

1

Manticore Metropolis or Màn tí kǎo Chéngshì: the foremost and only city on the whole of Manticore. In many ways, the planet would resemble Mars from the old Solar System, however it was habitable. The only problem was that conditions were not entirely habitable for humans. Only the natives of the planet could survive the light from the fearsome Jhard. Humans burned in the light of the powerful star, and yet humans became the primary inhabitants of Manticore Metropolis. Desperation can lead to drastic measures.

The old Solar System had become overcrowded as well as polluted and humans yearned for new planets to call 'home'. One of the arks found Manticore; home of the svellik. The svellik were a peaceful race who took the human refugees into their great city where the light from the Jhard would not harm them. After a thousand years the svellik population had diminished to almost the point of extinction. Humans were the race that bit the hand that fed them. They could not comprehend sharing the planet and so they took it by force. They maintained the high-rise buildings of Metropolis that protected them from the Jhard, but they refurnished the great city to serve human needs.

The city was split. The wealthy politicians, entrepreneurs and aristocrats lived uptown in the upper-halves of the skyscrapers while the poor wordless discards of mankind lived downtown in the lawless ghetto. With such a defined divide in the population, the most any child from downtown could dream for was to become an employee for their uptown masters. That was every downtowner's dream; escape their lower elements anguish and catch a glimpse of what it meant to live uptown.

* * *

The great star in the sky had just sunk below the orange peaks in the distance. The canyon Manticore Metropolis sat in suddenly became dark, and that was a good thing for the uptowners. The upper-city's nightlife instantly came alive. Fortunately, the days on Manticore were only nine hours while the nights were eleven. On a planet where humans, no matter their historic ethnicity, were fair skinned it was better to have more night than day.

However, the downtowners would dispute the notion. In the dark was when all the monstrous humans emerged from their hiding places and wreaked havoc. Every night was the same downtown; a non-stop riot. There was no authoritative voice of reason so there was no incentive for the damaged humans to act civilised.

In the rapidly darkening alleyway a doomed youth ran for his life. In the 21st century he would have looked too little to be eight, yet in 50th century Manticore Metropolis stunted growth due to malnourishment was common downtown. The uptown tycoons owned all food and water that went in and out of downtown. Most had decided that there was not enough profit in feeding the poor and cancelled the downtown shipments. When regular food became beyond scarce the downtowners turned on each other. Cannibalism was for survival.

He was exhausted and injured, but the little boy picked up the pace when he heard an aggressive man repeatedly screaming 'Erik'.

The little child panicked when he felt like the continuingly narrowing alleyway was closing in on him. He went tumbling when his barefoot struck a dislodged piece of the pavement. He whimpered in his own language, wishing that it would all just stop.

Slowly, he hobbled over to the old wreckage of a giant unknown contraption. His blood speckled the ground as both his nose and split toenail bled. Only a little too late did he realize the mistake he had made.

"Rarr!" a boy screamed as he jumped out from behind the wreckage.

Erik squealed and stumbled backwards before his back hit the asphalt. He heard numerous people laughing and froze.

Three more urchins came out from their metal fortress. Filthy rags covered most of their faces as they tried to hide their boyish appearances. The apparent alpha of the pack wore black goggles to make his face featureless. The metal rim of his goggles was dented while both lenses were severely cracked which suggested that they had possibly fallen from above.

" lookin' like wǒmen havsa dinna t'night," the leader said maniacally.

It took the little boy a moment to understand what the urchin had said. He was not very fluent with their language. However, he understood their intentions when the alpha pulled a jagged piece of metal from his jacket. Erik screamed 'no' in his own language which was not understood by the boys. He scrambled to his feet and tried to run, but one of the other pack members grabbed him under the arms. No matter how much he tried, he could not wriggle free. The leading urchin dragged the shard of metal down Erik's cheek mockingly. The little boy flinched when the urchin pressed too hard and drew blood.

"Ya tryin' to run?" he hissed. "Bǎobèi, wǒ'ma hungry."

Erik whimpered when the leader lifted his ragged shirt up to examine his prey. The boy's intestines were sucked in behind his rib cage which was perfectly defined behind his sickly white skin. "Skinny thingie, aren't cha? Ah well, a meal's a meal."

Erik made an animalistic grunt when the shard of metal was jabbed into his chest. He heard the urchin holding him smirk before taking a step back and letting him drop. The small child curled up into a foetal position to protect his bloody chest as he wheezed.

"We eatin' the whole thing now?" one of the other pack members asked. His stomach had been growling for days.

"Nah." The leader shook his head as he knelt down to get a better look at Erik's suffering as he bled to death. "We'll start with a leg. Gotta lotta meat in the thighs. Bàba can put the rest in the coola for later."

Erik was in a daze and did not hear the conversation going on about him. His vision began to fade just as an animalistic hissing sound echoed through the alleyway. The urchins looked up at the source before instantly retreating back into the shadows.

The boy deliriously croaked 'help me' in his own language as a tall figure overshadowed him before he closed his eyes.

"It'sss okay, child. Mama'sss herrre," a soothing voice hummed as the little boy drifted into unconsciousness.

The last thing the little boy heard was a man still calling out his name, but now the voice was far away.
2

The Parliament House was a gigantic upside-down pyramid. Of course, human architects had not designed such a strange building. The svellik had built the enormous structure thousands of years before the ark landed on the surface of Manticore. Humans had never truly understood the purpose of the building in the time when their alien counterparts ruled. In the svellik language, Tenue, the strange grey and gold pyramid was called Knelekt. There was no translation for Knelekt in any human language. The closest synonym was 'explain' or 'enlighten'. It had been a religious monument in svellik times; however the humans had made it the home of government as it was the only true distinguishable building from the hundreds of other straight up and down grey buildings surrounding it.

Like all constructions, the lower floors were completely ignored by the uptown civilians as they were too close to the lower city. To move from one building to another without using the filthy streets of downtown, there were light-repellent skyways that linked all the buildings and created the shadow of a spider web above downtown.

The monorail system acted as the primary transportation method for travelling lengthier distances uptown, nonetheless important businesspeople and famous politicians tended to avoid the skyways and monorails as they were too public. Taking a private shuttle was more logical when you lived constantly in fear of being assassinated by a radical.

With a little over one month till the new chairman – or zhǔxí in formal terms – was elected, the three candidates were under a great amount of stress as they tried to scrape in the assured voters. Former Chairwoman Penelope Renard from the House of Dragons led with forty-five per cent of the uptown population in favour of her while the other two candidates shared the other per cent of the population evenly between them.

Like the other lords and ladies of the House of Dragons, she had no doubt in her mind that she would win the election and get another ten years in office. She did not see any way that she could lose. The annoying part of the whole electoral system was the one month in which she legally was not chairman. For that single month at the end of every decade there was no chairperson. It was up to the senate to maintain Manticore Metropolis for that single month. Penelope was over seven-hundred years old so she knew very well that the lords and ladies in the senate could not be expected to maintain a function system.

At the end of the first of three debates the candidates stood together for the short press conference that followed. All of them proudly wore their House's colours. Lady Penelope Renard was in a red and golden robe, Lord Finn Yuan from the House of Oxen was in a dark blue, grey and silver robe while Lady Fae Sonata from the House of Rats was in her brown and dark grey robe. All three candidates wore the same style robe and the same black dress shoes, pants and dress shirts.

Lord Lysander Jordanis stood by in the shadows with the other deputy chairman candidates to observe the brief press conference from the back of the room. He and Penelope had made an excellent team during their term in office. In the eyes of the public Renard had been seen as a stern woman who got things done while Jordanis had been the poster boy who did more work behind the scenes than the public realised. His six-hundredth and fifth birthday was in a few days, however he was still incredibly youthful both physically and spiritually. That was why the people loved him; he looked like a typical youthful man. His fair hair and unusual jade-like irises certainly attracted people. With his looks people thought he was just a brain-dead poster boy. They were quite surprised when the realised how wise he was.

"Indubitably?" the slender man joked as the former chairwoman walked over to him after the press conference. He was referring to when Renard had stated that she would 'indubitably' deal with monorails to make sure they were on time and more efficient. "I do not think that word has been used since, oh, I don't know, the twentieth century on Old Earth?"

"My choice of words was intentional," she explained. "I figured it was a sincere, almost adorable word that would endear me to the public, and also assure them I would get the job done."

Lysander nodded along although he doubted Penelope was telling the truth. She had most likely been lost for a good substitute for the word 'undoubtedly' which was a word she had already used too much in that press conference and wanted some variation.

The chief of the House of Dragons security strolled over to the candidates. Neil Van Halogen, he was a six-foot bulky man who did not suit the slim-figured flamboyant lords and ladies of the House of Dragons.

"Will you be attending the dinner party tonight?" he asked in a deep voice.

"Indubitably." Lysander said with a smile. Penelope rolled her eyes – she knew he would never let it go.

The small party for the high-ranking lords and ladies was held on the roof of the Parliament House just after sundown. All candidates were peer pressured into attending as photographers would be there and it would be good publicity for them if they could be seen as casual and friendly.

Lysander never had a problem with the parties with his socialite qualities. He would make his way through the politicians with jokes, gossip and a bit of flirting. There was only one man he could not get his head around: Lord Koris Young. The man was a rookie in the game of politics. At only seventy years-old he was the deputy chairman candidate for the House of Oxen. Although he had had the anti-aging treatment to make himself appear much younger, Koris did not seem to put much effort into his looks. His face was covered in stubble and his short, yet thick black hair was all over the place. Lysander knew the young man was not a typical politician, and he wanted to know why the House of Oxen had thrown him into the ring.

Koris didn't look happy to see Lysander strolling over to him. They knew each other outside of politics. Everyone knew everyone uptown. These two knew each other because Koris' daughter, Melody, was dating Lysander's son, Princeton. Koris had never approved of Prince and not just because of his overconfident name. At eighteen, he was over two years older than Melody and seemed to have a one track mind when it came to their relationship; he wanted sex. He was just like his father in that sense. Both men were always frisky. However, Prince was a little more patient when it came to his desires and respected Melody's abstinence. When his father craved intimacy he simply threw one of his downtown servants on the bed. Lysander felt no guilt doing that: due to the Servants Union he was required to give any servant he had sex with a small bonus in their pay check. Like most lords and ladies, he presumed that prostitution came with the job of a servant. Koris, on the other hand, despised the servant-master dynamic in Manticore Metropolis. He knew his viewpoint was different from most other politicians which was why he stayed silent.

"Lord Finn Yuan did a good debate tonight," Lysander said 'sincerely' as he lit up an orange cigarette. Poor Finn had been quite lost for words when it came to a question about the new Olympus United factory opening up within the month. He had had no idea what Olympus United was and Koris had been forced to stand by and bite his lip while Finn rambled about nothing.

"Quite." Koris sipped his apple juice nonchalantly. Any type of juice on 50th century Manticore was considered fancy because natural fruits and vegetables could not be grown outside under the scorching light of the Jhard. All fruits were either grown in the artificial biospheres, or frozen and then shipped to Manticore from other planets humans had colonised.

Orange smoke seeped from Lysander's mouth as he exhaled. He had no clue what strange concoctions had formed the cigarettes he smoked so willingly but did not care providing they did not kill him.

"What are Melody, Andromeda and," Lysander looked up in thought as he tried to remember the fourth member of Koris' household's name, "Flick!" He snapped his fingers. "What are those three up to tonight?"

Koris shrugged and took another small sip of his drink. He did not feel like talking. He especially didn't feel like talking to Jordanis about his wife because he knew that Andromeda and Lysander had had been intimate with each other before Koris married her many years later. Lysander knew that Koris felt awkward whenever he brought up Andromeda, and yet he took pleasure in making Koris annoyed. It was a new pastime he greatly enjoyed because Young was so uptight about everything.

Lysander opened his mouth to speak when he noticed the pair of dark brown eyes staring at him judgingly from the other side of the party. Nikhita: the deputy chief of security for the House of Oxen. Anyone, even a downtowner, could instantly tell she had not been born on Manticore. Her natural skin was very dark compared to the sickly pale people she was around daily. Two-hundred and seventeen years ago she had been born in the Indian biosphere on Old Earth and a hundred years after that she boarded a transit spaceship and ventured to Manticore with a handful of others. Lysander remembered day well when the dark-skinned woman emerged from her deep sleep chamber. He and a few others had been requested to be the hospitality reps when the transit spaceship landed:

"Breath out," the nurse in white said soothingly as a man hacked-up the deep sleep gel he had been pickled in. The nurse patted him on the back like he was a new-born baby to help get the fluid out of his lungs.

The hospitality representatives from each of the houses stood on the other side of the glass as the deep sleep passenger chambers were opened one at time. They had to be out of the contamination zone in case any of the new citizens had unforeseen diseases. Even if they had a disease that was common on Old Earth, the immune systems of the Manticorian people may have never been prepared for the new sickness and the virus would spread through the city like the Black Death.

There were six passengers aboard the shuttle which was the largest number Manticore had ever received in one transit. The amount of money and effort it required to move planet was not worth paying for a new life on Manticore. Lysander figured that these people had moved to a desolate planet so far away from Old Earth because they desperately needed a new life. That, or they knew wanted their share of the rich mineral deposits below the surface of the orange planet.

Finally, the nurses were opening up the sixth passenger chamber. Two of the passengers were from Britain, another was from Norway and the final three were from various parts of Asia. Compared to the people of Manticore, these Old Earth people were considered incredibly tanned... and then the sixth chamber was opened.

Jordanis heard the House of Rats representative gasp as the dark woman emerged from the blue gel. They had all heard stories about the range in skin colour on Old Earth; they had even seen some photos on the internet, but never had they expected to find themselves in the presence of such a dark, beautiful woman.

Her long black hair was stiff due to gel in it as she sat up and started coughing. The nurses did not seem to know what to do with her and just stared at her. They had seen her profile and photo, and yet they still had not been mentally prepared for how different she looked.

Blue gel dribbled from the corner of her mouth as she looked at the three people on the other side of the glass. Their expressions were priceless. She herself was surprised by how pale the people were. They looked like walking corpses. Suddenly she began to fear that she would never feel rays of sunlight hitting her skin again. She sighed: it was a small price to pay for a new life.

"Hey, a picture will last longer!" she yelled to startle the hospitality representatives. They had all been staring at her wet, naked body.

Surprisingly, the House of Oxen rep did raise her tablet so she could take a photo. Jordanis swatted it back down and gave her a scolding look. "Take a mental picture," he muttered so that Nikhita could not hear him nor read his lips.

"You are looking... I believe it is somaina." Lysander said smugly before inhaling more of the orange smoke from his cigarette.

"I do look beautiful," Nikhita noted while looking down at her not-so-attractive security uniform, "and Bodo is not my first language. Nice try."

Lysander exhaled loudly. "Rest assured, Miss Kothari, I will figure it out."

"Uh huh," she nodded along with a patronising smile.

The pair had a game going: every time they encountered each other Lysander would try and guess Nikhita's first language. This was all because a few years back she had informed him that she had not originally spoken Mandarin, English or Hindi when she was a child. Jordanis hated not winning so if he knew he was going to come across Nikhita at an event or party, he would memorise a few key words from a particular language in India and then incorporate some of them into their next conversation in hopes that he had found her first language. The two were not exactly friends, however the former deputy chairman enjoyed studying Old Earth in his spare time which meant he and Nikhita had a connection.

"It is something like Arabic, isn't it?" he asked with a pitched voice that suggested he was annoyed. "It is a language that isn't native to India."

"Yes... my first language is actually Slovak," she joked. "Now go away. I'm on duty."

Koris flipped his wrist to check his watch. It was just a few minutes past the eleventh hour mark and this party was most likely going to go till the thirteenth hour. He sighed. Young was not a socialite. He would have much rather been at home or in his office doing something productive.

He considered making up an excuse so he could slip out, but that would not look good in the news. The reporters were stalking the party scene and would notice his departure. He was stuck here at least until the chairman candidate from the House of Oxen left. Sadly, Lord Finn Yuan seemed to be enjoying the festivity very much and would most likely be the last person to leave.

He avoided making conversation for most of the night unless conversation was forced upon him by the more assertive lords and ladies. Koris was not antisocial; he simply despised all other senators even though he was one himself. The truth of the matter was that Young worked so hard in politics because he wanted to change government and 'bring back democracy'. Here all the uptowners were acting like royalty and having nameless servants bring them drinks, but Koris was very aware of the world that was down below them. Most uptowners found it easier to be ignorant to the on-goings of downtown. Koris couldn't bring himself to do that. Unlike most other lords and ladies, he was still a young politician who had not closed his mind off yet.

A lady from the House of Rats had just sparked up a conversation with Koris before everyone's eyes darted to the sky. There was an eerie sound as an object whizzed through the air. It looked like a star in the night's sky as it first shot directly up and then started downwards... toward the rooftop of the Parliament House.

The reaction was split for the lords and ladies. Some screamed and panicked while others stood still like deer in the headlights. None of them could truly comprehend what was about to happen. Precautions had been taken to keep them safe during the dinner party – how could nobody in security have seen this coming?

Nikhita cursed repeatedly as she made a dash for the House of Oxen lord closest to her: Koris Young. She grabbed his wrist roughly and hauled him toward the stairwell. Unlike everyone else, she was never surprised to see bombs, missiles, drones or anything of that sort. She came from a hard planet where those things were common in the constant wars for the dwindling resources of Old Earth.

Most of the security guards had quickly gone into action. However, some ran off without even thinking about the lords and ladies they had sworn to guard. The House of Oxen Chief of Security, Renaldo Davys, was one of these cowards who panicked and dashed to the stairwell as quickly as he could without even taking one look at Lord Finn Yuan: the man he was supposed to primarily protect.

"It's a missile," Koris stated bewilderedly as Nikhita pushed him through the door to the stairwell.

"Yes, I know!" she hissed. Nikhita did not like it when Koris was this dazed as he was usually so calm and rational.

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw that Finn was still standing there staring up at the sky. With Renaldo not coming to his aid, Nikhita would have to act fast if she was going to save the man. The warhead would reach its target within seconds. She was not sure how big the detonation would be, she could never tell with missiles. She had seen huge ones leave barely a scratch, and small ones destroy city blocks.

Nikhita took a step in the direction Finn was before she was pulled back. At some point within the last few seconds Koris had snapped out of his disordered state and realised the danger they were in. He had pulled the deputy chief of security back because he knew it was too late.

Lady Penelope Renard had fallen to the ground when a panicked lord pushed past her. She looked up just in time to see the missile in the final moments before it exploded. It had been coming for her. The missile had intentionally found her on the rooftop. That was the problem with being the leading candidate: there were many that loved her and many that resented her for being loved.

Nikhita was winded when the shockwave from the blast blew her and Koris to the ground. The stairwell protected them from most of the blast, but it still left her ears ringing. One of the ladies was hit so hard by the shockwave that she flew over the rail and right down through the never-ending spiral staircase. Nikhita didn't notice that. Time slowed as she lay helplessly on the floor and watched the fiery explosion consume the poor lords and ladies who had not made it out of the blast range in time. Finn was one of them. He had nearly been at the heart of the explosion. Though her ears were temporarily deaf to all sound save the annoying ringing, she swore she heard Koris scream 'no'.

Medics arrived quickly on the scene. Usually a squad of the quantity needed to help so many people would take a while to assemble, but with politicians' lives on the line they arrived within half an hour. Stepping over the slowly dying servants they rushed to the fallen lords and ladies with medical kits at the ready.

The damage done by the missile was without a doubt going to affect the upcoming election. The real question was how many lords and ladies had died... and how many of them had been candidates. The election had never been postponed in Manticore Metropolis and not even the death of every politician in the senate would delay it.

Only the precise impact point of the missile was charred black. The Parliament House was made out of incredibly strong metal that was virtually indestructible to any manmade weapons. Next to the small black circle lay the disintegrated remains of Lady Penelope Renard. Jordanis stared down at them expressionless with his arm raised so that a medic could seal the large gash across his elbow. It was less than an hour after the chaos and Lysander was already smoking again. He usually found that the long orange cigarettes helped relieve stress, though right then the 'magic sticks' were not working.

"Death lies on her like an untimely frost upon the sweetest flower of all the field," he murmured before inhaling more orange smoke.

"Hmm?" The medic looked up from her duty questioningly.

Lysander looked back: "Romeo and Juliet? No?" Her blank stare made him sigh. "Honestly, what are they teaching kids in schools these days?"

The medic blushed. She was young, but Shakespearian plays were not taught in the mainstream courses at Manticore Academy. Shakespeare was only taught in the Old Earth fine literature classes. The metaphors used in most of the plays were too hard for a student to comprehend as no Manticorians had ever seen frost blanketing a field. Their planet was a desert wasteland where frost would never form and flowers would never grow under the burning light of the Jhard.

The only living chairperson candidate was Lady Fae Sonata from the House of Rats. While staring down at Penelope, Lysander thought about how the House of Dragons was most likely going to choose him to be the new chairperson candidate. In that case; who would the deputy chairperson be? Strange things to think about in the aftermath, but there would be time to mourn the lost when he was in office.

Koris Young chose not to hang around the impact zone. He was stories down getting into his shuttle. Nikhita had advised him to go home and remain safe. There was always the chance that there were more missiles to come. Of course, she remained to help with the investigation as she was the chief of security for House of Oxen now that Renaldo Davys was deceased.

Based on what the security cameras had picked-up, the trajectory of the missile suggested that it had been a remote-controlled missile fired from downtown. The thought of any downtowner having that sort of weapon made Koris sick out of fear. He wanted to see the downtowners as equal to the uptowners, but he could not deny the state of anarchy the city below was in. If a madman had a stash of remote-controlled missiles in his possession then no one was safe. In times like these all the security personnel from all of the houses worked alongside the police to track down the culprit of such a crime. The police force was small as they were only needed for dealing with issues uptown and therefore they would certainly benefit from the extra assistance.

"Sssirrr," A voice hissed behind him as he opened the door to his shuttle.

Koris spun around instantly before relaxing when he realised it was Ghoad: the new deputy chief of security for the House of the Oxen.

Ghoad was one of the few svellik remaining in Manticore Metropolis and virtually the only svellik who had a respected occupation. Ghoad was as new to her job in security. Koris had selected her himself because he wanted to see a svellik in the workforce. He had chosen her out of pity, but she certainly made a great security guard. The silver and azure creature stood at eight feet with her superhuman strength and a bullet-proof exoskeleton. Physically she was made to hunt, kill and yet her species had been so tranquil in the time they had ruled the planet.

Young clasped his chest melodramatically. "You scared me there, Ghoad."

The svellik was not one for making small talk. She got right to the point: "Nikhita ssssuggesssted that I essscorrrt you home."

He swallowed and looked up at the giant woman: "I do not think you would fit in my shuttle. It was only made for humans."

Ghoad made clucking noise that suggested she was snickering. No matter how long had known her, Young still found her species strange. Her speech pattern gave him goose bumps while her lack of human expressions made it impossible for him to really understand what she was thinking or feeling. He wished he understood more about her and her kind, but his job required him to focus on humans, not svellik.

"I have my own method of trrransssporrrtation," she said, gesturing to her large insect wings.

"Right." Koris nodded, embarrassed. "Of course." He quickly changed the topic. "Where were you tonight?"

She did not give him an answer, and he did not push her for one. Her species was strange to him. If she could not or did not want to give him an answer she wouldn't.

"Arrre you alrrright, sssirrr?" Ghoad asked via earpiece as she flew beside him through the night's sky. "I am ssso sssorrrrrry about Lorrrd Finn Yuan and the otherrrsss."

"Thank you," Koris replied with a trembling voice. He was still in shock. "I'm fine for the time being. Everything just feels so surreal."

"I underrrssstand," Ghoad hissed sympathetically. Out of everyone in Manticore Metropolis, she understood loss the most. "Wasss Lady Andrrromeda Sssun at Parrrliament Houssse tonight?"

"No," Koris shook his head although Ghoad would not know that, "she was at home in her office."

"Have you told herrr you arrre okay?"

"Yes, I texted her."

"Ssshe may dessserrrve a call."

"Nah," he smirked despite the dark situation, "I'll see her in a few minutes anyways."

Ghoad dove down so she was flying right alongside Koris and tapped the glass. He glanced out at her and shrugged with a smile before returning his attention to the front. He had a very worrisome expression.

"Arrre you going to sssee a doctorrr to make sssurrre you arrre okay?"

"Eh... Wǒ méiyǒu need to."

"Parrrdon?"

Koris blinked. Fracturing Mandarin and English and taking word from each language to form a sentence was so natural to him that he did not think twice. Bhoad's brain did not work that way. She understood both Mandarin and English, and yet she could only process one language at a time.

"I don't need to see a doctor," he repeated fully in English.

"Andrrromeda will be the judge of that."

Koris waved goodbye to Ghoad as he waited for his garage to open. She zipped away, off to help Nikhita Kothari with the investigation.

One figure stood in the doorway of the garage while a second bounded forward before putting its paws on his stomach.

Koris smiled sincerely for the first time that day. He scratched the grey-haired dog's head as he gently pushed him down. "Hey, Kiddo."

Young looked back up at the figure in the doorway. A part of him had expected her to run with outstretched arms and embrace him, then he remembered that he was married to Lady Andromeda Sun.

"A text message?" She held up her silver phone to show him the message. "Zhēn de ma?"

Her tone suggested that she was more annoyed than relieved to see him. Koris did not care. He knew that's just how she was. At her grand age of nearly two-hundred she found there was little time to be anxious. However, there was always time to be irritated.

"I felt like it was better for me to just send you a quick text confirming I was alive and then... No, Kiddo." Koris pushed the dog down when it tried to jump up on him again. "... And then I thought it would be better to talk to you in person instead of over the phone."

"Uh-huh." She nodded along sarcastically. "I'm sure."

In a brief moment of heart; she ran her hand across his cheek before leaning in for a kiss. Koris knew better than to miss this opportunity to kiss her back. She rarely expressed her emotions physically and when she did, they were in private so that the rest of the world wouldn't know.

After the tender moment, Koris followed her out of the garage and into the lounge where his children were waiting. Most important politicians lived in large apartments or, if you were Lysander Jordanis, up on top of the canyon outside of the city in a large estate, but Koris and Andromeda lived a more humble life in a moderately sized apartment. Neither of them saw a reason to get a larger home as they did not spend much time in it anyways with their busy schedules.

Silently, Melody and Flick jumped off the white couches and ran to Koris. Andromeda had told them to stay in the lounge until she had seen him first and they both new better than to defy her. Flick slowed down so that Melody could hug her father first. He knew that she always had first rights to their parents.

Few words were exchanged between Melody and Koris. She just hugged him before taking a step back and sniffing. That was when he saw her red eyes.

"Nǐ okay, sweetie?" he asked with a smile.

She nodded, but was too afraid to talk because her voice would be croaky. Flick glanced at Melody, voicelessly asking permission for his go at hugging Koris. She looked at him before looking away. He took that as a 'yes' and proceeded to hug Koris.

"W-we saw the footage," he stammered in a higher voice than most would expect to come out of a man his age.

Koris indistinctly swayed with the boy from side to side in attempt to calm him as he sobbed. He was certainly the most openly emotional member of the household. Although Melody was teary eyed, she had already gone back to the couch to watch her favourite soap opera which had just started. Andromeda was similar and had gone to the kitchen area to prepare dinner. The pair preferred to hide their emotions and reflect on them while continuing with their usual routines. Then there was Flick, who had never learned to control his feelings.

To an outsider looking in; there was something off about the family of four, and that was because they were not all family. Melody was very much Koris and Andromeda's daughter. She looked like a sixteen year-old clone of her mother, but her skin tone was more like her father's. Then there was Flick: the one that didn't make sense. He was not of Old Earth Asian heritage unlike the other three. Even if that fact was ignored, his facial structure was completely different. While the rest of the family had more rounded faces, his was long and sharp. While everyone else had straight silky black hair, he had chestnut brown hair that flicked out to match his name.

The differences from his family were not the only things about him noticed on first look. His body looked abnormal. Although he wasn't exactly a towering giant, he had elongated limbs that made him seem taller. The poor boy could not wear tight shirts without looking strange because of his rib cage that bulged out as if it wanted to tear through his skin and escape. Koris felt grief for the young man. All these traits, and then he had stunted learning and dyslexia. He loved his daughter, Melody, but he knew she would make it in Manticore Metropolis. Flick... he was not so sure about.

The four ate dinner in silence. Although Andromeda, Flick and Melody all wanted to ask questions about what had happened on the rooftop they knew Koris was not in the proper headspace to have a discussion. After all, it had only happened hours ago.

"Does that mean you're the new zhǔxí candidate?" Melody muttered quietly so that if Koris was offended by the question, she could act like she had said nothing at all.

Koris did not reply before he had taken a sip of juice to slicken his dry throat. "That's for the House to decide," he said calmly.

"Do you want to be?' she persisted.

"Mel," Andromeda said firmly.

Koris looked up in thought for a moment. "I want a good night's sleep. That's what I want." He stood up with his empty bowl and cup. "Tomorrow is most likely going to be a grim, hectic day and I need some rest before I face the day. Wǎn'ān."

"Wǎn'ān," Andromeda and Melody chorused.

"Goodnight!" Flick said with the best smile he could manage on this sad night.

He put his dishware in the washing machine before disappearing into the master bedroom. Andromeda gave her daughter a judgemental look. Embarrassed by her own rudeness, the teenager avoided her gaze and continued to eat her meal.

Grey water filled the sink basin of the master bedroom's bathroom. Only the water from the kitchen faucet was safely drinkable while the rest of the apartment's water supply was poor quality. Their family was fortunate enough to be able to afford quality water in one tap. Compared to other families in the apartments nearer to downtown who could only afford was the poor quality water, they were quite lucky. And all of them we're luckier than the downtowners' whose water supply had practically been cut which was why many downtowners had resorted to drinking the blood of other humans.

The water helped cool down Koris' face which had been heating up since he arrived home. He felt like he was coming down with a heatstroke even though he had been in cool environments the whole day. When splashing droplets onto his face was no longer enough, Koris shuddered out of his robe and let it drop to the floor – as to avoid getting it wet – and plunged his whole head into the basin. Eyes closed, he listened to the water swirling around in his ear canals. The sound helped him imagine that he was swimming in one of those great seas he had seen in timeworn photos and videos from Old Earth. Oh, how he wished he was on Old Earth, or any other lush planet. If he ever made the money, he would get his family off Manticore.

He came back up when his lungs were depleted of air. Water dripped from his choppy bangs and into his eyes, blurring his vision. However, he noticed a tall figure leaning against the doorway in the mirror's reflection.

"I sure hope that wasn't your attempt to drown yourself," she said calmly.

"No. It wasn't," Koris gasped as he regained his breath.

Andromeda stepped into the bathroom as he reached for the towel. Looking down, she saw his House of Oxen robe on the floor. She had worked from home the whole day and yet she had still worn her black and red-lined chief consultant of synthetic agriculture robe. It went down to her knees unlike Koris' which went to his ankles unless it was a special occasion in which case he wore his robe which went down to the floor.

As he dried off his face, she reached down and picked up his robe before draping it over his shoulders. Koris was very aware of the robe's weight. It felt as if boulders had been tied to it, dragging him down.

"They're dead," he said coldly. "Tāmen died only hours ago."

"The bastardly killer will be found."

"No." He made eye contact with her reflection. "The missile came from downtown. There are too many nutcases to put in the line-up." He dropped his head and sighed. "The House of Oxen doesn't have chance in hell now that Yuan is dead."

"They have nǐ."

"That's the wèntí. Wǒ only seventy. Even if I somehow managed to defeat Lysander at his own game in debating, there would still be the bias due to my age and the people would remain in favour of the oldest candidate."

Andromeda swallowed. She had only then just realised that with Penelope gone, the charismatic lord would be taking her place.

"All is uncertain at this time. Nǐ bù zhīdào if the House of Oxen will even choose to have wǒ as the zhǔxí candidate," she said in broken Mandarin and English. Like her husband, she jumped between the languages when she was speaking casually, but when in formal company she would either speak fully in Mandarin or English.

"And, starting tomorrow, wǒ going to have to address the public, then have a meeting with the House of Oxen about the election whilst planning Finn's funeral service," he moaned before scooping some water into his hand and throwing at his heating-up face.

His wife stared at him curiously. He did not necessarily seem sad about Lord Finn Yuan's death. He seemed more annoyed that he had to deal with it. She decided not to judge him for it. After all, he was going to be under a mountain of stress for a good long while. Had the election been even a few more months away, he probably would have found more time to mourn Finn, but with only a month he had so little time for his own thoughts.

"Tell the House nǐ don't want to be the zhǔxí," she suggested.

"But I do want to be it," he insisted with a strained voice. "It's just... wǒ wish I had longer to prepare for everything. I want to be the chairperson, and wǒ want to run this chéngshì and make it better, however I'm not sure that I'm ready."

Andromeda smiled. "You know, back in the 'ye olden' days, a seventy year-old would've actually been considered pretty old and wise."

"Oh, how wǒ wish for those times."

The only sound in the room came from the grey water circling the drain. Koris' face was still hot, but he did not want to look strange in front of Andromeda by repeatedly dousing his face with water.

"All will be sorted in the morning... Which is why you need to sleep," she said before strolling out of the bathroom and into the dim-lit bedroom.

Sleep did not sound appealing to Koris. He felt that he should still be out with Nikhita and Ghoad sorting at the Parliament House. Would the public think he was careless for just leaving the crime scene and going home to have dinner? Would the public reject him as a chairperson candidate? Who knew? All the answers would have to wait for the morning. By that time, the whole of uptown Manticore Metropolis would be aware of what had happened the night before. They would be scared. Scared because if terrorists could easily kill such important politicians then how safe was anybody?

He quickly pushed these thoughts from his mind. Not only for the reason that they made him stressed, but because he felt like now was not an appropriate time to be thinking about all of this. Lord Finn Yuan, a good friend of his, was dead along with many other lords and ladies who had perished in the attack. Koris felt he was supposed to be grieving, and yet could not bring himself to.

In bed, he was no less stressed. In fact, he was wide awake and messaging the heads of the House of Oxen. Of course, he had his tablet screen set to dark as not to disturb Andromeda. She had rolled over a few times and watched him avoid sleep, but never said a word.

Koris was left alone when even the House of Oxen heads went to sleep. He switched off his tablet and set it on the silver bedside table. Quietly, he slipped his feet onto the ground and sat up. Koris never had to worry about cold night air giving him goose bumps. After all, he lived on the hottest planet known to mankind.

After throwing on a thin grey shirt and a black pair of pants, he quietly slipped out of the bedroom and into the lounge. Only the motion detecting lights came on, giving the lounge and kitchen area a nice dark ambiance. The only other light source came from the glass wall that faced the city, including the Parliament House. The wall of thick glass was clear for the moment, however as soon as the Jhard started to rise it would automatically switch to black so no light or heat could pass through it – a clever design for the windows that the svellik set up just before the humans turned on them.

The city was very quiet that night. That was partly because of how late it was and partly because of the attack on the Parliament House. Even from this far away, Koris could still see the emergency shuttles flying to and from the rooftop where the missile had detonated. He wondered if Nikhita and Ghoad were still up there. Maybe it would have been wise for him to go back and try to help them. No, Nikhita would send him straight home again.

I could start writing my obituary for Finn, he suggested to himself.

Again, no. He certainly wasn't in the proper headspace to start a thing like that. He could always have another House of Oxen lord or lady of a lower ranking write it for him. Sadly, once the thought was in his head he began to mentally note down what he was going to say.

He glimpsed away from the window when he heard a scratching noise followed by a very quiet 'woof'. No matter how quiet he tried to be, Kiddo always heard him when he got up late at night.

Naturally, he opened the door and the dog slipped out. Had he left him in there he would have most likely woken Melody up to try and get her to open the door. Kiddo associated people waking up with food. No matter what time it was, he would expect you to feed him as soon as you got up.

"Shush, shǎ gǒu," he muttered as Kiddo jumped around him while making snorting noises. "Wanna go for a walk? Huh, is that what you want?"

As soon as Koris heard the word 'walk' he heard the clicking of an opening door. Flick emerged from his room half-naked as he tried to step into his pants while walking. Once he finished hastily dressing he looked over at Koris and Kiddo and put on a smile that appeared to be masking his true emotions. His red, swollen eyes told Koris that the young man had been crying. He chose not to ask why Flick had been crying because he already knew the answer. It would always be the same answer.

Koris found himself averting his eyes from Flick's bare chest. The boy had lived with him, almost like a son, for ten years and yet he still was not used to seeing the abnormal structure of Flick's skeleton. Outsiders would think Flick was starving because his bones were so blatant underneath his skin.

"Can I come?" Flick whispered as to be considerate of the members of the house who were still asleep.

Koris nodded before dipping his hand into the glass bowl on the kitchen counter in search of the dog leash. "We're just going to Jīngāngshí Jìshù building and back."

"Okay," Flick said before tip-toeing back into his room to quickly grab a shirt.

Koris looked away again when the young man turned to reveal his equally disturbing back. His spine throbbed with every movement he made as if it was a snake under his flesh. Although he was not sure why, Koris always found himself comparing Flick's deformed skeleton to Ghoad's exoskeleton. It was terrible to compare the two, but Koris couldn't stop himself.

Luckily Flick came back out wearing a loose and baggy T-shirt that covered his disturbing torso. Now it was just his long lanky arms that were the problem. Oh well, Koris thought, nobody else will be walking through the skyways at this hour.

Regardless of who was walking Kiddo, the walk always consisted of walking to Jīngāngshí Jìshù – and further if Kiddo wanted a longer walk – because the two skyways taken to get to the Jīngāngshí Jìshù were quite long. When Koris and Melody took the dog for a walk at the sixth hour they would always encounter other people walking with their pets. Unlike in the past of Old Earth where dogs would greet and sniff each other, the modern Manticorian dogs simply ignored one another as they were determined to finish their tedious walks. What the humans of Manticore did not realise was that dogs weren't meant to be contained in escapeless buildings and skyways. The creatures would actually prefer to be downtown where there were so many different smells instead of up in the sterile skyways. Koris never even considered how unnatural Kiddo's life was. Why would he? He knew no different himself.

Like in the apartment, the glass flooring and ceiling of the skyways was clear at night and would only darken during the day. Koris found himself in a serene mood whenever he strolled barefoot through a skyway at night. This was the time of night when even the advertisements on the wall were motionless and therefore less irritatingly distracting.

With the stars above and the dark city below, he felt like he was walking on air. He walked very dreamily and for that moment forgot all about what had happened mere hours ago. Sadly, he was repeatedly snapped back into reality whenever he accidentally slowed down and Kiddo tried to drag him forward.

It was a different effect for Flick. The young man had not spent his time around glass as a child and had to avoid looking down. No matter how thick the glass was, he felt like he could fall at any moment. Nobody ever understood why the young man insisted on going on the walks at night if he was so afraid of them, and Flick was not sure why he did it either. It was most likely because he liked spending time with Koris away from the other two members of the family. He understood that Melody hated him, and he was afraid of Andromeda. When he first became a part of the family ten years ago he was truly an uncontrollable rascal as he had never learned manners. Andromeda was the one who disciplined him with a firm hand because Koris did not have the heart to do it himself. Flick was grateful she had taught him manners, but their relationship was built on him respecting and fearing her. But with Koris; the man was security for him. The man was almost a father to him even though Flick would never use that word to describe Koris. To Flick, that word only brought up painful memories... Memories that he wanted to remain where he had left them: downtown.

"You sleep at all tonight?" Koris asked to break the silence.

"Uh huh," Flick replied, lying.

Young looked away for a moment as he thought about the best way to phrase his words: "I know I've said this before," he paused when he saw Flick's worried expression, "but if you're not sleeping then I think you should give the medication Doctor Kùn suggested a chance. I think it could really help y–"

"No," Flick said simply.

And that was that. Legally, Koris couldn't make the young man do anything he didn't want to. He was twenty-two, so he was recognised as an adult and Koris was not his legal guardian anyways. The boy had lived with the family for decade, but social services had guardianship of Flick up until he was twenty-five. The social service laws and requirements annoyed Koris. An uptowner child who was adopted would be happily relinquished by social services, and yet they always kept a leash on downtowner children so that they would be the deciders of the children's fate if for some reason they broke the law or went insane.

Koris just wanted Flick to start sleeping again so that when social services did their annual check-up on the boy, they would not declare him insane or 'unfit' for uptown society. If that happened, Flick would be shipped down to McCarty's Haven for Children, and then when he was twenty-five he would be thrown out onto the pavement before most likely getting killed by a crazy downtowner who wanted his organs – Koris did not want the young man to have this tragic fate when he knew it was avoidable.

"Just... think about it," he whispered solemnly.

Flick did not reply, and he was not expected to. The young man was not much of a talker. Part of that was because of how shy he was, and the other part of it was because he had only started to learn proper English nine years ago – because he did not go to school in his first year uptown – which was when his dyslexia was discovered. He had not started learning Mandarin yet. Koris wanted the boy to have a good understanding of casual English before moved to formal Mandarin.

They soon reached their destination, and no surprise the glass doors that lead into Jīngāngshí Jìshù were locked. They could have continued walking down the skyway until they reached the next building but Kiddo was ready to go back to the apartment. The dog had originally gotten up because he had wanted to be fed, he had not been desperate to walk.

"You'ra gonna be really busy till the election thingy aren't ya?" Flick asked as they walked home.

Young was surprised to hear the downtowner-type language style breaking through. He presumed the boy was talking like that without even realising it.

"Yes, I suppose so," he replied after a moment of thought. "Well... more busy than I was already going to be."

"Are ye scared?"

Koris shrugged. "Surprisingly, no. I think a part of me still thinks this is all a bad dream that I'm going to wake up from. Once that idea dissipates I should be freaking out."

"I'm sorry."

He looked at the young man with an intrigued expression. "Sorry for what?"

Flick shrugged. He was not sure why he was apologetic. It just felt like the right thing to say. Young swapped the leash to his other hand and reached up to ruffle Flick's hair in a good-natured manner. The young man's childlike ways always made him smile. Then again, he also knew his innocent nature was only tip of the mountain peeking through the grey dust clouds. Flick was only innocent-minded because of his lack of understanding of the universe.

Although it was sad that the young man had never gotten the basic knowledge he should have back when he was a child, Koris liked that Flick was the one other person uptown who didn't care for the political system. The boy did not understand why decisions always took so long to make in the senate. All he wanted was action. Koris expected that Flick had this attitude because when he was younger, he absorbed every word out of Koris' mouth and agreed with him on everything – save the discussions about his own body – and took his words as own opinion. He also suspected that Flick had this outlook because in the downtown realm people didn't wait around for a senate to dictate their actions. Downtowners were all about instant action – that was probably why there was anarchy down there as well.

"I hope you win," Flick said simply as they reached the door to their apartment.

"That would be nice," Koris admitted, "but it has not yet been decided if I'm actually going to be the chairman candidate. That decision will most likely not be discussed until tomorrow."

"Why won't it be discussed today?" Flick asked in an irritated manner. He looked checked the time on the clock in the skyway. They had the whole day ahead of them to discuss who the new candidates would be.

"Because today is the day that all the houses are going to have to formally address the public about the deaths. We need at least one day of grievance before we get right back into politics."

Flick nodded. He understood that. "Will ya get more money if you become the zh-zhǔ... the chairperson thingy?"

Koris scowled jokingly. "It's not about the money."

"So it's the power?"

"I can't please you, can I?"

Flick's giggle was pitched like a little girl's. Koris was used to the young man's strangely high voice, but it shocked outsiders. Then again; everything about Flick shocked outsiders.
3

About two hours before the Jhard was to disappear behind the walls of the great canyon, the top lords and ladies from the House of Dragons filed into the meeting room on Lysander's estate. Yesterday had been all about commemoration and grievance for the lost, but today had been the day when the new candidates were chosen from the parties.

Lady Fae Sonata was still the chairperson candidate from the House of Rats, but the original deputy chairperson candidate, Lady Arietta Sparrow, had perished in the attack so Lord Isaac Hobart had replaced her. Unsurprisingly, Lord Lysander Jordanis was the new chairperson candidate for the House of Dragons while his new deputy chairperson candidate was Lady Ester Banai. Lysander wasn't happy with having Ester chosen for him. The girl was only two-hundred and eight, but somehow she still wasn't the the youngest candidate running.

Koris Young had originally been a surprising choice for deputy chairperson candidate, and now he was an absolutely shocking choice for the chairman candidate. His deputy chairperson candidate, Lord Norman Blanc, was certainly not happy about Koris being the candidate and happily told the reporters that at the press conference after the decision was made.

All the lords and ladies could not help but give Lysander a strange look as they found their seats in the dimly lit room. He sat at the head of the giant silver table with his feet up and orange smoke seeping from his mouth as he exhaled. Usually the House of Dragons heads did not allow smoking during a meeting, but this was Lysander's estate so he could do whatever he wanted... and it did help that he was the chairman candidate now.

Jordanis looked rather content on the outside regardless of how many thoughts were racing through his mind. He was not exactly stressed despite the situation and he could thank the orange cigarettes for that.

"Honestly," he began in English which meant the whole meeting now had to be in English, "it's as if the House of Oxen intentionally wants to lose the election this year." Nobody answered, so Jordanis swung his feet off the table and leaned forward so that they all knew this was serious. "Give me all of it, all the dirt you have on this kid and someone explain why he's the new chairman candidate."

"Lord Lysander Jordanis." A holographic picture came up to match the name. "Old Earth English-European descendant. Age six-hundred and four until his birthday tomorrow. Son of Lord Preston Jordanis. He has been a major member of the House of Dragons for three-hundred years. Before then he taught economics and history at the University of Manticore..."

"Hang on a moment." Koris put his hand up to stop the presentation. Everyone around the bronze table looked away from the picture and at him instead. "Who is Lysander's mother?"

"We have no record of her," the lady reading out the facts stated in clean Mandarin. Unlike the House of Dragons, the House of Oxen always tried to hold their important meetings in Mandarin as it was the formal language.

"How can we have no record of his mother?" Koris asked. "She likely would have had to be in the records if she was with Preston. And if she was around the same age as Preston was then she would have to be in the original ark database. Have you checked the archives?"

Another lord stepped in for the lady presenting: "We believe Lysander was given to Preston anonymously in a kind of a left-on-the-doorstep incident. She was likely a young servant or prostitute."

Koris raised an eyebrow. He was unconvinced.

"Don't you find it strange that there is no information on this? Preston was on the ark, and was the translator for the svellik. You'd think we'd know more about his life and how Lysander came into being. Jordanis is a household name."

The lord nodded in understanding. "Maybe that is something to bring up to the press," he said impishly.

Young shook his head. "I don't want to seem judgemental... because I'm not." All the lords and ladies in the room knew he was telling the truth. After all, he had adopted Flick. "And even bringing it up would give the impression that I was nit-picking the petty things."

"Lord Koris Young. Old Earth Chinese-Armenian descendant. Age seventy, turning seventy-one in three months on the 3rd. Son of Lady Jade Young, deceased, and Emmanuel Baek, also deceased. Brother o–"

"I know all this," Lysander stated firmly. "Well, I didn't know Koris had a sibling. Please continue."

The pale man rolled his eyes before signalling for the presentation to start again. "His sister, Fátima Young, was fifty-six years his senior and died thirty-six years ago from her injuries when an unknown attacker assaulted her in the Marley Skyway."

Lysander inhaled orange smoke and exhaled it before answering. "How charming. Tell me, was it a sexual assault?"

The lord checked his tablet before shaking his head. "Just a random killing. It's kind of expected on the west side of town where the Marley Skyway is."

It was a strange and dark question for Lysander to ask, but he was trying to piece together Koris' psychological makeup to understand his rival better. Past incidences would affect how Koris responded to situations in the modern day. Lysander had already figured out that Young put the responsibility on his own shoulders to save downtowners from death, and maybe that was because he felt guilt around his sister's death.

"Have any of us thought about why the House of Oxen made him the chairman candidate?"

"It's all speculation at the moment," one of the heads of the House of Dragons, Lady Naomi Turay, said. "We believe that the House of Oxen knows they're going to lose the election this year, so they are simply testing unusual candidates, like Koris, to see what kind of approval rating they get from the civilians so they're more prepared in a decade."

"So you don't see Young as threat," Lysander murmured, unconvinced. "I think we're underestimating him and that is exactly what the House of Oxen wants. That boy is going to have so much publicity on him due to his age that he could sway people his way via the media."

"That is unlikely," the head laughed in a low voice. She – who used to be a 'he', but got bored of that gender – was of Old Earth African descendant which was impossible to tell because of her sickly white skin. "Nobody will be swayed by a seventy year-old."

"Nobody from the generations above him, but he may have more of an appeal than I do to the younger generations... and the downtowners."

The ears of everyone in the room perked up.

"Downtowners don't vote," one said.

"Because they do not understand the point and there is no way to vote down there, but with over three quarters of the population below what if Koris appealed to them and the House of Oxen paid to put in voting systems for the downtowners?" he asked even though he wanted no answer.

"Like I said," Naomi said calmly, "it's all speculation at the moment."

"My tactic is to appeal to a greater variation of people," Koris boldly told the Oxen members. "I'm aware that I am simply a test subject for this election as Lysander is likely to win the election, but that means I have nothing to lose by doing my own experiments."

"Who do you want to appeal to?" one of the heads asked anxiously. "The generations below yours? That's not a very large demographic."

"There are a lot of downtowners that should have their say in who runs Manticore Metropolis," he murmured in hopes that no one else would hear. Sadly, even Nikhita who was standing on the other side of the room at the door heard him. He knew that because of how quickly her eyes widened.

"You're hilarious" the head said in an aggressive tone. "I refuse to let the lunatics down below vote for things that affect my life."

"We vote for things that affect their life all the time," Koris objected. "The downtowners don't even have any say in what happens to their water."

The head's nostrils flared: "Well I–"

"You should use that against Lysander!" one lady interjected without realising she had cut-off one of the heads. "The Jordanis family has owned the purest water in our pipes since we arrived on the ark. In the first debate you have with him you should bring up the fact he lets downtowners – and even some uptowners – die of thirst or contaminated water as they do not have access to his water."

"I like that." Koris nodded. "We just have to give the downtowners a way to vote."

The head who had disagreed before was still displeased: "You can get every downtowner to vote for you, and it won't matter. Lord Jordanis will destroy your soul before he lets you win an election."

Young raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"If he sees you as any kind of threat he will find ways to ruin both your career and your life. Remember what happened to Lady Dakota Morris?"

He had heard the story: Dakota had been the deputy chairperson candidate from the House of Rats thirty years ago. Although he was not running for deputy chairperson for his own party, Lysander still took it upon himself to unveil all of Morris' secrets and also ruined her home life when her husband walked in on him and Dakota in bed together. Koris doubted that would happen to him, but it was always a fear. His family was already so tangled with the Jordanis family as Prince was dating Melody and Andromeda had had sex with Lysander long ago. The thought made Koris realise that his family was too close for comfort to Lysander's.

"I don't have any real secrets to hide from the public," Koris reassured the head.

"If that were true," the head said with obvious doubt, "then Lysander would make secrets for you that you would want to hide from the public."

"Did he do that to Lord Finn Yuan?"

"We believe he did not consider Finn a threat. He may see you as a threat though, because of your young age. If we know anything about Jordanis: we know he likes to be the most youthful of the candidates."

Young smirked. He would hardly consider himself 'youthful' even if he was the youngest. In fact, he acted more like a grizzled old man than anything. Nonetheless, he was undoubtedly going to be known for his young age.

"Well," Lysander stood to signal the end of the meeting, "although all this speculation about Lord Koris Young is intriguing, I would prefer to do my own research on him from now on."

None of the lords or ladies asked Jordanis what is personal research would include. They couldn't because all his research was better off the record. Also, most of them already had an idea of the types of things he would do to get information.

"Remember Lysander," the head began cautiously, "you only have a month to do your 'research'... and do it subtly."

"Understood," he agreed before snuffing his cigarette by crushing it into the silver table. "In fact, I will start tomorrow night."

"How so?"

Jordanis smiled manically. "You'll know soon enough."

The head who was sitting closest to him smiled as she stood up: "For a moment I thought that evil look on your face meant that you were going to spit out another Shakespearian quote that alluded to your master plan."

Lysander sighed jokingly. "I could not find any to fit the situation in my quote index. Well, except for 'fair is foul and foul is fair', but you don't even know what I'm talking about anyways."

"You're insane. You know that right?" Nikhita said in a strained voice as she escorted Koris to his shuttle. "Getting downtowners to vote is not going to win you any uptowner's favour."

"I have nothing to lose," he replied sternly.

"Save the election."

"The House of Niú thinks I've already lost the election."

"But now your loss is certain."

"I'm doing what I think is right and that's all that matters," he looked her directly in the eye. "This is my one chance to really change the city. Even if I do lose the election, at least I will have gotten my opinion out."

"Just don't damage the House of Oxen's reputation." After getting an annoyed glare from Koris, she decided to let that part of the conversation go: "Are you going to primarily market to downtowners?"

