though I can’t make anything out. I can't tell if it is due to it being particularly quiet here tonight, or if their voices are a little elevated.

Princy keeps a rather modest staff here. Most tasks related to Princy or the dwelling are left to me, Janelle tends to Parker and Paisley, Wendy and Dez simply to pop up when and where you least expect them - wailing away on whatever instrument they can get their hands on. With the ladies of the house away, especially Paisley, the sprawling apartment just seems - hollow.

As we approach, I announce our arrival, "Sir, we’ve returned with your shipment." I gently rap on the solid door to the den.

Blue Light continues pushing the cart towards Princy, not stopping to make small talk or anything. Suddenly, something seems odd, Edmund. Something about Blue Light's shoulders, where he's placed his left hand, feels wrong.

What do you do??

Alarms are blaring in my mind again. This whole evening has had me on edge and doubting myself left and right. Still, my sense for trouble seems to have prevented some problems tonight. Maybe the same holds true here.

I covertly release the top button of my tailored jacket, giving me access to the bespoke blade Princy gifted me on my fifth year of service. I had kept it in the kitchen here for years, but after Wendy and Dez began their employment I started carrying it with me. Even after those two proved themselves to be safe and trusted colleagues, I had grown more comfortable keeping the blade with me. I have constantly ensured the immaculate state of this knife.

The razor-sharp, eight inch blade calls to me. It wouldn’t be the first time it has intentionally butchered something larger than a chicken. Still, it would be wise to try to avoid bloodshed altogether.

"Sir Blue Light, I just wanted to thank you again for your work tonight," I say, intently studying his disposition. "It’s hard to find someone as dependable as you and as focused on doing quality work. I’d be honored if you would consider working with us to develop a contract."

Maybe the chance at an ongoing relationship can get us out of this cleanly. If not, he’s within arms reach of me, which should be enough to deal with him if this goes south.

It does very much appear that Blue Light is intent on pulling out a small hidden pistol and shooting your boss in the head, Edmund.

Why yes, that's exactly what he's doing.

What do you do?

My adrenaline surges through my body. Blue Light isn’t responding to my conversational cues, and he’s continuing to reach for something. His attention is definitely locked onto Princy! If I don’t do something now, something horrible is going to happen!

With a blindingly quick flourish of the blade, I swipe out at Blue Light like a culinary samurai.

Intent on stopping Blue Light, you whip out your wicked blade to carve him up. He fully ignores your actions as he brings out a holdout .38 special from a hidden pocket. He brings it up as you slice across his throat with unerring accuracy. His eyes remain focused on his target like an arrow in flight, no longer able to determine his own direction but following the wind to a target.

His throat opens from jugular to windpipe and his knees begin to buckle. You allow yourself a single moment of grim pride when you hear the first shot, followed quickly by a second. Blue Light the assassin falls heavily. Your master Princy falls backward into the pristine window of his study with the immaculate view. He slumps down into a sitting position and you see the bloody smears on the window where he bounced off of it before dropping to the floor at your feet.

You don't need to be a medic to know Blue Light has been dispatched. You also see that Princy is breathing, but in very rough shape - losing blood like sand from a broken hourglass.

What do you do?

It all makes sense now. Blue Light’s intent focus on getting the delivery to Princy, it was never about the cargo. I was so worried about other threats that I walked Princy’s murderer right to him.

I rush to Princy’s side. The blood smeared against the window fills me with fear, but a small, logical voice in my head reassures me that this could be a positive sign that the bullets passed through without getting lodged in his tissue. First I need to get this bleeding under control.

"Lucius, there is a guard named John out in the entry with Dez and Wendy - and I don’t trust her. Would you go deal with her while I do what I can here?"

I want to believe Lucius’s panic is genuine. But my trusting someone just a moment ago - is what caused this to happen in the first place.

I don’t trust John, but her running toward the sound of gunfire is actually a valiant act I will hold in her favor… for the time being.

For now I need to focus on getting Princy stabilized. I would have thought the tears sliding down my cheek to be warm, but they are surprisingly chilly compared to grisly crimson soaking my hands.

"John," I say, not looking away from my work on Princy, "This evening has been incredibly trying on my nerves. Blue Light is an assas- was an assassin targeting Princy, and I walked him RIGHT up to his target. He was able to get two shots off before I put him down."