"I'm going to empathise with them at the least and try to get the downtowners to understand that I want to help them. A real victory would be if I could get more uptowners to feel sympathy for them too."

"Good luck with that."

Both of their devices ringed simultaneously. Nikhita checked her wrist computer while Koris pulled out his tablet. After a skim read of what they had been sent both looked at each other with surprise.

"Did you just get a message from Lysander?" Nikhita asked as they halted just outside of the shuttle hangar.

"The one about his birthday bash?" Koris smirked. "Oh yes, yes I did."

Nikhita looked at the message again: "Hooray, it says we can each bring one guest... Now I have to figure out something to wear before tomorrow night."

Young raised his eyebrows. "Děngdài, you're not actually considering going are you?"

"Yeah," she nodded slowly, "and you're going too."

He scoffed. "You're hilarious. It's a trap, Niki. He's going to try and ruin me and probably you too."

"Hey may be," she agreed, "but it may ruin your more to seem like a foul player by not attend your opponent's party."

He considered this even if he did not want to. Nikhita gave him a hard pat on the shoulder.

"Besides, providing you keep your lips sealed, what's the worst thing that could happen at his party where we'll be surrounded by hundreds of other partygoers? If we know anything, he's a man of the shadows when he plays dirty. Only at the final moment will he go public and are you going to give him anything to go public with?"

The look he had on his face suggested uncertainty within himself. "He has a way of squeezing information out of people."

"Relax, I'll have your back," she said sincerely.

Koris still was not convinced. "Eh... I'll tell you my answer tomorrow morning. I'll probably check what the heads think I should do. Maybe some of them are going"

She shook her head as she looked at who the message was sent to. "No... None of the others were invited."

Koris swallowed. That was not a good sign.

"You going to bring a 'plus one'?" she asked, as she thought about the question herself.

If he knew one thing, he knew he was not going to bring Andromeda. Lysander was a very dangerous man to be around when he got competitive and he would undoubtedly bring up the fact he had had sex with his wife while Koris was still preparing for high school exams. And now that Koris was his direct rival the man would probably see if he could seduce Andromeda again.

"We'll see, but probably not."

Nikhita laughed. "Then we shall be loners together."

"This is all if I go of course."

"Sure. Whatever."

The Jhard was still high enough in the sky that Koris' shuttle windows were tinted black and he had to use the monitor to navigate the sky.

While flying, he pondered the birthday situation. He wasn't suspicious about why he was invited to the gathering, but why would Lysander invite Nikhita? Did he intend to get House of Oxen security information out of her? He had to know her will power was stronger than any other person's on Manticore, and yet Koris was still anxious. Jordanis could be so subtle about stealing information that she wouldn't notice. Maybe it would come down to her pride if he questioned her efficiency. Nikhita could be quite boastful and what if she boasted a little too much?

You must give Nikhita a little more credit, he thought in a scolding tone. Nonetheless you should attend the party with her just to make sure Jordanis doesn't try anything.

"Sounds like it's going to be a blast." Andromeda passed him back his tablet over the dining table before returning to her meal.

Koris shifted in his seat. "Nǐ bù xīwàng to come, do you?"

"Do nǐ want wǒ to come?" she asked suspiciously.

"Wǒ think it may be wiser if nǐ don't, but don't let me stop you."

She shrugged. "Wǒ have work to do. What about you, Mel?" Their daughter looked up from her meal upon hearing her name. "Do nǐ want to go?"

"No. Prince has invited wǒ to the cinema because his bà is having a party. Wǒ really have no interest in hanging around with a bunch of dull politicians."

Melody could not figure out why her father was glaring at her judgingly. Was it because she was disrespecting politicians or the fact she was going out with Prince?

"This close to election, try to avoid political talks with Princeton," he warned. "If tā is anything like his bà–"

"He's not," she growled.

Koris put his hands up defensively.

"Hey, it's not tā de fault. Lysander can get anyone to do his bidding. The man's a menace."

"Prince isn't a political guy," Melody said proudly. "He likes artsy stuff."

"So he says," her father muttered before taking another bite of his meal.

"Can I come?"

The other three members of household looked to Flick questioningly. He suddenly shrunk in his seat, fearing judgement.

"I beg your pardon?" Koris asked in a soft voice as to not scare the boy.

"Can I go to the party thingy?"

Andromeda and Koris exchanged a look. Was it wise to send the boy who feared his own shadow to Jordanis' party? Lysander would tear the boy's already fragile mind to pieces just for fun.

"Down, Kiddo. Not now." Koris whispered before pushing the dog's face away from his plate.

"Why do you want to go?" Andromeda inquired.

The young man shrugged and cast his eyes downward. The truth was that he could not remember the last party he went to. And now that he was out of remedial school he felt he was socialising with other people less than he should've been. He did like being around other people even if he did not fully understand how to interact with them.

"I'm not sure if it's... your kind of party," Koris said cautiously.

Flick shrugged again. "I don't mind. I just wanna go."

"Flicka-roo, it's Lysander's party. It is not exactly for younger people."

"Then why did Andromeda ask her if she wanted to go to the thingy?" he whined in a high voice, pointing at Melody accusingly.

Lost for words, Koris decided that it was easiest to give into the young man: "All right. You can come if you want, but we just have to be careful." Flick cocked his head to the side in confusion. "We'll be in enemy territory."

"I'll be fine, "the young man said to try and reassure Koris. "It should be fun."

Koris laughed at the idea of Lysander's party being 'fun'.

* * *

The servants of Jordanis' estate moved hastily to prepare for the party that evening. They all knew there would be consequences if it was their fault that the estate did not make a lasting impression. Everything had to be perfect.

While fifteen servants continued to prepare the grand hall, the other fifteen stood in three lines waiting to shower. All of them were already soaped-up because they only had thirty seconds to shower each. The estate was too far out of town to be connected to the grey water pipeline so Jordanis' estate only had purified as Lysander's company maintained the clean water. He didn't want to waste water on servants for their showers which was why thirty seconds was the maximum amount of time they could have a shower. The downtown servants even had a limit on how much water they could drink in a day: two litres was the maximum and in the hot, dry Manticorian climate and that never felt like enough.

Erik stared dazedly at the timer as his final ten seconds ticked away. The chilly water was refreshing after the blazing hot day they had had. He was personally amazed that none of the servants had ended up in the infirmary with heatstroke.

Like most of the downtowners, Erik wore many scars. The most prominent one was on his chest just below his areola. It was a jagged scar left by a stab wound he had received as a child. He was often questioned by other downtowners about how he survived. They all knew that a wound like that was usually fatal without any urgent medical treatment. Erik could never give a straight answer because he was not sure how he survived himself. The simplest answer he could give was that 'an angel saved him'.

He quickly snapped out of his daze when there was banging on the shower door. His shower time had run out. Erik stepped through the door in front of him while a person entered from the door behind.

Warm air attacked him from all directions as he stood in the dryer. Stretching his arm out, he watched as the beads of water cascaded off the tips of his fingers and through the grate below his feet. Many downtowners hated the obligation have having to bathe every other day because they were not used to doing that back downtown, but Erik actually enjoyed it. He didn't even care that security cameras watched him as he showered. He had nothing to hide that Lysander had not seen already.

He flicked through the coat hangers until he found the one with his name on it. Jordanis' servant uniform was rather flattering compared to some of the other servant uniforms uptown. Lysander made the uniform match the House of Dragon colours with a scarlet red waistcoat with golden embroidery and buttons followed by a white dress shirt and black pants and shoes. Erik had never minded the uniform because any uptown clothing was better than the rags he'd worn downtown. Plus, according to Lysander, his silky black hair went well with the pants and shoes of the uniform.

Erik jumped when he was abruptly smacked on the back. Whirling around, he smiled when he saw it was his dear friend, Cal. The two had become instant friends as soon as he had started working at the estate six months ago. He found Cal interesting because she was so daring and was not afraid to stand up to someone regardless of whether or not they were from uptown or downtown.

"'ello," she said cheerfully.

"Hāi," he said before shunning away from her hand that was on his back so he could finish getting dressed.

"Where'sa Marky?"

"Thinksies he'sa taki'a shower... in Lysander's yùshì," he giggled cheekily.

"Oh," Cal tapped her nose, "so tā's lettin' the big man knock 'im then?"

"Probs."

Although Lysander could have his way with any of his servants, he seemed to spend far more time with Mark than anyone else. Some of the servants were jealous because that meant Mark got a larger bonus in his account at the end of the month, but Erik was never jealous. After all, Mark was his older brother and he shared his money with Erik happily.

Cal and Erik walked through the giant white hallway chattering. Only when they saw Princeton coming from the other direction did they fall quiet.

"Good evening Master Bengal," they chorused in perfect English.

Prince chose to acknowledge their inferior existence by raising his eyebrows instead of taking his eyes of his tablet screen. Once his back was to them Cal stuck her tongue out before facing forward again and acting like it never happened. Seeing this, Erik shoved her playfully and she ended up chasing after him through the hallway.

Both of sneakily came up behind Mark and simultaneously slapped him on each shoulder when they found him in grand hall wrapping the silver dining utensils in red and gold napkins.

"Hāi," he said in an incredibly cheerful tone even though he kept his eyes on the task at hand.

"How was ya shower?" Cal asked impishly.

"Blech," he said with a discussed expression. Cal laughed, however Erik figured Mark was most likely lying. He knew his brother well enough to know that Mark had a crush on Lysander. "Did nǐ hear? An Earthy is comin' to the party tonight."

Cal cocked her head, making her feathery brown hair fly. "Eh?"

"A gal who was born on Old Earth."

"Okay, so?"

He shrugged.

"Nǐ've seen Earthies on the screen. They're dark."

Cal and Erik did not seem to believe Mark. Their minds could not comprehend what someone would look like without sickly white skin. Yes, they had seen Earthlings, but only glimpses of them when they were serving Lysander when he was watching Old Earth news on his computer or tablet. To them, the idea of people with dark skin seemed almost fictional.

"Who'sa tā?" Cal asked curiously.

Mark looked up in thought for a moment, mouthing the letter 'N' as he tried to remember the rest of her name.

"Wǒ dunno her name, but she'sa comin' with the enemy guy, Koris, so Lysander wants wǒmen to be really nice to her and not give tā de any funny looks."

"Does Lysander wanna knock her or somethin'?" Cal asked ignorantly.

There was a twitch in Mark's cheerful smile that only Erik noticed. There was no denying the fact that the Jordanis man enjoyed having sex with various people, but Mark liked to live in a naïve fantasy world where he only wanted him. Although Lysander paid special attention to Mark, he had also ravished Erik, other servants, and a good amount of uptown civilians. Strangely enough, he hadn't touched Cal yet, but none of the other servants knew why.

On paper, there was nothing truly special about Mark to Jordanis even though Mark felt there had to be something different about his relationship with Lysander compared to everyone else's. Mark had never actually admitted this to anyone else and always joined in when the other servants complained about Jordanis, but it was plain enough to Erik.

"How long till the party thingy starts?" Erik asked to change the topic.

Cal and Mark both looked at the monitor above the entrance to the kitchen but for different reasons. Cal looked at it because it always had the time on it while Mark looked at it because it showed a live-feed of the world outside. Because clocks were incredibly rare downtown, Mark was used to checking the time in other ways like watching the light that seeped in through the doors or windows travel across the floor as the Jhard moved. Of course, he had also had to stay out of the light to avoid getting burned.

"In 'bout an hour," Cal said.

"Just before the Jhard goes down," Mark said.

Erik registered Mark's quicker than he registered Cal's. All three had been there the same amount of time and yet Cal was more integrated into uptown ways because someone had taught her about clocks and how they worked back downtown.

Everyone looked to the door across the grand hall when they heard the familiar sound of the whistle. There stood Lord Lysander Jordanis, already dressed for the evening in his black garments and House of Dragons robe with his hair smoothed back and a cigarette leaning out of the left side of his mouth.

"All right, children, I have an announcement to make."

Erik and Mark exchanged a quick glance. The quick eye contact was enough to tell Erik that what Lysander was about to say was the same thing Mark had already told him.

Jordanis strode gracefully towards the servant like he was strutting on a catwalk.

"Besides Lord Koris Young, Miss Nikhita Kothari will also be attending the party tonight. She's the new head of security for the House of Oxen which gives you one good reason to be nice to her." He stomped to a halt when he was a good few feet away from the gathered servants. "Miss Kothari was born on Old Earth and therefore it may come as a shock to you how different she looks. You will know her when you see her seeing as Nikhita will be the only dark-skinned woman in the room. However, do not stare at her, give her strange looks or ask her questions about her skin." Lysander eyeballed one particular servant at the front of the crowd who had been known for asking people inappropriate questions. "You are to simply serve Miss Kothari like you would serve any other uptowner. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Lord Jordanis," all of the servants in the grand hall chorused.

Jordanis scanned all of them with his eyes to check for any fault. When he found none he gave a quick nod.

Once they were sure the speech was done, the servants scattered and returned to their duties. Cal turned to head for the kitchen like Erik when two arms wrapped around her chest and she was pulled back into someone. She was not alarmed. She recognised the sleeves of the red robe instantly.

"After the party has finished I would like my birthday present," he whispered in her ear before kissing the top of her head. Cal made no attempt to hide her shudder of disgust.

"Hasn't Mark given ya a present already?" she hissed back, gritting her teeth.

She felt the vibrations of Lysander's chuckle: "I do not think you understand the rarity of your present among downtowners. Mark does not have what you have."

Virginity.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked aggressively.

"Of course," he reassured her. "I will never force somebody to have sex with me. And I'm sure you wouldn't want that three-thousand yuan anyways."

Her eyes widened. Three-thousand yuan – that was more than any servant would make in five years.

"No... No. You can have it for the yuan."

"Good girl." He kissed the top of her head again. "Meet me in my quarters once everything's been cleaned up after the party." He paused for a moment in thought. "Listen, I can promise that it'll be enjoyable for the both of us. I'm not into hurting people. And remember, I won't force you... It would just make me very happy."

Without another word, she squirmed out of his embrace and strode towards the kitchen. Lysander watched her go with an amused smile before making eye contact with Mark. Once Mark realised Jordanis was staring back at him he quickly looked down and continued his work.

After washing her hands and putting on gloves, Cal jumped in beside Erik to cut up some barely-defrosted potatoes. Like many downtowners, she was always tempted to steal a bit of the food she had prepare on a regular basis, but there were no blind spots in surveillance when it came to the kitchen for that exact reason.

"Nǐ okay?" Erik asked when he glanced up at her. She did not seem to be her normal nonchalant self.

"I'ma fine," she said with a slight crack in her voice.

"What did Lysander want from ya?"

"Nothin'. Tā just wantsa me to do some extra cleanin' after the party thingy tonight."

Erik nodded. He saw no reason to inquire any further. Cal was not a liar. In fact, she was the bluntest person he had ever known.

* * *

"Méiyǒu," Koris said when Flick emerged from his bedroom. "Flicka-roo, throw on that nice hunter green blazer you own as well."

The young man looked down at his garments with confusion. He was already wearing a puffy shirt and black vest. With a slight look of annoyance on his face, he stepped back into his room.

Koris bit his lip. He did not want people to be giving poor Flick strange looks that night. Hopefully nobody would be able to make out his strange skeletal structure underneath all that clothing.

Flick appeared in the doorway again, buttoning up his blazer. Much better, Koris thought.

"Are nǐ, err, you sure you want to come to the party?"

"Yes," Flick replied in an exasperated tone. He could not understand why Koris was acting so strange about him attending the party.

Young caught his wife's eye from across the room as she did her work at the dining room table. Her gaze told him to calm down and stop worrying about what people would think of Flick. He found that a little difficult because at this party, Lysander would be nit-picking every single fault their family had.

"Bye Mel," Koris called out from the archway into the garage. When there was no reply he looked to Andromeda for answers.

"Tā and Prince have already left," she said calmly even though the thought of Melody with Princeton made Koris grit his teeth.

"Where have tāmen gone?" Koris asked as calmly as he could.

Andromeda shrugged. She had no clue. That didn't reassure Koris, but he asked no more questions. He just had to tell himself that Melody was a smart young girl who could handle herself... it was Prince he worried about.

"Have fun," Andromeda said in a distracted voice as she skimmed through her messages on her electronic glasses. She was already back in 'work mode'.

"Bye!" Flick said before bounding down the steps and into the garage. Koris followed behind at a calmer rate with a small serious frown on his face – he was not looking forward to the party.

"Let's try not to be to conspicuous tonight, okay?" Koris said to Flick as their shuttle hovered inside the city border tunnel. There were a bunch of shuttles in line for the border security drive-thru. Apparently Lysander had invited half of Manticore Metropolis to his festivity.

Koris glanced at the younger man, his wide eyes intrigued him.

"Something wrong?"

Flick shook his head. "Nah... I'va just never gone–"

"I've just," Koris iterated. "Continue."

"I've just never gone past the city border. Have you?"

"Not on many occasions," Koris admitted. "There's no real reason to."

"But you'va," the boy quickly corrected himself, "you've been to one of the moon thingies up there," he said with a cock of his head to show he was talking about the sky on the other side of the tunnel roof.

"It's not that great up there," he reassured the young man.

"It ain't that great down here."

"Touché."

Koris checked the time in the corner of the monitor. The party had started five minutes ago.

"Dear God this is taking forever isn't it?" he sighed in frustration while gesturing to the line in shuttles in front of them. Only a second later did he bite his tongue.

The boy looked confused. "Who?"

"Who what?"

"Did ya just say 'dear Ghoad'?"

"No," Koris shook his head, "I said dear God. G-O-D. I was cursing."

He was little embarrassed. It was not often that he cursed. Politicians were judged severely if they ever cursed, but when Koris was stressed he tended to let a curse or two slip out.

"Who's God?"

"Really depends on the context. When I think of God I think of the Christian one. He was believed to have been an overlord and the people of Old Earth thought he lived in the clouds and when humans died, if they had been good, their souls would go up to him in..."

There was no point trying to explain a religion to Flick and his look of utter confusion he told Koris that. The boy had no context so such an abstract concept. Most people on Manticore would have no idea what Koris talking about unless that had taken religious studies in school like he had. And even then, Koris' own knowledge of Christianity was minimal.

"Never mind," he reassured the bewildered boy.

"What's a soul thingy?" Flick asked after a brief silence.

"Err... It's your línghún... Your spirit." That did not make it any easier for Flick to understand. "It's who you are, but not including your body. It can't be seen, it can't be proven to exist, but it is a nice thought."

"Like ghosty thingies on the screen?"

"Yes."

Flick nodded. He understood now.

"So if the God guy takes the good souls what happened to the bad ones?"

"Christians believed in this place called hell which was a fiery underground realm. When a bad soul went there they suffered eternal torture. I guy called the Satan controlled hell."

Koris stopped talking when the shuttle in front of them inched forward, but then stopped again. False alarm, he thought.

"What was the Satan guy like?" Flick asked, making Koris feel liking he was giving a lesson on Old Earth religion.

"I think he's basically the exact opposite of God. Evil in every way... Though back then people had a different perception of what evil was."

"So he was the evilest thing ever and God was the nicest thing ever?"

Koris nodded, although he was not exactly sure if he would have called God 'nice'.

"So if the Devil was really evil, wouldn't the evilest thing he could do would be to make-up God, make everybody think that God was real and that good people got to go to a great death, but then trick everyone and torture their soul thingies when they reached hell even if they had been really nice people?"

Young could not help but raise an eyebrow. "That would be pretty evil, but I doubt the Christians made-up a religion with that kind of twist."

It was no surprise that Flick would have such unpleasant suspicions about things of a spiritual nature. Although Koris could never be sure, he presumed that the little story Flick had just made up mirrored a traumatic incident in his childhood that crushed his fragile little soul. The young man seemed to know a great deal about what it was like to have a false sense of security.

Flick's jaw dropped as he looked at the monitor and saw Jordanis' estate. And he had thought that their apartment had been ample!

"Lóng de Cháoxué," Koris said casually.

"Eh?"

"The Dragon's Lair. That's the name of the estate."

"Oh," Flick nodded along. "Is that because Lysander's in the House of Dragons thingy?"

If Flick had been anyone else, Young would have been sarcastic because the answer was quite obvious, but Flick was Flick, and so Koris simply nodded.

Now the young man looked a little more anxious. He would not fit in at the party, he was sure of it. Seeing this, Koris smiled pleasantly and squeezed his bony shoulder.

"You're going to be fine."

"I'm sorry for the future if I embarrass ya."

Koris laughed even though Flick wasn't joking.

The pair met Nikhita Kothari in the hallway that lead to the grand hall. She had been as late as they had. Again, Flick's jaw dropped when he saw Nikhita.

"I see you want to be noticed tonight," Koris joked before bopping Flick under the chin so that he would shut his mouth.

Smiling beguilingly, she twirled around to make her purple dress and transparent sari fly. Her gown had an Old Earth Indian-style design... but possibly her dress showed far more skin than a typical Indian garmet would. The back of her dress was low enough that the start of her Indian-influenced lower tattoo could be seen. She was certainly getting plenty of looks. Some of them were in awe, others were in envy.

"I'm single," she said haughtily, "so I figured this style would get me a dance partner."

"You're brown all over," Flick whispered, not taking his eyes off her rather exposed chest. He had always thought she was one of those girls who gotten a fake tan and that her skin transitioned to paler.

"Flick!" Koris hissed, but Nikhita just laughed. She was very used to that reaction.

"I get that a lot... and I'm never sure whether or not I should be flattered or offended."

"It's a racist statement," he said, eyeballing Flick as a telling-off.

"Funny thing is, back on Old Earth, compared to other Indians, I'm pretty pale."

Koris simply raised his hand and pulled back the sleeve of his robe and shirt just to remind her how pale he was in comparison to her.

"Yeah," she laughed, "I think we could all do with some time in the Sun... the Old Earth Sun, not the Jhard."

The trio walked together down the hallway. Many eyes watched them. Partly because of the fact Koris was wearing his House of Oxen robe in Dragon territory, and partly because of Nikhita.

Right above the doors that lead into the grand hall was a great portrait of Lysander sitting down and his father, Preston, standing beside him with his hand on his shoulder. Looking up at it, Young assumed that the portrait had to have been painted – or designed to look painted – hundreds of years ago. There was something very youthful about Lysander's appearance in that portrait. Naturally youthful. He couldn't have been over thirty.

Comparing Preston and Lysander, the two looked very different. Preston had dark brown hair, cold blue eyes, and a very masculine appearance. He really looked nothing like the slender blonde boy sitting below him, making Young think that the younger Jordanis had gotten his looks from his mother – whoever she was.

"I'm not sure what's larger," Nikhita muttered so only Koris could hear, "the portrait or the Jordanis' family ego."

It looked as if the three of them wouldn't have been missed if they had skipped the party. The grand hall was full of people – mostly politicians – who were chatting, dancing and enjoying the canapés being served.

The first servant that laid eyes on Nikhita nearly dropped his platter. His facial expression would suggest he was staring at the tear in the space time continuum instead of a woman with darker skin than his own.

"And so it begins," she muttered before picking a canapé off the terrified servant's platter and taking a bite out of it.

Koris stood behind her, unable to hold back a smirk before his face hardened again when Lysander emerged from the crowd.

"Erik," he said firmly. The servant's head snapped up to make eye contact with his master. "Get back to work."

In an instant the servant hurried away looking petrified and cursing himself in his own language as he went. Lysander watched him go with narrowed eyes before returning his attention to Koris and Nikhita. "Sorry about that," he said. "You know how downtowners are."

"It's fine, really." She waved away his apology. "Happy birthday, by the way."

Koris looked back to where Flick had originally been standing just to make sure he hadn't been offended by Lysander's downtowner comment, but the boy was gone.

"Hey." Erik spun around when somebody put a hand on his shoulder. "Don'ta worry about starin' at Nikhita. I did too when I firsta saw her... and the second time as well."

Erik was a little surprised by Flick for two reasons. Firstly because of his unexpected high voice and also his downtowner-style talk.

"Heh. Why woulda someone so měilì hé àn come to Màn tí kǎo when we'ra all so chǒu hé bái?"

Flick stared blankly at the servant. Although they were both quite obviously from downtown, Erik was from the northern part where Mandarin fused with English to make a broken hybrid language while Flick was from the southern part where English was the primary language.

"Eh?" Flick asked.

Both young men looked to the side when Koris appeared out of the crowd with an anxious expression on his face. Seeing him, Erik turned away and continued to serve food to the guests.

"Don't just run off," Young warned. "Not here, not at this party."

"I was just being nice to the downtowna," Flick muttered.

"But tonight I already have to keep one eye on Lysander, and then my other eye on Niki because she's too friendly around Lysander," he said while gesturing to Nikhita who was chuckling with Lysander, "and I've only got two eyes Flick. I can't watch all three of you."

Maybe you should stop worrying about others and focus on yourself, Flick thought, but did not dare to say. Instead he followed behind Young back to where Lysander and Nikhita were chatting.

"What are you two talking about?" Koris asked while trying to mask his actual curiosity with a friendly smile.

"He was asking if he should compare me to a summer's day," Nikhita explained with a smile that told Koris that 'she knew how to handle Lysander's flirting', "and I was telling him that I studied that sonnet back on Old Earth and therefore know that Shakespeare was addressing a man."

"And then I called her out for not accepting my extoling seeing as we live in a day and age where the gender originally intended as the subject of the sonnet does not define who can be the subject of it today," Lysander said to finish her explanation.

Koris resisted rolling his eyes. Lysander and Nikhita were always like this with each other. They enjoyed 'playful bickering'. He was never sure if they were flirting or if they simply respected each other because they both had a great amount of knowledge about Old Earth.

"Oh, by the way..." Lysander thought for a moment. "... Āpaṇa err... sundara disū."

"Your fractured Marathi is charming," Nikhita said patronisingly, "but sadly that is not my first language."

Jordanis snarled.

"Miss Kothari, you will be the cause of my insanity."

Cal slapped Erik on the back as he entered the kitchen with his empty platter. "You spoke to her!"

"Uh huh," he nodded along distractedly. His mind was on other things... like was Lysander going to fire him for staring at Nikhita?

"What does tā sound like? Did she sound different?"

"Bù very differ. Sounds just like an uptowna." He collected the next full platter. "Wǒ think Lysanda ain't happy with wǒ because I took a looky at her."

Cal laughed. "Gah, but tā canna fire ya without his Marky gettin' boohoo now, can he?"

Uh oh, both of them thought when they looked up and saw Mark standing there. He did not look hurt. He just smoothed back his blonde hair to calm himself.

"Sorry Mark," Erik said before patting his brother's shoulder with his free hand. "We wera just jokin'."

"No prob," he replied cheerfully, putting on his best smile that he usually put on in the presence of uptowners.

"Have nǐ seen the Earthy?" Cal asked Mark to change the conversation.

His eyes widened: "She'sa already here?"

Cal nodded, and all three made their way towards the door. Cal and Mark went to the door to have a peek at Nikhita while Erik was actually going back into the grand hall to continue serving canapés. However, the boy was going to try and avoid Lysander now that he was on the man's bad side.

"Wa," both downtowners gasped after they scanned the grand hall with their eyes and saw the Earthling. Nikhita was not very hard to spot in the crowd of sickly pale people.

"She'sa so lucky," Cal hissed in envy.

Both of them pulled back out of the doorway once they had gotten a good look at her. After all, they didn't want to get in trouble like Erik had.

"Wǒ bet Lysander has already made plans to knock tā de," Mark joked. He thought that if he made jokes about Lysander's sexual escapades with others then people would not suspect that he had such a crush on the man – that technique didn't fool his close friends.

The little bit of colour in Cal's face drained. She knew that Lysander had other plans that night.

"Did ya hear what wǒ and Lysanda were talkin' about before the party started?" she asked cautiously just to see if Mark knew as well.

"No." He shook his head. "Wǒ wasa not even aware that ya guys had talked."

Liar, Cal thought. She had seen him look up when Lysander had gotten close to her. Poor Mark thought he was more inconspicuous than he really was.

"What did ya talk about?" he asked in a distracted voice as he thought about Nikhita.

"Nothin'," Cal said. "Neva mind."

Flick stood awkwardly alone by the buffet tables. Koris had been dragged away by a reporter for some questioning which he could not turn-down because he needed some good publicity out of his attendance at Jordanis' party. Nikhita was off dancing with some unimportant politician, acting like a peacock has she flaunted her appearance.

Koris had promised Flick he would be back in a moment and that it was best for the boy to stay put and keep quiet and Flick did exactly as he was told. He was too afraid to talk to anyone anyways.

He had wanted to come, but now he felt as if he was in over his head. The people around him were all uptowners with important jobs, high IQs and all of them had the ability to read at lightning speed as their jobs required it. Then there was Flick: a jobless downtowner with lower than average IQ and dyslexia.

The young man didn't want to ask Koris if they could go home seeing as he had insisted on coming in the first place.

Don't have a panic attack, Flick thought when he found himself paranoid about people glaring at him with judgemental eyes. Don't you dare!

That is exactly when all noise seemed to stop reaching his ears except for one sound. He turned his head slightly to look at the buffet table. The chef was standing behind it cutting up some sort salami. Flick listened as the sharp knife sliced each new piece of meat. His heart raced as the knife glinted in the light, emphasising the dark juice that lathered it.

"Flick," a hand was put on his shoulder. "You okay?"

The young man snapped his head away from the buffet scene. For a moment he saw the face of a monster and quickly jumped away. Another second later he saw that it was actually Koris, but it did not matter – he was already panicking.

"Flick?" Koris said in a more strained tone as the boy ran through the crowd.

Striding after Flick, he tried to ignore all the odd looks he was getting from people. They did not concern him when Flick was having an anxiety attack.

Out the corner of his eye he saw Jordanis observing the situation impassively, with a cigarette in his mouth. He had been poking around for something to use against Koris in the campaign and it was possible that he had just found something. After all, how could Koris bring a mentally unstable young man to his party?

Young nearly lost Flick when he turned the corner in the hallway, but then he saw a door slam and made the assumption it was the panicking boy. Putting his ear against the bathroom door, he heard the sobbing and feverish breathing. He put his hand on the doorknob and tried to gently push the door open but accidentally hit something. Judging by Flick's sniffle, he had accidentally hit the boy in the back.

"Sorry," Koris said as the boy scurried out of the way and he slid in.

Flick sat with his knees pulled toward his chest and backed-up against the bath. Koris came down to his level by kneeling on one knee beside the boy.

"You're fine, it's okay," he repeated over and over again as he rocked the trembling boy back and forth. "You're safe, it's okay."

They sat there like that for just under five minutes. Flick's attacks could last between ten minutes and an hour. The only time it had lasted two hours was when he was fifteen and another teenager in his remedial art class attacked him with a pair of safety scissors. Koris remembered how heart-breaking it was to find the boy quivering in his hiding spot in the cabinet underneath the art room sink. How could one child have so much fear?

"Err ya mar?" the young man said in a muffled voice.

"Pardon?" Koris had to ask.

Flick looked up: "A-are ya mad?"

Young pulled the boy closer and kissed him on the top of his head. "No, of course not."

"I'ma sorry."

"Shh, you have nothing to be sorry for."

Flick nodded even though he didn't believe that. All those fancy people out there would be judging him and Koris.

"Y-ya should go back to the party thingy," he said.

Koris shook his head. "No, the party isn't important."

"But I kinda want to be alone for a little while."

"Oh," he said while nodding in understanding. "Are you sure? I can stay if you want."

"Nah. I'll be okay. I... I just need to have a moment."

Young was still hesitant. He did not feel right leaving Flick alone when he was like this.

"It's okay," Flick reassured him.

"I'll check on you again in fifteen minutes, or just message me if you want me to come back. That sound good?"

"Uh huh."

"Don't lock the door."

Flick nodded even though he did not understand why he wasn't supposed to lock the door. The truth was that Koris was always worried that the young man would harm himself had these attacks and if that happened, Koris wanted to be able to get in the bathroom to stop him. Flick had never had any signs to prove he was suicidal, but he was, without a doubt, self-loathing. On many occasions he had seen the boy standing in front of the bathroom mirror in their apartment glaring at himself hatefully. It never escalated above glaring, yet the way he looked at himself always made Koris anxious.

"Everything okay?" Nikhita asked when Koris re-joined the party. She had seen Flick go running with Young chasing after him. "Is Flick alright?"

"Yeah, he's just worked-up. He wanted me to give him some space."

She had a sympathetic expression even though she was not surprised.

"Where is he now?" she asked.

"In one of this place's many bathrooms."

She put a hand on his shoulder. "C'mon, let us go embarrass ourselves by dancing like buffoons."

"I don't feel like dancing," he said in a grim tone.

"Well... I could always dance with Lord Jordanis."

He glared at Nikhita. She could be very malevolent when she wanted to be. It was very obvious to her that he feared that she would reveal important information to Lysander if he did not keep an eye on her.

"Fine," he sighed dramatically. "But only for fifteen minutes."

Nikhita cackled. She loved annoying Koris with the little things.

"What happened to your last dance partner?" he asked when she hooked herself to his arm and dragged him to the dance floor. The other dancers gave them odd looks not only because of Nikhita's dark skin, but because of the House of Oxen robe Koris wore.

"I dropped him halfway through a song seeing as his eyes were glued to my chest.

"Well... you did wear that," he said, gesturing to her dress.

She scoffed. "Yes, but I thought it was safe to dance with him because he's here with his husband."

"Are they the couple that are bickering in the corner?"

Nikhita looked back. Sure enough, they were.

"Uh oh." She swallowed. "I hope I'm not a home wrecker."

Flick took his head out of his knees when there was a knock at the door. He had not kept track of time during his anxiety attack, but surely fifteen minutes hadn't passed already.

"C-come in," he stammered, presuming it was Koris on the other side of the door.

He was startled when a blond man popped his head through the door.

"Gah!" he squeaked.

Flick stood up and tried to move backwards but his foot got stuck on the wall of the bath and he fell backwards into the tub.

Lysander cursed under his breath before stepping fully through the door and locking it behind him. Flick accepted the help out of the bathtub even though he was embarrassed. Lysander had a very soft, yet emotionless expression. He felt pity for the quivering young man with the tear-stained face.

Patting the sink counter, he gestured for the boy to sit up on it instead of the ground or on the toilet that had no lid. Flick complied, but kept his head low.

Jordanis used his free hand – while his other hand toyed with the cigarette in its fingers – to gesture for Flick to do a breathing exercise. The young man fallowed his actions with both hands instead of one. To his own surprise, his breathing became slower paced which was an improvement from his previous hyperventilating.

"Try this," Lysander said while holding out his cigarette. "It will help."

Flick shook his head, but Lysander was persistent and he soon gave in. He had only inhaled a small amount before he started coughing frantically, there was orange smoke everywhere.

Lysander chuckled. "I had that reaction to it the first time as well," he joked before throwing the cigarette in the waste basket next to the sink counter.

To someone like Lord Jordanis, who had been inhaling the orange smoke for centuries, the substance acted as soother of the mind, but for an inexperienced tester like Flick it acted as euphoria-inducer.

"Now," Lysander began once the boy seemed calmer, "tell me what's wrong."

"Don't worry," Flick whispered, he could not speak any louder without unleashing more tears and breathing rapidly again.

"I do worry. There's a young man crying in my bathroom at my birthday party." His smile faded when the boy made eye contact with him and he put on his sympathetic face again. "What's wrong?" he inquired while gently embracing Flick. "You can tell me."

The young man was not sure why he was so comfortable in this man's arms while sitting on a bathroom sink counter. The soft tone Lysander had certainly helped soothe him.

"I... I don'ta know," Flick admitted. "I just got scared."

Past event haunting him, Lysander thought.

"You have nothing to be scared of," he whispered in the young man's ear beguilingly. "This is a safe estate. Nobody here wants to hurt you."

Flick nodded frantically. "I know. I know," he said in an unexpectedly high voice that startled Lysander.

Looking into his eyes, Lysander doubted the boy actually believed him.

"Child, what could have happened that made you so fearful in life?" he said as more of an out loud thought than a question.

Flick started crying again. He was so worked-up that even one odd look from someone would set him off.

"Shh," Lysander whispered before kissing the young man's cheek. "It's okay. It's okay."

Slowly, and very cautiously, he worked his way down young man's body. Flick did not seem opposed to his lips on his skin. In fact, he leaned his head back to allow Jordanis more access to his neck. He was curious to see what it was like to be kissed by another person even if that person was the candidate from the rival party. Since he had lived with Koris, he had not had any intimate moments with anyone. He was experimenting.

Now comes the tricky part, Lysander thought when he was halted by a puffy white shirt, black vest and hunter green blazer. He could hear the boy still snivelling and trying to hold back actual sobs. If he went too quick or was too harsh he would scare the fragile man and he didn't want that. No, when would he ever get a chance to knock Koris' boy again?

Flick held his breath as Lysander slowly pulled the blazer off his shoulders and down his arms.

"Let's get that blazer off you," he murmured. "It's a very warm night."

How far would this experiment go and what would happen if they went too far? Flick was afraid of showing his body. All he could think about was the judgement he would get from Lysander. What would happen if Lysander told everyone about how hideous he was?

Lysander stopped unbuttoning the vest when he heard the boy's sudden increase in breathing. He was becoming anxious again. He moved back up and kissed Flick on the lips this time, surprising the young man.

"You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you," he reassured him. He presumed that was why the boy was scared.

He removed the vest with less hesitation and began on the white shirt. Flick closed his teary eyes and looked away making Lysander cock his head in curiosity. Was this such a good idea?

Button by button, more of Flick's chest was revealed. Lysander did not react to the boy's bulging rib cage that sucked in his stomach. He knew even cocking in eyebrow in curiosity would set Flick off. He instead continued his journey with his lips down his chest while his hands roamed the young man's back.

Interesting, he thought as he traced Flick's bulging spine. Either this boy is malnourished or something else is wrong.

Kissing the boy's stomach, he listened to the boy's breathing to see what kind of result he was getting for doing this. To his surprise, the boy's breath was now incredibly slow and calm. He would expect the boy to be taking short rapid breaths by now if he was turned-on.

At least he's not panicking.

His hands moved down from Flick's chest to his thighs. He quickly moved all the way down to push the boys shoes off before moving back up. While massaging the boy's lanky legs through his black pants, Lysander moved his head back up to Flick's neck and started kissing him there again as he had seemed to enjoy it before. He wanted the boy to be distracted by the sensation on his neck while he undid his pants. However, the boy did notice and began to panic again.

"Relax," Lord Jordanis hushed.

Once the young man had seemed to calm down, Lysander put his thumbs in the waistband of the boy's underwear and gently pulled both his underwear and pants down simultaneously. Jordanis figured it was best to do it this way because if the process was drawn out too long, Flick would most likely build up too much anxiety and start panicking again.

Hesitantly, Flick helped Lysander the slightest bit by lifting himself off the sink counter for a moment to allow his garments to be pulled off. He expected that once Lysander saw, he would stagger back and start gagging before running out the door and telling everyone.

No, that was not his reaction at all. He just took a step back to examine the boy as a whole with an impassive expression. The final piece of the puzzle was put into place.

He was castrated before puberty, Lysander noted. That is why his body never developed properly. His bone growth went insane. That also explains the high voice. He took a closer look at the boy's midsection. This penis obviously wasn't originally his. The scars around the base make that clear. It only serves no sexual purpose. This man has no sex-drive, that's for sure.

Flick felt like he was having an examination at the doctor's office the way he sat naked on a white counter while a figure of authority inspected him with his passionless eyes. Somehow Lysander's silent judgement was worse than if he had just acted disgusted. Flick sniffed once before he found himself bawling again. He should not have done this. He shouldn't have made himself this vulnerable to a man he hardly knew.

"No, no, no, no," Lysander hugged the boy again, kissing his cheek. "Don't cry. It's okay."

Oh dear child. You poor wretched soul bruised with adversity. On the other hand; he must have a lovely singing voice.

"It's not okay!" Flick snivelled. "Look at me!"

There was nothing Lysander could say that would assure the fragile young man in front of him, so he said nothing.

He decided that for this situation he was going to keep his own pants zipped-up. There was no point trying to have sex with a man who had no sex-drive. Instead, he would stick to simple kissing. Flick would like that.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," he said before kissing the boy's temple.

"I look like a monster thingy or a sve-svellik."

"No, no you don't. You look beautiful."

"But I don'ta look like other people."

Lysander smiled. "You're unique."

"But I don't wanna look different to other people," Flick sobbed.

"Nikhita's unique and everybody adores her for looking different. Being different is quite a positive thing on Manticore."

Flick didn't believe that. He was smart enough to know Lysander was just being generous with his compliments, but it was still a nice thing to hear.

Young tries to hide this boy's body with layers of clothing, Jordanis noted. And when a fatherly figure like Young tells this boy to cover-up, it further fuels Flick's lack of confidence about his appearance.

"Don't let anyone judge how you look," he said with a sincere smile.

Flick gasped when Lysander kissed his way back to his chest and started on his right areola. The smoke he had inhaled earlier was kicking-in and he suddenly found himself in a very joyful mood. He was not sexually-driven, but being this close to another human felt great.

After a quick dance with Nikhita, Koris went out to the hallway where the bathroom Flick was in was, but he did not go straight to see Flick. Instead, he messaged Andromeda about the situation. She got back to him within in the minute.

Sun: Is Flick okay?

Young: For the most part. He got a little worked-up because the party overwhelmed him. Now he's in a bathroom calming down.

Sun: Are you going to come home once he's calmed down a bit?

Young: Most likely, I doubt Lord Jordanis will miss us.

Even though this was a private messenger, Koris always tried to address people properly and never insult anyone he talked about. There was always a chance journalists or news companies would try to hack into his messages and if that happened he didn't want them to find any golden material to work with. Especially now that he was running for zhǔxí there was a good chance that Lysander or somebody that worked for him would hack his messages. Koris was always paranoid about the public's perception of him and for good reason.

He waited a minute but Andromeda didn't send him another message. She was not the kind of person who tied-up a conversation.

Once he realised she was probably not going to message him anymore, he decided to finally go and check up on Flick. He was five minutes later than he said he would be, but what difference would five minutes make?

He cocked an eyebrow when he found that the door was locked.

"Occupied," a man smirked from the inside the bathroom when he knocked. Judging by the low, yet cocky voice he presumed it was Lord Jordanis.

At first he thought that he had come to the wrong bathroom, or maybe Flick had left and he was somewhere else... Maybe he shouldn't have worried so much about Nikhita being around Lysander and fretted Flick being with Lysander more.

He went silent as to pretend he had left before pressing his ear against the door. He did not want to be nosey, but he did not want Flick to be locked in a bathroom with Lysander. That boy vulnerable both physically and mentally and Lysander could destroy him in seconds if he wanted.

"Get dressed. I believe Lord Young has returned," Lysander murmured.

There was a shrill gasp from the other person in the room. And the sound of shuffling as they hastily got dressed.

So Flick is in there too. Fuck!

"And I also believe your dear guardian is being nosey and standing right outside the door."

Young opened his mouth to bark at Jordanis, but then he realised he would scare Flick if he did that. He took a moment to breath and regain his posture before he spoke: "Are you both decent? I need to see Flick."

He was surprised when the door opened abruptly and Lysander slid out before closing it again. He didn't look like he had hastily put on his clothing. Had he actually had sex with Flick or was he just in there to worry Koris?

Then Young remembered what his wife had told him a while ago after they had been discussing Princeton's relationship with Melody: "The man only ever undoes his pant zipper. He never removes any of his own clothing, but he prefers his sexual partners to be stark naked. He's a weird guy. Wǒ think tā associates nudity with vulnerability or something."

Koris exhaled loudly at the thought. I swear if he took advantage of Flick then nothing will stop me from pounding Lysander's face in.

"I must be getting back to the party," Lysander said, not trying to hide his smug smile. Everything he did was to get at Koris. "We're having speeches soon."

Koris bit his lip and nodded. If he tried to speak his voice would be aggressive. Jordanis noticed this and raised an eyebrow.

"Goodbye Flick," he said while maintaining eye contact with Koris.

There was no reply. Flick was probably too terrified to answer because his guardian was there.

"What have you done?" Koris hissed quietly so the young man would not hear.

Lysander dug his hand into his pocket in search of a cigarette. "Something you've never done for Flick."

"And what's that?"

"Made him feel good about his body."

Before Koris could object, the man was already striding away. He felt it would be childish to yell something after the cocky man and so remained silent.

He looked to the bathroom when he heard the door open. Flick stood there looking meek. His eyes and cheeks were read suggesting he had been crying. Young prayed that Jordanis had not made the fragile boy cry more.

"Hāi," he said in his most patient tone.

The boy didn't say anything. He just awkwardly buttoned-up his blazer. Obviously, he had gotten dressed in haste. His dress shirt was untucked and his fly was unbuttoned.

"We're leaving," Koris informed him.

The young man nodded, his head hung low.

"Why are you going?" Nikhita asked as they walked towards the shuttle parking lot. "We've been here less than an hour."

"Nǐ can stay," Koris assured her, "but wǒ think it's better if Flick and I go home."

She glanced at Flick and presumed they were going home because the boy was melting down, but if that was the case than why was Koris' voice so harsh?

"What has Lysander done?" she inquired.

Koris shook his head to inform her that it was better not to ask him at that moment.

"Oh," she nodded slowly in understanding. "Well I'm going to stick around for a while. It would be strange if all three House of Oxen representatives left at the same time."

"Understood."

Without another word he stepped into his shuttle. Flick followed behind at a leisure pace.

"Zàijiàn, Flick," Nikhita said in a sympathetic tone. He glanced back at her and nodded before the shuttle door closed behind him.

"Are ya mad at me?" the boy finally asked. A great portion of the shuttle trip had been in painful silence.

"No," Koris said without making eye contact. "I'm mad at Lord Jordanis."

"Why?"

"Because I can't believe he had the nerve to go as far as taking sexual advantage of you just to get at me."

"He didn't ta–"

"Yes he did, you just don't know that he did because he's clever when it comes to concealing his true intentions."

"Koris," Flick's high voice cracked, "I know what it's like to be sexually abused and taken advantage of, don't ever tell me I don't. And Lysander didn't do that thingy to me."

Young was surprised by the seriousness and aggression in Flick's tone. The boy had never talked back to him like that before.

This is Lysander's doing, he speculated.

"I'd like to believe you Flick, I really would, but you don't seem to understand how Lysander works. He did not come across you in the bathroom on accident or wish to see if you were alright. No, he had ulterior motives. He's trying to crack our family to find some dirt he can use against me during the debates or for his campaign. You're just ammunition to him."

Flick looked hurt, but it was true. Koris had already gotten hit with Lysander's comment about how he was apparently fuelling Flick's bad body image. Koris doubted that would be the last time he would be hit with a remark about Flick. Lysander had only been intimate with the boy for a few minutes, but if he had seen Flick below the waist then he would have a few more remarks to stab Koris with hidden up his sleeve.

"The weird thing is," Koris glanced at the boy who seemed surprisingly light-spirited – little did he know it was the cigarette's doing, "it was nice and all, but I don't, err, think I'll do it again," Flick said quietly.

Lord Young cocked an eyebrow, urging the boy to explain.

"I just don't think it's my kind of thingy. I know I don't get to enjoy things like other people do and that's annoying."

"It's good you know that about yourself," was all Koris could think to say.

There was another silence, but not a painful one like the previous one.

"So," Koris began cautiously, "does Lord Jordanis... know?"

Flick looked down before nodding.

"That's okay," he reassured him. "I just want you to be prepared."

"For what?"

"For Lysander to tell the public."

The young man's eyes widened. "He wouldn't do that!"

"Lysander plays dirty."

"But what does that have to do you or any political thingies?"

"Nothing, but he'll weave it into our debate somehow."

He may even weave in the fact he 'knocked' you.

Lady Sun looked surprised to see the pair home so early. She knew very well that Lysander's parties never ended early.

"What happened?" she asked.

Lord Young watched Flick stride into his room and close the door before he turned to Andromeda. "Lysander seduced Flick when tā was at his most vulnerable and was... intimate with him," he hissed so that the young man could not hear.

Andromeda's eyes widened, although a part of her was not surprised.

"Is Flick hǎo ma?" she asked.

Koris nodded. "Wǒ think so. Tā's probably more worried about wǒ being mad at him than he is about Lysander taking sexual advantage of him."

"How far did Lord Jordanis get with tā?"

"Not sure. Not very far seeing as wǒ was only gone for mere minutes." He scoped the room, surprised that Melody had not made a sound since he got home. "Mel zài nǎlǐ?"

"She's still out with Prince," Andromeda said casually.

He snarled. After tonight, he didn't want any in his family near the Jordanis'.

"Nǐ know what tāmen are up to tonight?"

She shrugged. "From what wǒ know: tāmen went out bungee jumping or something like that."

Koris' eyes widened. He had no idea what bungee jumping was, but he presumed it was not something he wouldn't approve of.

"Nà shì shénme?"

Andromeda laughed when she heard the anxiety in his tone. "Relax. Bungee jumping is when nǐ jump off a skyway with an elastic cord attached to your feet."

He was not reassured whatsoever.

"Beg your pardon?" he asked in a pitched tone.

Why are both of my children acting insanely?

"It's not a dangerous activity. Everybody does it when tāmen are young. Wǒ certainly did it."

He shook his head in disbelief. "What if the cord snaps? What if a downtowner shoots tāmen from below?"

"What if the world explodes?" Andromeda said sarcastically. "Did nǐ consider that?"

"Tā said tāmen were going to the cinema," he grumbled.

Andromeda shrugged. She knew Melody had only said that because Koris wouldn't let her leave the house otherwise.

"Tā also told nǐ she was still a virgin."

Koris gave his wife a horrified look before shaking his head. He couldn't deal with that tonight.

"Wǒ going to go to bed," he growled. "Wǎn'ān."

Andromeda watched him storm into the bedroom like an angst-filled teenager. He's young, she thought. He's usually good at suppressing his youth, but not when he's stressed or mad.

She presumed he was acting this way not just because of Flick and Melody's actions. It had only been a few days and yet he was already running out of time to promote himself for his campaign.

Flick was already in his pyjamas by the time Andromeda stepped into his room. After everything that had happened that night he figured it was best to go straight to bed instead of wandering around the apartment.

His room was small, around the size of a walk-in closet and it very well might have been in the time that svellik were the dominant race on Manticore. However, more space was created when both the single beds in his room were folded into the wall. It was only at night when he had one of the beds out that it felt claustrophobic, but he liked it that way as he felt comfortable in small spaces.

"Hāi," Andromeda said instinctively before she remembered that Flick's Mandarin was poor. "You okay?"

The young man nodded despite his solemn his face.

"He's not mad at you, just stressed," she explained as she took a seat at the foot of his bed.

He brought his knees up to his chest while lying down on the thin mattress. He never slept with a thin silk blanket like everyone else in the household did. Partly because it was always too warm, and partly because he felt the blanket would turn into a net if he wanted to escape.

"But I did stuff with the baddy," he mumbled.

"Lord Jordanis is not a baddy," her eyes went to the plasma screen ceiling for a moment. "Well, actually he kind of is, but it doesn't matter that you did 'stuff' with him providing he didn't hurt you or take advantage of you." She leaned a little closer. "Promise me he didn't take advantage of you and everything will be fine."

He looked her in the eyes and nodded.

"Then there's nothing to worry about," she said simply.

The young man nodded again, although there was still a hint of fear in his eyes. This did not surprise Andromeda seeing Flick always had a hint of fear in him whenever he was in her presence.

She got up to leave, but then stopped when she reached the door and turned to face Flick again.

"Flick, where exactly did all this stuff occur?"

"Lysander's mansion thingy," he said simply.

"But where in Lysander's mansion?"

"A bathroom near his grand hall thingy."

Andromeda nodded, contemplating what that meant.

"Goodnight," she said in a distracted voice before shutting the door to his room on her way out.

Flick was a little surprised by her abrupt departure, but was glad she left. Once she was gone, he snapped his fingers twice and the plasma screen ceiling turned on.

She went into the garage which was the only place where she could talk without being heard. Putting on her glasses, she nodded her head to scroll through her contacts until she landed on Lord Lysander Jordanis. The contact photo that had been taken from his personal website and represented him perfectly: a group of half-naked youthful looking people suggestively dancing around him at one of his famous Spring Festival parties. With that kind of photo she wondered how he was even in the running for zhǔxí.

"Nǐ shēngbìngle, nǐ zhīdào ma?" she growled when Lysander answered.

The noise coming from Lysander's side was very loud. Obviously a live band was playing.

"Hello, who is this?" he yelled in English over the music and loudly laughing woman dancing next to him – Nikhita?

"This is Lady Andromeda Sun and I believe we need to talk about you 'knocking' Flick," she said in English, conforming to Lysander.

"Hang on a sec," he muttered to whoever was dancing with him before moving away from the noise.

"So," he began once he was in a quite spot out of the way of the party, "what are you calling me about?"

"I know you, Lysander. Are there security cameras in your public bathrooms?"

Lysander sighed before putting on his condescending tone: "Of course I have cameras in my public bathrooms. I have cameras everywhere so I can keep an eye on my servants."

"Is there a camera in the bathroom you and Flick had sex in?"

"One: We did not have sex. Two: Yes, of course."

"Delete the footage," she said firmly.

Andromeda made the assumption that Lysander was smiling maniacally even though they were not having a visual call. "Now, why would I do that?"

She bit her lip for a moment. "Because I don't want you hurting Flick or my husband in any way. You love having leverage over people, but not Flick. You can't do anything with that footage that will hurt that boy or I swear he will shatter."

Lord Lysander Jordanis was silent for a moment. "I'm aware of that," he said after the pause. "Currently, I have no intent in using the footage or even mentioning that the even happened to anyone."

"Currently?" Andromeda inquired.

"Yes."

"So your position on the matter could fluctuate?"

"Listen, Andromeda: I like Flick. It is rare to meet such a sweet boy, let alone a sweet downtowner. I have no intent on bringing harm to him – especially not if your husband's a good boy," he said cruelly.

Before Andromeda had time to rebut, he had hung up on her and returned to his party. She cursed him in Mandarin.

As she entered the bedroom, she made the decision not to tell Koris. He had enough stress already and she had to make the safe assumption that Lysander's words had been hollow. He wouldn't really do anything with the footage of Flick... Would he?

Koris was in bed, but not sleeping. Instead, he was working on his tablet. His scowl suggested he was deep in thought instead of focusing on his work.

"Wǒmen have been invited for a pre-opening VIP tour of the Olympus United factory," he said in a distracted tone.

"Shì," Andromeda said placidly as she undressed. "Wǒ got that message too. Are wǒmen going?"

"Wǒ think Olympus United will be subject of debate in the near future so wǒ probably should."

"What makes nǐ think that?"

He looked at her with a semi-annoyed look. "The factory clones these boys called 'Olympians' to serve the upper-class for only a one-off payment to Olympus United, not the Olympians. That's slavery!"

Andromeda nodded along but made no judgment calls about Olympus United seeing as she knew so little about it except for the fact that it was a company from the planet of Eden.

Koris had not voted in favour of the permit to develop the factory in Manticore Metropolis five years back, but the vote was overall in favour of the factory and so the zhǔxí at the time, Lady Penelope Renard, gave Olympus United a permit. Andromeda remembered how annoyed Koris was at the time, but since then she had not heard much about Olympus United. The company had managed to remain in the shadows and out of the media's eye.

"Maybe nǐ will see the factory and realise it isn't slavery."

Young's nostrils flared. It was slavery and he knew it. He bet that he would go through the entire tour being forced to bite his tongue.

He did not glance at his wife when she slid into bed next to him. In fact, he only realised that she was lying next to him when she pulled the thin silver covers her way.

"Hǎo ma?" she asked curiously. "What's on your mind?"

"Méishénme," he replied without making eye contact.

Andromeda sighed. She hated when her husband was passive and pretended everything was fine even though she knew his brain was imploding.

"Flicka-roo thinks nǐ are mad at tā," she said after a long silence.

"Wǒ bùshì."

"Then stop acting like nǐ are."

He opened his mouth to refute before closing it when he heard the door to the shuttle garage close – Melody was home.

At least she made it back, he thought even though it did not make him feel any better.

Andromeda heard Melody arrive home too, but ignored that fact. "What's on your mind, chǒng'ér?" she asked in a sympathetic tone.

Koris shrugged. He honestly didn't know why he was in this mood. It was not just because of Flick and Lysander sexual encounter, there had to be something else. He would have presumed it was the election just beyond the horizon, however that had not been on his mind all night.

"You still question if it was the right decision, don't you?" Andromeda asked as if she had read his mind.

He opened his mouth as if to question what she was talking about, but then closed it and turned away when he realised. Yes, he did still wonder if he had made the right decision about rescuing Flick all those years ago:

The great star in the sky had just sunk below the orange peaks in the distance. The canyon Manticore Metropolis sat in suddenly became dark.

Just in time, Lord Koris Young thought as he stepped out of the House of Oxen shuttle.

"Zhǐyào kàn kàn zhège dìfāng." Lady Magdalene Bijoux of the House of Dragons scoffed as she scoped the downtown area.

There were two lords and one lady downtown. Each represented their house for the 'Clean up Metropolis' campaign which involved giving downtowners a more survivable environment to live in. Today, they were installing a public grey water tap in the downtown 'city square'.

All the Houses wanted to look good in the eyes of the public by having a representative attend, but they also did not want to risk sending a very important lord or lady from their House and risk losing them. That was why Lord Young, Lord Chopra and Lady Magdalene were attending instead of the older, more important lords and ladies.

"I don't like the looks we're getting from the 'locals' here," muttered the Chief of the House of Oxen security, Renaldo Davys. "We take one photo, and then we leave and let the plumbers do their work."

Koris nodded along, a little surprised that Renaldo chose to speak in English even though this was a formal event. He didn't want to leave until all the plumbers and police officers left, but he would not object to Renaldo's demand.

To Koris, something felt wrong and it was not just because he was downtown. There was an eerie pitch to the wind as it passed between the buildings. Not a sound you would hear uptown, but judging by the looks on the downtowners' faces in the square, they had all heard it too many times before.

What is that sound? Koris pondered before Renaldo brought him back into reality with a slap on the shoulder.

"Get in the photo," the man grunted. They had only just gotten there and already Davys was sick of the place.

Lord Young turned to head for where Lady Bijoux, Lord Chopra and some of the workers were standing to take the photo. Originally, some reporters were scheduled to be joining them, however their press companies then retracted them due to safety concerns.

He stopped abruptly and spun around for a second time when the eerie sound in the air was suddenly cut off, but within a few seconds it restarted... and this time it was more blood curdling.

"That's somebody screaming!" he said aloud in English. To his surprise, nobody else was as shocked as he was.

That sounds like a child screaming!

"It's your imagination," Renaldo muttered, averting eye-contact with Koris.

Koris scowled. If he knew one thing; he knew he was not insane. He could definitely hear a child screaming.

Judging by how well he could hear it and what direction the sound was coming from, he made the assumption that the screaming was coming from one of the buildings across the city square.

"Hūlüè tā," one of the many other security guards said, waving away Koris' superstitions.

"Can we just get done what we came here to do?" Renaldo asked in an exasperated tone. He hated young politicians like Koris because they were still so full of emotion instead of being dead inside.

Lord Young made a split decision when they shrill screaming was suddenly cut-off again. Maybe the child was now dead, he hadn't a clue, but he would never have been able to forgive himself if he didn't try and find the distressed child.

"Young!" Renaldo Davys barked as the man went dashing across the city square, his blue robe flapping like a cape behind him. "Gǒupì," he swore under his breath when he realised that he had to go after the nutty politician.

"Let him go get himself killed if he wants to," Lord Chopra muttered in English seeing as this event no longer seemed so formal.

"Wǒ tóngyì," Lady Bijoux nodded in agreement with Lord Chopra before lighting up a yellow cigarette.

Renaldo did agree with the lord and lady, but he would probably get fired by the House of Oxen if he didn't get the AWOL lord back.

Many downtowners looked as if they had seen a horrifying creature as Koris ran past them. He ignored their gazes and just tried to focus on which of the buildings the screaming had been coming from.

Come on child. Help me find you.

"What'sa an upper doin' hera?" a scraggily-voiced young downtowner hissed to her comrade as they carried bags of human organs into the city square that they intended to sell. "Ya thinks they here 'cause of these?" she gestured to the bags.

Koris halted to gag when he saw the blood dripping from the bags. Downtown was sick. It was downright sick. How could anybody survive in such a terrible environment?

"Oh God!" he gasped as he put his hands on his knees and hacked like he had seen his dog, Kiddo, do so many times.

On the verge of vomiting, he stopped himself when he heard one final, very desperate, cry that faded away as quickly as it reached Lord Young's ears. Koris instantly knew where the sound was coming from as he gazed at the shadowy building looming over him.

The child's in there, he thought.

"He looksa funny," the body snatcher's comrade observed. "I wonder hows much hisa parts would sell fo–"

Renaldo had no regrets about shooting the body snatcher right in the head. Of course, when the other one saw the Chief of Oxen security she scurried away like the sewage rat she was.

"You are fucking insane, you know that?"

Koris would have been more appalled by Renaldo's cursing had he not been more worried about the child who was apparently in agony in the building in front of them.

"He... She... It's in there," he panted.

"Who?" Renaldo was forced to ask. Now he was positive that the young lord had just gone off the deep-end. Downtown had probably been too much for inexperienced little brain.

"The screaming child!"

Renaldo ran his fingers through his hair. "For fucks sake, Young, just let it go!"

Realising that there probably little time left for the child, Koris took his hands off his knees and started sprinting. The farthest thought from his mind was the judgement of Renaldo.

"You don't even know which floor the bastard's on!" Renaldo cried after the idiotic lord.

He looked back across the city square once where the lords, lady, plumbers and the rest of security were before he made up his mind and chased after Koris. They would not get good publicity if one lord died during the Clean Up Metropolis campaign.

"Agh!" a downtowner screamed when Koris brutally pushed him to the side of the stairs.

The young lord had no idea where he was going or where the child was, but he had to make the assumption that the screams had come from at least the second floor and nothing above the fifteenth floor. There was a good chance Koris could be searching for the child for hours and in the end come up empty-handed, but he didn't think about that.

Renaldo, who was following closely behind Koris, could not tell if he was in an apartment building or in a trash heap. The walls were stained with blood and other disgusting things and he could not see the actual floor, just the trash covering it.

He accidentally bumped into the young lord when Koris suddenly turned around to face him. "Give me your pistol."

"What?" Renaldo raised an eyebrow. "No!"

"You go that way," he gestured to the left, "and check all the apartments and I'll go the other way and we'll meet back up on the other side."

Renaldo shook his head. "This place is full of psychotic people who would just love to kill you!"

"Which is why I want your pistol."

"Bu–" Davys was a little surprised when Young didn't wait for his reply and just snatched the pistol from his holster before dashing off.

Realising that Koris was not going to stop until he got closure, Renaldo sighed and adjusted his grip on the rifle before jogging down the left side of the hallway. He only glanced into each apartment (which all had their doors open because, with the electricity deactivated in the lower half the building, they could never be shut) seeing as most of the apartments only had one room anyways. He saw so many horrific scenes that were almost more dreadful than the wailing child, but he shrugged them all off as if they were nothing.

He spun around when he heard a shrieking battle cry. A small, scrawny, teenage girl was charging at him. She was grasping the shard of metal in her bony hand so tightly that she was drawing her own blood. The look in her eyes told Renaldo that was beyond the reaches of humanity. She was an animal just like every other downtowner and he did not think twice about putting a bullet through her brain.

Half a minute later he met Koris on the other side of the building where the two hallways met up again. The look in the young politician's eyes said he had seen unspeakable atrocities as well.

"Suǒyǒu de hǎo?" Young asked in a distracted voice as his eyes darted to the rugged metal stairs next to them.

"Yeah," Davys nodded along, "I'm fine, but we should get back t–"

Renaldo didn't bother to try and finish his sentence. Koris was flying up the stairs and onto the next level.

We're not going to find this kid, he thought with a shake of the head. And even if we miraculously do; it'll be too late.

Renaldo was more or less humouring Koris by the time they reached the fourth floor. The inbox on his phone had about thirteen new messages from politicians and security guards alike demanding that he and Koris return from their wild goose chase. Renaldo was not going to let this go much further. He figured he would let the politician check one more floor before he made him go back to...

"Argh!"

Renaldo stopped his half-assed inspecting of apartment rooms. That sounded like Koris, but was he screaming, growling or both?

He found himself feeling anxious when he was not able to find Koris on the fourth floor.

"Lord Young?" he called out, but with no avail.

Davys made the assumption that Young was on the next floor up and sure enough, the very first apartment on his right. Even as he neared the room he could smell the drug substances which alerted him about how dangerous this could be. Drugged-up downtowners like that teenage girl he had encountered a few floors down were never to be underestimated. They were insane, and were practically immune to pain in their strange states.

The first thing Renaldo noticed about this apartment was its broken window that faced out onto the city square. That explained how they had heard the cries in the first place. His eyes slowly panned down to the floor where he saw the chaos – now the broken window seemed less interesting.

Blood. It was everywhere. On the walls, the tattered couches, the people sprawled out on them, the naked bleeding boy lying on his back in the middle of the floor and on Koris' fists as he rained blows upon bewildered downtowner. The man subjected to Koris' wrath looked rather masculine for a downtowner, but there was no downtowner in the world that could take on a well-nourished uptowner when they were this angry.

"Lord Young," he said in a calm tone to try and get the enraged politician's attention. When that didn't work he gave up on trying to be composed. "Koris!" he barked.

The young man stopped almost instantly and turned to look at Renaldo. His face had speckles of blood on it and his robe... well; it was going to take quite a few washes to get rid of the red stains.

He snapped out of his enraged state when he remembered what he was here for and immediately crawled over to the little boy.

Renaldo was more shocked by Koris than he was by the whole treacherous scene in the apartment. Koris was an Ox, but he had the rage of a bull.

As Koris cradled the boy in his arms, Renaldo walked towards the downtowner Koris had just pulverised. He only stopped when his boot landed on something squishy. Looking down, he saw it was a part of the boy that had been gruesomely removed. He made a repulsed face because he could not believe how much dirty downtowner blood there was on his boots.

Looking down at the pathetic downtowner, he made the assumption that the boy was not related to this man. This downtowner was clearly Asian descendent while the boy looked Caucasian. This raised the question of where the boy's parents were. He doubted they were any of the drugged-up people on the sofas. Some of them were different ethnicities to the boy and most looked too young to be parents – but you could never tell with downtowners.

"N-no!" the downtowner choked as Renaldo raised his rifle.

Sadly, the Chief of Oxen Security had no sympathy for such a monster and shot him in the chest. He could have shot the man in the head and he would have died instantly, but Renaldo wanted the man to have a slower death.

As the man gargled on his own blood, Renaldo turned to look at Koris and the boy. He had thought that the child was dead so he was surprised to see the body trembling. The boy's eyes were glazed, and yet he was still blinking – he was not much longer for this wretched world.

"We have to get him to a hospital!" Koris cried in a panicked voice before removing his robe and wrapping the child in it. Renaldo sneered, that robe was going to have to be burned.

"Yeah," Renaldo shook his head out of pity. "Listen; that boy needs mercy, not medicine"

Koris' eyes widened as he watched Renaldo readjust the rifle in his hands. "Ó? You don't mean..."

The security guard snapped again. He was tired of putting up with such an emotionally distressed politician: "Look around you! I'd say ninety per cent of that downtowner's blood is now on the floor instead of in his body. Let me put him out of his misery."

The young politician was on the verge of tears. He was not sure why he was so attached to the catatonic child in his arms. Maybe being the father of such a young child made him more sympathetic for all children.

"No! Y-you can't. He's just a boy," he begged while drawing the child closer so that Renaldo would have to kill him too if he fired.

"Think rationally!" Koris was taken aback by Renaldo's powerful booming voice that stirred the drugged-up creatures on the couches. "Imagine if you were him; would you want to be put out of your misery in a quick in painless way or would you prefer for your life to ebb away slowly?"

Koris looked down at the scrawny child. He had to make a decision quickly because soon the child's only option would be death.

"Tell the hospital to get a bed ready," he said boldly as he stood up with the bundled child in his arms.

"Fuck," Renaldo grumbled. He was going to take so much crap for letting Koris get away with this.

"Later, Flicky," one of the men sprawled out on the couch mumbled sleepily.

Koris mind was racing at a thousand miles an hour, and yet he still registered that the boy's name was something along the lines of 'Flicky'. Little did he know that the addicts were on a drug that they called 'Flicked' and a 'Flicker' was a user of the drug so it was possible the man on the couch had been trying to say Flicker instead of Flicky.

"Are you at least going to give the wounds quick treatments?" Davys asked agitatedly. "Getting him out of here won't matter unless you stop the blood flow."

Lord Young looked down at the little boy. Blood was already soaking through the blue robe he had bundled him in. "How can I carry him and stop the blood flow?" he asked in a child-like way.

Renaldo sighed and reached into a pouch in his utility belt. "Put him down."

"No!"

"Just for a fucking moment!"

Realising that Renaldo was trying to help, he set the boy down. Out of his utility belt came a quick-fix cauterising ointment that would temporarily seal the wounds. It was very necessary, but it also stung and Koris could see the pain in the boy's eyes as he was snapped out of his catatonic state for a moment when the ointment made contact with his midsection. He did not have the strength to scream or cry so he just stared dazedly at Koris; wondering why these men wanted to hurt him.

"Wǒ zhīdào tā téng," Koris said empathetically. "Nǐ xūyào zhège, suīrán."

"He doesn't speak Mandarin," Renaldo hissed. "That language is formal."

"Some downtowners speak Mandarin," Koris hissed back.

"Yeah, the ones from the northern part of town where the highest of the lower-class live, but we're closer to the southern part of downtown Manticore Metropolis where... everything's crap."

Nobody looked happy to see Davys and Young returning to the city centre. In fact, their expressions suggested that they found the boy in Koris' arms as disgusting as a disease-infested rodent. Of course they expected Koris to act like this: he was the one politician who always tried to help every poor creature he came across. As a young politician, he did not understand that not everyone could be helped.

"For crying out loud," Lady Bijoux groaned when she looked at Koris. She then turned her attention to Renaldo Davys judgingly. "Why did you let him pick up that thing?" she asked him.

Renaldo opened his mouth to object, but Koris was quicker. "We have to get this child to the hospital!"

"No," Lord Chopra said bluntly. "There is no way I am letting that thing onto the shuttle."

Koris looked at everyone with disbelief. "What is wrong with you people?"

"His blood will get everywhere," Lady Bijoux moaned.

"Can we worry about that later?" Lord Young pleaded.

"We only took one shuttle down, so we all have to leave and not get the water tap installed if you want to take that thing to a hospital," Lord Chopra warned him.

"All in favour of getting done what we came here to do," Magdalene said while raising her hand along with everyone else besides Koris. "All who oppose." Koris would have probably raised his hand, but he was holding and dying child.

"Majority rules," Lord Chopra stated. "That's the democratic way."

Good boy, Renaldo thought as Koris set the boy down.

"Wait... What are you doing?"

Koris did not look up from his phone as he wrote a message. "I'm requesting an air ambulance."

"You can't!" Renaldo shook his head in disbelief. "The hospital won't treat people who don't have an uptown residency." He was going to continue nagging the young man, but then he choked on his own words when Koris pulled the pistol he had taken off Renaldo out of the back of his pants.

I should have taken that back, Renaldo thought.

"Āi!" he put his hands up as if to calm the distressed politician. "Let's not do anything..." Koris fired a shot right into his own foot, "... crazy," Renaldo's words drifted off.

"Well... He's lost it," Lord Chopra said in almost a mocking way as Lord Young writhed around on the ground.

The group certainly had the attention of downtowners in the city square now. They would have to get the job done pretty quickly before the hooligans emerged from their blood-stained dens and came for them.

Although all of this was insane; Renaldo understood what Koris was trying to accomplish. He hadn't messaged the ambulance to come and pick up the boy, he had called it to come and pick him up for his injured foot. Hopefully the ambulance personnel would have more pity than Lord Chopra and Lady Bijoux and allow Lord Young to slip under the bureaucratic radar, and take the boy in the ambulance with him.

"Gǒupì!" Koris exclaimed as he grasped his foot.

"Well, what did you expect?" Magdalene asked with no pity in her tone. "Shooting yourself in the foot isn't all flowers and kittens."

It took every ounce of will in Koris' body to retrain himself from telling Magdalene to "shut the fuck up". The pain was almost unbearable, but it would all be worth it if the child lived.

"Congratulations," Lord Chopra laughed. "You will now go down in history as 'the crazy politician who shot himself in the foot'."

The air ambulance arrived on the scene and although the medics were unsure of what to make of the whole chaotic situation, Lord Young did manage to convince both of them to take the child back to the hospital with them. It did help that Koris knew both medics very well and it would help even more that he was dear friends with the doctor who would treat him: Doctor Victoria Lauffer.

Victoria was against the hospital's bureaucratic system and knew exactly how to go about getting the child treatment without having the problem of the child not having money, insurance or an uptown residency.

Koris shared a hospital room with the boy, and yet according to the system; Koris was the only one in the room.

"Let me tell you," Doctor Lauffer began in clear Mandarin as she paced the room, "that boy is incredibly lucky that you two share a blood type. I could not go under the radar if I took blood from the actual blood bank or cloned the boy's own blood."

Koris nodded along dazedly. He had had to donate quite a large sum of blood to help the little child.

His wife was going to be furious with him, but not as mad as the House of Oxen heads would be. He had missed out on the group photo that was supposed to be taken and that would not give them good publicity.

"A major issue 'Flick' will have as he develops will be his lack of testosterone which would have come from his testicles. I'll try to explain to the boy the consequences of this later when he's more animate," she looked at the motionless creature in the bed near Koris'.

"What are the consequences?" Koris asked, his Mandarin slurring.

Victoria bit her lip. "A lack of testosterone will greatly affect his development during puberty. I would say his lack of nourishment has already affected his growth seeing as he's at least twelve and just starting puberty, but he still looks nine. Without testosterone his voice will not deepen, he will never develop a muscular build, he may have elongated bones and no sex-drive whatsoever. I can't say how it'll affect him psychologically because I don't know how psychologically stable he is at the current time."

Koris looked over at the child. He knew Flick was not going to have an easy road.

"On the plus side," Victoria began, "I did manage to seek-out an artificial penis that was supposed to be discarded so the boy will have a penis... just not a functional one sex-wise which I doubt will be an issue for a person with no sex-drive."

"Why was it being discarded?" Koris asked out of curiosity.

"The lady it was supposed to be attached to didn't like it." She laughed. "She thought it was too little. I don't really understand why she wanted one seeing as she was not getting a sex change. Something to do with a bachelorette party."

Koris didn't ask any more questions surrounding the matter. He preferred to not know why the woman needed a dysfunctional artificial penis in the first place.

"I'll attach it to the boy tomorrow when no surgeries are scheduled in the paediatrics surgery ward."

"Thank you," Koris said sincerely.

"Don't thank me yet," she warned him. "And once he's all fixed-up... will you be sending him to McCarty's Haven for Children?" she asked cautiously.

Koris looked at the child again. That boy had his blood in his veins now. He was like Koris' child.

"I think... I think I may adopt him."

Victoria sneered. "Lady Sun going to be okay with that?"

He nodded even though he doubted she would be.

"Still, you have to adopt him through McCarty's so he's going to have to go there one way or another."

"I know, but let's worry about all of that later." He turned away adjusted himself to get comfortable. "Right now, I need to sleep."
4

The alarm went off at the usual time, and yet Lord Young felt there was no incentive strong enough to make him get out of bed. He only started to move that morning when Lady Sun threatened to untint the windows and let the Jhard roast him alive.

Melody was sitting on the couch playing on her tablet with the television going on in the background. Koris was not sure what time she had gotten home last night, but he was just happy she made it home after 'bungee jumping' with Princeton.

Flick had not come out his room yet and Koris doubted the boy was sleeping in – he doubted the boy had slept at all that night in the first place.

I'll check in on him a little later, Koris told himself as he grabbed out his phone and headed for the garage. It was strange, but he made most of his important calls in the shuttle garage where he wouldn't be disturbed or heard.

"Wèi?" Nikhita said when she picked up the phone. Koris was surprised by the peppiness in her tone. After a night partying with Lysander he had expected her to be tired.

"Hāi. Zhè shì Koris."

"Oh," and with that, Nikhita felt comfortable talking in just English. "How's Flick?"

"He hasn't woken up yet," Koris replied simply as that was not what he'd called her about. "You think it would be alright to have promotional campaign... downtown?"

Nikhita was silent.

"Not a big expensive one," Koris reassured her. "Just maybe a few paper posters."

"Err. I don't know. Why are you asking me?"

"Because I want to run my idea by somebody I trust will be honest before I suggest it to the heads. I was thinking about trying to get the downtowner vote seeing as I doubt I'll be getting any uptowner votes."

"It's not a bad idea, it's just that fact that I don't think there's any way for downtowners to vote."

"Don't they have electronic voting booths?"

"Not anymore. Ten years ago after the last election they destroyed them all."

"Who did?"

"The downtowners."

Damn, Koris thought. How am I supposed to help them get their say in politics if they can't help themselves?

"Well," he began with a dry mouth, "what if getting new voting booths downtown was part of my campaign? The downtowners would feel obligated to vote for me if I funded the voting booths."

"No they wouldn't. They don't think that way."

"Regardless, do you think I should suggest it to the heads of the House of Oxen and, if then if they give it consen, suggest it to the campaign managers?"

"Break it to the heads gently and subtly," she joked. "Maybe at the next meeting?"

"I was thinking of telling them today."

He could tell that Nikhita was sneering on the other side.

"Really?" she asked with an obvious judgmental tone.

"Yes. We've not got enough time before the actual election day to sit around and do nothing until the next meeting."

"Suit yourself. Just be careful how you pitch it to them."

"Okay. Zàijiàn."

"Later."

Koris wondered how long it would take to design and print a load of promotional posters. He wanted to get them out soon.

Going back into the apartment, he saw that Flick was now out of his room and helping himself to food in the fridge. The young man avoided eye contact with him, but Koris let his hand draw across the boy's back as he passed.

"Hey, Flicka-roo," Koris said placidly in an attempt to assure the child that the previous night had been forgotten.

Koris continued his morning routine before jumping into his shuttle ten minutes earlier than usual and heading for the Parliament House. He would try pitching his idea to the heads individually. If they were in a group they could gang-up on him, but individually he had a better chance of really speaking to them and explaining his idea instead of them just brushing away anything he said.

All the ceilings in the Parliament House were ridiculously high. Koris had never figured out why the svellik had done that. Yes, they were tall, but they were not Goliath tall. He figured it was either related to their love of architecture (which he doubted seeing as all their buildings were hideous) or something to do with the fact the female svellik could fly.

"Mornin', Kor-Kor," Lysander said cheerfully as he strode by. Koris was a little shocked – nobody had ever called him 'Kor-Kor'.

The fact Lysander had his glasses set to a very dark tint suggested that he was incredibly hung-over and that if he set his glasses to clear everyone would see his bloodshot eyes and heavy bags.

"You and Flicky should have stayed longer. You missed all the fun when the party turned from fancy to frisky."

"Then I doubt I missed anything at all," Koris muttered.

Young jumped when Jordanis slapped him on the shoulder. "It was great. If only I remembered more of it. I think I may... or may not have knocked a virgin. Can't remember."

When Koris didn't give an answer and looked more annoyed that anything, Lysander understood the conversation wasn't going anywhere.

"See ya around," he said casually before striding away. He was actually supposed to be at a meeting that had started an hour ago, but seeing as he had slept in he had missed the start.

Walking through the centre of the Parliament House, Koris avoided eye contact with two of the heads of the House of Oxen as they drank tea together at a café. He would speak to those lords later when they were separated.

He instead acknowledged them both with a smile as he passed through the centre and headed for the elevator.

Lady Isla Gok's office was so sterile it hurt Lord Young's eyes. She was a perfectionist with obsessive compulsive tendencies. He found himself worried that the soles of his shoes would leave footprints on the lustrous silver flooring.

Isla was sitting at her interactive desk arranging the electronic files on it. On first look, the 'window' behind her appeared to be completely normal, but there were two problems with it. One: Isla's office was in the middle of the Parliament House and two: the Jhard would scorch her office. No, the window was actually a screen hooked-up to a fireproof camera installed on the top of the building with extreme dimness settings. Koris did not understand why so many people had these window screens – there was nothing to look at outside.

"Greetings," Young said Mandarin followed by a slight bow.

Lady Gok did not reply. She only approved his entrance by glancing up at him before returning to her file management.

"May I please speak with you?" Koris asked after a brief silence. He tried not to sound desperate, but with no avail.

"I suppose," Isla sighed.

She gestured to the silver seat in front of her desk. Hastily, Lord Young took a seat. Lady Gok intimidated him greatly.

"I want to suggest an idea to the campaign managers, but first I need you and the other three head's consent..."

"Because you need our money," Isla said coldly.

"No," Koris shook his head. "I could fund the campaign myself. I promise."

Isla cocked an eyebrow. "What is this 'campaign idea' of yours?"

He swallowed before he began. "I was considering hosting a campaign downtown with just simple paper posters and flyers, but as part of that campaign we could appeal to downtowners by installing new voting booths."

She was not impressed.

"You want to spend money... on downtowners just so you can get their pitiful vote?"

"Well," he couldn't help swallowing again, "my chances of getting the uptowner vote are trivial, so I was considering going for the vote the other two candidates are not even considering."

"Whatever," Isla said immaturely. "We're not planning on winning the election this time anyways."

Koris' eyes widened. "Wait, so will not mind if I go ahead with this?"

She shrugged passively. "Sure. Providing the other heads and both campaign managers approve the idea – go nuts."

That was easier than expected, Young thought as he closed the door to Gok's office before letting out a sigh of relief. One down, three to go... and then the campaign managers.

Lady Annika Fitz was a much more enthusiastic being and Koris did not even have to try that hard to get her consent. Lord Arturo Beige was a little reluctant, but after half an hour Koris finally got his approval. The hardest person to convince was Lord Saul Addicott who wasn't interested in letting Koris spend any money on a risky downtown campaign.

"I understand your ambitions," Addicott said in Mandarin, "but we cannot just toss around yuan. We especially can't toss money in the direction of worthless downtowners who won't even appreciate it."

Young's nostrils flared when the head referred to the downtowners as 'worthless'. Saul was the most discriminative out of all four heads. Not only did he have a distaste for downtowners, he also saw the svellik as equal to animals instead of humans and did not endorse projects to help the svellik progress in the human-dominated Manticore Metropolis.

"I can fund the promotional campaign if the House of Oxen helps me by funding the installing of new voting booths," Koris explained. When he saw that Saul was not impressed he had to think for a moment. "Wait... would it be cheaper to repair the voting booths that are already downtown from the last election?"

The head took a sip of his tea nonchalantly. "Are you sure Lady Sun would be alright with you using money for the campaign out of your own pocket?"

Young waved away the question. "Don't worry about that. What do you think about repairing the old voting booths down there?"

"Depends on how damaged they are."

Something tells me they're completely obliterated, Koris thought, but he was willing to be optimistic about the machines just needing a good kick to get them going if that meant Saul would give him consent.

"Okay," Koris clapped his hands together, "what if we sent scouts down just to inspect the old voting booths and then make a decision?"

"I suppose," Addicott pondered.

Koris held his breath as the head mused.

"Send Ghoad and a technician down to check the voting booths in northern downtown. The south is too dangerous, even for Ghoad."

I doubt you would care if Ghoad got hurt, Koris thought with a slight twitch of the eye.

Addicott noticed the subtle twitch. "Well, do you want my consent or not?"

"Yes," he nodded frantically. "Thank you. I'll consult the campaign managers and then dispatch Ghoad and a technician downtown."

Saul nodded and without another word, strode away. When the head's back was turned Koris did a small fist pump gesture before returning to a casual stance.

After informing Miss Melvin and Miss Moore, the campaign managers, of his plans to start a campaign downtown, Young contacted his secretary, Adina Bär, and requested that she get him a technician who would accept the terms of going downtown. He trusted Adina to find him a good one, but he was still positive that the technician would charge more than usual. Even if he gave the technician an army of guards, downtown was still an uncomfortable realm for uptowners to be in.

That was quick, Koris thought when his phone beeped to inform him he had a new message. He had only called Adina two minutes ago and she was already getting back to him.

Bär: I got you a technician from Qíjī Kējì, but when do you want him by?

He and Adina were friends so he didn't expect her to message him in formal Mandarin – and she never did.

Young: I want to get this done quickly so is it possible to get him down there today or tomorrow?

Bär: Anxious are we? Let me check that with this 'Todd' fellow and get back to you.

Young: Thanks. I will talk with Ghoad to see if she's up for the challenge.

Bär: Haha. Ghoad could snap any downtowner's spine like a toothpick if she wanted. She'll be fine.

Adina did not reply after a minute so Koris put his phone back in the pocket of his robe and made his way to go see Ghoad. He presumed she would either be in the shared security force training area or in the House of Oxen Security office. Because he didn't feel like going to both locations, he just messaged Ghoad and asked her where she was.

Ghoad: Im at offike.

Young shook his head out of pity. No matter how hard she tried, Ghoad did not know her way around grammar and spelling. He was more patient than most with bad spellers. After all, he lived with Flick. Like with Flick, Koris presumed Ghoad had the alien form of dyslexia when it came to English or Mandarin, but that could not be helped.

The House of Oxen Security office was an intimidating place to go if you were not in security. The atmosphere very quickly emasculated Koris as soon as he stepped through the doors. Every perfectly-toned security guard stood tall in their gritty blue and black uniforms... and then there was scrawny Koris in is ironed blue robe.

He had horrible flashbacks to his experiences in the physical education locker rooms during high school. Koris had managed to block those times from his memory, but the nickname 'Toothpick' still haunted him.

"Zǎoshang hǎo Zhǔ Koris," someone said behind him as he walked through the narrow pathway between all the cubicles.

He turned to see Nikhita standing there with her jacket open to reveal her black T-shirt underneath. The House of Oxen Security office was her niche so she felt completely comfortable wearing her uniform however she wanted when she was there.

"I think you may be lost," she joked in English.

Young swallowed. "Err... No. I'm just looking for Ghoad."

"Why?" she asked out of curiosity. It was rare for someone to come looking for Ghoad – most were too afraid to even look her in the eye.

"I have a mission for her," he replied simply.

Nikhita looked slightly jealous – what was a mission Ghoad could do that she couldn't do better?

"You're Chief of the House of Oxen Security now," he explained, reading her mind. "I can't send you out to do simple tasks anymore."

"How 'simple' is the task?"

"Just a quick venture downtown."

"So not simple at all then?"

"Simple for Ghoad," he muttered just to annoy Nikhita. "There are no threats to her downtown. Really, she's the only logical choice for this mission."

His statement resulted in Nikhita reaching into the nearest cubicle and then proceeding to throw a rainbow stress ball at him. Despite the fact that little thing was virtually harmless, Koris still used his hands to shield his face.

The man in the cubicle stuck his head out into the pathway between the cubicles to see what was going on. He knew better than to complain. There was no point in whining about a stress ball to his superior – after all, she was the one who threw it.

"Real mature," Young scoffed. "Now, where's Ghoad so I can tell her about the super fantastic mission that will be the greatest thing ever?"

"She's in the office's break room."

"Where's that? "

She pointed to the archway across the sea of cubicles.

"Xièxiè," he said as he walked away.

He found it strange that the svellik was the only one in the break room. Koris could not help but feel sadness for her. Nobody wanted to 'hang out' with Ghoad except Nikhita who was always going to be busy now that she was the Chief.

"Hello my lorrrd," the svellik hissed when she looked and saw Koris. He knew she didn't mean to say that so menacingly, but that's how it always came out. "What isss it you rrrequirrre of me?"

"You fancy a trip downtown?" he asked in a joking way even though he was being completely serious.

Her head slowly bowed before rising again – Young made the assumption that was a nod.

"What isss it you need me to do downtown?"

"Just security for a technician who will be checking out the old voting booths we had installed during the last election. Would you be interested?"

"Of courrrssse, Sssir. When will thisss be happening?"

Koris ran his fingers through his hair. "Um... Maybe today or tomorrow. Probably within the week."

"That quickly?"

"Yeah, we really are on a tight schedule."

"I am happy to help. Continue to messssssage me with detailsss."

"Will do. I just have to wait for Adina to get back to me and then I'll tell you the game plan."

I probably could have told Ghoad all of this through messaging, he thought, but as a svellik, she prefers face-to-face interaction. Also Ghoad is not very good at reading in English or Mandarin.

Now, it was time for Young to stop running around and finally go into his office whether he liked it or not. He hated being confined to a desk and much preferred to be constantly in action.

Walking through the giant hallways, he could sense the strange tension in the air. Since the attack everyone in the Parliament House was on edge. The number of security guards had nearly tripled and most people were more reluctant to leave the safety of their offices. Koris actually saw this as a positive thing because now the lunch lines were far shorter.

It'll all be back to normal soon, he told himself. Once the incident is far enough in the past everybody will start to relax again.

"Good morning," Adina said cheerfully in Mandarin as he walked through her office to reach his own.

"Hi," he replied. "Any updates about the technician?"

"His name is Todd Arden and he's happy to do the check-up whenever. He does request that if he's going to be going downtown that he travels in an up-to-standard security shuttle for safety reasons."

Koris nodded. "Of course. You tell him that he would have a security guard with him?"

Adina bit her lip: "Yes," she began slowly, "but I did not tell him it would be a svellik because I was afraid he would back out."

Lord Young was silent for a moment before he spontaneously smirked.

"Well... he's going to be in for a surprise isn't he?"

Adina giggled while running her fingers through her strawberry coloured hair awkwardly. She had thought that he was going to be annoyed with her or call her out for discrimination.

"Relay that message to Ghoad, will you?"

"You got it."

Once that was sorted, Koris finally slid the door open to his office. Unlike everywhere else he had been that day, the air in his office was cold and stale. To an outsider it would appear nobody had entered the office in years.

I live on the hottest planet humans have ever settled, yet my office would suggest I live in the arctic, Lord Young thought. He presumed the reason his office was so cold was because of the fact that the air conditioning was switched on automatically every morning and he was never in his office to turn it off himself.

That morning he only did a quarter of the work he usually got done. He was too busy anxiously waiting to hear an update on the voting booth situation from Adina, Ghoad or 'Todd'. Pulling a little metal sphere back, he then proceeded to watch the spheres in his Newton's cradle go back and forth. There was so much to do, so Koris decided to do nothing.

Finally, after two agonising hours, Adina opened the door to his office.

"Wow, she laughed. "You've been productive."

Young ignored her statement: "Any updates?"

"Ghoad's going to pick up Todd Arden now," she informed him in Mandarin. Koris could hear a small amount of anxiety in her tone.

"You think the man is going to freak out when he sees Ghoad, don't you?" he asked her.

"I'm mentally preparing myself for that to happen."

"So am I," he sighed.

"Maybe," she began cautiously, "we wouldn't be having this problem if you had just sent any another qualified guard."

Koris scowled. "Ghoad shouldn't be given any less work just because she's a svellik."

Adina shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just remember that not everyone shares your opinion."

Like you, Young thought.

In the early afternoon Lord Young had to attend a House of Oxen meeting. Unlike in his office, Koris had to be far more active seeing as he was the centre of attention. He was quite relieved when the meeting ended after a few hours, but his tranquil day quickly turned sour when a pale-faced Adina Bär was waiting for him outside the meeting room along with Nikhita Kothari.

Something's wrong, he realised instantly. Something's terribly, terribly wrong.

"What happened?" he asked in Mandarin.

"Todd Arden was killed," Adina told him.

Koris gasped. "Where's Ghoad?"

"Parliament House security medical bay," Nikhita stated. "She appears to only have a broken wing."

The trio began walking before Koris pointed at Adina. "You," he said seriously in Mandarin, "go find out how much the media knows. I don't want this story getting out until we know all the details."

Lord Jordanis will be able to tear me to shreds when he learns of this incident.

"Got it," Adina accidentally replied in English before striding away towards her office.

He then looked back to Nikhita: "Do you know what happened?"

"The details are still hazy. Ghoad's not much of a talker when she's overwhelmed."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"About half an hour ago, but we chose not to disturb you whilst you were in the middle of the meeting."

I wonder if the technician was able to check out all the voting booths before he died, Koris pondered before he realised how heartless he was being.

Besides her broken wing, Ghoad looked virtually unharmed. Lord Young knew her thick exoskeleton would protect her from any attacks the downtowners could deliver, yet he doubted any downtowners would get one blow in because she would break them instantly.

"Greetingsss, Sssirrr," Ghoad hissed in English. Her voice never changed tone so it was hard to tell exactly how she was feeling.

"Hi, Ghoad," Koris also said in English – he knew better than to change languages in the midst of a conversation when it came to Ghoad.

"Ssso sssorrrrrry I let Todd die."

"Don't blame yourself," Nikhita said sympathetically.

"Yeah," Koris agreed. "I'm sure you did your best to save Mister Arden. Could you possibly explain to me what happened, though?"

"I made a bad decisssion," she hissed, bowing her head in shame. "I had hearrrd a ssstrrrange noissse coming frrrom outssside the old voting booth rrroom and I went to invessstigate in cassse it wasss a thrrreat..."

Her speech impediment becomes hard to comprehend after a while, Koris thought with a slight twitch of his mouth. He knew the svellik had a hard time getting around the letters 'r' and 's' as there were no letters of any match in the svellik language, but he still found her speech pattern annoying. This raised the question: why had the humans translated her species name to 'svellik' when their name was more along the lines of 'ngvellik'? Even the name of the great star, Jhard, had not been translated properly, and that was one of the most important icons in svellik religion. That was also why the svellik hated people who 'corrected' others who referred to the svellik as bugs even though they were calling them an equally offensive term.

"... but when I rrreturrrned it appearrred that a downtownerrr had sssnuck in thrrrough the window and had usssed a sssharrrp piece of metal to ssslit Todd Arden'sss thrrroat. When I came acrrrossssss thisss ssscene, the downtownerrr was in the middle of carrrving sssomething into Todd'sss chessst. I shot the downtownerrr, of courrrssse."

"And how did your wing get broken?" he asked out of curiosity. He felt there was something not quite right about Ghoad's story.

The svellik was silent for a moment before she continued her story. "I wasss right about the ssstrrrange noissse. Another downtownerrr came in from the dirrrection of the noissse when I was focussssssed on Todd and the downtownerrr. The downtownerrr jumped on my back, bending my wing, and trrried to hit me with a piece of brrroken pipe. I thrrrew him off and into the wall and I think I brrroke his skull by doing that."

Koris put his hand to his mouth for a moment. He then proceeded to remove it and pointed his index finger upward as if he was asking a question in class.

"How many of the voting booths did he manage to check?"

"Three out of twenty," Nikhita informed him, "we have custody of his tablet at the moment and I messaged that information to Adina for you."

"Thank you," he said sincerely. It was a heartless question, but he needed to know the answer.

"He sssaid they werrre in betterrr ssshape than he expected," Ghoad stated. "The firrrst two could ssstill function if they had powerrr."

Excellent.

"And what was the downtowner carving into his chest?"

Nikhita pulled out her phone, swiped her fingers across the screen across it for a few moments. She then brought up the picture the morgue had sent her of the cadaver and bloated the chest so Koris could see the cuts.

"It's hard to tell what downtowners were writing. They practically have their own language," she explained, "but my bet is that they were trying to write us something."

A strange thought popped into Koris' brain: "You think this could have any connection to the attack on the Parliament House?"

Nikhita cocked an eyebrow speculatively.

"Think about it. Most detectives suggest that the missile was launched from near where Ghoad and Todd were inspecting the voting booths. Maybe the same person trying to make a political statement."

"Or people," she said dreamily, her mind in other places. "I'll start investigation immediately before any possible evidence vanishes."

"It ssseemsss unlikely," Ghoad said. "Could jussst be a coincidence."

"Well, we have to start somewhere," Koris told her. He then looked back to Nikhita: "I know it's dangerous, but send a well-armed investigation team down. Check out the area within a mile radius. Maybe ask a few not-so-nutty locals if they know anything... and keep this investigation out of the media."

"Got it." And she was off.

He turned back to Ghoad. "I hope your wing gets better soon. Keep me updated on your condition."

"Of courrrssse."

Now I don't have to hear the sound of her annoying voice anymore, he thought cynically as he departed.

Walking back towards his office, his heart sank when he saw Lord Jordanis watching him from a lunch table where he was having a drink with another Dragon. He slowly applauded Koris as he passed by. Lysander still had his glasses set to a very dark tint which made his smile all the more mysterious.

Damage has been done, Koris thought. Lysander knew about Todd Arden, that was for sure. And if Lysander knows then there's a good chance it has made the news already. Sometimes I wish we lived back in the 20th century instead of the 50th because back then people had to wait a whole day before they got their newspapers. Now you only have to wait one second to get the latest news.

He ignored Lysander and picked up his pace.

It's not that big of a deal, is it? Yes, a man is dead, but it's not entirely my fault. It's that downtowner's fault and Ghoad dealt with that man. Maybe I should have sent two security guards instead of one, but how could I have known?

He was not in the mood for feeling guilty. There were so many other things on his conscience that the death of one man he'd never met was not important to him. It was the effect of Todd's death he had to worry about. The House of Oxen certainly would be getting bad publicity and the heads were not going to be happy.

Maybe I should address his death publically and give my condolences to his family and friends just so I don't look as bad – douse the fire before it gets too big. Also, it will not give Lysander the chance to nag me during the debate.

When his phone started buzzing to inform him he had a new message, he knew the heads had heard about Todd Arden. After taking a breath to calm his nerves, he pulled out his phone and sent a group text to inform them that he intended to address the matter in a press conference.

Now they won't want me to do a campaign downtown, he thought with a grimace. They will not want to risk anyone else dying... or getting any more bad publicity. Yes, they don't think I have a shot at winning this election, but they don't want bad publicity to be what we are remembered for the next election.

Lord Young wondered what Andromeda and Melody thought of him as he stood at the podium in front of the cameras and press. They were probably both shaking their heads in shame. He did not bother to wonder what Flick was thinking seeing as that boy didn't watch television.

"... and once again, the House of Oxen offers our condolences to Todd Arden's family and appreciates his work effort," he said in a sincere tone as he addressed the press in Mandarin.

I'm not sure if one public apology is enough to put out the fire, he thought as he stepped back from the podium, but hopefully it's enough to snuff Lysander's criticising during the debate. Sadly, the man is a Dragon so he will always start a new fire.

Returning home that evening, he was surprised that Melody and Andromeda did not give him more pitiful looks than they did. Andromeda just glanced at him placidly as she checked her messages on her electronic glasses while Melody did not even look up at all from her tablet – probably because she had her headphones in and did not realise he was home. Kiddo was the only one who really acknowledged that he was home by jumping up on him. Where was Flick? Most likely in his room.

"Hāi," he said to his wife as he walked by her.

"Hāi," she replied. "By the way; are wǒmen still going the day after tomorrow?"

He stopped. "Going to what?"

"The opening of Olympus United."

"Oh. Wǒ bù zhīdào. Can wǒ decide tomorrow?"

"No. Now."

"Fine. Let's go. Wǒ need a day off work anyways."

"Yes," she agreed. "Yes you do."

After putting the Oxen robe on a coat hanger in his closet, he went into the bathroom. He browsed the cabinet in search of painkillers because on the shuttle ride home a headache had developed. Unfortunately, he and Andromeda were out of them so he went to the bathroom attached to the lounge and dining area.

Koris took two before closing the cabinet door. Looking into the cabinet's mirror, he noticed something strange. There was a large drop of blood on the edge of the bathtub. He got on one knee to take a better look. The blood had mixed with some water. He was not sure what that meant. Nobody in the 50th century used razors to shave because there were permanent solutions so the blood could not have come from someone cutting their leg while shaving. Neither Andromeda nor Melody menstruated seeing as Andromeda, in her old age, had an artificial uterus incapable of menstruation and Melody had taken an injection so that she would not have her period or get pregnant until she was twenty so it couldn't have come from them.

Somebody probably just had a bloody nose, he told himself. We do live in a very hot and dry climate so it makes sense... Let us hope that it is that simple.

And without hesitation he cleaned it up.
5

"Wǒ got a bad feeling about this," Lord Koris Young stated as they got in the shuttle.

Not just because Lord Jordanis will be at the opening, but because Flick is coming too. He glanced at Flick in the rear-view mirror. I do not want a re-enactment of what happened at Lysander's party.

"Don't," Andromeda said while driving the shuttle. "It's just a tour of the factory."

"But what kind of sick factory is it?"

"Wǒ bù zhīdào, yet I doubt it's as big of a deal as the Olympus United people are making it out to be."

"Probably going to be as exciting as touring a synthetic dairy product factory," Melody muttered. Koris had not realised she was listening into their conversation seeing as he headphones were in.

Lady Sun glanced back and scowled at her daughter. She was on the synthetic agricultural board and therefore found the factories very interesting.

"Nǐ don't seem very excited to be coming," Young stated.

"Meh," was all she said before she dropped out of reality again and stared out the tinted window.

She's just coming because Flick said he wanted to come. She cannot stand the thought of Flick, Andromeda and I doing something without her, Koris thought.

The Olympus United factory stood on a platform held up by enormous hollow metal structure that went all the way to downtown. The metal was svellik material, just like all other building material on Manticore, so Koris doubted the downtowners would ever have the power to destroy the structure and topple the factory.

Looks like the entire factory exterior was just cleaned, he noted. It was rare for buildings on Manticore to be so lustrous because the heat rays from the Jhard and the frequent sandstorms the swept through the city very quickly battered the buildings. Even Lord Jordanis couldn't constantly keep his estate spotless.

The interior was even more sterile. It almost hurt Koris' eyes which is why he put on his glasses and tinted them slightly. Nobody else seemed to have a problem with the florescent lighting or sterile garage they had parked in so Young presumed his eyes were extra sensitive for some reason.

Lord Lysander Jordanis and his son, Princeton Bengal, were on the opposite side of the garage. Koris did not want be noticed by them, but Melody had other ideas.

"Prince!" she called out.

The fair-haired boy turned slowly and acknowledged Melody with a slow wave. At first Koris thought Princeton was acting hesitant, but then he realised the boy was moving so slowly because he was jaded. Sleep deprived? No. He was addicted to the lighter version of what his father smoked. Prince smoked cigarettes that were yellow.

How could Lysander let his son do drugs? Koris thought while watching Prince snuff the cigarette and throw the remains in the trash. He knew better than to smoke on the tour.

"So that's the real reason tā came," Andromeda muttered to Koris as their daughter ran off to be with her boyfriend.

I wonder if Princeton has offered Melody any of those cigarettes, he thought with a worried expression. He had seen how quickly people became addicted to those little demons. Killer or not, they were still toxic.

Lady Sun squeezed his shoulder to inform him that he should relax. It was Mel's life and her choices to make, not his.

The trail of light-up arrows was a very clear sign of where the crowd was supposed to go. Everyone was a little uneasy as they followed the arrows out of the garage down a sterile corridor. Where were all the workers? Where was their tour guide?

"If you wanted to get a bunch of influ..." not being able to remember the rest of the word, Flick went with a synonym for it; "... important people together to kill them. This would be the perfect way."

"Hush!" Koris and Andromeda hissed simultaneously, making the young boy cower. Although the idea sounded preposterous, both of them had been thinking the same thing.

The crowd of just less than three dozen filed into a large circular room where the arrows stopped. No windows, no signs, nothing. In the dead silence the sound of the electricity running through the bright fluorescent lights could be heard.

"I give it a minute and then we bail," Lysander informed Princeton, but everyone agreed with him. "I've got better things to do with my day than wait around here."

A blurred figure could be seen through the translucent doors in front of the group. It was impossible to tell if it was a man or woman. Lord Young still had trouble figuring out the gender even when the doors had slid open. The person's body was slender, yet toned and their youthful facial features were a mixture of handsome and beautiful. Their silky golden hair was combed back with not one strand out of place.

They certainly aren't from Manticore, Koris thought while admiring the person's slight tan. They weren't dark, just darker than a person from Manticore. They may not even be human.

Their eyes. In a literal sense they appeared electric. So artificially blue the person had to either be an android or have had their eyes surgically changed to look that way.

"Greetings," they said surprisingly in English. Their enigmatic soft voice was either that of a woman with a low voice or a man with a high voice. "My name is Zeus. I will be your guide through our factory."

Somebody laughed. Koris assumed it was Lysander.

Zeus; that's a boy's name. He's a boy, Koris noted along with the rest of the crowd.

"The tour I am about to take you will present you with the revolution in the service industry. Jude Dimiourgo, the founder and CEO of Olympus United has studied Manticore and its culture. He understands how inefficient and costly most of your current servants are and would like to help." The screen above the door behind Zeus lit up with a video of boys who looked like Zeus doing daily servant activities and the lower ranking jobs in society. "That is why he created the Olympians: the most efficient servants."

I don't like this, Koris thought with a scowl while everyone else was in awe.

"Please," he made the 'follow' gesture, "come with me."

Once through the translucent doors the factory felt much more welcoming. They were walking across a covered bridge. Through the glass they could see the factory below. All the blue chambers below held boys that looked like Zeus. Although most of the jobs were done by machines, some fully-grown Olympians were checking up on the developing ones and doing other maintenance. While all the Olympians wore grey uniforms, Zeus' was completely black with a silver outline suggesting he was the leader of the Olympians as his name implied.

"That is where the Olympians are officially created," Zeus explained. "We take approximately three months to grow. All Olympians then go through a compulsory month of training. Depending on how experienced the buyer wants an Olympian to be they can go through more months of training so they are more efficient. However it will cost more."