I snap my head back and lock eyes with John, speaking through a clenched jaw, "If you are truly here to help, then I am begging for your assistance." Then speaking as bitterly as I’ve ever known myself to speak, "However, if you are here on the request of someone else - or to make a mockery of this house, kindly see yourself out! Or I will have it seen to!" Spittle falls from my mouth at the intensity of the command.

I turn my attention back to Princy, continuing to press on the wounds with as much force as I can muster. "Don’t worry sir. I’m right here." With the amount of blood I’m seeing I have little faith that Princy is capable of hearing my assurances.

I shout over my shoulder, "Wendy, bring me towels! Dez, fetch alcohol!"

Wendy and Dez come in when you call. Wendy shrieks when she sees Princy in his state, but she stumbles away to look for towels. Dez's eyes bug, but she snaps to it, bringing you a bottle of high-proof alcohol. Princy lies in a pool of his own blood, his eyes swimming as if he might be in the ocean below. You tend to his wounds and ignore the possibility of another attack. Luckily, it seems that it won't come. The girls arrive with supplies as you ordered and the chaos starts to subside.

However, Lucius is nowhere to be found.

Once Princy has stabilized, his eyes close and he slips out of consciousness. He's going to make it due to your quick thinking. John holsters her pistol and remains at a respectful distance while Dez is right on top of you as if she's your assistant. Wendy is in shock, tears streaming as if she thinks she's out of a job and doomed.

What do you do?

The towels are an intermixing swirl of crisp white and scarlet sanguination. Princy seems to be peacefully at rest, but I know it is only his body protecting him by shutting his mind down. Every moment he can rest now will pay off later.

I stand, wiping the last of the blood from my hands. Wendy is still shaking from her tears while Dez pulls her into her arms. John is remarkably and surprisingly reassuring to have nearby, she looks both attentive to making sure we are undisturbed even in this relatively unreachable location. She is also considerate of us, giving us the space we need to do what needs to be done. I look for Lucius but see no traces of his presence.

"Did any of you notice where Lucius went?" I glance over to the lifeless body of Blue Light.

John kindly agrees to help me carry Princy to his bed. She supports Princy’s legs at my request. I sit him as upright as I can against a throne of pillows, and leave him in the dim light with Wendy and Dez to watch over him.

I thank John for her help, and on the way back to the bloodstained den, I usher her to stop at the wet bar I was working at just earlier in the night, before everything went to hezmana. I set a single crystalline lowball glass on the counter and slip the corked stopper out of a bottle of whiskey. As I pour, the subtle scent of apricot, honey and almond flits about the room. I instinctively stop pouring at the two-finger mark, but immediately resume pouring, stopping somewhere closer to 4 fingers.

I reach behind the counter and pull a second bottle with a fresh seal, and hand it to John. "Thank you for your help. It means more to me than I know how to say. If you would, kindly keep the events of this evening between us; though if you can’t, I understand."

I escort her back to the elevator, mustering what I can of a smile, "May the next time we meet be under significantly more enjoyable circumstances." She boards the elevator, exchanges pleasantries (or condolences - I can’t remember) and I watch until the doors close and I hear the quiet hum of the elevator's descent.

Like the burned husk of a home after the fire has been extinguished, the urgency seems to have vanished at some point, but the damage has been done - and there is so much work to be done. Now in the den, I survey the scene before me, making a mental list of the things that need to be done. Deal with the body, clean up the blood, get word about this to Parker, find Lucius, talk to Canary, find out who put Blue Light up to this.

I notice the .38 special laying on the ground - now soaking in a pool of blood. I pick it up and press the cylinder release, letting the cartridges fall into my hand as the cylinder falls open. I pocket the three remaining bullets and two empty shells. I wipe the gun down with a towel and set it aside. I’ll thoroughly clean and see if there is any identifying information on it later. I’ve never carried before, but those three bullets might have some names on them soon.

I get to work cleaning the pools of blood, using the profusion of already-bloody towels to sop up what I can. The next couple hours is a whirl of soaking, mopping, rinsing, and scrubbing. Lucius can wait.

After tonight there is no way I’m going to Tower security to report or deal with this situation. I need someone who operates outside of these walls. Someone who has experience with the grittier side of the Isles. Someone I can trust just a little bit. A few names come to mind, but I think Litch could help.

End Scene