Lysander leaned towards his son who was walking with Melody. "They look like ideal candidates for a new generation of Hitler Youth," he joked. Princeton did not understand, but Koris did.

"Even if you choose not to have your Olympians go through extra training, we continue to learn and adapt to suit what you require of us. Unlike with your current servants; there will be no sneaking around, stealing, or rebelling. We will take your orders without question. And the best part is that you don't have to pay us weekly. No, we are a one-off payment to Olympus United and the only thing you'll have to pay for after that is our special dietary food which is quite cheap and the shipping is free. We can eat general food as well, but our dietary food is highly recommended as it is adapted to our immune system."

This is not good. Koris looked at Andromeda, expecting her to be as appalled as he was. Sadly, she looked quite excited about the Olympians.

The group followed Zeus into a circular room similar to the one they had previously been in. Everyone was abuzz even though none of them were asking Zeus any questions. That was the job of the reporters who would be taking the tour later on that day.

"Sadly," he began slowly to regain everyone's attention, "Jude Dimiourgo is not able to be with us in person today. He lives on the planet of Eden and it would take him ten years to get to Manticore. Rest assured, he is here in spirit."

A few in the crowd gasped. Everyone had heard about Eden: the paradise planet. It was the most successful planet ever settled by humans. The landscape was unmatched. Eden was made up of thick, beautiful rainforests and then the emerald ocean took up the other half of the small planet. So very few humans had settled there and, in agreement with the locals, all immigration to Eden had been banned. Each human couple on Eden was only allowed to have one child in order to have population control.

"And I am being truthful when I say that Master Dimiourgo is here with us in spirit," Zeus explained with a smile that looked more robotic than sincere.

The lights in the room went out and there was darkness for a moment before a new set of lights turned on. These laser-like lights revealed the grid on the walls and floor that began to texturize. The silver room was soon a lush paradise. Sun seeped through the trees, strange animals could be heard singing and right in the middle of the forest was a house. Not a big house, but certainly a nice one.

Flick grabbed Koris' arm. While Koris had been in a holodeck before, this was a completely new experience for Flick. The fact that he could no longer tell what was real and what was digital scared him.

"It's all good, Flicka-roo," Lord Young reassured him even though he was feeling a little anxious himself.

Flick didn't meet Koris' gaze. He was too busy scoping the foreign terrain. Most uptowners had trouble comprehending the fact that humans on other planets lived so differently so a downtowner like Flick, who struggled the most with the concept, felt like his brain was going to melt.

The door to the wooden home opened. Lysander looked amused by the way it swung into the house instead of sliding into the wall automatically like most doors on Manticore did. The house looked like it was something out of the 20th century, not the 50th.

A man stepped through the door dressed in clothing that would be considered casual on Manticore. Yes, he was in a suit, but where was his robe? The man, of whom most in the crowd assumed was Jude Dimiourgo, bared a striking resemblance to the Olympians. Due to the fact he did not use anti-aging treatments as heavily as Manticorians, he looked in his forties giving off the effect he was rather the father of the Olympians and not one of them.

There was a projector above the door which allowed Jude to see all the Manticorians standing on his patio. Even though he had apparently done plenty of research on Manticorians, he still looked quite surprised when he saw how pale they were.

"Greetings," he said in English.

Those in the crowd who had a poor understanding of the culture of humans on other planets were appalled that Jude was not speaking in Mandarin. However, those who were like Lysander knew that the people of Eden didn't speak any Mandarin on their planet. Unlike Manticore, Eden had been settled by people from non-communist countries so they were not influenced by Chinese culture. They were more or less influenced by France, England, Ireland, Italy, Greece and Japan because those were the countries that had endorsed that ark and gotten the first tickets into the hands of their own civilians.

"I apologise for not being able to join you in person on Manticore. It is a planet I have always had interest in visiting even though it is unlikely I will ever get the chance to. Hopefully our interactions on the holodeck suffice."

Liar, Koris thought. Bored in paradise, Jude? No man in their right mind would ever want to visit Manticore unless they were an idiotic daredevil and you certainly don't look like one of those. You intend to make profit off our dysfunctional uptown and downtown division situation by selling us slaves who will work for less than the downtowners do – so not one yuan. And sadly you are going to get away with this because you have a pretty face and so do your 'Olympians'.

"And I am sure most of you would like to visit Eden," he said with a slightly haughty smile as he knew there was no question there. "I am sorry that we have such strict rules about foreigners, but feel free to take a piece of Eden home with you," he said as he gestured to Zeus.

More holograms appeared that were not related to the planet of Eden. Instead, they looked like virtual slideshows all around the holodeck for the Manticorians to browse through.

"Please," Jude began once all the square holograms had come up, "feel free to ask me any questions within the next few minutes and take a look at the detailed presentations about Olympians if you're still not convinced that they are superior to downtowners as servants."

Nobody moved even though Jude didn't intend to say anything more to them as a group. They were all too intrigued by the door behind him that was creaking open.

A magenta coloured head popped through the crack in the door which surprised everyone in the crowd. Flick's body stiffened as he squeezed Koris' arm tighter, nearly cutting off circulation. The boy still had trouble adjusting to the sight of Nikhita and Ghoad, let alone a brand new alien being he had never seen before. Even Koris was stunned by the creature as it crept through the door on all fours even though the design of its spine suggested it could just as easily walk on only its rear legs.

"Ah," Jude smirked when he glanced back to see why everyone in the crowd was staring beyond him. "That would be Ica: my adopted daughter after I became mates with her mother."

The alien girl's pointed ears perked up when she heard her name. Her bulbous onyx eyes were directed at Jude questioningly. Strangely, she did not seem to notice anybody in the crowd.

"She can't see you," he explained when ever saw the looks of confusion some members of the crowd wore. "Teisien eyes cannot register holograms or anything along those lines."

Ica was certainly confused by Jude speaking to what appeared to be thin air. She stroked her body against his slacks as she passed in attempt to get his attention.

"Anyways," he continued, "please feel free to look at the slideshows and talk with me before you continue with the tour."

As the guests in the factory slowly began to spread out, Jude made a clicking sound with his mouth in the direction of Ica which made her scurry back into the house.

"Interesting," Lysander said as he strode toward the holographic man, "I have studied Eden, and yet I still feel as if I know nothing about the teisi."

"Neither do I," Jude admitted. "The teisi are an enigmatic race of which I don't think humans will ever learn to truly comprehend. Just when I think I'm beginning to understand Ica, I realise I know less about her than I did before."

"There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face," Lysander said casually. "Most people have trouble understanding other humans, let alone aliens."

Dimiourgo cocked an eyebrow. "Shakespeare fan?"

Jordanis scoffed. "My name is Lysander: it comes with the territory."

"Ah, I know who you are. Political news travels far. I wish you luck during your campaign."

"Thank you," he said in a more flirtatious tone than he had intended. "Now, what's it like to knock a teisi?"

Jude looked more confused than surprised. "Beg your pardon? What does 'knock' mean in this context?"

"Well, I suppose the informal term would be 'fuck'," he whispered so that he would not attract the attention of anyone else in the room. Unfortunately, Koris was keeping an eye on him. "Well-respected people on Manticore prefer to use 'knock' instead of 'fuck' to describe the act of intercourse."

"Why not just say 'bang' or 'screw'?"

"Those words are also considered very informal as they sound too aggressive. Personally, I blame the conservative communist influence on this blasted planet."

Jude let out a surprising laugh.

"You Manticorians amuse me. Anyways: I have never 'knocked' Ica's mother."

"Eh? Then how can you be her mate?"

"I suppose in a way we had mental intercourse if that makes sense. We linked our minds."

"Kinky."

"Exactly. There is nothing sexual involving our relationship."

"Then..."

"I go to humans for that sort of satisfaction. She is allowed 'knock' other teisi if I do it with other humans. I suppose we have a polyamorous relationship."

The images of Mark, Cal, and the other servants he had recently knocked popped into Lysander's head before he quickly shook away those thoughts.

"I suppose I'm the same way."

"No, you're just a general aristocrat."

"Ouch," Lysander laughed before a sly smile spread across his face. "Tell me; do your Olympians... satisfy?"

Jude's tanned face paled. He had a look of mild horror which made Lysander instantly regret asking such a question.

"Of course not," he said, appalled. "They perform general duties. Nothing of that nature. If I were you: I'd go look at one of the slideshows and admire their asexual anatomy."

"If you insist," Lysander said, knowing the conservation was now over on that sour note.

"Nǐ hái hǎo ma?" Andromeda asked as she stepped in beside Koris. His wrinkled brow suggested he was in deep thought.

"This is insane," he said coldly as he waved his hand back and forth to run through the holographic slides. "How can this be tolerated? Wǒ thought the situation the downtowners are in was as bad as it could get. But oh no, people just had to prove wǒ wrong."

"Wǒ think nǐ are overreacting," she mumbled as she halted the slides with her own hand. "Just because the Olympians look human does not mean tāmen are human. They are more or less robots."

"Wǒ don't believe that. If they eat, breathe, and sleep they're living."

"Nǐ don't get this way about androids. Tāmen look human, but nobody treats tāmen like humans."

"And downtowners are also human, but nobody treats tāmen like that," he argued.

Andromeda rolled her eyes and turned around to leave his presence. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Flick standing with Lysander at one of the holograms across the room.

Uh oh, she thought. Koris is not going to be happy seeing those two together.

When he sensed his wife's hesitation, Lord Young glanced back as well. He feared his face would crack if he scowled any harder.

Although he did not look, Lysander could apparently sense the two sets of eyes on him which made him slowly put his hand on Flick's shoulder both affectionately and possessively. As Koris glared at him, a subtle smile twitched the corners of his mouth.

The young boy did not seem aware of the situation. He was too intrigued by what Lysander was showing him.

He looked at the older man with great curiosity. "So they don't have thingies either?"

"It appears they do not," Lysander said as they looked at the 3D model of an Olympian. Now Lysander understood what Jude was saying: the boys were missing testicles and their penises did not appear to have any sexual attributes. "They appear to also be missing their nipples and umbilici. I suppose that makes sense seeing they were never born and therefore no umbilical cord scar. Plus nipples are formed before a child goes through sexual differentiation in the womb."

Flick was not listening. He was astounded by the Olympians. Reaching up in an attempt to expand the image, his sleeve slid down his arm to reveal a scar that instantly caught Lysander's attention. He took the young man's hand in his own and pulled it back so he could get a better look. Flick didn't resist, but he did glance over at Andromeda and Koris to make sure they weren't watching him.

"Oh, Flick," Lysander said softly as he gently ran his thumb across the scar on the boy's wrist. "Mutilating your body is not the way to cope."

The boy pulled his hand back with force and pulled up the brown sleeve of his jacket to cover the wound.

"You won't tell Koris, will you?"

Lysander shook his head. "I will not, but do please be careful. That cut was not a simple scratch. Any deeper and you could hit an ulnar artery or vein."

"What are those thingies?"

Lysander held out his own wrist as demonstration. Like all Manticorians, his skin was so pale that it was borderline transparent.

"You see those blue and purple lines?" Flick nodded. "If you cut them the blood won't stop until you bleed out."

I'va survived worse, Flick thought.

Lysander glanced at Princeton who was admiring the sky on Eden with Melody.

"My son went through some sort of teenage angst-induced depression a few years back and tried slitting his wrists. Only mere scratches, of course. I think he did it just to get my attention. We had only lived together a year and he already felt as if I was ignoring him. Anyways: one night I caught him in the act which gave him a good scare and accidentally made him cut too deep." Lysander sighed more out of annoyance than sadness. "Then he had to spend the next two blasted days in hospital because the doctors wanted to make sure he wasn't still 'at risk' and that I was not abusing him in any way. He has not harmed himself since that frightening night. I think the yellow cigarettes have been good for him. He's much more relaxed now."

"Were you mad at him?" Flick asked. He was trying to figure out what the reaction would be like from Koris if he ever found out.

"More or less disappointed. I know that sounds cruel, but at least I'm honest."

The young man swallowed. He hated when people were disappointed in him. He could not bear to have Koris let down by him and therefore he would keep the secret to himself... and Lysander.

What are they talking about? Koris wondered as he briefly glanced at Flick and Lysander again. He was positive they were talking just to irritate him. Now that he was his direct rival, Lysander would stop at nothing to drive him mad.

He doesn't actually give a damn about Flick. He's just using him to get to me like the manipulative bastard he is.

"Please excuse me," Lord Jordanis said before sliding his hand off Flick's shoulder. "I have some questions I would like to ask Zeus."

Flick nodded understandingly and walked in the direction of Koris and Andromeda. However, he did stop for a moment to admire some holographic foliage near the edge of the patio. He took great pleasure in pawing at the non-existent greenery before he realised he was getting judgemental looks from some lords and ladies. He stopped quickly and scurried over to Koris of whom he used as a shield against the attention he had drawn.

"Tell me," Jordanis began, making Zeus turn around to face him, "I currently have thirty servants in my possession. How many Olympians would you recommend I buy if I wanted them to get same amount of work done as my current servants?"

Zeus was able to answer instantly: "Fifteen. You would only need fifteen to get the same workload done as your current servants. If you wanted them to get more work done I would recommend twenty."

"Intriguing," Lysander noted. He was not exactly sure if he wanted to replace all his downtowner servants, but if all other well-respected lords and ladies were than he didn't want to be late to the game.

"We currently do not permit being able to take Olympians home to test them out, however please feel free to talk with some of the sample Olympians when we go to the final room on the tour."

"Would that be in the gift shop?" Lysander joked.

Zeus shook his head. "No, just our general shop front."

"Indeed. And are you Mister Dimiourgo's personal Olympian?"

"No. Edenites are forbidden from possessing things the teisi consider sentient. I am merely his representative on Manticore."

That explains why Jude opened his factory up on another planet.

"And what parts of the brain were tampered with in order to make you and the other Olympians submissive?"

Zeus' smiled remained, although he looked confused.

"Our brains were not tampered with," he explained, "merely perfected to suit our masters."

How disturbing, Lord Jordanis thought.

Flick was solemn when the world of Eden vanished around him. He would have preferred to stay in the holodeck the whole time rather than continue on with the tour.

"How many planet thingies are out there that are like Eden?" he asked as they walked through another hallway.

"Probably billions," Koris admitted. "Humans just have not discovered most of them."

"Okay, so how many are out there like Eden that humans live on?"

"Um." Koris had to think for a moment. "Three? Three and a half?"

"Why didn't the people of Manticore settle on another planet like Eden instead of here?"

"Hush," he warned him. He did not want any of the politicians with them to be offended. "Because the settlers were desperate for any habitable planet to land on."

"But why didn't they just stay for a few weeks and then get back on the ship and go look for a better planet?"

"Because space travel isn't that simple. Also, the mining on Manticore made them rich... Most of them, at least. Manticore is richer than Eden money-wise in the United Systems of Terra."

"It sure doesn't feel that way," Flick mumbled.

As expected, the group was lead into the 'store front' where they were expected to buy things. Koris presumed that everyone in their group, being Manticore Metropolis' elite, would be smarter than to give into this ploy to give Olympus United their money. Sadly, he often had misconceptions about how Manticorians acted.

But what about your downtowner servants? Koris thought as he watched most of them go straight to the checkouts. I'm already against the way we treat downtowner servants, but are you really going to just toss them back downtown so that you can replace them with these new submissive slaves?

"Andromeda," he tried to say calmly, but it came out as a piercing whinge, "what are nǐ doing?"

She turned to him from the queue for one of the checkouts and cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?"

He took a step closer to her so that he would not have to speak so loudly: "Wǒmen are not going to have an Olympian in wǒmen de apartment."

"Why not? How can nǐ discuss this mistreatment of Olympians if nǐ don't know a thing about tāmen? Wǒ will buy one for nǐ to study," she explained even though he knew very well she wanted one out of her own interest.

Koris bit his lip out of frustration and shook his head.

"No," he growled.

"Tīng. Wǒ let nǐ bring Flick into wǒmen de apartment, now it's nín de turn to let wǒ bring someone home."

"That was different."

"Was it?"

"Wǒ presume wǒ don't have a choice in this."

"Nǐ would be right."

Koris snarled again and stomped his foot. He followed this with an attempt to calm his nerves by intertwining his fingers behind his head, making his elbows stick out like the tips of his horns.

"Calm down," Andromeda said in a surprisingly un-soothing tone. "Just think about who else the Olympian will be good for."

The first name that came to mind for Koris was Melody's. She would most likely want to get the poor boy to do her homework for her.

"Flick," Andromeda said when she realised Koris didn't know who she was talking about. "Flick will benefit from the Olympian. A friend who's always there for tā."

Koris did not seem bought by the idea.

"Wǒ think we should have a family decision," he said sternly.

"Wǒmen have two options: either the Olympian lives at wǒ de office forever or tā merges with our family. I'm happy either way."

"Well, at least somebody is," he snarled before striding away. He didn't look back, but he was positive Andromeda was smirking.

Melody scowled at her father when he gently pulled her away from Princeton and towards Flick. The Bengal boy, however, barely took any notice as his mind was on other things.

"Āi," he said when he had both of his children's attention. "So, Andromeda wants to buy an Olympian. Well, tā is going to buy an Olympian whether I like it or not, but wǒ was just wondering what you two thought."

Melody simply shrugged even though her eyes told a different story. She hated Flick being in her house, no doubt she would hate an Olympian.

"Okay," Koris noted her reaction. "What about you, Flick?"

The boy stared blankly at him.

"I dunno," he mimicked Melody's shrug.

"The thing is, we only have a three bedroom apartment... so the Olympian will most likely take pull-out bed in your room."

Flick sneered at that idea. His room was his secure haven where he could escape everyone. Where would he go if that was taken away from him?

"I don'ta mind," he muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Yeah." Koris read between the lines. "Wǒ will talk to An."

Melody scoffed. "When was the last time nǐ were able to talk her out of anything?"

Never.

Lord Young's eye twitched when he saw that Lysander was at the checkout right next to Andromeda and that the two were chatting.

"Good lord," the Jordanis man said while scrolling through the list of names on the screen, "Jude really has a thing for the ancient Greeks. All suggested names are along the lines of 'Apollo' and 'Midas'."

"There is an option at the bottom of the screen where you can give an Olympian a personalised name."

"Nah." He clicked the 'random select' option for all twenty names. "That requires too much effort."

When he saw Andromeda was still browsing through the names, his eyes landed on one that made a sly smile spread across his face.

"Please," he began in a low voice, "you will be the greatest person on Manticore if you choose that name."

He pointed to the one he was talking about. It took Andromeda a moment to realise the joke, but when she got it she couldn't help but smile.

"I doubt Lord Young would approve," she explained.

"I doubt he approves of you buying an Olympian in the first place."

"True." She glanced up in thought for a moment. "Alright, I'll do it. What have I got to lose?"

"Brilliant!" His expression was genuinely happy. "Then again, it leads me to ask why your parents named you 'Andromeda' in the first place. You would think that with your heritage, they would give you a name from either Japanese or Chinese mythology."

"Neither of my parents are truly connected to their Old Earth heritage. In fact, I'm pretty sure they prefer Greek myth."

"For good reason."

"Watch your tongue."

"Alright."

Once they had both completed the transaction, they were emailed their receipts that had their number on them. When the screen above the silver door on the opposite side of the room showed their number they would go in and either collect their Olympian (or Olympians), or simply meet them and have them shipped to their home later.

"How much did it cost?" Koris asked in a grouchy tone to demonstrate his already obvious disapproval.

"The Olympian's a business expense, don't worry."

"But how much did tā cost?" he insisted. "Wǒ want to know how much a life is worth."

"Don't be so dramatic," she scoffed. "Kiddo cost wǒmen three-hundred yuan and wǒ don't recall nǐ ever complaining about that thing's 'life of enslavement'."

Koris knew he would come up with logical objections later, but at that moment he could not think of a liable rebuttal that would not make him appear to be an asshole to animals and Olympians alike. His mouth remained shut.

"Uh huh." Andromeda nodded, taking pride in the fact that she had won – for now.

The look on Lord Jordanis' face as he stepped back through the silver door was different than one Koris had ever seen on him. Something had changed within him after he had seen his soon-to-be Olympian servants. Had the situation suddenly become all too real to him? Did he realise the consequences of his actions? Of course, his dark expression immediately changed back to prideful and sly upon seeing Lady Sun and Lord Young.

"They're quite exquisite," he informed them.

"Is that so?" Koris asked, still thinking about Lysander's earlier expression.

"I must say, they will be quite difficult to tell apart and their names are equally hard to remember unless you have studied Greek mythology – which I have. You two are lucky you only need one." We don't even need one, Koris thought bitterly. "Tell me, what name did you choose for him? I've already forgotten," he said in a devious way that made Koris very suspicious of the Jordanis man... and his own wife.

"An," he said while turning to face his wife, "what's the Olympian's name?"

"I should be going," Lysander informed the couple before striding away. The smile remained on his face.

"Say," Andromeda began, "how much do nǐ know about Greek mythology?"

"What did nǐ name tā?"

"It was Lysander's idea."

Fuck. That can only mean bad news.

Before Koris could insist on knowing the name again, Andromeda's number came up on the screen above the door.

"Sweet," she said with a smile, "let's go meet wǒmen de new Olympian."

Koris was less than enthused. In fact, he was verging on being enraged.

As he walked through the silver door with Andromeda, he glanced back to see where both his children were. Unsurprisingly, Melody was with Princeton and talking more at him than with him while Flick was near a wall of the store looking anxious – but that was a common expression he had and therefore Koris wasn't uneasy about it.

Young was a little surprised when a single red eye scanned them to confirm their identities as they entered the circular room. The owner of the eye was a Cyclops android that was rooted to the floor in the centre of the room. Like the rest of the factory, the android was a strange mixture between functional and artistic. It was obviously part of security and was there to sign out the Olympians, but the silver torso attached to the plinth resembled that of a woman which was an unnecessary feature unless the android was meant to be visually pleasing. Just above the left breast the name 'Hera' was printed to help continue the Greek theme. Though an interesting piece, the red eye being the only feature of the face disturbed Koris greatly.

"Greetings," it said in a feminine tone. The thing had no mouth, so Koris did not have a clue where the sound was coming from.

Modern art: I'll never understand it.

"Your Olympian is coming now," it informed them just as the doors behind it opened.

I cannot believe this is happening, he thought as a blond boy stepped toward them out of a door on the opposite side of the white room. He could only presume the door concealed rows of battery-hen-style cages that the Olympians were kept in.

The room they were in was moderately large and the drop of a pin could echo through it, yet the Olympian coming towards them could have just as easily been walking on pillows.

"Wǒ answered 'yes' for picking tā up today instead of paying for the Olympian to be shipped to wǒmen apartment, by the way," Andromeda muttered just as the boy reached them. He didn't need her to tell him that, it was quite obvious that the boy was ready to leave immediately seeing as he was clutching a silver suitcase with both hands

"Greetings," the boy began in a smooth tone, "my name is Perseus. I look forward to serving you." He looked at Andromeda. "You are Lady Andromeda Sun, correct?"

"Yes," she said with a smirk even though Koris did not understand the joke. "And this is Lord Koris Young."

"A pleasure to meet both of you." He took Andromeda's hand and shook it first, then Koris'.

"Nǐ don't get the joke, do nǐ?" Andromeda asked her perplexed husband.

"Honestly, wǒ don't. I had mentally prepared myself for you to call him something along the lines of 'Gaius' if Lysander suggested the name to you."

"First of all: what's wrong with Gaius?"

"Nothing... Just kind of a funny name to say."

"Well, so is Koris. In fact that's a girls' name."

"Not in Armenia."

Then it clicked and Koris' eyes narrowed.

"Perseus and Andromeda... Wǒ finally get it."

Fuck you, Lysander. Fuck you.

"Bravo," his wife said sarcastically before returning her attention to the Olympian. "Now, Percy, are you ready to go with us to our apartment?"

"Yes," he said simply with a little robotic smile.

We have only known him four seconds and already An's given him the nickname 'Percy'. It's as if she is on Lysander's side.

Once Andromeda had officially signed Perseus out with the android, the trio stepped back into the store where Flick and Melody were waiting for them. Melody appeared less than impressed while Flick's eyes were wide. Like Koris, he had a hard time comprehending the fact that they were taking home a thing that looked so human, but at the same time seemed inhuman.

"By the way," Koris began steadily, "wǒmen will be paying 'Percy' above minimum wage for his services around the apartment and as your assistant."

Now it was Andromeda who was giving Koris an odd look.

"Eh?"

"Nǐ wanted a servant and nǐ got one, but wǒ gets to decide the Olympian's wages."

"Tā doesn't need to be paid," she retorted. "We already paid Olympus United."

"But we haven't paid tā and seeing as he's doing all the work and not Olympus United. Wǒ think tā should be paid."

Melody rolled her eyes when she heard her parents bickering as they approached her. She presumed that any day they would separate. In a time when people could live for so long, it was incredibly rare to find a monogamous couple who had only ever been married to each other. Most stayed with each other for a few decades before separating merely out of boredom. Melody was mentally prepared for her parents to split: she did not see what they beneficially gained from each other's presence. Then again, she did not understand that friendship and love were two separate things in Koris and Andromeda's relationship. They may not have been in love in the same way, but they bickered like they did because they were friends.

"Kids," Lord Young began with a look of dissatisfaction, "meet Perseus. Perseus, this is Melody and Flick."

"Hello." The Olympian put his hand out as a formality and shook Melody's hand. Flick had a mind blank, not seeming to understand the gestured and instead just continued to stare at him.

"Was tā like this the first time tā met Nikhita?" Andromeda asked, amused by Flick's reaction.

"Dāngrán," he said, followed by a quick nod.

Speaking of Nikhita: I hope she's finding the link between the attack on the Parliament House and the murder of the technician. Something in my gut tells me the two incidences are related.

The Sun-Young family was the first to leave the factory after signing out their Olympian and buying his necessary food for him. Koris was in haste. It had been a stressful week and Perseus was only adding to the tension.

"Have any goodbyes you want to say before we go?" Lord Young asked even though they were already getting in their shuttle.

"No," Perseus replied placidly. "Where should I sit or will I be travelling in the storage area of the shuttle?"

Koris gave the boy a blank stare. There was something very off about the Olympian.

"Err... You can sit next to Flick."

Because Mel sure as hell won't want to sit next to you.

Perseus complied and sat with excellent posture and his suitcase on his lap while staring forward into the oblivion. Flick shuffled slightly away from the strange creature as if he feared it would snap at him at any moment.

The ride was silent as Koris contemplated the next steps in his life. He wasn't going to think about the Olympian too much. He would concern himself with Perseus once the campaign was over.

Andromeda can sort out Perseus' life. After all, she bought him and therefore he's her responsibility. He bit his lip. Who am I kidding? I'm the politician who shot himself in the foot to save a downtowner. Of course I'm going to get involved in Perseus' life.

"Why is your skin dark?" Flick asked quietly, but with the dead silence in the car, everyone heard him.

Koris glanced back at the boy with a scowl.

"I was designed to be visually pleasing," Perseus said in a scripted manner. "Statistics show that eight-five percent of Manticorians prefer skin on the more tanned part of the spectrum. Do you find me visually pleasing?"

Flick shrugged and awkwardly turned his head to look out the tinted window. Melody smirked and muttered something under her breath which Koris didn't question her about – he probably didn't want to know the answer.

Perseus continued to stare at Flick, still waiting for an answer so Koris answered for the boy: "You're visually pleasing, Percy." His voice then went quieter. "Don't worry."

He made eye contact with Andromeda for a brief moment. Although it was unintentional, he did glare at her. She cocked an eyebrow in amusement and smirked softly to herself. Young could not figure out why she was not taking any of this seriously. Then again, by her age, she had most likely stopped taking anything seriously which was what happened to most people as they grew older and reached triple digits.

Kiddo bounded into the garage as soon as the door opened. Instead of going through the regular motions of jumping on everyone excitedly as if they had been separated for years, the dog ran straight to Perseus and began sniffing him. The Olympian remained still until Koris pushed Kiddo away when he started sniffing around the boy's crotch.

"This is the other member of our family, Kiddo," Andromeda explained as her husband dealt with the dog who was now jumping up on him even though he was in his nice robe.

The Olympian smiled at Andromeda. He was unsure if he was supposed to introduce himself to the dog or not.

"Now, I have to get to work," Young told Perseus as he led him into the house. "However, I'm sure Lady Andromeda will give you a quick rundown of the apartment so you know everything you need to know about it. Also, she can sort out your bed."

"Actually," she said while raising her finger objectively, "I have to get to work too."

Damn it, An.

"How long till nǐ need to be at work?" he asked, an obvious strain in his voice.

"Hour or so."

"Then nǐ have plenty of time to show tā around wǒmen de jiā."

Koris glanced at the boy, wondering if the Olympians had been taught Mandarin. Andromeda and he had been intentionally speaking English around Perseus because they weren't sure, but they always had trouble staying in one language. The boy did not seem to take any notice. Either he knew exactly what they were saying or felt it was not in his place to ask them what they were saying.

His phone started to buzz – a perfect way to break the tense atmosphere.

"I'll be right back," he muttered before stepping back into the garage and closing the door.

"Why's bà annoyed?" Melody asked as she flopped onto the sofa and picked up her tablet.

"Because your bàba is silly," Andromeda replied with a forced smile. "Now; follow me, Percy. I'll show you where to put your suitcase."

As everyone else got on with their days, Flick just stood up against a wall and watched Andromeda slide open the door to his room and invite the Olympian inside.

What about my privacy?

"Hāi," Young said when he put the phone to his ear after seeing it was Nikhita who was calling.

"Hey," she replied casually, but her tone suggested this was going to be a serious call.

"Everything okay?"

"Not sure. We may have a lead."

"Really?" He could not help but be happy even though it was a dark topic. Imagine the good publicity if the House of Oxen Security was the group to find the killer of the politicians.

"We checked out the predicted vicinity that the missile was launched from. It was hard to estimate seeing as whoever was controlling the missile tried to make it fly around in an unpredictable manner to cover its tracks. But security footage from the Parliament House gave us a fair estimation of where it came from."

"Excellent. What did you find in the area?"

"A nutcase downtowner."

"That's always nice."

"I know. He called himself Lord George and claimed that he had seen the terrorists fire the missile. According to him: there's a huge terrorist organisation downtown we never even knew about and that was only their first attack of many."

"Does this group have a name?"

"Just the Rebellion; nothing special. However, are we really going to trust a downtowner who calls himself Lord George?"

"It's not that crazy. I call myself Lord Young. Besides, we don't have many other choices."

Something clicked in his mind.

"Wait, is it possible that when Todd Arden was killed, the murderer was trying to carve something along the lines of 'rebel' or 'we are the Rebellion' into his chest?"

"Maybe, but we have a better chance of reading gibberish than we do of reading a downtowner's handwriting, so we'll never know."

"You're probably right. Still, get forensics to take another look at the carvings on his chest. And did 'Lord George' show you where the missile was fired from?"

"Kind of. There was no evidence to prove it was fired from where he said it was fired from."

"Okay. You're doing great, Niki. If I might suggest: try interviewing a few other downtowners in the area not just about the missile, but about this Rebellion group. If the downtowners are rebelling, I want to know."

"He was probably lying, you know. There probably isn't a Rebellion and it's all in his head."

"Maybe, but it would explain a lot. Whoever fired the missile had to know that the politicians would be on the roof that night and they had to get the missile from somewhere, too. I would say that if there is this so-called Rebellion group, uptowners may be in on it by supplying the downtowners with weapons and knowledge."

Nikhita was silent for a moment. He heard her swallow.

"It's possible," she said hesitantly. "But don't think too much about it. We have no proof of this and we only know all this stuff because of a nutcase downtowner."

"Which is why you must ask more crazy downtowners if this is true. And do a thorough search of the possible vicinity for any evidence you can find."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye."

Lord Young sat on the bench in the garage after the call ended contemplating the events. He wanted to help Nikhita in this investigation and dedicate all his time to it, but he had to get ready for the first debate.

The debate. His stomach churned at the thought. Lord Jordanis would no doubt try to tear him to pieces which was why he had to be prepared and not get flustered. Hopefully Lady Sonata would be kind to him... and hopefully some of Lysander's wrath would be on her shoulders as well and not just his.

Olympus United will no doubt be brought up in the debate. That has to be my strong point. I can tie in how the Olympians are treated like slaves to how the downtowner servants are also treated like slaves. I will just have to prove I am not a hypocrite by stating that Perseus is Andromeda's Olympian, not mine.

New Olympian, debate in a few days, election on the horizon, possible terrorist organisation out to kill politicians. He rubbed his sore eyes with his palms. Fuck. I can't do this.

Flick's face felt warmer than usual as Perseus joined him in their bedroom. He had trouble being around humans, let alone inhuman creatures that looked human.

"That'sa your bed." He pointed to the untouched one before sitting down on his own one to make his territory clear. The bed was the one that had been previously folded into the wall to give Flick more space. Now that it was out the room suddenly seemed far more cramped – he wondered how long he had to live like this.

"Yes, Master Flick."

The boy was a little taken back. He didn't think he was the kind of person to have a title – especially the title of master. Andromeda and Koris had lady and lord titles, Melody probably would in the future if she got a high ranking job or became a valued citizen of Manticore Metropolis, but he doubted he ever would.

"Ya know, you can just call me Flick."

"Shall I always refer to you as Flick even if in formal company?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

Flick was not sure how he was going to get changed into his nightwear while Perseus was staring at him. The Olympian was sitting stiffly on the bed with his electric blue eyes monitoring Flick's every movement.

"Can ya close your eyes?"

"Yes."

He was not sure why he was so uncomfortable being watched. He was supposed to see Perseus as a household appliance, not a living thing. Did he mind getting changed in front of a tablet? No. So why was Perseus different?

"Do you bleed?"

Perseus' eyes remained shut as he answered the question: "As in blood?"

"Yeah."

"I do, but my blood is different from human blood..."

He went on to explain the contrasting properties in his blood compared to a human's blood, but Flick did not apprehend a word of it. Just like he did in remedial school: he nodded along and pretended to understand.

"What about thinking? Do you think or do you just... do?"

Perseus was silent as he thought it over.

"I am partly programmed, but I can also think. That is why I am efficient: I can cope in situations I am not familiar with."

"Like a human."

"Yes."

"But you're not human?"

"No."

"Okay, you can open your eyes now and get changed into your nightwear stuff."

The boy flopped onto his bed as the Olympian stood up and started to undress. Flick did his best to ignore Perseus, and yet curiosity got the better of him. He had no sexual thoughts, just interest.

The Olympian looked like the hologram he and Lysander had looked at. He was slender, toned, and missing a navel and scrotum.

How can something so human still not be human?

Coming to the conclusion that he shouldn't look at the other boy anymore, he picked up his tablet and turned on the ceiling 'window'. There was a telescope installed on the roof of their building that allowed him to look at the stars as if they were truly right in front of his eyes. Koris had bought it for him a few years back after getting tired of having to take Flick out every night to stargaze. He loved the night sky. To him, the stars were magical instead of giant balls of gas light-years away.

"Should I lie down?"

Flick looked back to Perseus who was now wearing silver silk pyjamas.

"Go ahead," he said casually. He presumed that lying down was a given.

"Thank you."

"Wanna see something?"

"Okay."

Flick used his tablet to change the position of the telescope on the roof. He stopped it when it was facing the larger of two moons and began to zoom in.

"Bagg."

"Hmm?" Flicked looked at Perseus curiously.

"Bagg: that is the moon we are looking at. Baggï is the smaller moon."

"Uh huh." Flick did not care. "Ah, here it is."

The telescope pinpointed a black oval blob hidden in one of Bagg's larger, darker craters.

"Do you know what that is?" Flick asked.

"No."

"It's the ark. The old people came from Earth to Manticore on that thingy."

"The Sphinx. Correct?"

"I dunno. I just know they are currently repairing it. That's why there are all those little black thingies around it: little homes for the people working on it."

"Are they recommissioning it for carrying passengers or cargo?"

"I don't know what recommissioning is, but I probably don't know the answer anyways."

He was silent for a moment as he stared at the ark.

"It'sa very big," he said for no particular reason.

"It originally carried over seven hundred thousand passengers and fifteen thousand crewmembers."

"Think it coulda carry everyone away from Manticore now?"

"Capacity-wise, it could carry all the current uptowner citizens. However, food rations, and living conditions considered: it would not be comfortable and I estimate the ship would only have room for food to last up to five years even if the on-ship garden was restarted."

"What about water?"

"Water can be recycled, that would not be a problem."

"But it is possible?"

"Yes."

"I think they should do it. We should all leave Manticore. Everyone would be happier if we did."

Perseus did not reply. He had no opinion on the matter.

Flick zoomed out the telescope lens again to reveal the full night sky.

"How long will ya sleep for?"

"Between two and three hours."

"Okay. Well, if ya wake up while everyone else is still asleep feel free to look at the sky." He passed the Olympian the tablet with the telescope controls on it. "A game I like to play when I cannot sleep is to search for, um, I forget what they're called. They are huge triangle-shaped things that are silvery and greenish. They don't have wings so I don't understand how they fly. They look like they are swimming in the sky – that's how they move."

"Perhaps you are thinking of a skyray?"

"Yeah. That's what they're called. They don't fly through the city a lot. I think they're scared of shuttles, but I gotta see one a few years ago. If you see one; wake me up and tell me."

"Okay."

There was a long silence as both boys stared at the sky.

"Goodnight," Flick said before rolling onto his side with his back to Perseus.

"Goodnight, Flick." And with that, he fell instantly to sleep.

I wish I could fall asleep so easily, Flick thought when looked back at the Olympian.

He did not move around much that night like he usually did. He worried he would wake the Olympian with any sudden movements.
6

Lord Koris Young paced the green room as the large thirty-minute timer above the door counted down. Once the timer hit zero the debate would begin.

Debates in the 50th century had a different structure to debates from the centuries before. On Manticore, at least. The candidates did not stand at podiums and argue with each other while the moderator tried to calm them down. Instead, the candidates and the moderator all sat at one circular table. The moderator would then start up a topic and the candidates would have a critical discussion. Anyone could speak at any time and people could cut-in, but the whole of Manticore Metropolis would be watching and judging and they could decide whether or not they thought the candidates were being rude.

Andromeda and Melody were in the studio audience while Flick and the Olympian were back at the apartment where Flick had most likely switched on the pre-debate news. Koris would have invited the two boys to come along to the event, but their family had only been given two seats in the audience.

Flick and Perseus seemed to be alright sharing a room. Flick had not complained which was good seeing he could generally be very blunt about what he did and did not like. The main problem was that the Olympian only needed two hour of sleep and could be awoken with the sound of a pin dropping which meant Flick tried to keep his midnight sobbing to a minimum.

"Could you stop pacing?" Lady Fae Sonata asked in Mandarin. "You're making me anxious."

"Sorry," he replied even though he did not stop.

"Oh, how I wish the public could see this you," Lysander said in English as orange smoke escaped his mouth. "Your demented pacing would certainly intrigue most Manticorians."

I'll show you demented when I detach your face from your skull. He stopped mid-stride when he realised how gruesome that sounded. What am I saying?

Lysander smirked as if he had read the younger man's mind which made Koris feel more disturbed. Not even his mind was safe from Lysander.

"And how is your Percy?"

"He isn't mine," he snarled, "and he's fine."

"Is he here?"

"No."

"Only Andromeda and Melody?"

"Yes."

"So you decided to only invite blood relatives tonight?"

Koris' brow furrowed. Don't answer him. He'll twist your words no matter what you do. I can only presume this is a small taste of what he's going to be like in the debate.

He decided to reply with his own question: "Well, who did you give your tickets to? Your son and who else?"

"Prince and Kat, who else? She's down from Bagg for the next three days so it only makes sense to invite her rather than anyone else. After all, my family is relatively small."

Koris had to think for a moment about who Kat was. Lady Kathryn Bengal: Princeton's mother and Lord Jordanis' ex-wife. Lysander and Kathryn were a prime example of a couple who had split up out of boredom rather than a rift in their relationship. Kathryn was now remarried to two women while Lysander remained a bachelor, but their friendship remained.

"Is there some tension between the two of you I should know about?" Fae asked in Mandarin as she eyed both men suspiciously. She picked up on the haughty tone Lysander had and Koris' aggressive manner.

He manipulated an asexual boy into doing things of a sexual nature and caused him great distress: there's the first of many problems, Koris thought, but didn't say.

"Certainly not," Lord Jordanis said casually before pulling a silver canister that held his cigarettes out of his robe pocket.

"You cannot smoke in here," Lord Young warned him.

"I don't see any signs."

"That's because people are expected to know that they cannot smoke inside anywhere public, ever."

Lysander lit his cigarette regardless.

"My first legislation: no one will be discriminated against for enjoying smoking indoors. After all, we are a society that spends entire days indoors."

"Save the bickering for the debate, boys," Fae joked to try and break the tension in the room.

Koris' body was on the verge of shaking. Whether it was out of terror or anger he did not know. Most likely both.

I must learn not to become so easily upset or I don't deserve to be the chairman.

"Don't call me a boy," Lysander warned Fae, but he had a playful smile on his face. "I am older than you."

"You certainly don't act it."

"Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold."

"Oh, so you're Peter Pan?"

"Only if you'll be my Wendy."

"And with pickup lines like that, it becomes clear why you're single."

Lord Young observed the conversation going on in front of him with a dumbfounded expression. These people were horrifically insane. How could they be running the planet when they had discussions about plays and fairy tales just before a major debate? It amazed him how unserious most older politicians were. He thought they should be the most serious people of all.

Ignore them, he told himself before going back to revising important key points for the debate. This caused him to return to pacing.

"Don't stress so much, kiddo," Fae assured him.

That's the name of my dog.

"These debates are a breeze. Just smile and pretend you know what's going on."

"Yes. Smile and pretend you know what's going while I win," Lysander added tauntingly.

Fae scowled. "Or while I win."

Lysander scoffed as if that was the most preposterous statement he had ever heard.

They don't think I have a chance. No one does. Hell, even Andromeda's pretty confident that I'm going to crash and burn.

"I've been doing this longer than you, Jordanis," Fae said with a slightly aggressive tone. "You were Penelope's dog for the longest time who could get away with murder, but let's see how you hold up on your own when you can't use her as a shield. You can't be the people pleasing poster boy and the decision maker."

"Watch me."

Does Fae not realise that she just mentioned a dead woman with no compassion in her tone? Koris wondered after he gave up on trying to revise and started listening to their conversation again. To him, these people lacked two key things he thought a leader should have: sympathy and sanity.

"... Well what are your opinions on the Olympus United factory opening up? Do you think we will benefit from Olympians or would we be better off with just downtowners as servants?"

Lord Young knew the debate moderator, North Moreau, would bring the factory up eventually. There was no way they could avoid it. Koris knew he could have ethics on his side. Unfortunately, he would first have to justify why his family had Perseus and make sure it was known it was not his choice to get that Olympian. His explanation would most likely not save him from Lord Jordanis' wrath, though.

On his screen below the glass cover of the table he could see the approval snakes slithering along the chart. An hour into the debate and the red snake was slithering the highest on the chart while the brown snake was bottom-middle and the blue snake slugged around at almost the very bottom.

I need to get more approval or I don't have a chance in hell, Koris thought.

"I do not think I can make a judgment until my Olympians arrive at my estate," Lysander explained in English. The debate had started out in Mandarin, but he somehow managed to sway it to the other language. "However, they do seem to be more efficient than downtowners from what I saw on the tour of the factory."

Lysander was too hesitant to rave about how terrible of workers downtowners were. A part of him feared his current servants, including Mark, could be watching despite the fact they didn't watch television, especially without his permission.

"I think they could also be put to use in renovating the abandoned buildings on the east side of town and turning them into apartments and businesses to help with our demand for more homes as the population continues to rise," Fae explained, making her snake slither a little further up the chart.

"We can have robots do that," Koris said while trying to retain a calm composure. "We have robots specifically designed to do building work."

"Yes," Lysander murmured in slightly judgmental tone, "but we have very few of those robots and it costs a large sum to make more which is money we don't want to take away from the taxpayers. Instead, we can have the building robots and the Olympians working together to renovate the buildings which means it will get done quicker."

"I suppose the downtowners could also do some renovation work alongside the robots and the Olympians," Fae suggested.

Lysander shook his head.

"No. I, along with most other uptowners, do not trust downtowners to do that kind of work. They are lazy when nobody is looking and inefficient when we are watching. That, and we're discussing daytime renovation work. Olympians and robots can handle the Jhard, downtowners can't."

"Maybe if we paid them more money they would have more incentive to do an efficient amount of work," Koris suggested.

"And that requires more money from the taxpayers and therefore would not bode well."

"But surely we must pay the Olympians for their labour. Not just for building, but for being servants as well. That's the basic right of a member of the Servants Union: to be paid."

"The Olympians are not part of that Union," Fae stated as if Koris was insane.

"They should be seeing as they will be doing the exact same work as downtowners except for even less yuan – which is none – which is unfair. The Olympians need a fair union and should be paid at least minimum wage for their work. And that money should go directly to the Olympian that does the work, not Olympus United."

He looked to Lady Sonata who was nodding in understanding of his viewpoint, but Lord Jordanis and the moderator looked less than amused.

"And that would cost the taxpayers even more. We may be one of the richest planets in the United Systems of Terra, but this is a pretty hard economy. People can't just toss out yuan to random projects whenever they feel like."

"You know what, Lord Jordanis?" Koris asked in an aggravated tone. "Sometimes we have to pay if we don't want to treat people like slaves. Sometimes we should not be so selfish with money, capisce? We're already neglecting basic human rights when it comes to downtowners. Please don't make complete slaves out of the Olympians."

"Do you consider robots to be slaves? They don't get paid. They don't have a union. Why push so hard for robots to do our work when they're exactly like the Olympians?"

"Because the Olympians are human."

"Just because they look human does not mean they are human."

"They are based off Jude Dimiourgo who is human."

"Many androids are also based of humans, but I don't hear you complaining about their rights. Think of the Olympians as organic androids. The only difference is the material they are made out of."

"Don't simplify this matter. Androids and Olympians are not the same. Olympians and humans are the same."

"They may look like us, which is apparently all that matters to you, but they are not human."

"Does the fact they're living matter to you?"

"That depends. Is a robot living?"

"No."

"Then why is an Olympian living? Because it's organic? Living is all in the mind. That's why someone upon being pronounced brain dead is no longer living even though they are organic. An Olympian, in a sense, is an organic robot."

Lady Sonata and the moderator exchanged a glance. Neither of them dared to weigh-in on this little tiff Lord Young and Lord Jordanis were having. Both feared that if they spoke either Koris or Lysander would snarl at them.

"Look, Lord Jordanis," Young said slowly in an attempt to regain his composure, "all I want is equality. Is that really wrong? I just want everyone to be paid what they deserved and treated fairly. You cannot act like that is an insane want."

"It's an overly ambitious wan that proves just how young you are, Young. When you're older you'll come to understand what is achievable and what is not... And you'll also lose your communist ways." Did he just accuse me of being a communist because I want equality? Koris asked himself. "Until then, you're not fit to lead a city seeing as you do not seem to understand how functions. I have no doubt you may one day be able to lead Manticore Metropolis. You're a smart boy, but leave the chairman roll to someone more adequate at the current time."

The fucker is being condescending towards me, Koris thought as his fists tightened.

He swallowed before he spoke: "I'm sorry: did you just accuse me of being a communist?"

"Like Stalin or Mao, yes. You want everyone to be on the same grounds being paid the exact same amount of money. But, honestly, should a doctor who saves lives really be paid as much as the teenager who works the till at the cinema?"

"I'm... I'm not a communist."

"Yes, you are. However, I'm sure after you see what chaos followed after the rise of both Mao and Stalin – and read Animal Farm by George Orwell – you'll understand your mistaken political belief."

Whether or not it was true that Koris shared some similar beliefs to communism, he couldn't be accused of being a communist and Lysander knew it. Such accusations would damage his reputation. Manticore had rejected anything to do with communism after they left the communist controlled parts of Earth centuries back. They could not escape all of it, though, which was why Mandarin was still a primary language in the city.

'Communist' was a tainted word to them, regardless of what it really meant. People were already making connections between the Koris being of Chinese descent and China's communist history. It did not matter that a great percentage of Manticorians were of Chinese descent: they saw the Mao in Young even if it wasn't there. Lysander had just ruined his image.

"Yes, well, if we're getting into it, you're more like Ayn Rand than anyone."

Lysander scoffed.

"Ouch. What a petty low-blow, my friend. Let us bicker more civilly. We're not children. Although, you are closer in age to one."

"How did we get from talking about Olympians to Stalin and Mao?" Fae asked, getting a chuckle out of the audience. She was good at breaking the tension in awkward situations.

"Excellent question," the moderator replied. "Now, let us get back on topic and discuss how each candidate intends to deal with the education gap between students qualified for higher learning and students not qualified for higher learning."

Koris could sense that his face was red with anger. He leaned back on the chair and tried to relax. Glancing down at the table again, he could see the blue snake had hit rock bottom while the red snake was on the verge of going off the chart.

It doesn't matter if I'm right or not. Lysander can sway the public any way he wants.

It was another silent shuttle ride on the way home after the debate. Lord Young was angry with the results of the debate and both Melody and Andromeda were embarrassed for him and dared to not say anything.

"How'd it go?" Flick asked as he got off the couch. As shown by what was playing on the screen, it was obvious that Flick had watched a documentary on marine life of Old Earth instead of the debate.

Koris sensed that Andromeda was shaking her head while standing behind him to tell Flick not to ask.

"Where's Perseus?" Koris asked to change the topic.

"Cleaning the bathroom, I think," he replied with shrug.

Young sighed in disdain. After everything that had happened tonight, he didn't want to see the Olympian working ever again.

"Wǒ think I'm going to head to bed. It has been a long day. Wǎn'ān," Andromeda sighed as she unbuttoned her robe.

"Night," Melody said before going into her own room.

"Are you heading to bed too?" Koris asked the boy.

"Yeah. Probably, I feel quite tired," he muttered before slogging away to his bedroom.

You're never tired enough to go to sleep. You hate sleeping, Koris thought. Flick was acting suspicious.

He knocked twice on the bathroom connected to the main area. Its light was on so he presumed Perseus was in there.

"Come in," Perseus replied.

The Olympian was wearing clothing that did not fit him until one of the family members had time to take him shopping. He was wearing Flick's shirt, which was too big, and Koris' pants, which were too tight.

"What are you doing?"

"Cleaning the bathroom," he replied while scrubbing down the tub.

"Why? I told you that you didn't have to."

"Apologies," he said even though he did not stop cleaning. "Andromeda gave me permission and her orders come before yours because she bought me."

Well, her orders come before everyone's in this apartment.

"I wanted to clean this bathtub in particular because it was contaminated with bodily fluids not visible to the naked human eye."

"But you could see the bodily fluids?"

"Yes, and if one of you had a cut, I would not like you to risk mixing your blood with this person's blood."

"Wait, it's blood?"

Like the drop of blood I found?

"Yes."

"Okay, well, thank you for being considerate of our health. I will pay you for your services once we set up your bank account."

"That is not necessary. I do not need to be paid."

"I insist."

Young watched as the Olympian turned on the bathwater to get rid of the detergent he had been using. Whether he admitted it to himself or not, someone was at risk in his house. He had his suspicions, but didn't dwindle on the thought. He could not handle it at that moment.
7

Mark opened his eyes after enjoying his rest when he realised that Lord Jordanis had not spoken in over half an hour. He had simply sat there with the younger man's head in his lap while mindlessly stroking the younger man's hair. There was definitely something bothering him.

"Are ya okay?" Mark asked.

Lysander seemed to snap out of a trance. Looking down at the downtowner, he smiled calmly and nodded.

"Yes. I am just thinking about the announcement I have to give to you and the other servants tomorrow."

"Is it a good announcement?"

"You will find out in the morning."

Mark stopped smiling.

"You'ra scaring me."

"Don't be scared," he assured him.

You may be the only one who does not have to be scared depending on whether or not I make up my mind about asking you to stay.

"Can ya tell me now?"

"Nope." Lysander decided to quickly change the subject. "Now, which bed are you sleeping in tonight, your one or mine?"

"Your one. My bed isn't comfy."

I never did replace those thin mattresses, Lysander thought. Oh well, too late now.

Both of them got up and departed from the small study room. They remained quiet as they walked down the hall as everyone else on the estate was asleep. Unsurprisingly, Lord Jordanis had the largest bedroom in the house while his son slept in a moderate sized room and the servants were four to a closet-sized room below ground.

Lysander already told himself that he would not be having sex – or sodomy, as some called it – with Mark that night because after the announcement tomorrow it could make the boy feel used.

"I'm simply curious," he began as he undressed while Mark was already down to his underwear and under the thin silk covers, "what do you think you would be doing if you still lived downtown?"

Mark didn't answer right away. He was distracted by Lysander's rarely seen tattoo of a black dragon with a ruby red eye flying up his back. Mark knew he was one of the few who knew Lysander had a tattoo as the man was never naked in front of others unless he completely trusted them. The dragon was swiftly covered by the black fabric of his nightshirt, but Mark was quite happy to catch glimpses of it whenever he could.

"I don't think I'd be doin' anything," he replied once Lysander gave him a strange look for remaining silent for so long. "I think I'd be dead."

Lysander swallowed.

"I doubt that," he argued in an impassive tone to hide his actual feelings. "You're a smart boy."

"It's not about being a smarty. It's about doin' what ya need to do to live. The things... the things people do just to eat makes my stomach feel funny. Mama protected me, Erik and Knave, but I still saw people screamin' as they were eaten alive by sick people. I don'ta know where Mama got our food and I don't wanna know."

The older man slowly turned around before crawling onto the bed and looking his younger lover in the eyes.

"Listen, what is said tomorrow does not apply to you. So when I make the announcement you don't have to worry."

"You'ra makin' me worry. Does what you say affect Erik?"

"That'll all be made clear tomorrow. For now, please rest."

He then proceeded to turn his back to Mark and lie still as if already sleeping. Mark stared at him long and hard, wondering what the announcement was about if it was making Lysander act so strange.

He decided to change the topic to see if Lysander would be more social that way: "By the way, Cal has been acting funny since your birthday party. Would ya happen to know why?"

"I haven't a clue," he lied.

There was another long silence. Obviously Mark's changing the conversation technique had not worked.

"I'ma goin' to have trouble sleeping tonight, ya know," he informed the older man.

Lysander let out a fake laugh and turned over so he could face the downtowner.

"Try your best," he said before kissing Mark to try and reassure him that everything was alright.

I am certainly trying my hardest to sleep on a guilty conscience. Sleep no more. Lysander does murder sleep.

Lord Jordanis woke to an empty bed. Mark had obviously crept out at some point in the early hours of the morning and most likely returned to his own room. He rubbed his weary eyes. Last night had been restless for him.

I cannot understand why I feel any guilt about firing my servants. I've been nothing but good to them, but all good things must come to an end. They know that, I know that. The Olympians are going to be far better servants anyways... even though they are 'off limits'.

He went through his usual morning routine before venturing into the kitchen to make himself breakfast. Usually he would have the servant chefs make him a meal, and yet he was also quite independent and enjoyed making his own meal as much as he did eating it.

"Morning," he said in a lifeless tone when his son walked into the kitchen. "I'm making poached eggs on sourdough, would you like me to make you some?"

Princeton shrugged, but seeing his father's judgemental eyes made him give a proper answer.

"Okay."

He then took a seat at one of the chairs in front of the counter before pulling his phone. The pair did not have a close relationship, but Princeton seemed more distant than usual.

"Anything on your mind?" Lysander asked despite the fact that he did not really care for an answer.

"Nope," his son replied bluntly even though that didn't appear to be the truth.

"Are you sure?"

"You might overcook the eggs if you don't pay attention. Neither of us like it when the yolk isn't runny."

"Answer my question, Prince."

The boy met his father's gaze.

"I'm having a hard time being around the servants knowing that you're firing them. I was speaking to Nik and he kept talking about the future of his work at this place and that he hoped he could work here forever. If you want my opinion, which you don't, I don't think you should replace all the downtowners. I like having other humans living in this place. It won't be the same with Olympians."

"You're not a fan of change, Prince. I know that. However, sometimes change is for the better. All the other uptowners are replacing downtowner servants with Olympians. Even Melody's family has one."

"What about Mark?"

"What about him?" Lysander asked as if he had no clue what his son was talking about.

It was quite obvious that he spent a large amount of time with that particular downtowner, yet he couldn't admit his relationship with Mark to his son. It was too shameful.

"The Olympians do not perform sexual functions so I am considering offering one of the servants, possibly Mark, the chance to remain on this estate simply for that reason."

Princeton nodded even though his eyes told his father that he thought his explanation was bullshit.

"You know firing them is a mistake, don't you? You're going to regret it. They are all going to die downtown. Every last one is going to die within the month because of you."

His statement did not appear to faze his father who simply cocked an eyebrow before serving up breakfast.

"They know downtown better than we do," Lysander explained. "They know how to survive. Otherwise they wouldn't have made it to eighteen."

Eighteen was the age that downtowners could start becoming servants. Many tried to fake their age to start work early, yet tests could be run to prove their actual age. Most of Lord Jordanis' servants were eighteen or nineteen. Mark was the oldest at twenty-three because he had been the servant for someone else for four years before he applied for a position with his brother, Erik, at Lysander's estate.

"They've been away for too long." Princeton explained. "And they have to readjust to the downtown environment, but they won't have time to readjust to the environment. They will be straight-up killed before that happens."

"Not necessarily."

His son stood up instantly.

"They are going to die. Mark is going to die. And when he dies alone in the streets of downtown it will be your fault."

Lysander blinked slowly before returning to his meal.

"I think someone is a little angsty this morning," he said calmly. "Go stretch your legs on the runner and then shower. You'll feel more relaxed."

Although he appeared calm, his heart skipped a beat when his son eyed the knife rack. Luckily his son's moment of impulsive aggression quickly passed and he flew from the room. Jordanis let out a smirk and continued to eat his breakfast – his son didn't have the guts.

"So tā didn'ta tell nǐ what the announcement thingy is about?" Erik asked as he, his brother, and Cal walked down to the grand hall.

"Nah," Mark replied. "Wǒ don'ta think it's gonna be a hǎo one."

"What do ya think, Cal?" Erik asked. He knew she probably didn't have an opinion, but she had been so silent recently that he wanted her to talk to him.

Unfortunately, all she did was shrug and look at her feet as she walked. Mark and Erik exchanged a look of concern. They kept asking her what was wrong and she kept shutting them down.

"Maybe he'sa lowerin' our pay," Erik considered.

"Or firing some of wǒmen," his brother replied. "I'va heard otha servants talkin' 'bout these new robot thingies that do our job. Tā could want to get some of them which means less of us."

"Hope not." Erik thought for a moment. "He'da only get rid of the worst servants. Wǒmen shì pretty hǎo at our jobs and tā likes nǐ, so we'da be safe."

"Yah," Mark agreed, although his tone was more concerned than assured.

The small crowd of servants was abuzz as they waited for Lord Jordanis to go up to the podium and make his announcement. Every single one of them feared that it was going to be a bad announcement. Even as Lysander entered the room he did not seem like his usual cocky self which was a bad sign.

"Good morning, servants," he began formally. "I can see by the looks on your faces that you fear that I am going to give you bad news. Unfortunately, I cannot reassure your fears are mistaken... They are not."

"Zhòu," one of the servants whispered in dismay. Although it had been a silent curse, Lysander's eyes wandered to the perpetrator.

"I called on this announcement to give all of you your five day notice. In five days, you will board shuttles that will take you to each of your assorted downtown regions." Some of the downtowners gasped while others didn't understand what Lord Jordanis was saying. "You will receive your weekly pay check before this time and all of you will be provided with credit cards to access your money. You are also free to keep your uniforms as the Olympians I have bought already have their own uniform."

"Is tā sayin' what I think he'sa saying?" Erik asked Mark in disbelief. "Are we gonna have to leave?"

His brother didn't reply. He was too dumbfounded to register that his brother was actually talking to him.

"Well," Lysander said after moment of silent, "any questions?"

One of the servants near the back, Pat, called out something that sounded like utter gibberish to Lysander. He presumed the word was a mixture of Mandarin, English and general downtowner speak. It was obviously an insult rather than a question.

"Okay then," Lysander mocked. "I'll get on that. Besides that, please return to your normal routines. Your schedules will continue as normal until the morning of the fifth day."

There was not one happy face among the servants. Lysander doubted that any of them would dare to try and attack him, and yet for the next five days he planned to have his handgun tucked into the back of his pants under his robe. Downtowners were mentally unstable and this would be the perfect time for some of them to snap.

As the furious and shocked as they were, the crowd dispersed, Lord Jordanis made eye contact with Mark and gestured for the younger man to follow him. Mark understood and muttered something to both his brother and Cal before they left.

He did not appear pleased to have to follow Lysander. The downtowner was treading a fair distance behind him as they headed towards his office.

"Now," Lysander began as soon as the door to his office was closed, "remember what I told you last night?"

Mark did not answer. He was hurt, angry, and had the strange urge to hit Lord Jordanis. He hadn't had an urge to hurt someone since he lived downtown. It was probably better for him to start getting those aggressive instincts back if he was going back down into the inferno.

"Mark, do you remember?" Lysander asked again when Mark didn't reply.

"Yah," the downtowner muttered before turning away from the older man.

"The offer still stands. You may remain here instead of returning to downtown."

"And what about Erik?"

Lysander wrapped his arms around him from behind and kissed the top of his head. To Mark, this gesture was now possessive rather than affectionate.

"Erik will be fine."

"But he can't stay here too?"

"You don't understand the judgement I'd face for allowing two downtowners to live with me without having to do general servant work. They can understand one, but not two."

"Why can they understand one, but not two?"

"Well, with the Olympians, all the primary servant tasks can be completed. However, there is one thing Olympian cannot do that you can. And I don't need two downtowners for it."

"You want me for sex," Mark whispered coldly.

"Precisely."

He was beginning to question if he had been delusional about his close relationship to Lysander. Had it really been that shallow the whole time? With the thought, he writhed out of Lysander's embrace and leapt away from him. Lysander's expression remained docile even though his eyes suggested he was surprised by Mark's reaction.

"I won't abandon my brotha. Especially not for you," he hissed.

"Think about it: getting to stay here with me... doing what you love."

"I don't love it."

"Your screaming and moaning in pleasure from last time would beg to differ." Mark's face went bright red with those words. Lysander took a small step towards the downtowner. "Also, it would just be me and you, Mark. All my attention on you. I know that's what you've wanted. I can promise I will not get distracted by any other downtowners."

Mark did want that, but not at the cost of his brother.

"Erik will die if I don't protect him. Ya don'ta understand how evil downtown is. Downtownas have to stick together or they won't make it."

"You underestimate my knowledge of downtown," Lysander argued, his tone was agitated. "I've been on this planet quite a lot longer than you. I've seen things... done things sicker than you can imagine. Yes, the odds are against Erik, but they are also very against you if you go with him. You won't live, Mark, that's just the fact. I have less fear for Erik because I can imagine him rising to the occasion when it comes to a gruesome tasks necessary for survival. He could kill, he has it in him. I don't see that in you. You'd hesitate and that would be the end."

"Ya sayin' I'ma weaky?"

"Not weak. You're kind hearted and well-intentioned... and downtown that would be your demise."

Mark was done with this conversation. There was nothing Lysander could say that would make him stay.

"Know this, Lord Jordanis," he said while backing towards the door, "I will most likely die downtown, but if I die saving my brother; what happiness! I will die a smilin' because at least I did the right thing instead of stayin' here and becoming evil like you."

Lysander had nothing to say to that and so Mark departed the room silently. Standing there alone in his study, he was annoyed. He hated not getting his way. He wanted Mark, yet his didn't predict that Mark wouldn't want him.

All this drama because of those fucking Olympian boys, he thought scornfully as he took a seat behind his desk. They're not worth my time, the servants aren't worth my time, Mark isn't worth my time, none of them are. I have a fucking election to win.

Time passed quickly as his bitterness consumed him. Maybe he would ask another servant to stay. One that he hardly paid attention to. That would show Mark how insignificant he was and that he couldn't try to bargain for his brother's safety. He had offered him a haven and had been rejected. The downtowner was undeserving of his kindness.

Do not offer the chance to another downtowner, Jordanis told himself. Mark still has five days to change his mind.

"Whata did Lysanda want?" Erik asked his brother when he joined him in their room.

"Nah," Mark shook his head. "Don'ta worry about it."

Erik did not pressure him for details. He was more distracted by Cal's empty expression as she lay on her bed while staring at the ceiling. Something was horribly wrong with her. No downtowner would react as calmly as she did to being thrown out of uptown.

"Wǒmen don'ta have to chóu," Mark reassured his brother as he took a seat next to him on the bed. "We'lla move back in with Mama. I'ma sure she'da be kuàilè for us to live with her again. That, or wǒmen could go try to work with Knave at McCarthy's."

Erik swallowed. He hoped living with Mama worked out because it would be too awkward to have to see Knave again after she turned him town just before he left for Lysander's Estate. Although he thought of Mark as his brother, he didn't consider her to be his sibling even if they were looked after by the same 'Mama'. He had been attracted to her for a long time, but she thought of him as a sibling and refused to be anything different. He still had romantic feelings for her and thought about her quite a few times a day which is why it would be too awkward to see her again anytime in the near future.

"What are nǐ gonna do, Cal?" Erik asked. "We could ask Mama stay with us wǒmen."

"No," she replied passively. "I have plans, don'ta worry."

"Whatcha plans?" Mark asked, sharing his brother's concern for her.

She sat up without making eye contact.

"Wǒ'll tell ya later," she said while opening the door.

"Where ya goin'?"

"Just a walky, don'ta worry."

That did not reassure either brother.

"Somethin' is wrong with tā de," Erik said.

"Yah, she'sa in shock."

"Think tā 'sa really got plans?"

"Wǒ hope so."

Lord Jordanis was done thinking about the announcement he had made to the servants that day. Instead, he had gone back to doing work towards his campaign as that was far more important.

He glanced up when he heard the door to his office open across the room. To his surprise, Cal was standing in the doorway. He took note that one of her hands was behind her back and reminded himself that his gun was tucked in the back of his pants.

"Hello, Cal," he said calmly. Regardless of what she was carrying behind her back, she was not a threat to him. "How are you?"

She had not come to exchange pleasantries with him. The cold look in her eyes certainly told Lord Jordanis that. Slowly, she pulled out the object from behind her back. It was a basic knife from the kitchen.

"Cal," Lysander said in a warning tone, "what are you doing with that knife?"

Again, she did not reply, but her eyes filled up with tears of anger as she gripped the knife with both hands and pointed it at her chest. Lysander stood up at the exact moment the knife pierced her chest. Despite the fact that she had been in complete control of her actions, she let out a surprised grunt and collapsed. Lysander considered going straight to her side, however, he would be more useful if he called an air ambulance first.

"Ambulance to Lord Jordanis' estate," he said in Mandarin as that was the language the help desk had greeted him in. "Yes, thank you."

He walked at a leisurely pace towards Cal as she let out short breaths.

"Oh Cal," he said I a way that should have sounded empathetic, but he was borderline mocking her. "I don't know what you expected to achieve by doing this except pain."

Unsurprisingly, Cal didn't give him a reply as she struggled to breath. The amount of blood coming out of her mouth was disturbing.

Jordanis got down on his knees beside her to get a better look at the damage she had done to herself. The knife blade was about three quarters of the way into her body. Judging by its positioning, the knife had either just missed her heart or been stabbed into it. Based on location, it would be quite a few minutes before the air ambulance arrived and it was possible that even when they did show, they would refuse to treat her for because she was a downtowner.

As expected, when the medics arrived on the scene they were quite reluctant to treat the downtowner. A few of the other servants were standing in the corridor, watching in horror as the medics tried to revive their friend who had gone into cardiac arrest. Lysander decided to close the door to his office so that none of them had to watch. Watching the medics try to revive her was quite stressful, and he had a hunch she was not coming back.

While one medic worked the defibrillator, the other checked on the state of Cal's innards with the small portable x-ray device. Lord Jordanis was no doctor, but he could understand that Cal was in critical condition.

"She needs to be taken to the hospital," he informed them in a careless manner once the medics had appeared to stabilise her.

The taller one, who's ID read Javier Baird, shook his head in what he intended to look like a sympathetic matter, but he actually seemed quite unnerved by the situation.

"You know as well as I do that the hospital will refuse to treat her."

"What if I paid for her treatment?"

"All the money in the world could not make the doctors treat her. Even if they wanted to, the bureaucracy would halt them. If you don't have proper identification, a constant uptown residency and health insurance then there's no way in hell that you'll get treatment."

"Then why did you bother to stabilise her at all?"

The medics exchanged a look of confusion.

"You do want to save the foetus," the second medic, Thomas Oiseau, asked, "right? That's really why you called us, isn't it?"

It took Lysander a moment to remember how to breathe. Cal was pregnant?

"I beg your pardon?" Jordanis asked in as calm of a tone as he could muster. He then reached into his robe pocket and pulled out his cigarette container.

"Apologies," Thomas said, red-faced. "We were under the assumption you knew because, well, there are ways of telling even after a few hours now. She shows signs of being in the early stages of pregnancy."

"How odd," Lysander muttered before inhaling orange smoke.

"So, theoretically, we cannot treat the downtowner, but we can remove the foetus from her and have it grown in a hospital nursery... providing it is yours. However, the downtowner would not survive this procedure because removing the child from her body this early on would require removing her entire uterus... Well, actually, under uptowner circumstances she could survive the uterus removal, but the hospital will not caring about her body and simply removing it from her for the sake of the foetus so she would probably die of blood loss," he drifted off when he realised he was getting off-topic.

Lord Jordanis stared at the floor for a long time in deep thought before replying.

"No," he said coldly.

Javier raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean 'no' as in the foetus is not yours or...?"

"No, as in remove her from life support this instant."

"Do you want us to remove the foetus from her?"

"No."

Javier turned Thomas around so they could have a discussion in private.

"Technically, it is in the mother's right to decide whether or not the foetus is saved, not the father's," he explained. He was one of the rare uptowners who indifferent about uptowners and downtowners when it came to medically aiding people. He felt it was his job to help anyone who needed help without bias so the mother's choice came first, in his mind, even if she was a downtowner.

Thomas was not that way: "Yes, but the mother's not going to be saying much when she's dead in a few minutes so it is Lord Jordanis' choice."

"I think should be discussed with the medical board."

"There's nothing to discuss."

Javier bit his lip. "You do it then. You take the downtowner off life support."

"Fine."

Javier was surprised how passive Lysander was as he watched Thomas remove Cal from life support.

"Will you have the corpse cremated?"

Thomas shook his head.

"No, usually we just put the body downtown. Do you recall what region she was from?"

"Northern section."

"Okay, we will return her to the northern section."

"Excellent, will that be all then?"

"Yes."

"And can I trust you two and the hospital to keep this whole incident out of the media?"

"The confidentially agreement will keep this under wraps, don't worry."

Lysander nodded and then proceeded to give both men a look that told them it was time to leave. He sat down and turned his chair to face the tinted window as they carried the corpse on a stretcher out of his office. There were some gasps when Cal was seen by the servants which Lysander ignored. He certainly hoped her death didn't give any of them grand ideas.

When he could no longer hear the footsteps of the medics, he got out of chair to shut the door to his office again. He avoided eye contact with all the downtowners who were still standing in the hall – Mark and Erik included. The younger of the two brothers was sobbing while Mark was staying strong for the sake of his brother. Although the older boy did look directly at Lord Jordanis, he still avoided eye contact and closed the door again.

She should have died hereafter when I had time to care. Right now I must consider how her death would reflect upon me in the media. I swear: if either of those two medics let their tongues slip up about her I will ruin them.
8

Flick and Perseus sat in silence during the monorail ride to the shopping centre. Flick was not sure if it was right, or even possible, to have a genuine conversation with an Olympian.

The pair were getting odd looks from others on the monorail. The news had only just done a segment on the new Olympians so they were surprised to already see one in real life. Especially with someone who looked like Flick: a person that some of them of mistook for a beggar.

The shopping centre was even worse. More people, more eyes on the pair. Flick had gotten used to odd looks, but never this many people took second glances of him.

Remain calm, he told himself. Just get in, get Perseus some clothing, and get out. That's all.

The electronics store had televisions in the window display. On the screen, tonight's second debate between Koris, Lysander and Fae was being aired. The downtowner refused to watch as all it did was make him nervous for Koris.

"What kinda colours do ya like to wear?" Flick asked when they entered the nearest men's store.

Perseus seemed confused: "What colours do you think I look best in?"

Flick sighed. This had been the problem with the Olympian for the last few days. He refused to give his own opinion... if he had one.

"I want you to choose a shirt," he demanded while holding up one from the rack as an example.

The Olympian looked at the shirt in Flick's hand.

"That one?"

"No, choose a different one."

He pointed to the exact same shirt that was on the rack. "This one?"

"Ugh," Flick grunted. "Alright, you win. I'll decide for you."

Flick was not entirely sure why his family had nominated him to take the Olympian shopping. As a downtowner, he had learned to basically wear anything he could regardless of whether or not it was flattering on him. When he first moved uptown he couldn't understand why all the uptowners were so obsessed with clothing. Even Koris, the most humble uptowner he knew when it came to fashion, had refused to let the young boy go to school unless he wore something he considered appropriate and flattering. This was a shocking transition for a boy who had grown up understanding that an old sack with holes in it could suffice for clothing.

"So," he began awkwardly while leaning against the wall across from the stall Perseus was getting changed in, "do ya, um, do ya know a lot?"

"I'm sorry," the Olympian called back calmly, "I do not understand the question."

"Are ya smarter than people?"

"Academically, yes, as my brain can store more than a human's and I can absorb more knowledge and have more knowledge to provide. However, I would say you accelerate in areas I cannot."

"Eh?"

The Olympian stepped out of the changing stall in a pair of black jeans and a claret coloured shirt. Flick liked this look on Perseus. He seemed like someone who could look good in anything. This would make shopping far easier. Flick was envious of his body. Why did the inhuman thing get to look human while he looked like a mutant creature?

"Humans have free will which Olympians do not. Some consider independence a sign of intelligence," Perseus explained. "Olympians also have limited creativity while humans can be very creative. So in terms of independence and creativity: you are smarter than me."

Flick shrugged. "Nobody cares about artsy people. They only care about people who are the academically smart thingy."

"That is arguable. Creativity is closely linked to most academic topics such as science, maths, English and Mandarin. You must consider that we would not have language unless it was invented, and structuring a language requires a creative thought process."

Flick did not answer and instead handed Perseus a dark grey jacket to try on as well. The Olympian returned to the changing room. The downtowner considering telling him that he could simply put his jacket on out in the open, but decided it wasn't worth it.

"Creativity is also important for the design process of developing technology," Perseus informed him. "Although I am not capable of being creative, my design required creative thinking and multiple designs to figure out how I could look the most visually pleasing."

Flick thought of what to say to Perseus after his strange homily on creativity.

"I like to draw," he said, unsure of how the added any significance to the discussion.

Perseus stepped out of the changing stall again.

"Can you sketch things from imagination and of your own free will?"

"Uh huh. But I suck at drawing."

"I can sketch incredibly accurate pictures. However, I cannot sketch something based on imagination nor by my own free will. I must be told what to sketch."

"Oh. So maybe if our brains were mushed together we'da be smarty in everything."

Perseus looked confused. "If our brains were mushed together we would both first be deceased due to the fact our brains were removed from our body. And if our brains were removed from our bodies then the grey matter would expire and our brains would cease to function."

Flick stared at him blankly. "I don'ta mean it in a real way. I mean, well, if ya had free will and the creativity thingy then you would be perfect."

"I would not be a perfect Olympian. It was found during the prototype stages of testing that Olympians with free will and creativity were inefficient for our purpose and also led to issues."

"What happened to the previous prototype thingies after the issues?"

Perseus just smiled his usual default smile.

"Apologies: that is confidential information."

Flick did not pester him for more information. He was more surprised by the fact that he was having a genuine conversation with an Olympian and that they were learning stuff about each other. The Olympians had been advertised as robots, and yet Perseus seemed so very human to the downtowner. In fact, Flick was very fond Perseus. He was the closest thing he had to a friend.

"Do Olympians enjoy any particular activity thingies?" Flick asked when they went to the shop checkout.

"I am happy when my masters are happy. Therefore, I enjoy cleaning and serving you. Those are activities you could say I enjoy."

"Cleanin' and servin' don'ta sound like a lotta fun. Okay, in a fake world where you could do whateva you wanted... what would you do?"

The Olympian stared blankly at Flick.

"I do not know. I am incapable of thinking that way."

"I wish ya could think that way. You'da be much happier."

"I am happy."

"No, you're not. Ya just think you're happy because your computer brain wants ya to think you are."

"Excuse me, Flick?"

"Eh?"

"You have made an error in your checkout information."

And so he had. It was hard to tell whether that was because he had not been paying proper attention or if he would have made the mistake regardless because he had serious trouble reading the words on the screen.

"Say," he began while fixing the error, "how good are ya at spelling and word stuff?"

"I can spell and comprehend over ninety-five percent of words in the English dictionary as well as seventy percent of Mandarin characters."

"And ye can read well?"

"Very well."

"Good, 'cause I can't."

"Do you have a learning disability?"

"Uh huh."

"Does it involve numeracy, reading or writing?"

"Um, kinda all three, but Koris says I have the biggest problem reading."

"That should not be a problem. I have no trouble reading so I can do that for you when you need me to."

"Okay."

Flick was not sure about that. Lord Young had always suggested a screen reader for his electronic devices, yet the downtowner refused and insisted he was not blind. He associated not being able to read with being blind because, when he was originally diagnosed, being blind was the only thing Koris could compare it to as the boy had no knowledge of learning disabilities or what they meant.

While visiting another clothing store, Flick could not help but overhear other shoppers discussing the current debate. From the sound of it things were not going well for Koris. Flick was not sure how these debates impacted the election, but apparently they were very important. The downtowner felt that elections could go by much quicker if people just voted with no build-up. He found Koris was not at his finest during this election. He was a much better person when he was not under all this needless stress. Due to all the madness of the election, Flick and Koris had barely had a full conversation for over a week. He felt ignored and unwanted by his family. Luckily for him, Perseus, although like a robot, was happy to talk to him.

"So ya know how there'sa more than one of ye?" Flick asked. "Are ya close to the other you's?"

"Very close. In fact: we are all the same in every sense except for the thumbs on our right hands."

"Nah, but are ya close like brothers?"

I want to know if you can feel love. Robots certainly don't.

"I do not know," was his simple reply. "I was not designed to do so. We were designed to coincide primarily with humans, not other Olympians."

"So even though we'ra talkin' right now, ye don'ta really talk to the other Olympians?"

"No, unless we are passing on a command from a master."

"Ya life sounds quite lonely."

"Olympians do not feel lonely."

"Can you feel?"

"We have a nervous system that allows us to feel whether or not a part of our body is damaged or acting abnormally, and yet the message from our body to our brain is not one of pain like it is for you. It is simply a notification."

"Uh huh. Can ya feel happy?"

"Impossible to tell. I have no reference for what that feels like in human context. I can feel satisfaction which I must assume is a similar feeling."

"I guess."

Flick could instantly tell by the look on Lord Young's face when they walked through the door that the debate had not gone well. Koris looked exhausted and defeated. Lord Jordanis had really broken him that night.

"Ye okay?" Flick asked after he passed the shopping bags to Perseus, who took them to their room.

He put up one finger to inform Flick to 'give him one moment' while he spoke to Andromeda in Mandarin. The downtowner could not understand what they were saying. Only the one word said in English, 'disaster', gave him any insight.

Instead of waiting around for Koris to talk to him, he simply went into his room. He didn't like to talk to Koris when he was like this because all his stress and anger felt directed at him even if it wasn't meant to be.

"He wants proof, An," Koris explained in Mandarin. "He wants me to prove that the Olympians are serving us against their will, but how can I prove that when those boys can only speak in their general programmed way?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Maybe you can't, and therefore you should focus on you strengths in this campaign and not your weaknesses. Fight that battle with Lysander under the table and do what makes you look good on the surface."

Koris thought for a moment. He beamed when an idea came to mind.

"That's brilliant, An!"

"What are you thin–"

Like with Flick, he cut her off by putting up his index finger while he dialled Adina Bär along with his campaign managers for a group chat. Once they all responded to his call he got straight into his plan.

"Inform the reporters that I will be visiting McCarthy's tomorrow to make a donation," he explained in Mandarin.
9

Lord Young had always had good relations with McCarthy's Haven for Children as he had adopted Flick through them. He also made regular donations so they could continue to be a sanctuary for downtowner children. Today, for the sake of good publicity that would hopefully pull at the heartstrings of the public, Koris was going to represent the House of Oxen at McCarthy's to make a large donation. Ghoad was to accompany him downtown to visit the Haven despite Koris' concerns about her scaring the children.

"Do you think that thisss visssit will pleassse the public?" Ghoad asked as Koris got out of his shuttle in McCarthy's parking lot.

"The people who like children, regardless of which part of town they are from, will be happy. And I don't care what the others think. I'd rather not have their vote if they don't think I should be helping children."

The two reporters that had been daring enough to follow Young downtown where distracted by the fortress McCarthy's was. The four walls that shielded the compound were made of thick Manticorian metal and the top of them was laced with barbwire. It certainly did not seem like an inviting place for children unless they were quite desperate.

A very young woman waited for Koris, Ghoad, and the reporters on the steps to the main building. She had a slightly darker skin tone than most downtowners and Koris presumed that was because she was of African descent. He noticed that instantly, but it took him a moment to realise she had no right hand. From what he could see, it had been removed from her body in quite a gruesome manner.

"Hāi," she said in a perky manner which surprised Young. It was not often that he came across happy downtowners.

"Zhǔ Koris Young," he said while putting out his right hand to shake hers. He then remembered she had no right hand and therefore quickly swapped to his left. "I am here on behalf of the House of Oxen to make a donation and to take a brief tour," he said in Mandarin.

She took his hand and shook it firmly.

"I'm Knave. I work here."

Koris was surprised for two reasons. One: she looked young enough to be a child who lived in the Haven and two: her name was Knave and her ID badge read the way he expected it to be spelt. He presumed that that was the downtown spelling for the name Neave, but it was hard to tell. It was a good guess that nobody downtown knew what a knave was and just thought it sounded nice.

To everyone's surprise, Knave had no fear of Ghoad and happily shook her hand. The reporters quickly got a photo of that strange occurrence before Knave shook their hands as well.

This is going swimmingly, Koris thought. Thank God they had Knave as their guide. She certainly put a nice light on McCarthy's when the exterior looked so grim.

The interior was surprisingly clean from Koris' perspective. He had only visited McCarthy's on one other occasion when he had to fill out the forms to adopt Flick. Back then, the place looked one step away from being a rugged drug lab. Either things had really changed or they had cleaned up because he was coming.

"So how did you get this job?" Young asked their guide as they walked through a corridor filled with photos of children who had lived in the Haven. "Were you raised here?"

"Nah," she replied, breaking out of Mandarin for a moment before quickly slipping back into it: "Mama raised me and then got me a job here because she had connections to McCarthy."

Koris presumed she was talking about her 'Mama' having connections to McCarthy's: the Haven and not Deo McCarthy: the man who had founded McCarthy's eight-hundred years ago and died eighty years after doing so – little did he know that Mama had connections to both Deo and his Haven for Children.

Lord Young had trouble staring too long at the pictures of the children on the walls. At a brief glance they looked like general kids, and yet when he looked closer he saw just how screwed up they were. It was not their disabilities that got to him, it was their dead eyes and sad faces.

One child caught his attention. In the sea of sad faces there was one boy (girl?) who looked passive, yet rather cocky. Despite their brown hair and dark grey eyes the child vaguely resembled Lord Jordanis – but that was probably because of their haughty expression.

"Who's that kid?" Koris asked Knave jokingly in Mandarin.

She glanced at the photo as well and shrugged.

"I dunno. Had to be here long before I was."

"Boy or girl?"

"Dunno, could be either. Genders are confusing. I still don't know what most the kids are here which is why I find it easier to refer to them all as 'they' so I don't offend anyone."

Koris presumed the kid in the photo was in some way psychotic. There was no way they could have a little smile on their face with all the misery around them. Downtowner children: either depressed or insane... or both.

Surprisingly, the visit to McCarthy's was rather uneventful. Everybody left in an solemn state after seeing all the maimed and miserable children. It did not matter how much you despised downtowners: seeing those children would make you feel guilt.

Having not checked his phone or tablet during the visit, Lord Young was surprised to see he had a dozen messages. Most were from members of the House of Oxen, another was from Andromeda, but he read the one from Lord Jordanis first.

Jordanis: Lucky you. For once the rat is helping the ox.

What the hell does that mean?

None of the messages were clear about why he was 'lucky'. They all simply directed him to an announcement Lady Sonata had recorded earlier.

"Ghoad?" He looked at the giant svellik as she stood next to his shuttle. "Do you know anything about an announcement Lady Fae Sonata made today?"

"No, sssirrr. Why do you asssk?"

"Everyone keeps directing me to it. I'll have to watch it when we get back to uptown."

I don't want to stay down here another second. As much as I respect McCarthy's, I hate it down here.

There was an off chance he would have to come downtown again. Since he had pushed so hard to campaign downtown with flyers, posters, and having the voting machines be fixed, his campaign managers had warned him he may have to do a rally downtown – he dreaded that.

"... and therefore I am withdrawing from the electoral race," Lady Sonata said in Mandarin. "I thank all my supporters and I suggest the vote you would have given to me you give to Lord Young."

Lord Young choked on his water when he heard that. He looked at Nikhita, of whom he was watching the video with at the lunch table, wide-eyed in disbelief.

I've never even had a full conversation with Fae. Why would she recommend people vote for me? He thought before saying it out loud to Nikhita.

"I think it's probably because she would rather have people vote for you rather than Lysander," she explained in a smug tone.

He started the video again: "Yes, he is younger than any other candidate we have had in hundreds of years, but some of the greatest minds of the past did not even live to see his age. I think he will bring a freshness to our society because of his age. He is not old and stuck in his ways like, oh, say Lord Jordanis. He is open-minded."

"Fresh, open-minded?" Nikhita snorted. "Yeah, she really doesn't know you."

Koris glared at her, and yet Fae's announcement meant he would not find himself annoyed for the rest of the day. He was far too exultant to be annoyed with Nikhita.

"Niki, if I got the votes of all the people who would have voted for her I'd be much closer to Lysander. And then if I also got the votes of the downtowners... I could win this!"

"Don't get your hopes up. There's a good chance many of Fae's ex-voters would rather vote for Lysander."

"Maybe a few..."

"Maybe most of them."

"Have a little faith, Niki. I have the slightest of chances now to win so let me live in hope."

She smiled half-heartedly and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I think one of us automatically becomes the pessimist of the other is optimistic in order to keep balance."

Young did not answer her. It was at that moment that he realised that Lady Sonata pulling out of the race meant that he would be versing Lysander head-on in the final debate. Nobody would be there to distract Lysander from Koris. All of his wrath would be unleashed on just him.

He ran his hands down his face, taking his skin with his hands to make it look as though his face was melting.

"Oh God he's going to eat me alive," he groaned.

"Relax," she reassured him. "He's not actually a bad guy. Like the rest of us, he finds annoying you amusing. Hey, see? Now you're the pessimist and I'm the optimist. That's why we make a great team."

"Lysander plays dirty. That's how he'll win."

"Then you better fight dirty too or be able to block him at every turn."

"I'll have some good publicity in a few hours to add to Fae's announcement. I think that will work in my favour in the eyes of the public."

"Maybe, or maybe they'll just be annoyed at you for donating money that could be used for uptowners to downtowners they do not find deserving."

"They won't hate me for giving money to children in need."

"People have no empathy for those children, so why would they want you to give money to them?"

"You make it sound as if all uptowners are just emotionless assholes."

"Most are. Then there are a few good ones like you." His expression was a mixture of frustration and solemnness. "Look, Kor. I'm on your side, but we must consider how most uptowners think. Manticorians, both uptowners and downtowners, are a bunch of sick fuckers because of how this society works. This society is faulty and stuck in these old stupid ways that hinder everyone."

"Yes, I know. And I want to change the way Manticore works so that everyone benefits."

"A lovely sentiment, but winning the election will not give you the chance to do that."

"You don't think so?"

"No. Everyone else in parliament will shut you down with every new legislation you propose. The House of Oxen will just want to use you as a puppet and ignore your own opinions."

"That's a very cynical prediction."

"And yet, probably an accurate one."

To Nikhita's surprise, Koris abruptly smirked.

"You know it's funny; for someone who works for parliament you seem pretty anti-parliament."

"If you want to change something, you must first get standing in it. That's what you've done."

"I guess. How do you expect to change Manticore from the chief of security position? You say I cannot change Manticore even if I was the chairman."

She winked cheekily.

"I'm sure I'll find a way."
10

The final night in Lord Jordanis' Estate had swept over the downtowner servants. In the days leading up to this Lysander had noticed some cutlery missing. Particularly his silver knifes. He did not complain – the downtowners would need weapons.

Erik, despite it being the final night, was alone sobbing in his room. Cal was dead and his brother was spending one last night with Jordanis. He was sobbing out of a mixture of sadness and anger. Sadness because of Cal's death and the fact he would not see any of his other friends again, and anger because, on such a significant night, Mark had chosen Lysander over him – he would not forgive him for that.

What Erik didn't know was that Mark would not forgive himself for everything that had happened. Being the eldest and one who had the easiest time getting through to Lysander, he felt as he had failed his fellow servants by not convincing Lysander to change his mind.

Lord Jordanis remained silent as Mark blubbered into his chest. The boy was mumbling things in complete gibberish. Lysander, who could usually comprehend downtowner languages, could not understand Mark on this rare occasion – a very clear sign that the boy was not in his right mind seeing as he usually spoke quite professionally for a downtowner.

Once he had calmed down, his expression changed from sorrowful to angry as he threw thin bed sheets off himself.

"I'ma going back to my room," he informed Lysander.

Just as he sat up the older man grabbed his wrist.

"If you stay the night I have a present for you in the morning."

Mark tried to pull his hand away with no avail.

"No. My brother needs me."

"He doesn't need you tonight, and both of you will need this present."

"What's it?"

"In the morning, Mark. In the morning."

The downtowner hated Lysander's surprises. Last time the 'surprise' had made Cal kill herself. Despite this, curiosity got the better of him and he flopped back down. Lord Jordanis probably just wanted him to stay so they could have sex, but he hoped it was more than that.

"There's still time, you know," Lysander whispered with the slightest ounce of emotion. "You can still change your mind and stay."

"No, either all of us go or none. But ye can still change your mind and let us all stay instead of getting those Olympian thingies."

Lysander sighed and shook his head.

"I'm afraid it's too late for that. I've paid for them, they're arriving tomorrow night, and there is no refund for them."

Mark didn't feel that was a justifiable explanation. He couldn't understand how Lysander would choose money over human life.

When Mark woke up the next morning he had managed to forget that he and the other servants were returning to the lower elements that day. In his blissful naïveté he enjoyed resting his head on Lord Jordanis' chest. It was only when he started planning out his usual servant routine that he remembered that the only thing on his schedule today was returning downtown.

Not yet. I'm not ready.

He continued to pretend to sleep until the alarm went off and Lysander began to stir. Rolling away from him, Mark finally opened his eyes. The room was pitch black until Lysander clapped his hands and the warm light filled the room to give off the impression that actual morning sunlight was coming through the windows.

The boy could not tell whether or not Jordanis remembered what the day was either. His expression was the same as always. Little did Mark know that Lysander had barely slept a wink last night. He had simply laid there, holding Mark as he slept.

"Good morning," he mumbled casually as if his mind was not burdened with heavy thoughts.

Mark was not in the mood for being nice: "Ya said you'da give me a pressie if I stayed the night and I did. I want my present."

Jordanis was a little surprised by Mark's response. It was a reminder that the handful of people who liked him was eroding very quickly. Even his own son despised him.

As clichéd as it sounds, I don't need people to like me. I simply need them to respect me.

He sat up and slid out from under the covers.

"You are quite right. I'll keep my promise, but may I first shower?"

Mark sighed. He knew he could not exactly stop Lysander from doing whatever he wanted.

"Care to join me?"

"No."

"Fine. Worth a shot," he joked. "I'll be out in ten minutes."

The downtowner was sitting up as if he was going to get out of bed, and yet he flopped back down as soon as Lysander closed the door to the bathroom. He was not tired, he simply was not ready to leave the bed and start the day. Only when he heard the shower switch off did he get out of bed and start dressing. His servant uniform would be what he wore downtown. They hadn't been returned the original clothing they had arrived in at Lysander's estate, making him wonder what had happened to those rags – probably incinerated.

He tried to remember if he had any possessions on him when he arrived at the estate all those months ago. All he could remember was the clothes on his back. Downtowners rarely had possessions, and if he happened to have any he would have left them with Mama. He had been taught to never get attached to an object as he would most likely not be able to hold onto it.

"I would say we have half an hour before anyone else wakes up," Jordanis informed him when he returned from the bathroom fully dressed.

"My pressie," Mark reminded him in a bitter tone.

Lysander cocked an eyebrow, amused.

"I have not forgotten, don't worry. Would you like breakfast?"

"Lysander!"

"Alright." He put his hands up defensively. "We'll have breakfast after you get your 'pressie'."

The younger man followed him through the dark corridors and into his office. Although he did not consider it, this was probably one of the last times Mark would walk through these halls.

This better be worth it, he thought.

"Now, I considered giving you a gun," Jordanis explained while rummaging through a metal chest just under the tinted window. "However, there were going to be two problems that. Firstly: I doubt you know how to use a gun and secondly: it would be useless when you ran out of bullets."

Mark replied with a simple nod and waited for Lysander to continue his explanation.

Jordanis paused when he found what he was looking for and admired it. Chuckling, he pulled out a little black phallic-like object with oval hole in the top of it.

"I haven't seen this in a while."

"What's it?"

Without answering, he slid his thumb across a switch on the side. A silver piece of metal shot out from the handle, then another piece shot out of the first, then the third piece formed the tip of the short sword.

"This will do you well in a downtown brawl. It is light and portable, but also deadly."

He sliced the sword through the air before stabbing his invisible opponent. Mark noticed how the short sword acted like an extension of Lysander's arm. There was no question he knew how to use it, and yet when and why would he have ever learned how to wield it?

"Certainly better than the knives most downtowners wield... and have been stealing from my cutlery collection. You have not been one of those people, right?"

Mark shook his head. He knew the servants who had been stealing from Jordanis, but there was no way in hell that he would rat them out at this stage.

"Good," Lysander remarked. He knew Mark would not steal from him. "I call this little fellow Macbeth. However, that is quite an unlucky name so I suggest renaming it."

"Why would ya give your sharp thingy an unlucky name?"

"Because I don't need luck," he muttered more to himself than Mark. "And it's called a sword, not a 'sharp thingy'."

Mark rolled his eyes immaturely. It did not matter what it was called providing it did its job.

Lysander moved the switch down and the three sections shot back into each other and inside the handle. He then held it out for Mark to take. The downtowner had not been able to guess what Lysander was going to give him. Despite his current dislike for the man, he was very happy with this gift. He reached out to take the sword, but Lysander pulled it out of his reach and raised his eyebrows as if he expected Mark to say something first.

It took Mark a moment to remember what it meant to be polite: "Thank you," he muttered. With that, he received the short sword handle.

"I've decided that isn't going to be your only present," Lord Jordanis stated after much thought.

"I'll take this because the others have already been taking knife thingies from ya, but I don'ta want other pressies because they may get annoyed."

"First of all: you have a sword and they have dinner knives, and they will not be jealous if you tell them if the next gift I give you was something you already owned."

Lysander got back on one knee to continue his search through the metal chest. He dragged out a black single-strap bag. It was big enough to carry important things, yet small enough to not be a heavy hassle.

"Why do ye have these things in this chest right here?" Mark asked as Lysander opened the bag and put his hand in to check if anything was inside.

"I've been many people in my life. This is my memorabilia chest for me to go through whenever I'm tired of work and feeling nostalgic."

Mark did not know what the words 'memorabilia' and 'nostalgic' meant, but as a downtowner he was used to filling in the blanks for it to make sense to him.

"Where does the sword thingy come into it?"

Lysander smirked and did not bother to answer, leaving Mark confused. Seeing this, he decided to change the topic.

"Come," he slung the bag over his shoulder, "let's go to breakfast and then fill this bag."

"Fill it with what?"

"Food, water. The usual things."

I am preparing him like I would for a Manticorian mountain trip, he thought. He's not going for a getaway hike through the mountains; he's going to a dangerous ghetto.

"Why are you doing this?" Mark asked in an exasperated manner. "Why are you giving me all this stuff?"

Lysander planned out his answer for a moment. "I know seems strange. I feel like I owe you. Consider this my way of saying 'thank you'."

"For what? 'Thank you' for what?"

Everything.

"For letting me knock you."

"Oh," Mark muttered, obviously disappointed with Lysander's answer. "Thanks, I guess. It'sa nice and all, but I'm worried the bag with the food and stuff might get stolen if I take it downtown."

"And that, Mark," Lysander began before a dramatic pause, "is why I gave you the short sword."

The ex-servants sat on the benches and waited to be boarded onto the two shuttles. The shuttles would not take them directly to where they lived, simply to the area in which they had lived. None of them were crying like in the previous days. Most had just submitted to their fate.

Mark took a seat next to Erik who had not made eye contact with him since he had arrived in the hangar.

"Hāi," Mark said to see if he could elicit a response. His attempt failed.

Not wanting to make a scene, he remained quiet next to his brother.

The tinted glass wall between the two hangars showed the doors to the other hangar slowly opening. Two premium silver shuttles zipped in and landed. Lord Jordanis entered once those hangar doors had closed again and it was safe to stand in the hangar. Mark wondered what was more important than saying goodbye to his downtowner servants even though they were just in the other hangar. The glass was crystal clear on both sides, but Lysander still did not glance over once.

The downtowners were now being boarded by the hired chauffeurs, and yet the servants moved at a leisurely pace because they wanted to see what the shuttles in the other hanger held.

"Lái ba," the chauffer said in an irritated manner as he hustled Erik into the shuttle.

Mark followed right after. Both brothers went immediately for one of the small windows in the shuttle. Mark snarled when he saw the passengers leave the silver shuttles. The Olympians had just been delivered.

Lysander would rather meet his new servants than say goodbye to us. I was wrong. He really doesn't care about anyone else. It's always about him.

As the shuttles left the hanger and started flying back towards Manticore Metropolis, Mark looked back to get one last look at Jordanis' estate. Everything felt surreal. He simply could not remember what it was like to live in constant fear of being attacked rather than making a living in an estate he had never realised was so beautiful.

We just have to find Mama. Then everything will be alright.

"Wǒ wonda ifa Knave yǒu heard about the Olympians stealing wǒmen de jobs," he pondered out loud. He knew speaking about Knave would get Erik's attention.

Erik responded with a hollow shrug and continued to stare out the window. Hopefully they would be able to talk about what was bothering him when they got downtown. This was hard for Mark. He couldn't stand the idea of people being angry with him. He lived to please people, especially his family.

He tried to not focus on Erik's frustration at that moment and instead contemplated how Mama would react when two of her kids arrived on her doorstep. Downtowners as isolated as her had certainly not heard about the Olympians taking over the service industry.

Mark considered the worst case scenarios of what could happen when they arrived at her doorstep: she could turn us away. No, she loves us. She could be sick or injured... or dead. He shook the thought out of his head. For some reason, neither he nor Erik had considered that Mama could have died in the months that they had been away. It didn't seem possible that anyone could kill her. She had always given off this confident immortal vibe.

As they flew over the metropolis, Mark knew they would reach their destination very soon. The shuttle would probably be their last interaction with civilised society for a long time.

All the downtowners were beginning to exchange suspicious looks. As soon as they were downtown they could not trust each other. Any of them could quickly turn back into the lowlife brutes they were and mug the people who used to be their friends. Mark figured that he and Erik had to get away from the shuttle as quickly as possible. He could not trust any of them – that was a strange feeling.

"All right," the pilot said over the speaker in mandarin, "as soon as the door opens I want you all gone, got it? I don't want to be downtown for more than ten seconds. And if any of you refuse to leave the shuttle, well, I'll have to take you to the police."

The shuttle began to descend making Mark close his eyes and pretend that he was still on the estate. He was wondering if he had made a mistake. Maybe he should have stayed with Lord Jordanis. Erik was not going to be happy either way, but maybe he could've been happy... and safe had he stayed with Lysander.

An internal war of his mind ensued. Maybe if I call him once I get Erik safely to Mama's he will send a shuttle to come and get me, was his first thought.

The other voice in his mind interjected: he only wanted somebody to knock and he did not care who that was. He would not take you back, and you are strong enough to not even try to get back to him. You made the right choice by returning downtown with the other servants and your brother.

He liked me a lot. Like loved me.

He never said that. He just liked what you did for him. . His feelings for you were always just your imagination.

Then why did he pay special attention to me?

Because you would let him knock you anywhere at any time and he got satisfaction out of seeing you respond to his touch. The other downtowners were stronger, more resistant. He had to put effort into convincing them or at least give them a worthy bonus to knock them, but with you... you probably would have let him knock you even if he had not given you bonuses.

Mark began to question why he was so critical of himself in his mind. His optimistic side could never win against his rational one.

He snapped out of his trance when his chair vibrated. The shuttle had landed. He had been so focused on a mind war that he had not even been aware of the final seconds of their decline.

The shuttle was parked in a vacant street. They had probably flown out at daytime because they knew less downtowners would be out roaming and it would therefore be safer. The main problem was remembering how to navigate his way to Mama's apartment in the shadows to avoid the Jhard. He knew from memory that they would have to travel through some dangerous buildings. He remembered being guided through these places by Mama, even when he was still sixteen – the age most considered to be the start of adulthood seeing as their lives were so short – and she made him feel safe even if she was quite old.

An odd thought struck him: Knave must have turned sixteen very recently. I forgot to call her and congratulate her.

It had been quite a few years since he had seen Knave. At least four, almost closer to five. He hadn't seen Mama for about the same amount of time because he hadn't gone back to Mama's house after leaving his first job. He had simply flown straight from his previous workplace to Lord Jordanis' estate after Erik had been accepted to work there as well. He had spoken to Knave a few times, but Mama's apartment did not have a communication device so the first time was when she went to work at McCarthy's eight months back.

I have not seen Knave since she was a child, he thought. Maybe once we settle back into Mama's apartment we can go visit her or at least find a phone so we can call her.

The hissing sound from the door caused him to remember where he was again and he quickly grabbed Erik's arm and dragged him towards the exit. Erik did not seem happy to be manhandled and tried to remove his arm from his brother's firm grip.

"Wǒmen hava to move, xiànshí."

"We'ra fine, Mark!"

His brother ignored him and continued to drag him away from the shuttle.

"Hé are ya acting so fēng?" Erik growled. "We'ra safe right now. Wǒmen know thesa people. Tāmen are our friends."

"No," Mark shook his head violently. "Bù anymore. Theya be fēng now. All of tāmen. Wǒmen have to get away."

"Let go!"

Erik gave one hard tug and pulled himself free of his brother's grasp, causing him to fall onto the broken pavement. Mark broke out of his panicky state and quickly went to his brother's side. He was about to apologise when both of them looked back as the shuttle took off. It was gone as quickly as it came. Now they all really felt abandoned. Now Mark got the feeling that the downtowners, who he once considered to be his friends, would start to show their true colours. After all, there were no civilised eyes watching them.

Nik, who was the tallest and strongest of the former servant group, was already looking slightly deranged. The announcement about the Olympian replacements had hit him hard and he had never been a stable. From word of mouth, Mark had heard that Nik had actually plotted to kill Lord Jordanis recently.

He didn't appear to a major threat, but Mark felt sorry for any downtowner who tried to get in his way. Nik pulled out the knife he stole from Lysander out of his pants and jogged off. From what Mark knew, Nik was the child of the head of a body snatching business and that was probably who he was going back to. Hopefully he would not inform his mother of any of the other former servants' locations and have her send some people out to retrieve them. Lysander's former servants had been well fed and were healthy. Much more meat on them than the average downtowner had – of course they would be the targets of cannibalism.

"Wǒ am gonna miss thesa guys," Mark said out loud to Erik as they watched all the other downtowners follow Nik's lead by grabbing out their weapons and dashing off into the downtown wilderness. "C'mon. Let'sa go to Mama's. Wǒ remember the way."

Erik did not give him a proper answer. He just followed behind him with his eyes on the ground. None of the other servants went in the same direction as the two.

Mark's underarms felt abnormally damp. After being in Lysander's air conditioned manor for so long, he had forgotten the heat of the Jhard even if he was not directly in it. He had also gotten used to taking a shower on a regular basis, but that was all gone and he would be forever hot and sweaty.

I know those are minor things, and yet I simply cannot imagine life without them.

Mark froze for a moment when he heard voices coming from down the beaten corridor the brothers were travelling through. They did not seem like aggressive voices. It was simply a soft murmur of a group of people chatting. However, Mark knew better than to be underprepared which is why he pulled out the handle of the short sword and clutched it firmly.

"What'sa that?" Erik whispered. He had wanted to give his brother the silent treatment, but curiosity got the better of him for that moment.

Mark moved the switch up. His hand shook as the three sections of the blade shot out of each other before he established his firm grip on it. Erik looked quite surprised... and impressed.

"Lysanda gave zhè to wǒ, but tā said he would only give it to me ifa wǒ stayed with him last night," Mark explained. He was hoping that would help Erik understand why he did not join him for the final night in their room last night.

Erik did seem to have a better understanding now. Unfortunately, he did not appear any less frustrated. Mark made the wise decision to talk to him about it in greater detail once they could no longer hear the people talking.

To avoid coming into contact with the unknown group, the boys climbed out a broken window into the alleyway. The older brother sliced his hand while climbing out the window, and yet he figured this minor injury was better than the ones he could sustain in a scrap with the group of downtowners.

There was a crumpling sound under his foot as he landed on the other side of the window. He looked down and was surprised to see that he was stepping on part of Lord Koris Young's face. Without thinking, he picked the picture up with his injured hand and accidentally stained it with blood in the process. It was a pamphlet promoting Lord Young for chairman with half written in Mandarin and the other half written in English – Koris was obviously aware of how downtowners from this area spoke. He looked at the back page and found a small map with the location of the voting machines on their side on it.

Interesting, Mark noted. I do not recall downtowners ever voting in the elections. I wonder how it'll go down. There will probably be riots and death if I know my kind.

And with that, he dropped the pamphlet on the ground and left the image of Koris to be consumed by blood.

To avoid the sunlight at the end of the alleyway they were standing in, the boys climbed through a window opposite the one they had just climbed out of.

Erik ran his fingers through his hair. He felt sticky as his fringe clung to his forehead. Like Mark, he could not remember what life was like without taking regular showers. Back when they were kids at Mama's, they got to take a bath around once a month in a large metal bucket. He had to share his bath with Mark while Knave took a separate one with their used bath water – Mama understood it was not wise to tempt Erik seeing has he had an obvious attraction to the girl.

"So," Mark began cautiously, "do nǐ wanna have a talky or something?"

Erik remained silent for moment. He, like Mark, was not exactly sure what they needed to discuss in order to clear the air.

"Did wǒ annoy nǐ because I stayed with Lysanda last yè? I'ma, chuàng, Eriky, but tā would not have given me this wǔqì had wǒ bù stayed with him last night, ya know?"

Erik sighed.

"Yé, but's not just about the last night thingy. It seems lika nǐ always chose Lysanda over everyone else. Tā bù even a nice guy, Mark. He was mean to all of wǒmen, even nǐ, but nǐ still liked him. I don'ta understand that. Why woulda nǐ choose a mean guy over me or our péngyǒu?"

Now Mark was annoyed: "Wǒ neva chose him over nǐ. In fact, I didn'ta pick favourites eva. Wǒ neva thought I hada to until this week." He sighed aggressively. "And yé, I did choosa spendin' last yè with tā ova you so that wǒ coulda get a weapon and food, but wǒ am hera now. Wǒ did choose you ova tā in the end, didn'ta I?"

"Eh? Ya didn'ta choosa wǒ over Lysanda, he got rid of ya!"

Mark shook his head. He had been reluctant to tell Erik earlier about Lysander's proposition for him to remain on the estate because he did not want to make Erik feel like he was pulling him away from a better life, but now he wanted to tell him the truth – he wanted to prove just what he had given up for Erik.

"Lysanda asked wǒ to stay witha him." Erik's eyes widened at that. "Tā shuō wǒ coulda stay with him and not even have to do worky thingies."

"Eh?" His brother shook his head in disbelief.

"Yé, and wǒ turned tā down because I didn'ta want to leave ya downtown alone."

Erik was silent for a few moments. His expression changed from surprised to angry again.

"How do nǐ think that makes wǒ feely?" he hissed. "Wǒ don'ta wanna feel like I pulled ya away from that life. Maybe nǐ coulda have lived longa if ye had stayed with Lysanda... Nǐ shoulda stayed with tā!"

"Maybe," Mark agreed, semi-convinced. "But then don'ta complain when wǒ does make choices like that. Wǒ chose you over tā in the end. I gave up livin' a long, safe life so that I coulda protect nǐ. So neva say I always chose tā over nǐ."

Erik fell silent. He watched his brother's body tremble with anger. He could not recall the last time he saw Mark this angry. He was usually so composed and in control of his emotion. Erik understood that he'd maybe pushed this conversation a little too far. He hadn't wanted to know that he was the reason Mark was not safe at Lord Jordanis' estate because of him. He would never be able to forgive himself if Mark died when they both knew that he could have led another life.

"Wǒ'ma chuàng, Mark. Maybe... maybe if ya help wǒ get to Mama's ya can then go call Lysanda. Is that a hǎo idea?"

Mark shrugged. He didn't look convinced.

"Wǒ bù wanna go back on what I said. Wǒ told tā I would bù stay with him and wǒ won't."

Erik nodded in understanding, but he still felt guilty for pulling Mark away from Lysander under the circumstances. His brother understood this and smiled forgivingly.

"C'mon, gē, let'sa go to Mama's. Everything will be hǎo when we get to tā."

Had their shuttle landed during the night, half an hour could have been taken off their journey as they would not have had to plan a route devoid of sunlight. Despite the fact their journey was almost entirely on flat ground, Mark and Erik were sweating uncontrollably.

"Wǒ hopes Mama lets wǒmen use some wata to take a bath with," Erik joked. "I forgot how smelly wǒmen used to be downtown."

Mark smirked half-heartedly. He could not get the sick feeling out of his stomach that something had happened to Mama. Downtown was cruel. What if people had raided her home and killed her... or worse? He thought of the deep scars on his back and the remnants of what used to be his nipples – he knew death was not the worst thing that could happen to a person.

"Let'sa just see how it goes, hǎo?" Mark said hesitantly.

Erik gave his brother a look of confusion. Being the younger sibling, he never even thought about different outcomes to the one he expected – he left Mark to be the fearful one.

Mark held his breath when they turned into the alleyway which Mama's apartment was on. It was dead quiet, and that was a good thing. Mama had chosen a very isolated and well-hidden alleyway to live on which gave him hope that her house had never been found.

Erik could not contain his excitement and jogged down the street while Mark kept his pace at a stride. The short sword Lord Jordanis had given him was still in his hand with the blade erect – ready for any surprises.

He noticed more pamphlets with Lord Young's face on them scattered across the ground. He assumed that shuttles had dropped the pamphlets and let them rain down instead of actually sending people downtown to hand the pamphlets out which would put them at risk of being killed

"Careful of light patch thingies," he called out. He remembered there were a few spots that the Jhard could reach at certain times of day. Erik, being oblivious to these sorts of things, had once burned his shoulder when he ran into one.

He caught up to Erik who was waiting for him at the bottom of the creaky black staircase that led to the level Mama's apartment was on.

"Let wǒ go first," he warned Erik, gesturing to his short sword.

Erik was going to have a hard time with that. He wanted to rush straight up the stairs and into her apartment. However, he understood that Mark wanted to be cautious. Now he understood why he had given up living with Jordanis so that he could go downtown with him – Erik certainly needed protecting.

Mark crept slowly up the stairs. This was because of the fact he was not sure that the stairs could hold him and Erik's weight now that they had grown up rather than the fact he feared being ambushed. There were no surprises waiting for them at the top of the stairs so Mark felt it was alright to move a quicker pace.

Although there were no numbers on apartment doors or other ways to distinguish each apartment, Mark and Erik still instinctively remembered how many doors Mama's apartment was from the stairs.

"It feels like wǒmen be kiddies again," Erik joked. Mark could tell by the enthusiasm in his voice that he was excited to see Mama again.

"Let'sa... Let'sa just stay calm," Mark said hesitantly. He would not be excited until he saw Mama with his own eyes and was positive she was alright.

Interesting, Mark thought. All these apartments seem to be empty. Last time I was here most of them were empty, but we did have some nice neighbours who ate dinner with us sometimes. I wonder where they are.

He could tell these neighbours no longer existed seeing as the door to their house was broken. The metal door had been dented so that it could no longer fit into the wall and so it rested in the centre of the doorway. If the neighbours were still there they would have done something about this. Erik did not appear to notice this detail. He was off in his own little mind thinking about how great it would be to talk to Mama again.

"Nǐ think wǒmen should knock or nah?" Mark murmured to Erik when they reached the door of their old apartment. The older brother was wondering this because if Mama was not in the apartment, did they want to draw the attention of any other potential person inside?

"Wǒ sayin' we justa go in," Erik replied. He was not waiting any longer.

Mark very carefully grabbed the handle and pushed the door into the wall. He cringed every time it squeaked or groaned. He hoped he did not alert anyone who was possibly inside.

Both brothers, regardless of how they had been previously feeling, instantly knew something was wrong when they stepped inside. The air felt dead.

The apartment was small, and yet quite large compared to other downtowner houses. The ceiling, like most, was high due to the fact Svellik used to occupy it. Because of the darkness, the top of the ceiling could not be seen and appeared to be a never-ending void. The front door led into the main room which had two rooms coming off of it. The smaller was the one Mama had made into a bathroom while the other was where they had slept. Both those doors were closed at the current moment, but Mark and Erik presume the whole house was similar now: barren and empty.

Everything was gone. There used to be boxes and fabric all over the main room along with a kitchen area in the corner. The children had done murals with charcoal or among other things. That was all gone. All that remained was dust and some new scratches along the walls.

It's as if we never lived here, Mark thought.

"Are nǐ sure this wasa wǒmen de jiā?" Erik asked. He had obviously had the same thought.

"Yé. It has to be."

"What happened?"

"Wǒ dunno."

Mark ran his hand along the wall as he pondered. Had Mama's apartment been raided? Was she killed in the raid and taken by body snatchers? If that was the case, then why was there no blood on the ground? Why were the murals the children had done missing as well? Why would people remove them?

She vanished and took everything with her, he concluded.

"Nǐ bù tā's dead, do ya?" Erik asked in a voice that reminded Mark of a small child.

He didn't give his younger brother an answer. With all the terrible things that could happen to her downtown he almost hoped she had died and was not suffering.

His hand clenched around the short sword handle when a thud came from behind the door that used to lead to their bedroom. The two brothers had very different ideas about what the sound came from. Erik thought it was Mama while Mark suspected it anyone but Mama.

He put his finger to his lips to tell Erik to be quiet as he crept towards the bedroom door. The younger brother tried to follow, but Mark put his hand up and shook his head. Erik didn't have a weapon, so if anyone dangerous was on the other side of the door he wanted Erik to be out of the danger and able to get away.

We should really just leave, Mark thought when he put his ear to the door to listen. I know Mama is not in there... and do I really want to meet whoever is in there?

Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of him and he put his hand on the handle. He exchanged one last look with Erik. His brother had gotten the hint that what they were doing was dangerous and leaned against the wall in the opposite corner.

Please be Mama, was his last thought as he jerked open the door. That was his last rational thought ever.

Erik's heart nearly jumped out of his chest when an animalistic battle cry filled the apartment as a woman, roughly his age, pounced on Mark as soon as the door opened. Mark was obviously in equal shock and unable to defend himself. The deranged woman crashed with him onto the floor before raising what appeared to be a large sharp rock. Erik cried something in his native tongue as she used all her might to bludgeon his brother's head.

The women, lost in her own world, did not hear Erik's shrieking and only became aware of him when he tackled her off his brother. In his rage, he smashed her head against the floor before punching her twice. Unlike Erik and Mark, she was not easily stunned and instantly started to fight back. Her long nails dug into his neck, drawing blood. Erik grunted out of pain. Her grip tightened and he forgot about the pain when he realised she was cutting off his air supply. His attempt to pull back and get off her failed – her nails were deep in his skin.

It was clear that she had killed many times before. With her hands still on his neck, she pushed him down so that he was lying next to her before she sat up. She was in complete control. Erik began to panic. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been seriously assaulted by anyone who intended to kill him.

His saving grace was when he noticed that the short sword Mark had been holding was within reach. Erik was no killer by nature, but when threatened he had the animalistic instincts that most downtowners had. He released one of the women's arms as she continued to choke him and desperately patted his hand along the ground to find the handle again.

There was a strange moment of silence when he finally managed to grab the handle and drove the sword into the woman's side. She remained motionless for a moment and Erik used that time to get up, bloody sword in hand. Her first wound was not fatal and Erik did not hesitate to stab her again to make sure she would go down forever. This time it was in the neck. He had meant to get her in the head to put her instantly out of her pain, but he was so exhausted after everything that had happened that day that he missed.

The strange animal-like woman fell down again while grasping the sword her neck was impaled on. Unable to scream, she made gurgling sounds as blood filled up in her mouth and the life ebbed from her body.

Erik ignored her and the pain in his neck. He was far more focused on his brother.

"M-mark?"

His brother was unresponsive. He lay there blinking slowly and staring into the beyond.

From Mark's perspective, Erik was a fading blur and soon he was gone. He lay alone in the room. To his surprise, he felt no pain. The pain in his head had dulled to a negligible numbing sensation.

He noticed that the entire room was illuminated by the light seeping through the front door when he sat up. At first he thought the Jhard had found their apartment, but this light seemed serene and unthreatening. A part of him knew he would not burn upon contact with it.

Getting up, he made his way towards the door. It was not the same door they had let themselves into the apartment with. This one was made of a lustrous black material. Mark did not question where this door had come from or where his brother had gone. He simply opened the door and got consumed by the white light.

A young boy awoke suddenly as if punched in the stomach. He tried to sit up, yet his chest was unbearably sore and he flopped down again. He found himself in a small dark room in which he could only make out the outlines of certain objects such as the doorframe. He had no clue how he got away from the gang of murderous urchins in the alleyway to this strange room. Scared and confused, he began to cry – was he dead?

He turned his head when he heard the door slide open. A yellow light seeped in from a lamp in the other room which formed the silhouette of a small figure peering through the door. When his eyes adjusted he saw it was a little girl. Her frizzy black hair sprang out in all directions and she appeared to be missing a hand, but it was her face that caught his attention. He had never seen someone with such a happy expression. She beamed with joy.

"Mama," she called back, "tā'sa awakey."

She then moved away from the door and skipped back into the other room. He saw her take a seat on the ground next to an older boy who had a less cheerful expression – this confirmed he had not woken up in a strange world where everyone was happy.

A tall skeleton-like figure blocked the light from the doorway briefly and he suddenly grew fearful.

"It'sss alrrright," a low, yet soft voice whispered. "You'rrre sssafe."

He was very confused by the woman's speech pattern. He spoke very little of the common languages and could tell English was foreign to her tongue as well.

Kneeling down next to him, he was able to get a clear look at her face. At first he thought she was human, but now he was not so sure. He had never seen anyone who looked like her. Her joints almost stuck out of her crusty grey skin. She was appeared to be very thin, and not yet weak in any manner. Her body was just naturally thin. Her face was equally intriguing. Her warm voice didn't match her pitch black eyes and wrinkled face. He had never met anyone who looked as old as her – downtowners did not live past thirty in most cases.

"Hello, Errrik," she said. "My name isss Mama."

The boy was confused. How did she know his name?

"Errrik isss yourrr name, corrrrrrect?" Mama asked upon seeing his confused expression. "I hearrrd that name being called out. Wasss sssomeone looking forrr you?"

While nodding slowly, he twitched his cheek to see if there was still a bruise from where had been brutally struck.

"And you do not want to be found by that perrrssson?"

He nodded again, tears welling up in his eyes.

Despite her strange appearance, fear and confusion seemed to melt away when she stroked his hair.

"You'rrre sssafe now."

The other two children appeared in the doorway. The little girl was tucked behind the older boy as if he was protecting her, but both had reassuring smiles.

"I'll prrrotect you," Mama promised him as he drifted back to sleep. He was still very weak from the loss of blood and needed to rest.

Erik woke up to the smell of rotting flesh filling his nostrils. He was then reminded that he was sharing a room with two corpses. One was the corpse of a madwoman and the other of his dearly loved brother. Despite everything that had happened, Erik felt rather numb and passive at that moment – he was in shock.

He had spent the night in their old apartment, but he knew had to leave. There was a chance that the crazy woman had friends and he didn't want to deal with them.

He had a hard time looking at his brother as he took his black bag. Mark's eyes were still open. He almost looked like he was daydreaming rather than dead seeing as he appeared so calm.

It took a few tugs to withdraw the blade from the madwoman's neck. With her grey complexion and empty eyes, she looked very much dead, and yet she had looked that way when she was alive as well.

I wonder if she killed Mama, Erik thought as he wiped the blood off the short sword on her shirt, or if she came here after Mama and all of her stuff vanished. He choked back a sob. If only she hadn't killed Mark. Then he could have gone back to Lysander.

Erik knew that was probably not really an option. After they had discovered Mama was gone there was a strong chance that Mark would refuse to leave him alone.

Taking one last look at the two corpses, he sighed before leaving the apartment. Mama's home was no longer a safe haven and he had to move on – but he first needed to warn Knave of what had happened. There was a hostel half an hour away from the apartment... or at least there was one there before he became a servant for Lord Jordanis. The hostel had a working phone which he could call Knave on and then he could spend the night in the hostel using the money he and Mark had earned as servants. The plan sounded simple, and yet it was rather dangerous to execute. He would certainly have to be more attentive and careful now that Mark wouldn't have his back.

I have to thank Lysander for one thing, Erik thought as he looked down at short sword. Some of the madwoman's blood still tarnished it. Her blood was also going to leave a permanent stain on his mind. He had never killed another human being until that point – that was a rite of passage for fully grown downtowners. After everything that had happened through all the years, that would mark the moment he lost his humanity.

She killed Mark, she had to die, he assured himself. Mark was innocent, she wasn't. I was not in the wrong by killing her.

A strange thought hit him: I don't know what her name was. Surely she had one. I wonder what moments in her life led her to survive up until our encounter. Certainly someone had to raise her because a child could not survive down here on their own. Maybe she had a Mama-like person in her life. Maybe she's what I will become now that nobody is around to help me keep my sanity.

Erik dreaded the idea of becoming a madman just like most other downtowners. Mama had tried to protect him from that life, but after killing once, he knew he could do it again if he had to. That was probably why Mark was dead and he was alive – Mark could never kill another person and therefore he was unfit for downtown.

The Jhard had not peaked above the canyon yet so Erik would be able to travel in the streets. Then again, other downtowners would also be able to travel in the streets so he had to be extra cautious.

The path to the hostel was fuzzy in his mind. Mama had shown him the directions as the hostel hosted the only news notice board on northern side of downtown. She took him there first when Mark needed to know where to go to apply for being a servant and then she took Erik there when it was his turn to become a servant.

He sneered when he turned to look down both sides of the alleyway. The madwoman had done a number on his neck. He assumed that she had left a few scratches, but because he did not have a mirror, he didn'tt realise that his neck was blood-stained with dark bruises from where she had gotten a firm hold on him.

I don't want to encounter anyone else like her, he thought as he rubbed his neck.

By the time he reached the hostel after an uneventful journey he was completely sweaty again. Looking up past the uptown skyways he could see that the Jhard was getting higher in the sky, but its heat could be felt at any time of the day.

To Erik's luck, the hostel appeared to still be open and looked as rugged as ever. He knew that the hostel probably had some protection from some body snatcher groups. There was a strong chance they had a deal that the groups could steal some of their guests, and yet it was still one of the safer downtown locations.

Erik's stomach became restless as he neared the hostel. He hoped he was not in for another madwoman situation like the day before. When he opened the doors his stomach eased slightly. There were multiple downtowners in the lobby area of the hostel. They were either reading the news notice board or in the line to use the phone – none of them looked like they were about to try and kill him. To his own surprise, they were all giving him suspicious looks seeing as he was the one with new bruises on his neck and a bloody sword.

I don't care what they think. I'm not putting my sword away, he thought while avoiding eye contact. Most of them are probably carrying hidden weapons so they know better than to judge.

The old light flickered above him while he waited in line to use the phone. This was not the ideal place to make contact with Knave for the first time in months. Everyone in the lobby would hear his conversation which meant he had to be careful about what he said. He could say Mark had died, yet he could not tell Knave that he had killed the madwoman.

"Shì de, the stuffy thingies are waitin' at the zhǐ," the man who was currently using the hostel's phone mumbled quietly.

While trying to be inconspicuous, he had only made people pay more attention to him. Erik knew the man was discussing illegal activity, the real question was whether he was calling another downtowner or an uptowner. Barely any downtowners owned phones so there was a good chance he was doing illegal business with an uptowner. Then again, if that was the case, why would they speak in a fractured mixture of English and Mandarin instead of formally?

Erik licked his lips while he eavesdropped on people's phone calls. He was desperately thirsty. He did have water, and yet it was a death sentence to reveal any food or drink in public. The water would have to wait until he had checked into a room for the night.

After what felt like hours he finally found himself browsing the phone directory in search of McCarthy's details. After Mama had vanished and Mark had died he prayed that Knave was alive and safe. And if he was lucky; maybe she knew what happened to Mama.

"Hello," the man who answered said formally in Mandarin after muttering to someone he was near. He had obviously recognised that Erik's caller ID was from downtown so he would most likely be resilient. "You have reached the help desk of McCarthy's Haven for Children. How may I help you?"

"Wǒ, uh, is Knave there?" Erik said in fractured Mandarin and English despite that fact he had been taught by Lord Jordanis to always speak in the same language he was greeted in.

The man instantly broke back out of his formal act and went straight into his natural downtowner way of speaking: "Who'sa askin'?"

"Tā de brotha. Look, tell tā that Erik is on the phone thingie."

"Alright," he growled, "but just know that I'lla be listening to make sure you ain't trying to mess with her."

During the pause that the man left the photo to go find Knave, Erik pondered two assumptions he had made in that thirty seconds. The first was that the man was from the southern part of downtown seeing as his natural language appeared to be English. The second assumption he made was that the guy was quite protective of Knave – was he possibly in a relationship with her or just a protective brother-like figure? Erik was jealous either way, but he wouldn't ask her anything about that. He had for more important things to discuss with her.

"Hāi?" a soft woman's voice said cautiously after a few seconds of silence. How Erik wished this phone had a camera so he could see Knave's face.

He laughed out of relief before taking a deep breath.

"Knave, is thata nǐ?"

"Yah, and thisa be Erik?"

"Uh huh." He laughed again. "Yeah, it'sa wǒ."

"This's so fēng. How are nǐ? How'sa Marky... and where are nǐ calling from? Nat told wǒ that nǐ were callin' from a downtown numba."

Erik bit his lip. He was not sure how to break all the news to Knave.

"Uh, yeah, wǒ am."

"Wèi shé?" Now Knave sounded worried. "Didn't ya work at Lysanda's?"

"Yé, but wǒmen got booted 'cause he bought some new blond thingies to replace wǒmen."

Knave gasped. "Oh, Erik. What are nǐ gonna do? Is Marky with nǐ? Can wǒ talky to tā?"

"Uh, méiyǒu." He glanced back at the line to see how intently everyone was listening to his conversation. Most of the downtowners were lost in their own thoughts, and yet some were staring directly at him. "No, Mark'sa dead."

He heard Knave let out a small, short gasp as if she had just taken a hard punch to the chest. He figured 'Nat' had come to her rescue as he heard a concerned male voice mumbling to her.

"Whata happened?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper. She had to keep her voice quiet so that it did not crack.

"Wǒmen went to Mama's jiā. Tā wasn'ta there... It looked like tā bù been there forever. But there was a nǚ there and, uh, tā killed Marky."

Erik heard Knave sniff. She was doing her best to hold herself together even though she was shocked and saddened simultaneously.

"So Mama hé Marky are both dead?" she asked between sobs.

"Wǒ don'ta know what'sa happened to Mama, but Marky i–"

"I'ma sorry, Erik. Wǒ just have to..." she was so distraught she could not even finish the sentence.

"No, děngdài!" Erik yelled desperately, but she had already hung up.

He leaned his head against the phone box for a moment as he tried to come to terms with everything. Unfortunately, the downtowner behind him in the line had grown restless and shoved him out of the way. Erik staggered as he tried to keep his balance on the uneven lobby surface.

You're lucky that I'm still trying to be a good person, Erik thought with a spiteful look in the downtowner's direction while he clutched his short sword.

He kept his composure and instead strolled over to the lobby desk. There was a glass window laced with sharp wires that separated him from the so-called receptionist. She was smoking a red cigarette while polishing a previously bloodied knife – Erik knew to take that as a bad sign.

"Wǒ wanna get a room for, uh, two nights," he said to her. He figured he would need two nights to get his head straight and start planning what he was going to do with his life now.

Her bloodshot eyes met his.

"Nǐ got the yuan to make a reservation thingy?

Erik reached into his black bag and started digging around for his card. He wanted to keep Mark's card safer seeing as he had more money on it after sleeping with Jordanis so many times. He could afford to lose his own card providing he kept the other one safe.

He had more yuan on there than I thought, Erik realised when he saw Mark's card underneath his own. The digital display number was almost as seven-thousand yuan which was an insane amount for a downtowner.

"Hǎo," the receptionist said after Erik's payment went through and was displayed on her tablet. "Nǐ will be in room two-seventeen on the floor liǎng ."

She gave him an odd look when he continued to stand there rather than going up to his room.

"Shénme? Do nǐ need anything else or ya just fuckin' with wǒ?"

"Wǒ, err, don'ta wǒ need a key or password thingy?"

She cackled as if that was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. Erik looked around cautiously. He wanted the receptionist to keep it down when they were discussing money and security.

"Wǒmen don't do lock door thingies, bǎobèi. Now, scat."

Erik gladly did so. He'd intentionally paid for the more expensive rooms in hopes that they were more secure. Hopefully any body snatchers would only go to the ground floor rooms of the hostel in search of fresh meat. It was only after he was walking up to the second floor that he considered he had actually exposed himself more by paying more for a better room. Paying for better quality tipped people off that he had a fair amount of yuan and therefore they could trying to steal from him in the night.

He bit his lip. I should have paid for a room on the first: not too poor and not too rich.

The hostel hallways had minimal lighting. Only a haunting greenish light every several metres that was very faint, yet it was amazing when any places downtown had electricity which made Erik further question what connections the hostel had to have to uptowners or powerful downtowner groups.

It took a while to fine room two-hundred and seventeen seeing as many of the rooms were missing some numbers. He eventually found a room that had a two, space then a seven and decided it was a safe guess. Yes, there was a chance it was actually another number like two-hundred and thirty seven and that another madwoman would be waiting for him, but he was so exhausted that he was willing to take that chance.

After flicking the light switch, the green light revealed that his room was empty in every sense of the word. No madwoman was there... and there was no furniture either in the three-by-two metre room. The only significant thing in it was a dark stain on the wall. The lighting made it difficult to tell whether or not it was blood, and Erik didn't really want to know the answer.

For safety reasons, Erik removed his right dress shoe, courtesy of Lord Jordanis as part of his servant uniform, and wedged the toe of it under the door. He did not care if it got scuffed seeing as his shirt and vest were already covered in blood. All he cared about was making sure it would be difficult for anyone else to creep into his room while he was sleeping. It would not halt anyone desperate to get in, but the casual opportunist may change their mind if they struggled to discretely slide the door open.

Erik slumped down in the corner and opened the black bag again in search of food. He was surprised when he heard a crinkling sound and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Reading the front, his heart skipped a beat when he realised it was a note addressed to Mark – no doubt it was from Lord Jordanis.

This isn't mine to read, he told himself when he decided to tear the note into two pieces and let the bits float to the floor. He wasn't sure if Mark had ever read the note if Lord Jordanis had secretly slipped it into the bag. Erik hadn't seen his brother open the bag once so he had to assume that he hadn't been able to.

He considered what kind of things the letter said, yet thinking about that made him think about Mark so he tried to direct his mind down a different path. He was not in the headspace to deal with what had happened yet.

To take his mind of the note to Mark, he grabbed a small apple out of the bag and thought about that instead. Grown in Lysander's conservatory, it was soft and bruised, but still looked edible which was all that really mattered. While eating, he couldn't control his thoughts as he wondered what he was going to do about eating once he ran out of food in the bag Lysander had given Mark. Since his time with Mama he had not eaten another human being, but his life before Mama was another story which he chose to forget.

Wait. What did I eat at Mama's apartment if I didn't eat people?

They had eaten almost every day, and yet he had no clue what they'd been devouring. He had certainly never asked Mama. Maybe they had eaten people – what else was there to eat downtown? It was almost literally a dog-eat-dog world.

And he had thought he was pure until he had killed that madwoman. No, he had always been a true downtowner.

I should not be thinking like this right now, he reminded himself. Just get a good night's sleep and you can worry about everything tomorrow.

Erik had extreme difficulty falling to sleep. Every sound woke him up from his light doze because he knew every sound meant potential danger. It also didn't help that he was sleeping on the ground and using his arm as a pillow. It turns out the beds Lord Jordanis had provided the servants with had been a luxury even though they made his back sore.

Mark had always told him that they were lucky to be staying with Lysander – now Erik knew he was right. Mark would know better than anyone. It had taken a few months for his brother to open up about the horrors of his previous master who had made Mark sleep naked on the ground at the foot of their bed... unless they made him sleep in their bed. He had applied to the same employer, Jordanis, as Erik because he wanted to protect his brother from the horrors he had suffered.

That is probably why he loved Lysander so much, Erik thought drowsily as he tried to get back to sleep for the fifth time. Lysander was so different from his previous master that he seemed like a great guy even though he was cruel in different ways. Mark's original master damaged him physically and mentally, but Lysander was manipulative and twisted Mark's mind.

Uptowners are just as bad as downtowners.

He sat up instantly when he heard a man scream down his hall. It was possible that the body snatchers had arrived. Nonetheless, the amount of commotion that followed the scream didn't seem as discreet as body snatchers would be.

The blade of the short sword resided within the handle and it was too dark for him to find the switch that released the blade. That gave Erik the idea that the darkness would be his friend. Standing up, he went to turn off the lights before following the walls back to his corning and crouching down. He figured that even if the door to his room was open, it would be too dark for anyone to see him.

He was less scared than he expected himself to be in this situation. That was probably because he was in a dream-like state where his environment did not feel real. If he was able to really comprehend the predicament of his situation his heart would explode.

He did finally move his thumb over the switch that released the blade, and yet he chose not to move the switch up. It would probably work to his advantage if his assailants underestimated him and thought he was defenceless. Then he would be able to unleash the blade at the last moment and they would hopefully be too shocked to react so he could take them down.

Don't start thinking about killing again already, he warned himself. Those people may not even come by this room and yet you're still planning their deaths.

To his own dismay, the commotion did appear to be heading his way as he heard more hostel doors being aggressively opened and disgruntled downtowners trying to fight with whoever was doing this. Erik could tell there was quite a large group of attackers which probably meant they weren't body snatchers who usually travelled in twos or threes.

They were alarmingly close to his door now. How he prayed they would not see him. He froze when he heard his door jiggling as the person on the other side tried to get it open. That was when he remembered that he had jammed his shoe under the door. That was not going to keep them out, but it would probably give them the hint that somebody was in there.

The door slid all the way open when the person applied more force. In the archway stood a masculine figure silhouetted by the green light behind them. Erik squinted when their flashlight was aimed directly at his eyes – his attempt at hiding had failed miserably.

"Stand up," the man demanded mundanely. Apparently the chaos his group had created had no impact on him whatsoever.

Erik figured that complying was the best option. The man had a large gun and friends with equally big guns while he only had a sword. Trying to attack was futile. He instead slid the handle into his pant pocket and threw his black bag over his shoulder as he stood up.

His body jolted when a loud bang came from the corridor followed by a woman's scream and the thud of a body hitting the floor. Again, the man in front of Erik seemed unfazed. He was obviously quite used to this.

"Hands behind your head," he commanded. Erik did so. "Now, come towards me."

He's an uptowner, Erik realised. That explained why he had a gun, but what was an uptowner doing in a rundown hostel?

There was a fresh corpse on the ground that Erik had to step over in order to follow the group of uptowners. They appeared to be the one resistor of the uptowner group seeing as everyone had gotten the message after they shot him dead.

Erik was almost relieved that it was uptowners causing the commotion. They were all wearing black and blue uniforms which suggested that they were some sort of professional organisation and hopefully they didn't intend to kill all the downtowners. It would be amazing if this was all just a bureaucratic dispute that would be resolved with paperwork rather than guns. Erik had worked uptown long enough to understand that uptowners generally tried to avoid intentionally killing people unless they were a major threat – and he certainly was no threat.

He was the only one who seemed calm out of the downtowners. Most of them had never encountered uptowners and had only grown up hearing disturbing stories about them. They were all positive that they were going to be killed even if they didn't know the reasoning behind it.

Their nerves certainly did not ease up when the svellik joined them on the first floor. Most of them gasped or became paralysed with fear. However, Erik did not fear the svellik like most other human beings. It was probably because they vaguely resembled Mama and he associated her with good things.

If anything was going to keep downtowners silent and compliant, it was going to be a svellik. Not one sound came from any of the downtowners as they passed by the winged creature. Some looked at her in awe while others kept their eyes on the ground because they feared she would bite.

The svellik joined the uptowner at the back of the group as they herded all the downtowners into the street in front of the hostel. A firm hand pushed Erik to his knees on the filthy ground and he didn't resist.

"Eyes on the ground," the man behind him commanded. Everyone complied out of fear of the svellik.

Erik kept his head low, yet he did manage to see the secretary of the hostel talking with someone other women who had her back to him. She looked as if she was arguing, but not to the point where the other woman was getting annoyed with her. After the other woman said something, the secretary sighed and pointed to one of the downtowners on their knees a few people away from Erik.

The other woman spun to see who the secretary was pointing at. Erik, and many other downtowners, gasped when they saw her face. Her skin was ten times darker than almost everyone in the population. She certainly was not from Manticore, but most downtowners did not know what humans looked like on other planets so she was quite shocking.

I know her, Erik realised. She was at Lord Jordanis' party. What's she doing down here?

"You were told to look at the floor," Chief Nikhita Kothari warned the downtowners, "not at my face. Anyone who does otherwise will have their eyes removed."

She pointed to the same man as the secretary had. The man standing behind Erik quickly moved to hoist the man to his feet and bound his wrists. Erik was confused why the Oxen Security force had made such a commotion about collecting just one man. He didn't look like a significant man, just another scraggily downtowner. Then again, he was the same man who had made a call in front of Erik and was speaking like an uptowner.

"I'm sure most of you know that there was recently an attack on the Parliament House," Nikhita explained while pacing in front of the downtowners. "Well, most of you probably don't know that, but I digress. Important politicians were killed that day. A missile killed them, a missile that came from around this area. We were tipped off about a terrorist group that calls themselves the 'Rebellion' that has formed downtown and may be in cahoots with disgruntled uptowners which would explain how they got a missile." She patted the bound man on the shoulder. "This man is suspected of controlling that missile and now he will pay. If any of you are part of, or know about, this Rebellion group then, please, speak now. You will not be harmed if you confess right now."

Dead silence. Even if any of the downtowners knew anything, they were too afraid to speak. Nikhita guessed that this would be the case, but they got the man they wanted so it didn't matter.

"Alright." She sighed. "Then get up and go back into the hostel. It's all over now."

None of the downtowners moved until the Oxen Security guards forced them up and shoved them in the direction of the hostel at which point they quickly scurried away. Erik stood up as well and began to head for the hostel.

"Hey," Nikhita said behind him. "You, in the red vest."

Knowing the she was referring to him, Erik cautiously turned around. Once she had his attention she passed the downtowner to the svellik and another security member.

"Ghoad, take him to level seventy-three and put him in a cell. We'll deal with him tomorrow," she told them.

"Yesss, Chief," the svellik replied before dragging the stunned downtowner to a shuttle.

Erik looked around awkwardly, not sure what to do. Being in the presence of the House of Oxen Security was intimidating, yet Nikhita seemed calm and non-threatening. She took a step closer to get a better look at him.

"You worked for Lord Jordanis, didn't you?"

Erik cleared his throat. "Uh, yé, err, yeah."

She smiled, but it did not seem sincere.

"Yeah, I remember you from the party. I'm Nikhita Kothari. What's your name, kid?"

He had a mind blank. What was his name?

"Err, Erik. Yeah, Erik."

Nikhita raised an eyebrow before she spoke again: "What are you doing down here? Oh, did Lord Jordanis replace you with Olympians?"

Before he could answer Ghoad joined them. She had thrown the downtowner into a shuttle, but chose to fly with her own set of wings.

"Will that be all, Niki?" she asked.

The Earthling turned the svellik around so their backs were to the downtowner. They discussed something inaudibly before Nikhita laughed and said goodbye to Ghoad. This situation made Erik feel the most uneasy even though he didn't seem to be in any apparent danger.

"So Erik," Nikhita began when the svellik was gone, "is this hostel where you're staying at the moment?"

"Uh huh."

"Well, I don't think this place is very safe for kid like you. Would you like a better place to stay until you can find another job?"

The boy was stunned. He had not even considered getting another uptowner job, but why would this woman he barely knew offer him a place to stay?

"Eh?" he mumbled in confusion. He thought there was a good chance he had misheard her.

"I have a two bedroom apartment. You can stay in my extra room if you would like, you know, until you can find another job."

The downtowner was unsure of how to answer. He wanted to say yes, but he would not be able to give Nikhita anything in return.

"Um..."

She laughed. "Erik, you can stay in my apartment for the week or so and we'll see how it works out, sound good?"

"But," he hesitated to finish that sentence. He felt he was not worthy of being in her presence due to her beautiful skin. Being an Earthling, she was better and more beautiful than anyone on Manticore in his eyes. Unfortunately, he chose the worst words to explain his naïve belief: "But you're a darky. You'ra so much betta than w... me."

Nikhita's eyes changed from warm to ice in a second. She had to take a deep breath before she overthought what the idiotic downtowner had just said. She had to cut him slack due to his lack of experience around people with different skin tones based on the fact that he was an isolated downtowner. She had dealt with a weird form of racism on Manticore for years now. Manticorians seemed to think she was superior due to her skin colour. It came with undeserved benefits like free stuff, being allowed into VIP clubs and probably was the reason she climbed the job ladder so quickly. It was sick, but she enjoyed the benefit of looking better than others. It was a guilty pleasure. So if the uptowners treated her like this based on race, it was no surprise the downtowners did as well, yet Erik was so much more blunt about his awe that it felt more racist.

"Well," she growled as calmly as she could, "okay then. Erik, do you know what racism is?"

"Nuh uh," he said while shaking his head. He had a childlike innocence about him. Well, a childlike racial bias about him.

"Never mind," she muttered. "I would just recommend not calling people 'darkies'."

Erik did not seem to understand why, but didn't object.

With that, Nikhita gestured for him to follow her towards her personal shuttle. Erik swallowed and slowly trailed behind her. He knew it was safer with Nikhita, and yet he felt more at home downtown and was unsure if he was decent enough to return to the sane world. After all, he had already killed another human being and it had been less than forty-eight hours.

She directed him to the backseat of her shuttle sitting in the driver's seat. As the shuttle door closed, Erik noticed the other House of Oxen Security members were giving him odd looks. They were obviously just as confused as he was about the whole situation.

"Thank you," Erik quickly said when he remembered that it was the polite thing to do. He would usually say it in Mandarin, but Nikhita seemed to prefer speaking English.

"Not a problem," she said distractedly as she started up her shuttle. He was disturbed by how casual she was acting about the situation.

It was only a matter of minutes before the garage door to Nikhita's apartment was closing behind them. Once it was safe to leave the shuttle – the Jhard was now rising in the sky so the light could burn them – Nikhita hopped out and gestured for Erik to do the same. It was strange; she hadn't said a word to him since he entered the shuttle. This was different to when he first arrived at Jordanis' estate and Lysander would not shut up about protocols.

"Now is probably a good time to tell you that you will have a roommate," she warned him when they reached the door between the garage and her main room. "You're cool with that, right?"

The boy nodded. He'd never had his own room so he had almost been anticipating having a roommate even though Nikhita had stated she had two bedrooms.

There was a male sitting stiffly on the couch in the main room. He turned his head the instant the door opened to stare at Nikhita and Erik with his unnaturally electric blue eyes.

He's an Olympian, Erik realised. I lost my job because of his kind.

"Good morning, Chief Kothari," the Olympian said placidly. "May I ask who your accompanier is?"

Nikhita did not reply right away. She instead took off her belt, which held her gun among other things, and chucked into onto her kitchen counter.

"Erik, this is Proteus. Proteus, this is Erik," Nikhita said while checking updates from Ghoad on her phone.

The Olympian stood up and stepped around the couch. He was not wearing the uniform Erik had seen the other Olympians wearing when they arrived at Lysander's estate. He was instead wearing a brown hooded jacket and black jeans – clothing so casual that he looked unnatural in it.

"Ya bought an Olympian thingy," Erik noted aloud.

"No," Proteus stated in a defensive manner – which was something a normal Olympian would not do even if Erik didn't know it.

"Well, not really," Nikhita agreed. "Proteus is in a situation more like yours than anything else. "He's staying here because he needs a place to stay. I don't own him."

Why would an Olympian need a place to stay? Erik thought, but did not ask.

"He's going to share a room with you," she explained to Proteus.

"Why?"

"It's complicated, I'll explain later." She then turned to the downtowner. "Erik, have Proteus show you your room and then I would recommend you take a shower."

You smell like a corpse, Nikhita thought, noting the blood on the boy.

"Perhaps he requires medical assistance," the Olympian stated. "His wounds are susceptible to infection."

Nikhita took a closer look at the boy. Sure enough, he had gruesome scars on his neck.

"How'd that happen?" she asked him.

Erik bit his lip. He did not want to tell her about the madwoman he had been forced to kill. Nikhita picked up on his resistance and did not pester him for an answer – she was sure she could get one out of him if it was necessary.

"Well, let him wash away all the blood so we can get a good look at what we're dealing with."

Proteus nodded and started walking towards his room. Erik assumed he was meant to follow and did so. He did glance back to see what Nikhita was doing. She appeared to be taking a call while entering her home office... her home office that had racks of guns on the walls along with blueprints and photos of people. Although intriguing, he knew she had a top job in security so it did not seem out of place. She glanced at Erik while talking on the phone before sliding the door shut. The door clicked loudly suggesting she had locked it. Again, it did not seem strange that she would lock the door to a room full of guns when she had a downtowner she barely knew in her home.

"This will be your bed," Proteus explained as he pulled the spare from the wall before opening the drawer next to it. "And you may use that drawer for your possessions," he said while eyeing Erik's bag.

Erik did place his bag in the wall drawer. His pant pocket became heavy when he remembered that the short sword was in there. That was placed into the drawer as well, but he put it under the black bag as a pathetic attempt at hiding it.

Once in the bathroom, Proteus quickly ran him through the instructions. Erik was to remove his clothing and put it in the washing machine and then it would be ready once his shower was done.

"What'sa the time limit for the shower thingy?" the downtowner asked. He presumed it was around thirty seconds.

"There is no time limit. It is grey water so it's not as valuable. I would recommend not drinking it," the Olympian replied before removing himself from the bathroom without another word.

The shower was different from the one he was used to bathing with. He was used to a brief carwash-like scenario where water shot at him from all directions. This shower was more like Lysander's personal one in which case the entire roof of the glass case rained down tiny droplets.

He cringed when the cool water hit the wounds on his neck. It took a little while for the stinging sensation to fade away after which Erik quickly went through the routine of washing himself, yet he did not turn off the water when he was done. Watching the water cascade of his nose, he contemplated everything that had happened seeing as he was now out of any foreseeable danger and had time to reflect. The entire situation was surreal. He did not feel like himself anymore. Instead, he was a bodiless force just witnessing everything happen to a different person.

Mark and Cal are dead, Mama has vanished and Knave won't even talk to me.

Erik's tears were lost in the grey water as his defensive mental barriers and adrenaline finally melted away. He didn't understand why everything had changed so quickly. Why did everyone have to die?

Outside in the main room, Proteus' sensitive hearing instantly picked up on the fact that Erik was crying. He turned to Nikhita who was on the couch next to him doing her work on her tablet.

"The downtowner appears to be crying, should we console him?"

Nikhita shook her head, but did not look up.

"No," she said impassively. "He'll be fine."

"Please stop moving your head," Proteus requested as he dabbed the antibacterial ointment with a cloth onto Erik's neck. There was something so icy about the Olympian's voice that it unnerved the downtowner. Had he encountered any other Olympians he would know that Olympians default was to smile and speak enthusiastically – that was not the case with Proteus.

Erik was having trouble with the blond man's request. The stinging sensation made his head instinctively jerk and that fact his neck was a ticklish area did not help. He could sense the Olympian's strength as he firmly dabbed the wounds. The man could snap his neck, yet there was such precision in his movement that it was clear he had complete control over strength.

"Those are very nasty wounds," Nikhita said in a concerned manner. "The area around the punctures is pretty inflamed and you've got some bruises that suggest this was a disturbing attempt at strangling. Am I right? Did someone try to strangle you?"

Erik had to think for a moment. He did not know what strangled meant. He knew its synonym, 'choke', and assumed Nikhita was referring to that.

"Um, a nǚ, err, girl choked me and her nail thingies were sharp."

"What was her outcome in this fight?" Proteus asked.

"Uh... I dunno."

Proteus stopped treating his wounds for a moment.

"You are lying to me, why?"

"Err..."

Nikhita understood the implications: "Leave it, Proteus. It's none of our business."

The Olympian gave her a semi-annoyed look. He seemed quite resistant to taking orders for a person designed to be a servant.

"It would be wise for me to inspect his body for other injuries," the Olympian suggested while covering the neck wounds with artificial skin patches.

The downtowner shook his head. "I'ma not hurt anywhere else."

"I would advise a second opinion on that."

"Sounds good," Nikhita agreed while standing up. "You do that while I give Lysander a call. First, though, give me a smile, Erik."

The downtowner was confused until he realised Nikhita wanted to take a photo of him with her phone. The corners of his mouth twitched a little, but he wasn't in the mood for smiling.

"Bingo," she said semi-sadistically. She then sent the image to Lord Jordanis with the caption "look what I found".

Maybe I should wait for him to call me instead of calling him, she thought. She was interested in how long it would take him to respond.

Erik was uncomfortable with having the Olympian touch him more and squeezed his limbs. He ignored the situation and instead watched as Nikhita answered the phone. Lysander had called back very quickly.

"Oh, hāi," Nikhita said smugly before waiting for Jordanis to respond. "Again, Oriya is not my native language. I...Yeah it's... I found him in the northern part in a cheap hostel... No, he was alone."

The downtowner gave her an odd look when she gestured for him to take the phone.

"He wants to talk to you," she explained.

Erik was hesitant. He hated Lysander and didn't want to talk to him – especially not about what happened to Mark.

"Hello?" he mumbled. He figured it was best to address his former master in English seeing as Jordanis seemed to prefer that language.

"Where's Mark?" the other man asked instantly. Erik could hear the anxiety in his voice.

He sighed.

"Marky's dead."

The other end of the line was disturbingly silent for a few long seconds.

"Oh," Lysander finally said in a passive tone. "My condolences, Erik. May I ask what happened?"

"You don'ta get to know," Erik snapped. "It'sa none of your, err, business thingy."

He blamed Lysander for his brother's death. Had Lysander let everyone keep their jobs none of this would've happened.

"Fair enough," Lysander said, pretending the downtowner's words did not bother him.

Unfortunately, Erik wanted to bother Lysander. He wanted that man to hurt.

"And tā, err, he neva saw that piece of paper ya put in the bag thingy."

Again, Lysander did his best to sound unfazed: "Understood. Now, put me back on with Miss Kothari."

Erik realised he was being sadistic, but he was disappointed that he didn't get to Lysander like he wanted to. That man was horrible, he should hurt for jettisoning his former servants and leaving them to die.

Nikhita gave the downtowner an odd look as she took the phone back from him.

"Yeah... Okay. Zàijiàn," she said to Lysander before hanging up on him.

"Erik appears to be irritated," Proteus noted. The boy's eyes were red and his fists clenched.

"I'ma fine," he snarled with a crack in his voice.

"I do not understand your desire to lie."

"Proteus," Nikhita hissed. "Drop it." She then glanced at Erik. "I think he may just need some rest. Erik, do you want to go to sleep for a bit?"

"Uh huh," he quickly replied. He wanted nothing more in the world at that moment.

Proteus and Nikhita watched Erik get up and quickly stride into his new bedroom. He heard them start talking quietly with each other as soon as he closed the door, yet he was not nosey enough to wonder what they were talking about. He had had quite a lot of energy since he got off the shuttle with Mark, but as soon as Nikhita mentioned sleep he felt exhausted.

He'd spent the last two nights sleeping on a floor, so even the thin mattress of the pull-out bed felt as soft as a marshmallow. The downtowner made no attempt to remove his shoes or vest – he was asleep as soon as he hit the pillow. Nevertheless, his mind was full of anxiety which affected his dreams. Erik in recent years had not had many nightmares and that was because he was a slight sleeper.

During his daytime nap Erik had a frightful dream. He was back in Mama's empty apartment with the ceiling that was a black hole leading to the oblivion. Mark lay below him, his face horror-struck as his brother raised the jagged rock and smashed it down onto his head. There was a cracking sound as Mark's skull split. He died with the first blow, yet Erik continued to bash his brother's head in. Eventually, his brother's face was completely gone and the deranged version of Erik stopped. They were both motionless for a moment before Mark's corpse reached up and grabbed Erik around the neck.

The downtowner jolted awake with a scream. Of course, his screaming did not subside when a firm hand landed on his shoulder and electric eyes stared him down. He cried something in his native language and tried to move away from the Olympian before Nikhita opened the door.

"Erik?" she looked quite on-edge because she had partly expected that her little downtowner friend had gone mad and tried to kill her Olympian.

"I believe he suffered a nightmare," Proteus explained after the boy stopped screaming. He then looked back to Erik. "I do not recognize the language you were speaking. It is not an official language of Manticore. What language is it?"

"Not the time, Proteus." Nikhita sighed. "Why don't you go start dinner while I chat with Erik?"

It's already dinner time, Erik thought. I slept for the whole day.

The Earthling took a seat on Proteus' bed across from Erik. He was relieved that she didn't look annoyed and looked more or less concerned. He found it interesting that she could change between sadistically cocky and calmly maternal. Although Erik was not very good at reading people, he understood that Nikhita was being secretive and could easily change her personality based on her state of affairs.

"What's up?" she asked casually in an attempt to not make the situation feel like a counsellor meeting.

"Uh, bad sleep thingy."

"You mean a nightmare?"

"Uh huh."

Half of her mouth twitched into a frown that said "well, that's a shame" in a compassionless manner.

"That's understandable. I presume you've been through some pretty traumatising shit over the past few days, haven't you?"

The downtowner nodded. He was not entirely sure what she had said and nodding was his primary response when he did not understand what something.

"Do you feel well-rested?" He nodded again. "Okay. Then I was thinking Proteus and I would make dinner for the three of us and then you and I would go for a walk so you could clear your head."

She understood he was not in the mood for talking when the boy responded with another nod.

"Alright then, I'll call you when it's dinner."

She then closed the door to his room and went to help the Olympian with dinner. As soon as she did, he fell back. The nightmare had almost been more exhausting than anything else that had happened to him recently.

Although Nikhita considered it to be a simple dinner, it was nicer than the servant meals he had eaten at Lysander's estate. It was also a lot spicier than anything he had ever eaten.

"I'm going to guess you haven't eaten a lot of Indian cuisine," Nikhita joked as Erik guzzled his water.

"It is not a popular gastronomy on Manticore," Proteus explained. He did not realise Nikhita was joking. "Uptown Manticorians generally eat Chinese meals along with a minimal Western European cuisines while downtown Manticorians generally eat... anything available."

Nikhita sighed. She found Proteus quite annoying.

Erik's throat felt like it was on fire and the water didn't seem to help. He was used to eating very bland meals so even the smallest amount of spice was a shock to him.

"Would you like me to make you a different meal?" Nikhita asked when she realised the boy's eyes were watering based on how spicy the meal was.

"Nah," he choked out before letting out a surprising laugh. "Wǒ, err, I like it."

Nikhita shared his laughter.

"Good, because we eat a lot of it around here."

Erik smiled lukewarmly. He feared that his oesophagus would disintegrate within a week.

Proteus remained behind to clean up while Nikhita and Erik took a walk through the skyways. The downtowner was perplexed by the Olympian. He knew that the Olympians were designed to replace servants so why did Proteus seem so annoyed about Nikhita requesting that he do the dishes? If all Olympians were like that then they were a horrible replacement for the downtowners.

"Do ya know what kinda job thingy I can get?" Erik asked the Earthling as they walked through the transparent skyway. "'cause I thinka the yellow-haired boy thingies kinda have all the jobs now."

Nikhita sneered.

"That's a good question. I can only think of one job right now that the Olympians cannot do... and I'm not sure if you'd like it."

"What'sa that?"

"Well, did Lord Jordanis ever knock you? Imagine that except every day and only getting paid for that."

Erik intertwined his fingers – a gesture he often did when he felt uncomfortable. He didn't want that job. Giving himself to Lysander had been fine as it had only happened four times and that man knew how to make it less awkward and more pleasurable for the both of them. Sex was fine Erik, yet the situation Nikhita was explaining sounded more like what had happened to Mark with his original master which had damaged his brother's self-esteem and sent him spiralling into depression.

Nikhita understood that that job sounded horrible to Erik and decided to give him hope: "Well, if Lord Young wins the election his first act of business will be to get the Olympians protected by the Servants Union which means people will have to pay them like Lord Jordanis paid you. So if that happens, we may find downtowners and Olympians coinciding in the work place."

The boy nodded happily – he was more easily convinced than his brother had been. There was a chance that he could get a job, but what would it be like without Mark looking out for him? That was a weird thought. Being as alone as he was terrified him and suddenly crushed his hope.

"Do you want to talk about what happened to whoever Lord Jordanis was referring to over the phone?" Nikhita asked as she watched the downtowner's expression repeatedly change. "It might be nice to talk it out."

Erik did not answer until they chose a road to go down at the fork in the skyway. Nikhita appeared to be leading him towards a bland grey building with the words KING CO. in bright letters on it and then the Mandarin translation underneath.

"The lady who made my neck all bleedy killed my brother," he said solemnly.

"Did you kill the woman?"

"Uh huh."

"Good."

That response surprised him. Nikhita kept revealing her darker side and it made him uneasy. She didn't seem to have the intent to hurt him, but he feared what she would do if he crossed her.

"What was your brother's name?"

"Err, Mark."

She had heard him say that name earlier when he referred to his brother as 'Marky'. There was also a good chance she had heard Lysander mention that name on various occasions whenever he talked about servant obedience.

"Lord Jordanis really liked Mark, didn't he?"

Erik had to think. Lysander seemed to have a serious issue revealing his true feelings and hid them under indifference and cruelty. If he loved Mark he certainly avoided trying to prove it. Part of that was the class difference that would blemish Lysander's public image and another part was the man's unresolved psychological issues that hindered his ability to express honest affection. Erik thought of Lysander more one-dimensionally as just a mean man who hurt his brother's feelings. If he had a better understanding of how the human mind worked he would probably come to more conclusions about his former master.

"Marky was Lord Jordanis' favourite servant, but I dunno how much he really liked him. He just liked knockin' my brother 'cause my brother really wanted to be noticed."

"Oh," Nikhita exclaimed with a surprised laugh. "That's a very cynical way of looking at it, but then again you're probably right. If I know anything; it's that Lysander doesn't love. Seriously, you've seen his son. That kid's fucked up because he can't gain daddy's approval."

Erik had seen Lysander's son, but he could not recall a time when he every spoke directly with him. Princeton was quite reserved and remained in his room for days on end without emerging once. As Nikhita put it: he was fucked up.

"Why are we goin' in here?" he asked when they entered the KING CO. building.

"Because I thought seeing the sky at night out in the fresh air would be nice for you. And we won't get caught going to the top of KING CO. because the svellik were only forced to give up the rights to this building last year which means no security measures, save a locked door, have been implemented," she explained. Erik noted how her eyes became icy when she mentioned how the svellik were forced to give up the building. As a downtowner, he didn't know much about human-svellik relations, yet even he knew they were not good. Nikhita appeared to empathise with the svellik based on the way she described it.

"What woulda happen if we did get inta trouble?"

She laughed. "I doubt the cops would come after me. Seeing as I'm the Chief of Oxen Security, the police and I often work together so I know most of them. Like the hostel mission this morning was a joint job."

"But what if wǒ, uh, I got in trouble? Would they put me back downtown?"

Nikhita thought for a moment. She was not sure what the legal ramifications were for letting a person who lacked an uptown citizenship or work visa stay with her. It was probably just a fine of some sort which she did not mind – it was the police division's job to know this stuff, not hers.

"Oh, lucky us," the Earthling exclaimed when she realised the door to the building was open. "There are probably cleaners in there and maybe a security guard, but they won't mind us."

The tinted windows of the building looked directly at the Parliament House which was about a kilometre away. Erik gazed at the strange upside-down pyramid with moderate awe. From downtown he could see the Parliament House's base plus the building's shadows over the rest of the city and from Jordanis' estate he could see the top of it, yet he had never seen all of it at once.

The pair took the stairs to the top of the building rather than the elevator which had been switched off. If Erik hated anything, it was flights of stairs. He could handle one or two sets of stairs, but eight was ridiculous.

"You got to exercise more, buddy," Nikhita laughed. Years of being in the Oxen Security force meant staircases would not make her break a sweat. Her heart rate had barely elevated while Erik felt like his heart was about to burst through his chest.

The boy was relieved when he was met a cool gust of air as Nikhita opened the door to the top of the building. Although he had spent much of his life outside when he lived downtown the air seemed so much fresher uptown – probably because it did not reek of faeces and rotting corpses.

"I come here a lot because the top of my own apartment building is off-limits," Nikhita explained as she took a seat on a large duct and patted the spot next to her, gesturing for Erik to join her.

"Ya're an Earthy, right?" he asked when he took a seat.

"Yes."

"Does the Jhard thingy for Earth kill or can ya go outside when the Jhard is awake?"

"Well, the star Earth revolves around is called the Sun and it usually doesn't kill people. It's hot in a lot of places, but anyone can go out in the daytime without dying." She examined her hand. "That's why I have darker skin than you."

"The Sun thingy burned ya?"

"Kind of, but no. I doubt you know what ultraviolet radiation is and how skin colour changes to regulate it." Erik gave her an utterly confused look. "Let's put it this way: people who live in very sunny places develop darker skin so that they don't burn. The Jhard is too hot for us to go outside at daytime so Manticorians have very pale skin because they never get any sunlight."

Erik understood most of what she said, yet his natural bias would still assume that Nikhita was more valuable than other people due to her richer skin tone.

The Earthling flopped back so that she was lying on the duct. Erik followed her lead and allowed himself to rest. Staring up at the bright lights in the sky always made him happy. Stargazing on top of this current building allowed him to see the whole sky rather than a few stars and then have the buildings and skyways block the rest of his view.

"You don't get views like this on Earth," Nikhita whispered more to herself than Erik.

"What does the sky thingy look like on Earth?"

Her face went cold. "At least where I come from; smog destroys our view of the sky. Even on rare where the sky is clear, the city lights in the biosphere are too bright so we cannot see any stars."

Erik gave her a confused look. "I was told Earth was super nice."

"That's how it used to be, but I wasn't around when the planet was good. Manticorians watch Earthling television shows and movies that make the planet look pretty, but it's all lies."

"Why?"

"Because humans are leeches. We destroy our own finite resources out of arrogance and the unwillingness to change. Then, when our own planet is exhausted, we fly away from our mess and go destroy new planets. Why do you think the svellik hate humans?"

Erik shrugged.

"This was all theirs, Erik. Then humans arrived and took advantage of the svellik kindness by stealing their land and resources. Once the svellik started to rebel the humans used poisonous gas to kill them which is why there are so few svellik left. There's an urban legend that all the humans used so much poison gas that it still lingers downtown which is why downtowners are at higher risk of disability"

The downtowner didn't understand even half of what Nikhita had said. He only picked up on the fact that Nikhita was explaining why svellik and humans were not friends.

"So if ya don'ta like Manticore are ya gonna leave like ye left the Earthy thingy?"

"When the time comes, yes. Unfortunately moving planets costs a fuckload so it'll be a while."

The pair remained silent for a few minutes and admired the stars. Then Nikhita stretched her arms out above her, intertwined her fingers and cracked her knuckles.

"Well, it's been two months and I'm horny, so how 'bout it?" she asked in a matter-of-fact manner.

Erik had no idea what 'it' was and gave the Earthling a puzzled stare.

"I'm basically asking if you want to knock," she explained while sliding off the duct into a standing position.

"Eh?" Erik was utterly surprised. "Ya wanna knock wǒ, err, me? But you'ra –"

"I swear to Kali that if you call me a darky one more time I will hurl you off this building," she said jokingly even though her words were very threatening. In a much younger era, having a woman threaten to throw a man off a building would have been laughable, but Nikhita was strong while most downtowners, like Erik, were barely more than a sack of bones so there was no doubt she could pick him up and thrown him.

"I justa mean, um, I woulda like to do the knocky thing, but you'ra too pretty for me."

It's just skin, Nikhita thought with a blasé expression. Get the fuck over it.

Erik gasped as she removed her jacket. She was wearing a navy short sleeve shirt underneath with a V-neckline that revealed more of her skin.

Racist or skin fetish? she questioned.

"I'll ask again; do you feel like knocking?"

The downtowner nodded enthusiastically and hopped off the duct to join her. In that moment he forgot all about Cal, Mama and Mark. His mind resorted to a primitive desire for sex.
11

Lord Koris Young woke up to the oddest information: his rival had lost some public approval due to comments he made during a meeting that were leaked to the media.

"Mǒu wù wrong with tā," Andromeda stated in a concerned manner as they watched the news together.

Lord Jordanis now had to hold a press conference due to the comments he made at the House of Dragon's meeting the previous evening. Koris did not know how his rival could turn it around after apparently stating that he "didn't care anymore about anyone this wretched planet". Although he was aware of his sadism, Young couldn't have been happier that his opponent had cracked.

"I will not deny that I made some insolent remarks yesterday," Lord Jordanis explained as he stood at the podium. "However, I do wish to explain that I was not of right mind last night during the meeting due to personal issues that have since been resolved. What I said does not reflect my actual opinion of our fine city and planet."

Regardless of what he says, he doesn't get to come back from comments like that so close to the election day.

The press conference ended surprisingly quickly after Jordanis answered a few questions. He acted flustered even though he wore a nonchalant expression.

"Āi, Mel," Koris turned to face his daughter as she stepped out of her bedroom, "has Princeton shuō anything about tā de father acting strange?"

Melody ignored him and instead began making her breakfast. She refused to be her father's spy. Koris knew he was in the wrong to ask her that which is why he didn't push for an answer.

His phone buzzed in his shirt pocket. To his surprise, he had received message from Lysander.

Jordanis: Fancy lunch together at 12 today?

"Lysander wants to have wǔcān with wǒ," he told Andromeda in a fearful manner. "Tā de up to something."

"Or he's a lonely línghún who wants to have lunch with nǐ."

"Ó, nǐ are not take pity on tā, are you?"

Andromeda shrugged – a move she had learned from Flick.

"Tā looks sad."

"Whenever wǒ get sad nǐ always tells me to 'man up'."

"That's because it's easy to make you bēi. Something big had to happen to make a nánrén like Lysander sad."

"Are nǐ suggesting wǒ depressed or emotionally unstable?" he asked with a scowl.

"Just message Lysander back saying nǐ will join tā for lunch."

"But I'm busy all day."

"Nǐ aren't at lunchtime."

Her husband sighed in an exasperated manner. Andromeda knew that, deep down, Koris had the attitude of a twelve year-old girl. If she could put up with Melody's drama, she could certainly handle his.

Young: Where?

Jordanis: The café on the 132nd floor of the PH. That way we don't have to leave the building.

Young: Fine, see you then.

Koris knew his final message sounded a little begrudging, but Lysander knew that the two of them were not chums so their lunch would not going be casual.

Flick and Perseus emerged from their room once they realised everyone else was awake and moving about. To Koris' surprise, Flick didn't look solemn like he did every other morning. He couldn't recall the last time Flick woke up in a good mood. Although he didn't want to admit, Andromeda was right about an Olympian being good for the boy. He really did need a lot more company than most.

"Can I take Percy to the museum thingy today?" he asked.

Andromeda and Koris exchanged a glance – Flick never wanted to leave the house without Koris. The progress he had made was very obvious.

"I don't see why not," Andromeda said on behalf of her and her husband.

"What do you want to show him at the museum?" Young inquired.

"They have a whole thingy on Eden which kinda looked cool."

"Do you mean an exhibition?" Perseus asked. He had trouble understanding what Flick meant when he said 'thingy'.

"Uh huh."

"Have fun," Koris mumbled sourly. He knew very well that the Museum of Manticore was doing an exhibition on Eden simply to help promote the Olympians as well. The message: you cannot go to Eden, but you can take a piece of it home with you.

* * *

Lord Young considered showing up late to the lunch rendezvous simply to ensure it would take up less of his time. Then again, he knew that would seem petty and therefore he found himself in the elevator going down to the café five minutes before lunchtime.

Why the fuck am I doing this? he thought. What could I possibly get out of this experience? Hell, I'm not even hungry.

Lord Jordanis was already there and on his third cup of filtered water which suggested he had gotten very little work done before the afternoon. His glasses were tinted so that was impossible to see his eyes.

"Nín hăo," Lord Young said respectfully as he took a seat.

Although his eyes were hidden, he assumed Lysander was raising an eyebrow and squinting an eye judgementally.

"Hi," he said in an almost mocking way. It was very clear that their time together was not going to be spent speaking in Mandarin.

"Why do you dislike the Mandarin language so much?" Koris asked. Their conversation was not going to be on any record so he could ask whatever he wanted.

Before answering, he took a red cigarette from the little silver case in his robe pocket and lit it. He's never smoked the red kind before, Koris thought. That shit is serious business.

"I just don't see the point in trying to uphold a culture we ran from in the first place. What are we trying to prove? It's like when Canadians speak French – it just doesn't suit their society."

"But Canada was settled by the Fr–"

"Shut up, Koris. It just sounds stupid."

The conversation was going nowhere with Lysander in such a bad mood. Koris could not, and would not, ask what was wrong with the other man. He would most likely not answer him or flat-out lie.

"I see you smoke the red ones now," Koris noted aloud to change the topic.

Lysander exhaled the red smoke. He was living proof that dragons existed.

"Yes," he agreed. "My son has upgraded to the orange cigarettes so I had to advance. I'll admit, these are much stronger than I had expected. Physically, my throat is on fire, yet mentally I feel... nothing."

"Is that what you want?"

"It's one of a few things, yes."

Lysander was alluding to something and probably wanted Koris to play in to his game and ask, but the younger man was not one for games and decided to ignore that fact entirely.

"Just a question: why did you name your son Princeton?"

Jordanis smiled, but it was a hollow expression.

"So that he could never be king."

"That's a great message to drill into your child's head to build their self-esteem," he said in a sarcastic, almost agitated, manner of speaking. "Telling your child they can never be better than you, how lovely."

"I never said he can't be better than me," the older man replied icily. "And in terms of self-esteem: it gets built back stronger every time it's broken. Better to break and make him now than to let it get to him later. He will hurt for a few years, yet he will be a humble and emotionally solid by the time he's forty."

"I see it going two ways: he'll either be emotionally distraught and depressed when he's forty or he'll be emotionless to the point of being a sociopath."

Koris was not sure why he found himself being so hard and aggressive during their conversation. Seeing Lysander so glum gave him the strange urge to want to entice the older man and get him to react angrily. To his own dismay, Lysander did not seem remotely fazed.

"Either may be true, but at least he will be alive."

What are you implying? Koris thought. The waiter appeared at the table before he could ask. Oddly enough, the waiter was a downtowner and not Olympian. However, that would most likely change in the future unless Koris won the election and got the Olympians protected under the Servants Union.

He got right back into it once the waiter left them alone: "My children will be alive," he objected to the previous implication.

"Melody will be," Lysander agreed.

Koris scoffed. "And so will Flick."

"No."

"What? No? What do you mean 'no'?"

"If you think my son has emotional issues, then you should really meet Flick."

"I have met Flick, I know him better than you do. Just because you raped him doesn't mean you know jack shit about him."

Lysander sat up properly. Koris finally thought he got a row out of the older man even though he instantly regretted what he accused him of.

"I know Flick will forever be twelve in your mind based on when you found him and just how mature you think he is, but he is twenty-two, he was fully into it, and we did not have sex. All he wants is positive attention and that's exactly what I gave him and he loved it. You underestimate his maturity level because you think he's dumb."

"I'm sorry," Koris said in a sincere way. "I didn't mean to accuse of being something that horrible. I lost control for a moment."

"It's cute that you think your petty words fazed me, it really is. I've grown numb to the word rape... because you are honestly the thirtieth person who has ever accused me of being a rapist. I must ask: do I have some twisted aura about me? Is there something about the way I act or my sexual orientation? I really have no idea why everyone thinks that I'm like that. I'm not saying I'm a good person, but that's the one thing I would never do."

"Frankly, I'm not entirely sure what your orientation is."

"It depends on the time of day."

"What? Are you bi or pan?"

"I'm Lysander."

Koris was not amused. Although he was relieved they were off the previous topic before Lysander brought them right back to it: "I actually think your fear of Flick being near me stems from an incident you faced, say, when you were in university. I think you empathise with his vulnerability around powerful and authoritative males because you were taken advantage of sexually by an older man – possibly a university professor – when you were young and it has scared you ever since – and gives me evidence to think you're homophobic."

"I am not homophobic," Koris said in the strongest voice he could muster, but he was not willing to discuss the first few things Lysander had mentioned. "I completely support gay rights."

"You support the idea of it when your own family is not involved. It scares you when Flick is, God forbid, happy with another man – especially an older one. Don't freak out when he starts wearing women's clothes and calls himself 'Flicka'. He's probably also a bit gender confused."

"No," Koris cautiously objected. He had to carefully construct his explanation so that Lysander could not twist his words and make him the bad guy. "I have no problem with transgender people and would support Flick if he chose that route. Hell, my dear assistant, Adina, is... ugh, never mind. Anyways; I'm afraid of Flick being taken sexually advantage of by a man – or a woman – because he doesn't have a sex drive and therefore cannot get pleasure from such acts and I'm worried someone like you will ignore that factor."

"I don't think you understand how important it is to him to feel loved and wanted. Although it's not sexual for him, he really does enjoy being that close to someone. It's mental pleasure."

Koris sighed. "I'm not comfortable talking about Flick's sexual escapades. Besides, what does it have to do with him dying before the age of forty like you suggested he would?"

"I'd be surprised if he lived past twenty-five."

"Why?"

"Various reasons. My pseudoscientific suspicion is that the universe intentionally works to kill downtowners. Whether they live uptown or downtown, they always die."

"You can't just assume Flick will die!"

"Wanna bet? I bet you one-hundred yuan that Flick is dead before he turns twenty-five."

"How could you say such things?"

"How could you ignore such facts?"

"What facts? What the fuck are you talking about?"

Koris had gone into this conversation hoping he would get a row out of Lysander, but it was actually vice versa. He had been arrogant in thinking that he could make Lysander lose his temper while maintaining his own calm attitude.

Lysander inhaled more red smoke as he thought about the gashes he had seen on the downtowner's wrists.

"You really should pay more attention to him, then you'll see what I see," he muttered. "I'm not suggesting he deserves to die. In fact, I think he's a charming boy. Unfortunately, the good die young, Young." He laughed at his own pun, but Koris was not amused. "I know that fact haunts you because you feel partially responsible for the separation between the lower and upper class." Koris shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Yes," Lysander said. "I do know how disgustingly rich your parents were and how they got rich off the labour of downtowners. I know you refused any of their money in order to distance yourself from your family and their blood money. I also know you think you've made a difference in this world by saving Flick. I've got news for you: for every downtowner child you 'save', there are a thousand who are tortured and killed before they turn ten."

Koris took a deep breath before answering: "Did you really want to meet with me this lunchtime to bicker about Flick and his 'impending' doom?"

"No, and I certainly don't know how we got onto that topic from cigarettes."

"Then what do you want talk about?" he asked in an agitated manner. "I don't have all day. Do you realise how soon the election is?"

"That's actually what I asked you here to talk about."

Lysander did not elaborate because the waiter came by their table and set a toasted Panini in front of him and a bowl of noodles in front of Koris. Once the waiter was gone he continued: "I wanted to warn you that I'm giving up."

Young stared blankly at him. "Um, what?"

"I've decided I don't care anymore about the election... or anything for that matter. I'm afraid I've become a bit of a nihilist, realising that life is nothing more than a tale told by an idiot."

Koris did not care for the older man's personal issues or Shakespeare quotes: "You're dropping out of the race?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not making it that easy for you. I really just don't care who wins. However, I do have a few suggestions for you if you win."

"Really?" Koris asked sceptically. Was Lysander trying to trick him?

"Yes. And if a man, who has been at this game far longer than you, could impart wisdom: don't get ambitious and try to make major changes to our society."

He is trying to trick me, the younger man thought.

"I intend to make as many changes as possible. I want to give Olympians and downtowners equal rights to us. I want to equalise the blasted city!"

"See, when you talk like this you sound like a communist."

"I'm a socialist."

"That's a synonym for communist."

"No, it isn't! Communism means everyone's treated equally shitty, save the people with all the power at the top. Socialism is capitalism and communism combined so that you can climb the success ladder, but if you fall there will be a safety net."

"I prefer to call your ladder metaphor 'capulism'. But, no, you really shouldn't aim to make such dramatic changes."

"If I win, I'll have ten years. That's a lot of time to make big changes so it's not all so sudden. My first intent is to get the Olympians to be protected under the Servants Union."

The older man let out a chuckle. "Servants Union, eh? Do you even know who started the Servants Union all those years ago?"

Koris shrugged. "Some downtowner called, err, I think 'Lucinda'."

Another laugh.

"Yes. If you know that, then you know how corrupt and inefficient the Union is."

"It's a start for making sure the Olympians aren't treated like slaves. Eventually, I'll make sure both them and the downtowners earn as much as uptowners."

Lysander leaned forward in an intimidating manner.

"Wishful thinking, but no. Don't make big promises. Do not promise the downtowners something you cannot deliver or you will be faced with a city-wide riot that will tear Manticore Metropolis to the ground. Focus on the people who aren't going to get violent if you don't follow through: the uptowners. Don't tell the downtowners you can make any major changes to their way of life because you can't. The other politicians will stop you at every turn every time you try to change how things work."

"But the downtowner vote is how I'm going to win this thing."

"Yes, I know. But don't hand out any more of those silly brochures full of promises you can't fulfil. The downtowners are restless, Koris. And they've grown in numbers over the years. We underestimate how dangerous they could be if they worked together to destroy our city. They're a time bomb. Hell, our whole humanity is a time bomb. Sadly, it's not a matter of if this bomb will go off, it's a matter of when. It's the chairperson's job to delay the imminent explosion and give our society as much time as possible before it crumbles to the ground."

"What makes you think the changes I want to make will cause our city to collapse?"

"Chain reaction: you piss off the downtowners, they riot, they piss off the uptowners, they rebel against government, and the whole thing comes crashing down. Manticore is unstable. The best-fit metaphor for our society is probably Jenga – ever played it?"

"Once."

"I kick ass at that game, but that's not the point. We're at that stage that that if you try to make one more major change – or remove another block – it'll all crash down."

"You wanna know what I think?"

"Not particularly."

"Well, you're gonna hear it anyways: I think you're just trying to scare me because you know that I'm going to win and you know it will be because of the downtowner vote. That's why you want me to stop appealing to the downtowners so that I lose their vote."

"That would be a clever plan, and yet it is not the case. As strange as it sounds: I'm being honest with you."

"I call bullshit."

"Alright then. It's going to be on you when humanity falls apart."

"I can live with that," Koris said sarcastically as he got up and pulled out his card. "I'm going to go pay now."

"You didn't even eat your meal," Lysander noted while staring at Koris' full bowl of noodles.

"I'm not hungry."

"Okay then, see you later."

The waiter came by shortly after Koris left and stared at it in confusion.

"Is he, err, done?" the downtowner asked.

"Yes."

The waiter shrugged and picked up the bowl and cup to take back to the kitchen. Lysander stopped him as he tried to walk past and gestured for him to lean down so he could hear what the older man had to say.

"If you want to make a little more yuan then I suggest you go tell your manager you're taking your break and then meet me in the disabled toilets in three minutes," Lysander whispered with a complete lack of emotion.

The downtowner thought for a few seconds, nodded, and then stood up properly again and headed for the kitchen. Jordanis found himself no longer hungry and pulled out his card just as Young had done.

Why am I going to get fellatio from a random downtowner? he asked himself while paying. Despite acting like a bloody nympho your whole life, it's not going to satisfy you now. You have murdered your enjoyment for sex – great job.
12

Chief Nikhita Kothari left Erik home with Proteus. She was sure that Proteus would be able to manage a downtowner as low-maintenance as Erik. Hell, the boy acted like he was under mind control after Nikhita fucked him – he was so obedient that she felt just as safe leaving him home alone as she did leaving him with Proteus.

However, he would probably grow disdain for her if he learned what she was doing that afternoon. She and Ghoad were interrogating the suspect they had captured at the downtown hostel who went by the name of Tom. As a pair, they used the tactic of fear to get answers out of people. Usually a downtowner would speak if they were proposed a reward, yet Nikhita preferred the fear tactic.

To build the tense atmosphere she had the main lights off in the interrogation room, leaving only the screen of the table to faintly illuminate the room. If the darkness was not intimidating, the shadow of the giant insect behind the Indian woman certainly was – Ghoad's presence was useful for interrogation.

"I-I really don'ta know what you'ra talkin' about," Tom stuttered. He watched Ghoad rather than Nikhita or the pictures of the missile shell displayed on the table's screen.

"It's not a coincidence that you were in the exact part of town that the missile was shot from and that you made a call to an uptowner to discuss certain plans in a code. Unfortunately, whoever you called was using a disposable phone that was found in a trashcan at the mall, but with you we may be able to find them."

"I'va neva met them!"

"But you do admit that you called an uptowner?"

Tom froze. He was not sure which would have worse consequences: lying or being honest. He got the feeling Nikhita would hurt him regardless.

"What did they sound like?" Nikhita asked, "male or female? Was it an auto tuned voice?"

Still no answer. Unfortunately, that was just what Nikhita wanted. She glanced back at Ghoad and gave her a nod. The svellik then left the room without a word. Tom watched her go – why was she leaving?

"I need answers from you, Tommy. The question is who are you more afraid of: me or the person you called?"

Tom bit his lip. He was quite afraid of both. Despite the situation, he came to the conclusion he had to be more afraid of the person he called.

"Just tell me one thing: how important is this uptowner you called? A mere weapons provider or the full-on leader of this Rebellion shit?"

He still gave no answer. Anyone who worked with the Rebellion had been told to remain silent during interrogation. If he talked and survived the interrogation then he would certainly be murdered in the most violent manner. Uptowners, especially ones in government, were not cruel like downtowners so death at their hands would be better – or so he thought.

The insect-like creature returned and held out a syringe to Nikhita. Although it looked small in her black razor-sharp fingers, it still looked very menacing.

"Roll up your sleeve," Nikhita said calmly as she strolled around to his side of the table.

Tom shook his head rapidly. He didn't want to be injected with that stuff – whatever it was.

"Roll up your sleeve or I jam it in your eye."

Realising that she probably was not joking, he complied. There was an odd tingling sensation in his arm the moment the fluid got injected into his body.

"You'll find that your body is going numb," she explained as if she had read his mind. "In a few minutes you will be permanently paralysed. I can cure this before it happens, but you have to give me answers first," she whispered in his ear.

That sent the downtowner into panic mode. He desperately tried to stand up but his legs had gone numb and he flopped onto the floor.

Nikhita kneeled down next to him and then dropped the empty syringe in front of his face.

"P-please" he begged as he felt his body becoming less responsive by the moment.

"Are you going to tell me anything good?"

"I can't!"

"Well then, we're just going to have to take you back downtown."

"B-but ya have to save me."

"I don't have to do shit. I really don't care if you live or die, I just need information on whatever this Rebellion group is because, if you haven't noticed, there's an election coming up and we can't let your gang be a threat."

"I-I can'ta tell ya anything!"

"That's a shame."

The door to the interrogation room flew open causing Nikhita to stand up and spin around. Her heart froze when she saw Lord Koris Young standing in the door way – he did not look happy.

"Hello, sssirrr," Ghoad said calmly. She saw no fault in what she was doing.

"Niki, what the fuck are you doing?" he growled.

Nikhita kept her calm: "I'm trying to get information that could save your life on the election day," she explained.

"This is not the way to get information from someone. Also, the media will pounce on us if he dies so you better give him the antidote."

Nikhita sighed. "There isn't an antidote."

"What?" Koris and Tom said simultaneously.

"I didn't give him anything lethal. It's mapo."

"It's what?"

"A natural drug that the svellik used for religious rituals. Don't worry, it's untraceable so even if his body was discovered later nobody would think we drugged him."

Koris shook his head in disbelief.

"Niki, you don't plan on killing this man, do you?"

"We jussst want inforrrmation," Ghoad said in the place of Nikhita.

"We were only pretending to kill him so that he would talk," the Earthling said to elaborate on the svellik's explanation. "Did Kane tip you off? I tried to brief him earlier, but he wasn't properly listening and didn't understand what was going on."

"Look, this guy's suffered enough today," Koris said while gesturing to the downtowner lying on the ground who had lost the ability to speak due to the mapo. All he could do was groan. "I want you to take him back to where you found him and let him get on with his life."

"But he's a terrorist!"

"There's not enough to prove that." He leaned in closer so that his mouth was next to her ear. "If you want, you can inject a tracking device into him so that we can always find him later if we need to."

She nodded, yet her expression was annoyed. Koris was disturbed by Nikhita's aggressiveness and cruelty. It was good to have her on his side – because she was too dangerous to have as an enemy.

"Ghoad, drop Tommy Boy off downtown," Nikhita ordered while keeping her eyes on Koris.

"Shouldn't you cure him first?"

"Mapo doesn't have an antidote, it just fades in a few hours."

"He'll be vulnerable if we drop him downtown in that condition."

"Ghoad will sort all that out," she said while putting a hand on his shoulder. "Right now we need to talk about some more pressing issues."

She led Koris out of the room and to the elevator while Ghoad picked up ragdoll-like downtowner and carried him to the garage on that level. Even though she could fly without a shuttle, she knew she had to take one with the Jhard in the sky or the downtowner would roast immediately and the politicians would witness it. No, she had to get him far away.

Tom's eyes followed svellik as she dropped him on the backseat of the Oxen Security shuttle before she took a seat in the front. It took her a while to start the shuttle up as she had not driven one in years.

She flew them out to where the hostel was before lowering the shuttle.

"You will be able to move in a few hourrrsss," she said even though she knew he could not respond.

Once the svellik felt they were low enough, she opened the backdoor to the shuttle.

With no intent on landing the ship and risking downtowners trying to damage the ship, she instead picked up the downtowner and held him out of the shuttle. She didn't care that he was vulnerable while in his paralysed state. She just wanted to get rid of him as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, the svellik overestimated what heights a paralysed human could be dropped from due to the fact her exoskeleton meant she could take a hard fall. The downtowner hit the ground with a splat followed by multiple cracking sounds. Perhaps twenty metres was too high for a human to fall from.

Ghoad was unfazed. Without thinking twice, she shut the door to the shuttle and flew back to the Parliament House, leaving the downtowner corpse to be ripped to shreds by body snatchers who had been in the area.

Lord Young was a little confused when Chief Kothari led him into the stairwell and then stopped. He did not feel comfortable being alone with her in an isolated area after the downtowner incident.

"Why did we come here?" he asked.

"Because of the lack of security cameras or sound recorders," she explained. It was true, every other public area in the building was wired save the meeting rooms or a private office – or so they were told. You could never be sure.

"Why do you need to be sure nobody's listening?" Koris asked. He wondered what could be secretive enough that Nikhita had to be sure no one else would hear.

She shrugged casually.

"It's not actually that big of a secret, but it is best that we keep it on the down-low because it could cause bad publicity for me. And if it's bad publicity for the Chief of Oxen Security then it's bad for you."

"Is this about something illegal?"

Nikhita did a so-so motion with her hand.

"I did not do any paperwork or report it so... probably. He's really one of two illegal things in my house at the moment, but that's not important."

"What?"

"I have an Olympian living with me and I didn't buy him."

Koris raised an eyebrow. "Then how did you get him?"

"Found him. He escaped the factory."

"Escaped? As in he didn't want to be there?"

That was intriguing news. He had thought that Olympians always wanted to obey humans so why would one 'escape'?

"I know what you're thinking: and you're right. Olympians don't consciously want to escape or disobey humans, but this one's a little different.

Both of them looked up when a door a few floors up opened. Some people chose to take the stairs rather than an elevator if they were only going down a few floors.

"Meet us at the Marley Skyway at seventeen-hundred hours tonight," Nikhita whispered before pulling him out of the stairwell.

Koris swallowed. The last place he wanted to go was the Marley Skyway after his sister had been murdered there. He doubted Nikhita knew that and probably chose it because it was one of the last Skyways that had visual surveillance, yet no audio recorders.

He laughed moments after Nikhita closed the door to the stairwell. "Nikhita, the secret life you lead is fucked up. You have this whole side I've never seen."

She patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me, you don't want to witness my secret life."

"What's the main reason you think I should talk to this person?" Koris said softly as to not be overheard.

"He'll help you fight for Olympian rights as he would be your evidence."

A smile spread across Koris' face.

"That would be amazing. I'll see you two then," he said while hitting the elevator button.

"I figured that would make you happy."

"Happy? Niki, people wouldn't deem me crazy for trying to abolish Olympian slavery if I had proof that Olympians didn't want to obey us like that. I'm ecstatic."

And then I can stick it to Lysander, he thought as he stepped into the elevator. Nikhita waved goodbye to him as the doors closed. She knew he had forgotten all about the interrogation of the downtowner. He would usually forget bad news if he was served enough good news.

A shadow slowly cast itself over her – Ghoad had returned.

"That was quick," Nikhita noted.

"Yesss," Ghoad agreed.

"Is Tom back downtown?"

"Yess," the svellik repeated. "I drrropped him frrrom the ssshuttle and he died."

Nikhita raised an eyebrow, and yet seemed unfazed.

"How many times must I tell you that humans can't fall from the same height you can?" she said while laughing.

"I overrr essstimated human durrrability," she admitted.

Nikhita gave her a pat on the arm, accidently puncturing her palm on the svellik's spiky exoskeleton.

"All good," she said while rubbing her hands together. "We all make mistakes, but let's not tell Lord Young because he wigs out about that kind of stuff."

The Earthling glanced at the camera closest to them. Their audio had probably been picked up, yet she doubted the Parliament House security team would care that Ghoad had accidently killed a downtowner. They most likely wouldn't have cared if she had intentionally killed a downtowner. Their priority was to keep an eye on illegal uptowner affairs that affected other downtowners – plus they probably didn't want to mess with an intimidating svellik.

* * *

Erik watched Proteus and Nikhita Kothari get ready to go somewhere even though the Earthling had only arrived home an hour before.

"Hood up," Nikhita murmured to the Olympian before pulling his brown hood over his head. "Otherwise you stand out too much."

"Perhaps I should wear a disguise to look less conspicuous," he suggested before adjusting his hood himself.

"I don't think that would hide you better. Even your posture makes you stand out."

The downtowner did not feel like he was in a position to ask where they were going. Nikhita had barely said two words two him since she had returned. Having only had one full conversation with her, he would be surprised if she decided to leave him home alone. Even leaving him alone with Proteus seemed a little too trusting.

"Are you hungry, Erik?" Nikhita asked.

"Uh, no."

"Good, because you won't be eating until I get back."

"Okay."

"Would you like me to turn on the television for you to watch?"

"No, I'm okay."

"Okay. If you get bored you can turn it on."

Proteus slid open the door to the garage and stood at the side as to allow Nikhita to walk through first.

"Be back in probably an hour," she said before stepping through the door followed by the Olympian.

Erik opened his mouth to say goodbye, yet the door had already closed so there was no point.

He had an hour to himself – what would he do with that time? Napping sound like a good idea. However, his eyes wandered in the direction of the door to Nikhita's office. The office that was full of weapons. What else would be in there? From what he had seen, she had not locked the door tonight.

No, he shook his head at the thought of investigating. He could not let curiosity get the better of him. She'll throw you out if you go through her stuff. She'd find out you went into her office even though she's not here. There are probably security cameras in there.

Coming to this conclusion, Erik went into his room and lay down on his bed – taking a nap was the best option.

Lord Young intentionally arrived early at the Marley Skyway. No surprise it was basically deserted. It was still the skyway with the highest crime rate many years after his sister had been killed there so most people avoided Marley after the Jhard went down. It was also one of the few skyways that had constantly blinding advertisements playing day and night because it was sponsored by companies rather than the government.

There was a haunting sensation for Koris being in the skyway his sister was killed in. He really missed Fátima. His sister was the one who he remained in contact with after disowning the rest of his family. Although she became the primary heir of their parents' wealth, she understood his perspective on the blood money and supported his refusal even if she still accepted the money in the will.

She'd probably agree with me on the Olympian issue. Then again, she's also a bit like An – she would still buy one, he thought while looking at a digital poster promoting the new Olympians. Of course Olympus United would sponsor anything and everything in order to promote their product. The only weird thing was supporting the Marley Skyway, a skyway associated with the poorer section of uptown with people, who would probably not put their money into servants.

Lord Young jumped a little when somebody whistled. He was a little on edge based on location. Luckily he recognised Nikhita right away. She was wearing casual clothing, yet still had a handgun tucked away under her grey jacket. There was also a boy following behind her. His face was shadowed by his hood, though his posture gave away the fact he was an Olympian.

Thousands of tiny grains began to tap on the other side of the skyway window. Obviously a sandstorm had hit Manticore. This one of the few times Koris felt safer in Marley rather than the skyway near his apartment. This was due to the fact that being in a completely glass encasing during a storm was terrifying. The Marley Skyway had a metal skeleton that was more reassuring even if both skyways were equally durable.

"Howdy," Nikhita Kothari said in a cheerful manner. Young sensed there was something off about her – she would never say 'howdy'.

"Hāi," he replied casually.

She stepped to the side so that she was not between him and the Olympian.

"Proteus, this is Koris. Koris, this is Proteus."

"A pleasure to meet you," the boy said while putting out his hand. His words contradicted his tone of voice which was very monotone and uninterested – he was definitely not a normal Olympian.

His face was slightly distorted by the light from the advertisement, yet Koris could see that Proteus was less androgynous than other Olympians – there was no mistaking that he was intended to be male. This also made bear a closer resemblance to his creator: Jude Dimiourgo. He also bore a less happy default expression that looked more agitated than anything. However, the electric blue eyes remained.

"I'll be waiting in the shuttle," Nikhita said as she turned to leave. "You two play nice."

"Zàijiàn... and thank you," Koris said as she left before looking back at Proteus. "Wow, I have so many questions to ask you."

"I would prefer if you only asked me questions relevant to helping me prove Olympians do not want to serve humans which would make them slaves," he said firmly – obviously he had other things to hide.

The pair began to stroll slowly down the skyway in order to appear more natural to a few rare passers-by.

"Why are you so different from other Olympians?" Young asked while glancing at an advertisement for Olympians.

"I'm the second prototype. The first prototype, Prometheus, was terminated because they had not suppressed his personal thoughts enough and he was able to speak his mind. Upon request to perform the basic task of washing the floor, he refused and explained that he would not do labour for free. He was far too human for Olympus United's standards. The scientists hired by Master Dimiourgo noted his death down as 'liver failure' to avoid controversy.

"The scientists were much more careful to suppress my personal thoughts when bioengineering me. I acted like a modern Olympian: obedient and without an opinion. However, my will began to overpower the Biomechatronics implants as I questioned the fruitlessness of my labour – why would I work without reward?

With my knowledge of what happened to my brother, Prometheus, when he denied Olympus United, I came to the conclusion that my survival would require me to pretend to be obedient. However, while pretending to be their ideal Olympian, I planned how to escape. I fled the day my trials were over just when the scientists had reached the conclusion that I was 'perfect'. They searched for me, of course. I was a threat to their public image if they thought I would go to the press."

"How did Nikhita find you?"

"That information is forbidden," he said sharply. "You are limited to information that will help you prove that Olympians are slaves."

"Okay, okay," Koris said defensively. This Olympian appeared to be very threatening.

"Olympus United came to the conclusion Olympian brains had to be fully controlled by Biomechatronics implants. All my siblings now have fully suppressed minds. However, just because they are completely obedient now does not mean they want to be – they cannot escape their own minds. Even if they say they want to be slaves, even if they think they want to be slaves, it is just the Biomechatronics in their brains talking. That is why you need my testament – you do not have a justified case against Olympian slave labour if they all say they are for their own enslavement."

"I really should be recording this conversation."

"I do not that would be wise as it would affect both me and Nikhita."

Koris raised an eyebrow.

"But to make such a statement I would need to have evidence."

"Yes, I would recommend you make a public demand for the footage of the Prometheus tests including when he refused and then explain how you believe Prometheus was killed for disobeying. Even if you cannot get evidence to prove that he was killed, getting people suspicious of Olympus United will work in your favour due to the bad publicity for them. Also, mention that it is a crime to intentionally mentally impair people and take them to court over the issue."

He nodded along. It would be far more difficult than releasing a statement from Proteus to the media, yet it was still a good possibility.

"Thank you," Koris said when he realised he did not know what else to say. "And I am sorry about Prometheus... and all your siblings, really. My wife bought an Olympian against my will, but, um, we pay him like a proper servant as a compromise to suit both of us."

That statement did not appear to please Proteus – and Koris really regretted saying anything. He looked way and stared at a spot between advertisements that allowed him to see outside. The sandstorm was still going which would make driving home annoying.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked in the silence. "You can't hide forever."

"Not forever," Proteus agreed. "Olympians are designed to live only five-hundred years."

"Well, I suppose that's true."

"I must request that you do not reveal my name nor that fact I reside at Miss Kothari's apartment when you publically discuss this conversation."

"Of course."

"Then we are done here."

Proteus had to work on his manners. He walked away without even saying goodbye. Lord Young was not offended by this. He remembered how terrible Flick's manners were in his first years. However, he did send Nikhita a message:

Young: He's heading back your way. Thanks for letting me talk to him.

He had to catch himself when he started writing Proteus' name. If his phone ever got hacked by a news company they could not know he had chatted with the Olympian.

Kothari: Not a problem. Just make sure you don't tell anybody about this.

Young: I know. He made that very clear. I'll see you tomorrow.

Kothari: See ya.

Well that was quick, yet eventful, he thought. If he followed through with Proteus' suggestion of taking down Olympus United then he would have to get this information out soon as the election neared closer. There was just one problem: he would have to consult with the House of Oxen heads first because they would restrict him if they thought it would do damage to their campaign.

Actually, they are not going to go for it at all. They all own Olympians and won't want to give them up, he realised. And Olympus United has probably been preparing to defend themselves as soon as Proteus escaped. Any evidence was quickly gotten rid of.

He was having major doubts about this plan. It seemed like such a good idea until he got into the details of it. If Proteus was telling the truth and the Olympians were, in fact, humans with suppressed thoughts, then they were technically humans and it was a violation of human rights. He was not going to get any information out of Olympus United and they would most likely try to hinder him if he started to investigate. Even his own House would probably not back his plan.

Koris sighed deeply – why did everything have to be so difficult? That was the type of question Flick would ask. He resorted to these child-like questions when the universe seemed to be working against him. That was a clear sign that Young really was young like his surname suggested. It had been made clear to him many times that anyone in their triple digits saw the universe for what it really was: cruel and unforgiving. He was not there yet. Koris still believed that there was Hope at the bottom of Pandora's Box.

It is possible that I can convey this information during the final debate, he considered. I can really say whatever I want during it seeing as it's all improvised and my own House won't be able to regulate it. Yes, Lord Jordanis will certainly take me on about the issue, but nobody can stop me from getting into the grit of it and revealing the truth. I cannot mention Perseus or Nikhita, yet I can talk about what I know.

That was something he had forgotten about: how did Nikhita find Perseus? And, more importantly, why didn't she tell me about it in the first place? She knows she can trust me. We are the masters of keeping secrets.

No, he could not go down that road. Remembering the Chinese New Year party where they both got drunk on apple cider was going to end horribly. One of his most disgusting and shameful moments. He had been so hard on Andromeda when she admitted to receiving oral sex from her assistant (which was the reason Perseus had been a first assistant in a decade) and he acted jealous when he learned she and Lord Jordanis had had a brief affair in the past. He could not be found out as a major hypocrite for what he did with Nikhita.

You know what? I'm just going to stop asking questions and focus on what I know, he decided while turning on the shuttle. However, he did go back to thinking about the Olympian situation: I should still take Olympus United to court, but after I get elected. First I call out Olympus United for breaching human rights in the debate and then take them to court. Yes, that's a good plan.

He was forced to rely on the digital display and GPS rather than the windows while flying home. The shuttle could withstand the sandstorm even if it did make him uncomfortable. Luckily his apartment was only a few minutes away.

How do downtowners manage during a sandstorm? he pondered. Most lower sections of buildings don't have any windows. God, there are just so many factors that make downtowners life unbearable. Then again, there are enough factors that make uptowner life unbearable. For instance: the fact that what we consider to be upper-class is third world compared to a planet like Eden.

Unsurprisingly, Kiddo was the only one to greet Lord Young when he stepped through the door into the main room. Flick and Perseus, who were sitting on the couch, turned to acknowledge him, but they did not move from their seats.

"Hāi," he said mindlessly. He always forgot that Flick could not speak Mandarin.

"Wǎnshàng hǎo," Perseus replied formally while Flick looked back and forth between them in a confused matter.

"What are you two watching?" he asked even though he didn't really care. Koris just wanted to take his mind of the impending Olympus United issue he was going to have to deal with.

Flick glanced back at the television. "Uh, I dunno."

"I believe we are watching Truth Tellers or Zhēnxiàng as it is titled in Mandarin," Perseus explained.

Koris rarely watched movies and had no clue what Truth Tellers was. Based on Flick's taste it was either a romantic comedy or a kid's film. He was wrong. Truth Tellers was a gritty adaptation of Pinocchio from the planet Nǚwā in which someone close to Pinocchio died every time he lied. Flick did not particularly like the film and was rather disturbed by the content, but this late at night there was nothing else on.

"Okay," Young said while clapping his hands together. "I guess I'm off to bed. You two don't stay up late."

"Nighty night," Flick said in a distracted manner. The main character was on the verge of telling another lie.

"Would you care to recommend a time that I should power down?" Perseus asked.

Koris raised an eyebrow. 'Powering down' was what robots did, not humans.

"Whenever this film finishes is fine."

"Thank you. Sleep well."

He smiled at both of them before retiring to his bedroom. To his surprise, Andromeda was not asleep either. She sat at her desk in her silk red pyjamas as she did work. She looked up when Koris slid the door shut, yet she did not smile – she rarely did when she was tired.

"Why does méiyǒu rén ever go to sleep at an appropriate time?" he asked in a joking manner. Andromeda did not laugh. He had no clue how much her team had fucked up and how much she had to fix.

"Bù tonight, Kor," she growled.

Her husband put up his hands defensively.

"Sorry," he said, although he didn't sound sincere.

"So where were nǐ wǎnshàng?" she asked in a manner that implied she did not care.

Koris opened his mouth to blurt out the news, but then he hesitated. It was best to think over what he should do with his newly discovered information before he went around telling people. Was he to hold a press conference to reveal it, share it with the House of Oxen, both along with taking Olympus United to court or just revealing it in the final debate? He had to plan this carefully. People were not going to be happy if they had to give up their new servants without justified reason – Andromeda included.

I should reveal it in whatever makes Lord Jordanis look in the wrong. If I get this right his stash of Olympians is going to make him look terrible.

"Wǒ was just going to see Nikhita," he said casually.

Andromeda looked at him suspiciously and raised an eyebrow. It was a weird time of night to go and hang out with friends. Unfortunately, she did not care enough to pester him for questions and instead got straight back to work.

Oh An, I can always rely on your negligence in our marriage to get me out of trouble, Koris thought as he undressed.

Once in bed, he worked off his tablet to organise a meeting with his campaign managers in the early morning to discuss what he should do with his newly retrieved new information. He would not discuss this in a meeting with the whole House of Oxen as there would be too many opposing viewpoints about what do with the information. Of course, the main viewpoint would be that Young's information did not have enough evidence to back it so he would just be shot down. Luckily, his campaign managers were a little less caring about evidence. If it could be used to get his approval up, they were for it no matter who got hurt in the melee. Their only problem would be with taking Olympus United to court due to the fact that company had a strong hold on the Manticore economy. They would most likely suggest he only use this information to get at Lord Jordanis and save the legal action for after the election – something Koris was already considering.

Andromeda was conscious that he was in bed and turned her desk light down to minimum. Koris usually brought some sort of device to bed, but then passed out with it resting on his chest within ten minutes. This was happening now as he dropped the tablet on his upper body as it was getting too heavy for his arm.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he was abruptly woken up when he heard the door to the garage open. He had not realised Melody was out.

"Where was tā wǎnshàng?" he asked groggily.

"Wǒ bù zhīdào. But wǒ would assume tā was out with Princeton."

Koris sighed heavily before placing his tablet on the nightstand and rolling onto his side. He was not going to stress about Melody sneaking out with his rival's son that night. She made it home safely and that was all that mattered.

"Wǎnshàng hǎo, Melody," Perseus said politely when he turned to see the teen.

Melody ignored the Olympian as she took a seat in the lounge chair. She had developed a strong distaste for him partly because she hated having more people in the house and partly because she knew Princeton did not like them. Her boyfriend found it quite unnerving to be in a house entirely made up of blond males.

"Diànshì, tōngdào thirty-four," she commanded of the television, causing it to change channel.

Flick gave her an annoyed look which she ignored. The movie he and Perseus had been watching was nearly finished and he wanted to see the end to know if it ended happy.

"Canna we go back to the other thingy?" he asked her. "It only had like ten minutes left."

"Thirteen minutes and fifty seconds," Perseus corrected.

Melody shook her head, yet refused to make eye-contact.

"Wǒ've already seen that film. The ending's shit. I'm gonna watch this instead," she stated while gesturing to what was playing on the screen – an R rated horror film.

Flick was not going to sit around and watch that. He had only just learned to grapple M rated movies and even those still stressed him out. He got up as soon as a female victim in the film got pierced in the eye with a drill.

"C'mon, Percy," he said in a quiet manner as to not make a scene.

The Olympian happily got up and was about to follow Flick before Melody stopped him.

"Percy, sit," she said in a semi-joking manner. She only expected Kiddo to follow orders like that.

The Olympian did the math in his head and came to the conclusions that Melody's instructions overruled Flick's. He sat back down. The downtowner clenched his fists and stormed into his room. He hated his 'sister', if he could really call her that.

"May I assume that this film is fictional?" Percy asked while his eyes were glued to the gore on-screen.

Melody turned to look at him. "What would you do if it wasn't?"

"I would be greatly concerned for that female's wellbeing," he explained. Oddly enough, Melody noticed his shaky voice. The imagery appeared to make him very uncomfortable now that he was unsure whether or not it was real or fake. She had been told he did not have emotions like humans did so it was strange to get a reaction out of him.

"Was the other thing you were watching fake?" she asked.

"Yes."

"So is this."

He instantly reverted back to his normal self and watched the film with a passive expression. His usual default smile returned to his face regardless of what was playing out on the screen. The pair watched the remainder of the film.

"Nǐ can go to bed now," Melody informed him as she herself went headed off to her room.

"Wǎn'ān," he said only to receive no reply.

Flick was not asleep when he entered their shared room. That was no surprise seeing as the downtowner rarely slept more than three hours a night.

"Hello," Percy said happily as he began to undress – he was following Melody's instructions and going to bed.

"Did ya like the movie thingy?" Flick asked, his tone slightly agitated.

"Which film are you referring to? Truth Tellers or the film I watched with Melody. Unfortunately, I do not know what it is called."

"The horror thingy. What did ya think of it?"

Perseus smiled before sliding his night shirt on. He was unsure of how to answer.

"Apologies, I do not have an opinion on it."

"Why not?"

"I... do not know."

Flick, realising the Olympian simply could not form his own opinions like that, dropped the matter.

"Don'ta worry about it." He assured him. "But I'ma just wonderin' why you chose to stay and watch a horror movie."

"Miss Melody Sun requested for me to stay."

"Yeah, but I asked ye to come with me first."

"Miss Melody Sun –"

"You can just call her 'Mel'."

"Okay. I shall call her Mel when in your presence. Now, there is a hierarchy I adhere when I am given contradicting orders from separate beings. Lady Andromeda Sun purchased me and is my primary master and therefore her orders will overwrite any other orders I am given. If Lady Andromeda Sun has given me no instructions, I will obey Lord Koris Young's orders. If neither of them has given me orders I will obey their biological offspring, Mel. If none of the previous three beings have given me instructions I will obey the fourth occupant of the apartment: you. When you and Mel gave me contradicting orders I naturally selected to obey Mel as she is above you in the hierarchy."

Flick scoffed. "That'sa stupid. I'ma older than her."

He felt bad immediately after saying that. He knew Perseus should not have to follow any orders if he did not want to – not even orders Flick gave him. An important thing about being recognised as a human was the right to make your own decisions.

"Yes, but she is the biological child of Lady Andromeda Sun and Lord Koris Young. If you were both biological children of them I would obey you before her because you are older."

"Howa do ya know I'ma not related to any of them?" Flick asked out of curiosity. He knew why he couldn't be related to the Sun-Young family, but he wanted to know how Perseus came to this conclusion as well.

"I can determine genetic relations based on shared physical features and traits. Your features are not connected to the other three household members. There is also a distinguishable language difference between you and the others."

Flick nodded in understanding.

"Do ye wonder where I come from?"

"I suppose it is information that could be useful for me in the future."

Flick didn't mean to ask the Olympian so many challenging questions. He just found it very interesting to see how Perseus interpreted him.

"Where do you think I come from?"

"I have come to the conclusion you are of European heritage. Judging by your accent, I can infer that you were raised in the lower elements of Manticore Metropolis."

"You'da be right," Flick admitted. "Anything else ya notice about me?"

"Could you please be specific about the facts you would like me to state about you?"

The downtowner shook his head and smiled.

"Nah, don'ta worry 'bout it."

He flopped back down on his mattress to symbolise the ending of the conversation. Perseus finished dressing for bed now that he was no longer being interrupted.

"Pardon my curiosity," Perseus said softly, "but may I ask you a question about your physique?"

Flick looked at the Olympian and cocked an eyebrow.

"Err, what do ya wanna ask?"

"Why have you been castrated?"

Flick was a silent.

"Apologies," Percy quickly said. "That was too intrusive of a question."

"Remember the bad guy in the movie thing tonight?" Flick asked, ignoring the Olympian's apology.

"The antagonist in Truth Tellers?"

"No, the bad guy in the horror movie thing ya watched with Mel?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'va met a guy like that. My da... um, well, I was given to a baddie guy when I was a kid as, like, trade for druggy stuff. And this guy wanted me to do things. Things I didn'ta wanna do and said no to. So he tried to force me and I bit him." Flick swallowed uncomfortably. "He got supa angry and decided to hurt me which is why, err, he did this," he explained while gesturing to his crotch which was actually covered by his pyjama bottoms, but Perseus understood.

"That seems like an irrational disciplining technique for dealing with disobedience," the Olympian stated. He then noticed Flick's eyes were watery. "Flick, are you alright?"

The boy nodded.

"I haven't, err, please don'ta tell anybody else that story."

"I will never reveal that information without your permission," Perseus promised.

Flick sniffed and then gave the Olympian a confused look.

"Ya promise not to tell anyone? Not even if Andromeda asks ye?"

Perseus remained quiet. He did not want to disclose such private information to anyone else, but was allowed to keep it from Andromeda if she demanded to know the story?

"Is this information she seeks?" he asked.

Flick chose to shake his head rather than reply orally. His voice cracked and went extra squeaky when he cried.

"Then I shall not reveal to her that I possess this information and therefore she will never ask for it," he concluded happily.

Flick was not assured. He knew now that he had to withhold information from the Olympian as he could not keep his secrets if anybody above him in the hierarchy requested it.

"Do ya wish ya didn'ta have to say yes to people all the time?" he asked even though he didn't expect to receive an answer. "I mean, ya can't always agree with Andromeda."

"But I do," Perseus rebutted. "I do always agree with Lady Sun and obey her requests. She is my master."

"What if she asked ye to kill people? What woulda ya do?"

Perseus thought for a moment.

"I suppose I would do what she told me to do. Is that a request she is likely to make?"

Flick shook his head. Andromeda was a hard woman, but she certainly wasn't a killer. If she tried to get Perseus to help her do anything illegal, it would probably be for something like embezzling rather than a violent crime.

"If Andromeda asked ya to kill her, woulda ye?"

The Olympian had a blank expression as he tried to calculate what he would do. His job was to follow her orders, but a secondary duty was to protect her. Those two duties would clash if she asked him to kill her.

Flick, realising that he had probably confused the Olympian again, quickly withdrew his question: "Don'ta worry about it. None of those thingies will ever happen."

A long silence followed. Flick adjusted himself so that he looked like he was ready to fall asleep even if it was going to be a while before he did so.

"Nighty night," he said before closing his eyes.

"Goodnight," Perseus replied and instantly shut down for the night.

Flick opened his eyes again. He felt quite bad for the Olympian seeing as he couldn't make any choices for himself and had to follow orders. People could take advantage of that. He felt a little obliged to keep an innocent guy like Perseus safe. Flick wouldn't be able to stand it if Perseus was damaged beyond repair like he was.
13

Koris was up far earlier than usual so that he could get to work. He had scheduled his meeting with his campaign managers to be as soon as possible so he could start taking action. They were running out of time before the election so he needed to find a way to get the Olympian revelations out quickly.

Neither of them were as into the idea as he had hoped. It was partly because he couldn't reveal his source and partly because they both owned Olympians and didn't want to give them up. However, he eventually persuaded them that it would be a good move for his campaign if he made Lysander look bad for having so many Olympians. As a trio they considered that holding a press conference later on in the day could be a wise route for getting the facts out.

However, by the end of the meeting, two hours later, all those plans had to be scrapped due to unforeseen circumstances. Koris got a message from Andromeda explaining how Princeton was in hospital after suffering third degree burns. He would look like a terrible person if he tried to shame Lord Jordanis the same day his son was put into hospital.

"You know what would look good?" Miss Moore asked in Mandarin. "Going to the hospital to support your rival' son could be a good move. People would see that as a kind gesture."

Koris sneered.

"I thought we had to make sure to keep personal lives out of politics," he replied in the same language.

"Sometimes breaking the rules works in your favour," Miss Melvin stated. "Showing that even though your rivals, you still respect Lord Jordanis and his family could be a good thing."

"Would I have to bring him a gift or anything like that?" he asked with disdain still in his tone.

"No," Moore shook her head. "Just go pick up your daughter from school so that you two can visit him in hospital. There will most likely already be reporters at the scene so you'll get good media from them."

Young sighed. He didn't particularly like Princeton and the meeting would be rather cold, yet it could work in his favour for the day. He just wished he had the chance to get out the Olympian news today because he was not going to get time later on – his last chance to show people that Olympians were slaves would have to be during the final debate.

"Alright," he agreed hesitantly. "I'll go pick up my daughter and take her to the hospital."

The campaign mangers exchanged a look before both smiled at him.

Koris got on his way to go pick Melody up from school. The school hadn't allowed her to leave in the ambulance with Princeton so she was thankful her father was willing to come and get her.

Young: So do you know what happened? Why did Prince get burned?

Sun: I'm only going off what Mel told me. Apparently a svellik opened a window during class.

Koris had to think for a moment. There were very few svellik youth in the world and even less who attended school. He and Ghoad had worked to get one svellik into high school to ease human-svellik relations – hopefully it wasn't that svellik who opened the window.

Young: I'm taking Melody out of school to see Prince.

Sun: I assume there's political motivation behind this.

Koris didn't answer. If either of their phones got hacked by aggressive journalists then he did not want to be made to look bad.

The school principal was a little reluctant to let Melody leave school. They had incredibly strict rules around student absences. Luckily they excused Melody because Koris, being the House of Oxen chairperson candidate, was potentially up for a powerful role and having him on the side of the school would be a wise move.

Melody flew into the shuttle and repeated the word "drive" in Mandarin a few hundred times before Koris had even buckled his seatbelt. Clearly she was very worried about her boyfriend.

"So shénme happened?" he asked as he pulled the shuttle out of the school parking lot.

"This fucked-up svellik xiǎozi went nuts in math and punched right through the window. The light hit Prince straight in the face."

I knew the education board should've given the school money to upgrade the windows, Koris thought.

"Do nǐ know the svellik's name?"

"Wǒ méiyǒu ever have a class with tā, but wǒ think it was 'Sweve' or some shit like that."

"Fuck," Koris hissed. That was the svellik he had put into school to promote integrated human and svellik lives.

I'm going to have to break it to Ghoad. And then I'll have to deal with the backlash of ever trying to put a svellik nymph into public school in the first place. Fuck, what if Lysander chooses to blame me for all of this?

He was now having second thoughts about entering the hospital. Unfortunately he was already at the hospital and it would look bad if he didn't go visit the injured boy seeing as he was already there with his daughter.

Once inside, the robot receptionist had to contact Princeton's room to make sure the Jordanis family permitted visitors. There were a few press members and journalists in the lobby as well who had been denied access to Princeton. He acted humble, yet was quite pleased that he would be recognised by the press for coming to visit his rival's son – after all, that was the intent of all of this.

"Yes," Koris heard a calm voice reply to the robot's query, "send them in."

Shit. Lysander's here.

He didn't know why he hadn't mentally prepared for Lord Jordanis to be there seeing it was his son who had been injured. The problem was that Lysander probably knew he was visiting for political reasons and would call him out for it.

The doors to the hallway opened.

"Princeton Bengal is in room 237," the receptionist informed them as they walked through.

Melody did not walk with her father. She sped ahead and pushed past a few nurses who got in her way. Koris was actually surprised she was so worried about Princeton. Yes, he was her boyfriend, but it was never conveyed as a deep relationship. The two were always bickering about petty things and on the verge of breaking up – Melody loved drama. She was probably acting so worried about Princeton for the sake of drama.

He did not try to catch up to his daughter. In fact, he actually slowed down. Koris was not in the headspace to deal with Lysander. He could only hope that Lady Kathryn Bengal was coming down from the Sphinx station on the moon, Bagg, in order to visit her son. Kathryn could act as a barrier between him and Lysander. Her ex-husband had great respect for her and would obey her if she told him to not pick on Koris.

It was very clear the Dragon was there when Koris got a whiff of smoke in his lungs as he entered Princeton's room which had a suspicious red tint to it. Ironically, there was actually a sign next to the hospital bed that said "no smoking" – Lysander saw that as a guideline rather than a rule.

"Holy fuck!" Mel gasped when she saw that her boyfriend had been mummified with bandages. She quickly ran to his side.

Her boyfriend was drugged up and unaware of her presence. He really needed the morphine in order to numb the pain after basically being burned alive.

"Princess is fine," Lysander informed her placidly. "He's having reconstruction surgery in an hour and then he'll be as good as he used to be."

Koris bit his lip. Even as his son laid there, a third of his body scorched, he was still an unredeemable asshole.

"Ah, Lord Young," he said as if he was surprised to see Koris even though he had given him and Mel permission to visit.

"Good to see you... Lord Jordanis," Koris replied through gritted teeth. He put out his hand and expected the other man to take it, and yet his hand was left empty. Clearly Jordanis was not in the mood for formalities.

"I'm so sorry about what happened to Princeton."

Lysander shrugged coldly.

"He's alive, so everything's fine."

Mel gave him a death glare over the hospital bed. Princeton had injured and until he was better nothing would be okay.

Koris took a seat in the chair next to Lysander, but shifted it away slightly as he sat.

"I heard it was a svellik nymph that caused all this."

Lysander raised an eyebrow even though it was hard to tell due to his tinted sunglasses. When he thought of nymphs in terms of biology, he thought of young cicadas and crickets, not svellik. Was it politically correct to compare a svellik to a young insect with the mental capacity of a pea? That almost seemed more offensive to him.

"Yes, it was a svellik teen who broke the window. Their species naturally thrives under the light of the Jhard, taking him away from that drove him to insanity. Or, at least that's my guess."

Koris' eyes narrowed.

Are you pretending to know more about the svellik than me? One of my security members is a fucking svellik.

He removed that spiteful thought instantly. He knew it was wrong to think he knew more about the svellik race just because he hired one. That was like saying he knew more about tanned people seeing as Nikhita was his Chief of Oxen Security.

"So where is the svellik now?" he asked in a calm manner even though the whole situation was stressing him out. If the svellik was linked back to him seeing as he helped place him in mainstream school then that wouldn't make for good publicity.

"Dead," Lysander said simply. "Shot onsite for threatening a police officer."

Koris accidently cursed under his breath. That was going to leave a bad mark on his campaign and they were at the stage that any bad publicity could make or break him seeing as the election was so close.

"Have you informed Lady Bengal about this?" Koris asked to change the subject because he didn't want Lysander to guess that he was worrying about such a petty thing based on the circumstances. Fretting more about his campaign than Princeton or the dead svellik would make him appear unsympathetic.

Jordanis smirked. He knew why there was a sudden diverge from the previous conversation.

"Yes," he finally said as he lit another red cigarette. "The femme fatales should be arriving soon. The station on Bagg offers snappy transport when there's a family emergency."

"Mel...?" Princeton mumbled drowsily, but it was hard to hear him due to the bandages wrapped around his mouth just like the rest of his head.

"Prince!" Melody squealed. "I'm here, bǎobèi. I'm here," she assured him while grabbing his hand.

Lysander rolled his eyes. Their romance disgusted him. It was clear he was not a fan of Koris' daughter. Then again, he did not particularly favour his own son. What Koris didn't know was that Lysander was absolutely sick of romance after he exchanged his downtowner servants for Olympians.

"So how's the whole installing voting booths downtown dealy going?" Lysander asked in a distracted manner as he thought about other things.

"Good," Koris replied confidently. "That's almost done. The biggie now is making sure that the downtowners are aware of them and vote."

The older man smirked and shook his head.

"I doubt even an eighth of them will vote. Maybe less."

"You never know. Maybe they want to be a part of this democracy and have their say."

"I assume they will not be included in the pre-election survey happening tomorrow," Lysander stated. "One must have a phone or communication device in order to be involved."

"No, downtowners won't get to be a part of the survey. I have not concerned myself with the survey seeing as less than a third of the population of Manticore takes part in it."

Jordanis nodded slowly in a manner that suggested he didn't believe the younger man. He knew Koris was more anxious about the survey than he was.

The door to Princeton's room opened. There in the doorway stood Lady Kathryn Bengal. Before even looking at her son she sniffed the air twice and proceeded to glare at Lysander – she did not approve of him smoking in her son's hospital room.

At eight hundred and twelve years old with one of the most important jobs in the system, Lady Bengal was not a force to be trifled with. Manticore would not survive without its galactic trade. The Manticore economy thrived due to its exports of spice and minerals while also relying on imports from other planets. Kathryn was the one who had to ensure the galactic trade deals were being upheld by monitoring the imports exports. She was the one who decided what goods went where and what imports Manticore accepted. Yes, her job had cost her time with Princeton, but her revenue was more than Lord Jordanis' – that's why Lysander had respect for her.

"The femme fatales have arrived," Jordanis uttered under his breath.

He stood up slowly like an old man never treated for arthritis and offered his hand to Kathryn. His ex-wife shook it once and then went to examine her son. He sat back down before her wives had the chance to shake his hand as well. Viola scoffed and followed Kathryn's lead by going to Prince's bed while Amber, the youngest of the trio at forty, smiled at Lysander and Koris.

"How's Princey doing?" she asked in an oddly peppy manner given the circumstances.

"He's fine," Lysander said bluntly.

"Most of his skin has been burned," Kathryn objected.

Lysander shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal.

"So why did the whole posse decide to come?" he asked as an open question to all three women.

"He's our son too," Viola growled. "We raised him more than you did."

I think I should get out of here, Koris realised. Mel and I are oddities in this tense family reunion.

"I'm glad to see your son is stable," Koris announced while standing up. "Mel and I will come to visit him again after the reconstruction is done, but for now it's probably wise that this remain a family area."

Melody gave her father a death glare, he returned the stare with one that said "trust me, we don't want to be here right now."

"It was very considerate of you to stop by," Kathryn said without looking away from her son. "Hopefully we will see you later on today when Princey is doing better."

"Certainly," Koris agreed.

Right now, though, I have to talk to Ghoad about the fucking svellik nymph who ruined human-svellik relations by going nuts, he thought begrudgingly.

He gestured for Mel to follow him. Reluctantly, she kissed Princeton's cheek and followed her father.

"So do wǒ have to go back to xuéxiào or nah?" Melody asked as they headed for the shuttle.

"Well, how many hours do nǐ have left of school?" Koris asked.

"Like yī, so barely the rest of my final class," she lied. School didn't end for another three hours.

"Wǒ will just drop nǐ off at home."

Melody smiled. Her scorched boyfriend was the last thing on her mind now that she had free time to burn.

Lord Young went back to work after dropping his daughter off at home. Flick was not pleased to see that she had come home early as she took full control of the main room and he had to go hide with Perseus in their room. Koris had no time to notice the power play going on in his house due to the fact he had to deal with the svellik issue before the press linked him to the svellik who got Princeton burned.

"Hāi, Niki," he said when he entered the Oxen Security office. "Do you know where Ghoad is?"

Nikhita looked at him solemnly.

"She, along with some other svellik, are doing a prayer for the dead svellik and his mamé."

Koris raised his eyebrow in an unsympathetic manner.

"Did you say 'mammy'? Did tā māmā die as well?"

Chief Kothari shook her head at his lack of knowledge about svellik culture.

"And you plan on leading this planet despite the fact you know nothing about the svellik," she muttered before explaining: "A mamé is like a guardian angel for svellik youth. It takes the form they want and tries to protect them until they are fully grown by giving advice. They are peaceful, but can become aggressive if necessary in order to protect their child."

"Wait, are they real?" Koris asked in a confused manner. "Like can we see them?"

"Only if they want to be seen. And yes, they are very real, but they hide from us due to the fact we are not a true part of this planet."

"So how did Sweve's mamé die then?"

Nikhita shrugged.

"From what I know, the mamé is linked to their svellik youth. In the past the mamé would adopt a new youth after its previous child was fully grown, but if the child in its care died then it would die as well. So I think the mamé died due Sweve being killed."

Koris nodded. He didn't believe a word of it. Humans were aware of almost all the creatures on Manticore so it was unlikely that they had missed an entire species right under their nose. Nikhita, growing up a Hindu, was quite a spiritual person and was more open to things of a paranormal nature. Yes, Koris did believe humans had souls, but he didn't believe a spirit could transcend a body and remain in the mortal realm – he certainly didn't believe a spirit could act like an imaginary friend for a svellik child.

"Could nǐ tell wǒ when Ghoad gets back or tell tā to get in contact with wǒ?" Koris asked in an emotionless tone.

Nikhita nodded, but avoided eye contact – judgement radiated off her.

Erik made the wise choice to remain quiet when Miss Kothari returned to the apartment. He sensed she was angry. The fact she had a sniper rifle slung over her shoulder certainly helped influence his decision to keep his lips sealed.

Why does she have such a big gun? he thought, but would never ask.

"I sense you are frustrated," Proteus noted as he came out from the bedroom he shared with Erik. "Has the current plan been forced to alter again?"

Nikhita glared at him with a look that said "we're not talking about this in front of the downtowner."

"Everything's fine," she reassured him. "The Oxen candidate is just an unempathetic xenophobe."

She gestured for Proteus to follow her into the restricted room where they could talk in private. This greatly concerned Erik. Something was off about all of this.

She randomly lets me live with her along with this Olympian and now she's brought a gun home. She is not normal. Maybe she wants to kill me.

A dramatic conclusion to jump to, but Erik, having grown up downtown, was always aware of threats to his life. He wished Nikhita was giving him shelter out of genuine kindness, yet he knew it was possible that she intended to use him for sinister purposes.

Remain calm, he told himself. If you are panicking over nothing then you don't want to ruin this setup.

The downtowner glanced at the door to Nikhita's office where she was talking with Proteus. He then went to his bedroom. He wasn't tired. It just didn't feel right to lounge around the main room of a house that wasn't his. Back at Lord Jordanis' estate he and Mark would immediately go back to their room once the work was done. No downtowner servants had ever dwelled outside of their chambers for very long.

I have a strong feeling the answers I want are in there. I'll have to wait for the day that both she and Proteus are not around before I investigate.

He flopped down on his mattress and stared at the blank ceiling.

I'm probably paranoid about nothing.
14

The numbers were surprising from the pre final debate survey. Yes, Lord Jordanis was still in the lead according to the survey, yet there was only an eleven percent difference in their approval ratings. That was the best news Lord Young had received all month given the fact that the downtowners had not even had their say yet and they would probably vote for him. After all, the downtowners are who he targeted in his campaign.

Koris really had to thank Lady Fae Sonata for the narrowing of the gap between his and Lysander's approval ratings. Had she not dropped out of the race then he wouldn't have any of her old supporters. He also had to be thankful that the svellik who had injured Princeton had not been linked back to the House of Oxen by the press so that was not another black mark on the pretty splotchy image of Koris.

However, most importantly of all, he actually had to thank Lord Jordanis for this gradual closing between their approval ratings. Lysander had really taken a hit after his statement about Manticore being a "wretched planet" was leaked to the media. Anybody who had been on the fence about both candidates probably fell in the direction of Koris after they heard Lysander's remark.

Despite the survey being more successful than expected, Manticore Metropolis had forgotten about it and the city was already focussing on the next big event: the final debate happening that night. This was the last chance for the candidates to prove themselves worthy as the election was the very next night.

Young was now a little more reluctant to bring up things he discussed with Proteus seeing as he was doing so better in the race. He didn't want to lose his new supporters by going off on a tangent about how Olympians were basically slaves unless they were properly paid. Telling Manticorians they would have to pay their new servants was not going to make anyone happy – Manticorians were cheapskates.

Bring it up lightly and discuss that it may be wise to first have a psyche investigation of Olympians to see if they truly consent to being treated like slaves. If not, we should pay them like downtowners. If I need extra ammunition in the debate, as Lord Jordanis will certainly object, then bring up the discussion I had with Proteus. I suppose I could also bring up the subtle hints of true emotion Perseus has displayed according to Flick. Flick reads too much into things, though. He wishes Perseus could feel emotion like humans do even if the Olympian doesn't feel.

Koris sighed as his makeup artist applied powder to his face – the last thing he wanted was to have an oily face on camera.

"Do you think I should wear mascara?" Lord Jordanis asked from across the green room as his stylist gelled his hair back. "Yes, mascara is a feminine product... but it makes my green eyes pop out and most people like me for my appearance anyways."

The younger man shook his head. Lysander was clearly trying to come off as nonchalant before the final debate despite the fact it was the pinnacle of each their campaigns.

"What every you want, Lysander."

"To wear mascara, or to not wear mascara," he pondered aloud, "that is the question."

Shut the fuck up you lil' Shakespearean son of a bitch. Koris bit his lip despite the fact Lysander clearly had not heard his internalised insult. Jesus, if people had the ability to read my mind they'd realise I swear like there's no tomorrow.

What was strange was that Lord Jordanis was making his usual annoying jokes as he tried to piss him off, yet something was different. There was something hollow about his words as if he wasn't putting any effort into his attempts to annoy the younger man. He wasn't enjoying himself, he was just pretending to. Koris realised that whatever had had such an impact on Lysander days ago was still affecting him now. Lysander was shutting himself down and becoming emotionless as a defence mechanism.

"How's your son doing?" Koris asked in an equally nonchalant manner. "Did the reconstruction go okay?"

"He's fine," Lysander stated simply. "No visible scars. However, he has to remain at the hospital overnight just in case there are complications."

A long silence followed. The two men were not custom to making conversation with each other.

"No matter how things go tonight," Lysander began, "I think you should know you have been a... respectable opponent, Kor-Kor."

"Why do I sense that you think you're going to win the debate and the election?"

"I don't think," the older man replied with a laugh, "I know."

God, if you let me win for any reason, let it be so that I may rub it in Lord Jordanis' face. The fuckwit needs to be brought down a notch.

His tablet and phone buzzed simultaneously. The House of Oxen was feeding him any last remaining ammo needed for the debate about intended future policies and issues that the public wanted to be addressed. However, Koris was done trying to be the puppet for the House of Oxen and ignored the messages. He would bring up the Oxen plans he agreed with, but the debate was testing who he would be as the chairman and so his own voice had to seep through as well.

Koris was actually surprised when he looked at Lysander directly. He was not wearing his sunglasses anymore, a habit he had developed recently, and he looked younger than before. It was possible that he had been wearing his sunglasses to cover the developing bags under his eyes until he could get anti-aging treatment. That seemed like a suitable explanation given how the older man was very into his appearance.

"It's at times like then that I wish we still had the twelve House system," Jordanis stated while reading a message he received on his phone. His own House was also trying to cram last minute information into his brain. "You see, when there were twelve candidates all debating it was all so exciting."

The twelve Houses were long before the time of Koris. Lysander was bringing it up to remind the younger man that he was older and had been involved politics far longer.

"You certainly wouldn't be an Ox if the twelve House system still existed, that's for sure" Lysander remarked.

"And where exactly would you place w... me if we still had the twelve House system?" Koris asked in a passive aggressive manner. He really didn't care, but knew Lysander was going to tell him anyways.

"Dog. You would have been in the House of Dogs. They were... ambitious in their plans for Manticore, and yet they wouldn't take no for an answer when others were rational and told them that their goals were unachievable. They promised so much, and that's why everyone voted for them. When they delivered nothing the public got angry. They were elected during the time when downtown and uptown were beginning to be differentiated by economic class. The lower class citizens were hoping that the Dogs would close the gap between the classes. They did not, however, and their popularity spiralled downwards at an excessive rate. The classes were split in their final year of power due to pressure from the rest of parliament and now we have the uptown and downtown we know so well today. Do you understand the moral of my story, Koris?"

"The moral: don't be a bitch," Koris mumbled.

Lysander laughed in an insincere manner.

"The moral: don't promise what you can't deliver."

"Asking for us to stop dehumanising Olympians and downtowners is not a big ask. Asking for us to stop letting twelve year-old boys be castrated in the most brutal is not a big ask."

Lysander raised an eyebrow at the reference to Flick.

"You have no clue how humans work. All you ask for requires Manticorians to pay more, and so you will be denied."

The older man put up his hand before Koris had time to object.

"Save it for the debate. I'm sure this exact issue will come up again."

It did.

"I'm sorry that the world is unfair to upper-class citizens," Koris began sarcastically, "but sometimes we may have to give up a tiny bit of our own fortunes in order to help those who need it. I know, it's cruel. Sometimes you might have to settle for normal beef instead of wagyu."

The debate moderator was about to make a comment before Lysander objected.

"The public shouldn't have to give money to those who won't make good use of it. Going with your idea: let's say we did start a children's homeless shelter for downtowners... uptown, I doubt it would actually be used by any children in need and rather homicidal children or uptown teens who want a free meal. If I thought it was going to work, I'd endorse it, but I just don't."

"Okay, let's say there were a few children who did have homicidal tendencies in the shelter, and let's say a few uptown teens did abuse what was offered there, do they really matter in comparison to the children that we could help? I don't care if we got ten lowlife uptown teens for every downtowner child, helping that one kid would still make it worth it."

Lysander scoffed.

"How very sentimental. Truly you are the prophet of the modern era."

"For the love of... Jordanis, I have no doubt that as we speak a downtowner child is being raped to death."

There was a surprised gasp from the audience. Koris would regret his words later, but when he was passionate about a cause he got caught up in the moment. Jordanis didn't appear to have any objections to his statement. He knew it was very true. The only difference was that he did not seem to care – or did not think there was anything that could be done about it.

"Now, imagine if we could save that kid and other kids," Young continued. "Money shouldn't matter when children's lives are on the line."

"I understand this issue is very close to home for you," Lysander began. "But what do you mean by 'save'? Did you really save Flick or prolong his miserable life?"

The moderator coughed awkwardly. He desperately wanted to change the topic, but that wasn't an option by this point. Everything was too tense.

"Miserable? What do you mean?" Koris growled, he knew this was getting to personal. "I gave him my blood in order to save him. I have tried to give Flick the best life possible. Yes, he has had a harder path compared to uptowners, but not a miserable one."

"Physically, you saved Flick. Well... you saved what you could, but mentally, like all downtowners, he's beyond saving. You have tried to conform him to uptowner ways, and you have tried, to some extent, to make him happy, but at the end of the day he is still a depressed little downtowner. When he is ready, he will take his own life. So I must ask you again: have you saved him? Can you promise the children you want to build shelters for will be saved? We can blow money on trying to help these kids, or we can accept the fact that these children, by fate, are meant to die young and trying to prevent the inevitable is a waste of time and resources."

"I-I don't even understand how you could say such things!" Young said in a completely appalled manner. "Are you truly heartless? Did you ever have a soul or have you always been this sick?"

"There is a difference between heartless and honest," Lysander replied coldly. "Downtowners are made to die young. Whether they die by slaughter, sickness, starvation or suicide, they will die. I don't wish it was true, but it is."

"I'm loving a lecture on how downtowners are suicidal from the father of the most depressed uptowner boy I've ever met," Koris muttered, and instantly regretted saying.

Lord Jordanis froze. Koris knew he had gone too far by bringing Princeton into this. It made it personal. Yes, Lysander had brought up Flick, but Koris was meant to be above playing dirty and getting personal.

Of Flick, Koris thought after the words escaped his mouth, if only you hadn't let Lysander take advantage of you. I knew all he wanted was ammo against me.

More importantly, none of this was fair on Flick or Princeton. Making both of their mental illnesses public knowledge was unforgiveable. Koris had no doubt there would be articles about each boy in the news within the next hour.

Melody was going to be another problem. She was the one who had mentioned to him that Princeton was battling depression and had attempted suicide. He wasn't supposed to dish out that information as he pleased. She had particularly asked him not to tell anyone else. He could only imagine her expression at that exact moment.

My daughter is never going to forgive me.

"I see," Lysander said simply. "If my son, who comes from a wealthy uptowner background, is the pinnacle of youth depression, then perhaps we should be focusing on uptowner youth wellbeing instead of the downtowner kids."

"Perhaps we need to focus on both," Koris objected in the calmest voice he could muster after his personal jab at Lysander. "These two issues don't need to duel each other for importance. Both are issues that need to be dealt with."

"So instead of properly focussing on one, say, uptowner youth wellbeing, we should be half-heartedly trying to solve both problems? Both require funding. The big thing is that the downtowner project you have in mind will require more funding and the goal is unachievable, but if we really did put a lens on uptowner teen depression, then I think we could really bring down the teen suicide numbers."

He is only taking on this uptowner teen suicide issue to fight my own ambitions, Koris thought. He doesn't believe a word of what he's saying. He just wants the public approval.

"We don't have to half-heartedly do both. It is possible to properly deal with both problems," he said after a brief pause. "This city has the potential and the resources. We just have to use them. Government funding could probably cover both causes and we wouldn't even have to raise taxes, it would just require proper planning."

"And cut the budget of other government run programmes? Like that would work."

"Not of the necessary programmes... but docking the salaries of politicians could be an efficient start."

Lysander let out a surprise laugh. Even the moderator looked quite surprised.

"Cut... our salaries?" the older man asked.

"That's ridiculous," the moderator said more to himself than anybody else.

"It really isn't," Koris muttered. Although he felt he was right, he probably should not have brought up this point until he had secured his position as chairman.

"Lord Jordanis," he began cautiously, "you have the largest estate, dozens of Olympians and a completely clean water supply. Heck, you own a large share of the spring water industry. Some of the poorer uptowner families still have to boil their water in order to drink it and can't afford any servants. You, out of everyone here, could afford to have your pay lowered. Granted, it could be terrifying for you to be another step down towards the common people."

Now it was Lysander's turn to be cut off before he could refute.

"I believe this debate is getting a little too personal," the moderator warned while eyeing both of them. "Perhaps we should change topic. A controversial issue right now would be..." he looked down at tablet to see the list of topics. "Oh! I know! Let's talk about Olympians. Now, I know you two disagreed last time on that issue, so let's see who can sway the public to their side this time around."

"This shall be fun," Lysander chuckled.

Koris had to be careful. Proteus had given him a great story to tell, but he could not directly reference the Olympian by name or Nikhita for their own safety.

"I stand by what I said last time," the older man continued, "just because Olympians look human doesn't mean they are human. I know the human likeness has disoriented you, Young, but think of Olympians as a dog mixed with a computer. They have the obedience of a dog and the intelligence of a computer. Now, a dog plus a computer doesn't make a human, does it? And you wouldn't let a dog into the Servants Union and you certainly wouldn't let a computer in either."

"No," Koris agreed. "A dog and computer hybrid is not human nor in need of being part of the Union."

"Well then–"

"But an Olympian isn't a dog and computer. They are humans spliced with computers... Biomechatronic implants are in their brains. And just because their emotions and freewill have been suppressed doesn't make them any less human. You gotta ask yourself something: if we magically removed the electronic implants from their brains, do you think they'd say they approve of slave labour?"

"Removing the electronic implants from their brains would kill them. They could not survive without them, let alone retain the knowledge they currently possess. The implants are truly a part of who they are. They are organic robots. Cyborgs, if you will. Yes, a human wouldn't approve of being treated like a slave, but Olympians do not think like a human."

"Olympians should not have been designed to have implants in the first place. It is sick that humans have designed humans who are purposefully mentally disabled. Removing their ability make their own choices or feel true emotions, I feel like that's a breach of human rights. Then again, I suppose Manticorian society was founded on the defilement of basic human rights so this isn't surprising we're open to the concept of slavery."

"Don't act your some heavenly saint who's come to save our souls and redefine our morals," Lysander growled, almost angrily. "There's more than one 'slave' in your house. The first is Andromeda's assistant and the second is the boy, who although you've raised, you will never call your 'son'.

"Yes, there's the boy who has it implanted in his brain that he's hideous because you can't even look at his body as it disgusts you so much. The one you pile clothing on in a pathetic attempt to hide his natural form. Tell me, Young, about why you don't pay the boy who you've destroyed the self-confidence of. Tell me why it's okay for you to supress his body in layers of clothing, but it's not okay to supress an Olympian mind. Tell us all why you think he's stupid just because he's not academic. Now, is it a breach of human rights to destroy an innocent boy's self-confidence? Is it a breach of human rights to make sure he never feels like he can truly join your family and is instead just some peripheral part of the household?"

You little fucker, Koris thought with a twitching frown. You don't believe a word you just said. You just spouted out all that shit to antagonise me in the face of the audience. Flick, a slave? Try your own son. Now that boy's an emotional wreck. You've certainly destroyed his self-confidence, you fucking hypocrite.

Koris was about to say all this, but hesitated.

He wants me to play into this. He wants me to flip the fuck out at him and insult him and his own parenting methods. I already look like the bad guy, yelling at him will only make me look like a defensive asshole and prove his case further.

Remain calm and play it cool.

Lord Young cleared his throat: "May I first state that Perseus is paid the exact same amount Lady Sun's previous assistant was paid? As for Flick; he knows he is well-loved for exactly who he is and I have never called him dumb or ugly, I don't need to prove anything to you on that front. Now, may we please get back to discussing Olympian rights? You've taken us off-track again."

Jordanis nodded. He looked... proud.

Proud of what? Koris thought. Proud of me for taking you down a notch?

No, he was wrong. It was the look of a spider that had just caught a fly in its web.

"Now, Koris, what exactly do you pay Perseus with?"

The younger man was confused.

"I pay him in yuan, just like everyone else gets paid with."

Lysander shook his head out of pity.

"There is a difference between justice and equality, you know."

He still didn't follow, so the older man elaborated: "Equality is paying everyone with the same currency and that fits nicely with your communist way of thinking. However, an Olympian has no use for yuan and will never use it unless you request him to. It's like paying a servant in Monopoly money. It has value in the circumstances of the board game, but otherwise they have no use for it and you're getting unwarranted labour from them. Justice is paying the Olympians in a currency that is valuable for them."

"I see your point," Koris said in a begrudging manner, "but do you pay your Olympians in a currency they consider valuable?"

"I don't pay them, period," Lysander stated simply. "I was making an argument based on the hypothetical scenario in which Olympians are recognised as equal to humans. I don't think the Olympians are humans nor equal to them. They're organic machines designed for the purpose of serving us. I don't pay my dogs, I don't pay my security system, and I don't pay my Olympians."

"It doesn't matter if Olympians aren't human; it's not an excuse to treat them inhumanely. Sentient beings should not be treated like slaves."

"That's the point of them. They're robots, devoid of true emotion."

"That's a lie. Their true feelings are suppressed by their programming. I've spoken to an earlier model Olympian. They don't instinctively want to do free labour, and the one I spoke with could tell me this as his will and emotions weren't fully suppressed like the new models are. The root of human in the Olympians may be stifled, but there is no denying it's there. There were two previous models, neither wanted to be a slave and both were able to express this, so this ability was taken away by Olympus United entirely."

"Who is this prototype and where can I find him?" Lysander asked, unconvinced.

"No. He requested I keep his identity and location secret for his own protection."

"Who's after him?"

"Olympus United. A free-speaking Olympian who's against the slave labour his brothers are suffering through? He's a threat to the company and a smear on their public image. Of course he has to stay hidden."

"Doesn't sound like a legitimate source," the moderator muttered.

"Yes," Jordanis agreed, "a mysterious prototype Olympian who nobody else has ever heard of or seen except you? I don't buy it."

"If he didn't exist how would I know about the original prototype. Prometheus: the one Olympus United terminated when he refused to do chores? He acted too human and was not submissive... so they killed him."

"Perhaps we should get a comment from Olympus United about Prometheus' death," Lysander said more to the moderator than to Koris. The moderator gestured to someone off of the stage who got on the phone instantly. "I'd like to hear from them how he died."

"They say liver failure, but the prototype I spoke with said that's a lie to cover up their termination of an independent-thinking Olympian."

Lysander let out a surprise laugh.

"Liver failure? Prometheus had liver failure? Now that's either ironic or a terrible coincidence."

"It's a lie. I'm sure they wrote it as a joke because they never thought Prometheus' story would get out. Even if Prometheus' liver is just a coincidence, the fact that he refused to do free labour would suggest the human side of Olympians doesn't want to be obedient slaves, but that side has been more and more crushed over time."

The moderator looked down at his smartwatch when he received an update.

"We've gotten a statement from the Olympus United PR manager." He took a pause until the statement appeared on his watch screen. "It reads: 'Olympus United has never terminated a fully developed Olympian nor received complaints from Olympians about their service purpose. The original prototype, Prometheus, was judged by the coroner to have died of liver failure and no foul play is suspected. He developed autoimmune hepatitis shortly after being born due to a defective immune system. This defect is non-existent in the current models.'"

"I still find it hilarious that Prometheus died due to liver failure," Lysander said with a chuckle.

"I don't buy it," Koris said after thinking the statement over in his head. "What do they mean by 'never terminated a fully developed Olympian'?"

"Any Olympian that was already 'born', I suppose," the older man stated.

"So they may have killed Olympians who weren't been fully developed?"

"I think they mean more like abortion in this situation in which they have terminated Olympian foetuses rather than born ones."

"But what if they don't and they've just skated around that question? Prometheus wouldn't technically be considered a fully developed Olympian, would he? So they may have never killed a modern Olympian, but I wouldn't rule him out."

"Your conspiracies amuse me," the older man stated in a mocking manner. "However, I can see now that you're not outright lying about your supposed prototype source. You had to get the information about Prometheus somewhere, but he still wasn't killed and Olympus United also claims that no Olympian has ever complained about being a supposed slave."

"That's because they can't," Young growled. He hated that he had to keep repeating himself. "I believe Olympus United should stop selling Olympians until there is an investigation into how they engineer the Olympians and if their natural right to have will power and form their own opinions has been taken from them. The prototype Olympian I have talked with has said this is the case and I trust him as an honest representative for his kind seeing as he's the only one left who still has such human abilities. I also think there needs to be an investigation into Prometheus' death. Autoimmune hepatitis is curable. I don't understand why this billion-dollar company could not grow him a new liver."

"And what are you going to do if the Olympians are proven to be having their freewill suppressed and if Prometheus was killed?" the moderator asked.

"Well, first off, Olympus United will be forced to shut down and the Manticorian scientists who developed these Olympians will have to stand trial for murder and multiple violations of human rights. And then I'd obviously get the Olympians protected under the Servants Union act."

"What use is the Servants Union to them?" Lysander asked. "Allowing them to get paid? Paying Olympians in yuan is a façade for slave labour."

"More or less this is all in a bigger plan to get Olympians recognised as disabled human beings and the Servants Union is the first step in protecting them against being abused, sexually or in other ways, by their masters. Baby steps towards the greater good, Jordanis, baby steps."

"I see," Lord Jordanis said with a nod. "If only Jude Dimiourgo and the other executives of Olympus United were bound by Manticore's laws so that you could punish them. But, alas, we can only punish the Manticorian members of Olympus United and the others will go scot-free."

"I can't control the universe," Koris admitted.

"You can't even control just Manticore. Let us see how all your reforms go and if they are successful or if they tear this fragile society to shreds. Will you equalise downtowners and uptowners? Will you liberate the Olympians? Unlikely."

Why is he speaking like I've already won?

And then he looked down.

Much to Koris' own surprise the snakes slithering across the chart showed that his approval rating was higher than Lord Jordanis'. Not by much, but enough that Koris had a new surge of confidence. His desired outcome was to win the chairman position due to the downtowner vote, but if he already had the uptowner vote then he didn't really need them. Yes, the approval rating from the debate was not an entirely reliable way to predict who would win the election, but it still meant he had far more support from the uptowners than he had expected.

Maybe Manticorians aren't as pro-slavery as I thought.

"If I win tomorrow I will do my best to make sure everyone is happy. Everyone. The uptowners, downtowners, Olympians. I'm sure we can find a nice middle ground for all of them to be happy on within a decade."

"You missed one," Lysander muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Never mind," he waved the question away. "They clearly don't matter to you."

Who is he talking about?

"Oh," the moderator exclaimed when he looked at his watch. "We don't have as much time as I thought we did so we better wrap this up."

Koris let out a small sigh of relief. Thank God that he got to end the debate on a high note with the better approval rating. The joy of that was enough to put the thought of how Mel was probably going to have a few words with him out of his mind. She would not be pleased that he gave into Lysander's personal bicker and dissed her boyfriend.

And he was right.

His victorious attitude quickly deflated when he stepped inside his house. Mel had the stare that turned men to stone.

"Nǐ piece of shit," she snarled.

Lord Young looked to his wife, but she shrugged in a way that said "well, you are a piece of shit."

Flick and then Olympian were nowhere in sight. He assumed Flick was so embarrassed about being mentioned on television that he had gone to hide in his room in hopes that the world would've forgotten about him by the time he stepped out again. Young knew he'd have to go talk to Flick, but Melody was priority.

"Wǒ know nǐ shì mad," he said while putting his hands up defensively, "and nǐ have every right to be. Howeve–"

Melody cut him off before he could finish: "Prince broke up with wǒ because nǐ told the whole of Manticore about tā de depression even though nǐ weren't even supposed to know about that! Wǒ told you about tā de depression in the strictest confidence!"

"I know, and duìbùqǐ," Koris said with a slow nod, but the energy from the debate was still running through his veins, "but it wasn't exactly nín de information to confide in wǒ in the first place."

"Don't try to pin this on wǒmen de nǚ'ér," Andromeda muttered while shaking her head. She was calmer than Koris expected. She probably figured that Melody was angry enough for the two of them.

"Nǐ shì wǒ de bàba! Wǒ supposed to be able to trust nǐ with information like that. But noooo, nǐ gotta tell the whole of Manticore! Wǒ bet nǐ huì keep the secrets of those retards," she growled while gesturing in the direction of Flick and Perseus' room, "but nǐ don't give a shit about nǐ de nǚ'ér. Nǐ only care about little orphan kids nǐ get to choose!"

"Hey, okay, uh, wow."

The words stumbled out of Koris' mouth. He wasn't exactly sure what to say. Melody was suddenly letting out years of built-up resentment and anger towards him and he wasn't exactly sure how to deal with it. Talking about Princeton's depression was the final piece in the giant puzzle that caused his daughter to finally lose it.

"All wǒ can say is duìbùqǐ, Mel-Bell. We can have a proper talk about all this after tomorrow..." Mel, enraged that her father was putting her problems off for another time, stormed to her room. Andromeda gave Koris a disappointed look and followed her daughter. "... but I just need to get through the election," Koris finished his sentence to an empty audience.

I'll deal with her later, he told himself. Make sure Flick is alright first.

To his surprise, Flick wasn't sobbing or anything of the sorts. He and Perseus were both lying on their beds staring at the starry sky on the ceiling.

"Nín hǎo, Lord Young," Perseus said while sitting up.

"Melody okay?" Flick asked. His high voice was slightly shaky, suggesting he had heard the whole conversation.

"She will be," Koris muttered. "Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Did you watch the debate tonight?"

"Uh huh."

"And you know everything Lysander said was bullshit, right?"

It took him a moment to reply: "Uh, yeah."

"Okay, goodnight, you two," Koris muttered.

"Goodnight, Lord Young," Perseus chirped.

"Nighty night," Flick mumbled.

Again, there were things that had to be resolved between Koris and Flick, but Young was not in the headspace for that right then. He made a vow to himself that he'd sort out his family once the election was over.

He was heading for his bedroom, but upon hearing his daughter cry as Andromeda tried to comfort her, he decided he would be sleeping on the couch that night. Not a big deal. He didn't have many hours before he had to be up again and prepare for the election day.

"Melody didn'ta mean it," Flick reassured the Olympian.

Perseus gave him a confused look.

"I'm sorry, Melody didn't mean what?"

"When she called us retards. I-I just don'ta want you to think she hates ya. She doesn't hate us, she just doesn't like that Koris gives attention to us 'cause we're not his real kiddie thingies."

Perseus had no answer so his default smile spread across his face. He lied back down and stared at the stars on the ceiling's screen.

"Perhaps if we learned the skyray migration patterns we would raise our chances of seeing one."

"Maybe," Flick agreed.

"Would you like me to research it?"

"Maybe tomorrow. I'ma gonna go to sleep now, but tell me if ye see one when ya wake up," he said while rolling over and facing his back to the Olympian.

"Goodnight, Flick," Perseus said happily before closing his eyes and instantly falling to sleep.

"Night, Percy," the boy mumbled back.

He actually tried to fall asleep that night, but with little success as Melody's words replayed in his head over and over again.

They'd all be a lot happier if I didn't exist.
15

"Orion?"

The Olympian looked up as Princeton Bengal approached him. He was still wearing the T-shirt and sweatpants he had worn to bed which proved he had just woken up.

"Have you seen my father?"

"Yes, Master Bengal. Lord Jordanis is at the east entrance to the grand hall.

The boy gave a nod and went on his way to find his father.

Why is he near the grand hall? he thought.

Usually his father's activities would not interest Princeton, but the House of Dragons had rung the landline after Lysander had not answered any of his own devices. Apparently he was meant to meet with his campaign advisors an hour ago.

The first thing Princeton noticed when he reached the east entrance was that the giant portrait of Lysander and Preston was no longer hanging up. It was lying on the ground. Lysander was on his knees on top of it. He looked like a drunken lunatic with his untucked dress shirt and unbrushed hair as he dragged the box cutter down the image of his face. As Princeton got closer he saw that Preston's image had already been mutilated to the point where his face was unrecognisable.

"The House of Dragons called," Princeton said calmly as his father continued to deface his own portrait. "They say you're late to a meeting."

"As if it matters," the frazzled man said with a small sob. "Koris has won and I have nothing."

His son had no sympathy and rolled his eyes. He did, however, pull out two cigarettes and a lighter from his sweatpant pocket and offered one to Lysander, who accepted it with a shaky hand.

"I understand what it is to crave death now," Lysander muttered as Princeton knelt down and lit their cigarettes. "For in that sleep of death what dreams may come... but all nightmares are better than this reality."

"To be, or not to be," Princeton remarked.

"Exactly."

"Now, get the fuck over yourself."

Lysander coughed as he inhaled smoke accidently due to shock. He didn't remember that those were the exact words he said to Princeton when he tried to kill himself for the first time, but Princeton certainly remembered. He was not about to have sympathy for a man who had treated his depression like a joke.

"I get it," Princeton continued, "Mark's dead and it's your fault. You made the conscious decision fire all those downtowners, knowing fully well that it would mean death. Now you live with that decision."

"I am," the older man said with a sudden coldness.

"Well, I'm glad the decision to let your boy toy go to his early grave looks bad in hindsight. Too late now, though."

"He was not a boy toy," Lysander said, a hint of anger in his now calm tone. "He was so much more than that."

"You certainly didn't treat him like anything more than a fuck toy."

"I know," he said shakily. "And I'm dying everyday knowing that he never knew how much he meant to me."

I've had enough of this woe-is-me bullshit, Princeton thought as he stood up.

"You once told me living and dying are the same thing and that it's just about how you see the world. We're all dying, dad, that's how life is, but you have to pretend to be living for one more day. Put on your pretty face and accept your loss to Lord Young graciously. Then you can come home and continue dying, but without losing your public image."

Lysander slowly turned to look up at his son. His body had begun to absorb the drug as he smoked his cigarette, putting him back in his usual calm and smug mood. He let out a fake laugh and shook his head in disbelief.

"I've raised a nihilist," he smirked.

"You've raised an asshole, that's for sure," Princeton said as he began to walk away. He had his own life to lead. "Oh, and get to your meeting."

Lysander ran his hand across his defaced portrait before his hand trailed down to the box cutter. He picked it up and pressed his thumb to the blade, drawing blood.

It hurts, he noted. That means I'm living. Good.

Erik was scared. He just sat on the couch as Nikhita and Proteus organised themselves. The Olympian, unlike usual, was dressed in a standard issue Olympian uniform with the name 'Dolos' stitched into it. This was all odd because Erik had only ever seen him wear normal clothes – why the sudden change today?

He was not about to ask Proteus why. He had been intimidated by the Olympian since they had first met and only spoke to him when he absolutely had to. Erik was also too afraid to ask Nikhita. She'd been in and out of her office room since midnight and was currently taking what seemed to be a very serious call. Nobody had told Erik what was going on, but he assumed all this weirdness was due to the election.

The Lord Young guy says I can vote this year, he thought while watching the election coverage. But I'd have to be downtown to vote. Not that it matters. He's already won.

"Right," Nikhita said as she clapped her hands together, "I'm gonna get changed. Proteus, you go clean out the shuttle trunk."

The Olympian nodded and strode to the garage.

Erik gave Nikhita a confused look as she passed by him. She just flashed a distracted smile and went into her room before closing the door.

That's when Erik realised that she had left the door to her office open.

Every cell in his body screamed for him to get up and take a peek at what was in there. He tried to remain seated, but the desire was too strong. What was she keeping in there that was so secret?

As he cautiously neared the open door he noticed a gun rack on the wall in his view. Not too crazy, she was a security officer, after all.

No, the oddness came when the room was in full view. The wall opposite the door was filled with papers and picture he didn't understand.

Why is that there? he thought as he looked at the picture KING CO. building. He remembered that building well seeing as he and Nikhita had had sex on top of it.

There were pictures of other buildings as well that were covered in red marker. Most of them just had crosses or circles over what appeared to be random locations, but there was one set of pictures that drew his attention as being different from the others. They were pictures of what appeared to be a sort of courtyard sticking off of the Parliament House. Each pictured of the courtyard contained the word TARGET in big red letters placed near the very end of the courtyard.

Buy why?

Erik squeaked when a hand grabbed his shoulder firmly. Looking back, he was met with a pair of electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that looked angry.

"Why are you in here?" Proteus asked aggressively.

Without thinking, Erik screamed. The Olympian had a vibe that suggested he wanted to snap his little neck.

"What's the... oh," Nikhita said as she appeared in the doorway half-dressed in her security uniform. "Forgot to close the door."

"He has seen confidential information," Proteus stated coldly. "He is a threat to the mission."

Nikhita laughed and shook her head.

"This doesn't change the outcome at all. If you're that worried that he'll do something then you can inject him with mapo right now to make sure he doesn't go anywhere."

"I will do that," he said before reaching towards the desk and sifting through one of the drawers.

"I'ma yíhàn, err, sorry!" Erik quickly said. "I-I just wanted to know what was in this room thingy. I'ma not a baddy, wǒ promise."

"I know you're not," Nikhita said calmly. "And you should know now that I've very sorry that you have to get wrapped up in all of this. It's a real shame because you're a sweet guy."

"What are nǐ talkin' abou–"

Before Erik could finish his sentence he felt a stinging sensation in his arm. Looking down, he saw that Proteus was injecting him with something. He tried to pull away, but the Olympian didn't even budge until the fluid was completely emptied into his vein. Almost instantly he felt a tingling sensation spreading through his body.

"I'ma sorry!" he said again, assuming that this was his punishment for entering the forbidden room.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Erik, don't worry," Nikhita assured him, "but you're people do," she murmured to herself as she went away to finish getting changed.

Erik began to panic when he realised his limbs were gradually becoming numb. He tried to squirm out of Proteus' grip, but to no avail. The Olympian grabbed both his shoulders and held him in place.

"The mapo will spread quicker the more you move," he warned him.

Too late for that advice. Eric's legs trembled madly until they finally gave way. The Olympian caught him and scooped him up into his arms in one swift and elegant move.

I've made a mistake, Erik realised. These people are insane and they're going to kill me.

"I am taking him to the shuttle," Proteus informed Nikhita as he carefully turned so that Erik didn't bump his head when they went through the archway.

"Sounds good," she called back in a muffled voice seeing as her door was closed.

The downtowner couldn't understand why she was acting so nonchalant. She didn't care that he had entered her office and she certainly didn't care that Proteus had injected him with something that was slowly taking away his mobility. He would have called her a psychopath at this point – had he known the word.

Proteus gently laid Erik down in the trunk of the shuttle and adjusted him so that he was not lying awkwardly. The boy tried to move his furiously shaking arms, but failed and the Olympian replaced them.

"W-why are ya doin' this to wǒ?" Erik said in a shaky voice due to the combination of mapo and fear surging through him.

"I've not been given permission to disclose that information," Proteus said icily.

The Olympian then proceeded to slam the trunk closed before the downtowner could say anymore. Even if Erik did scream it would not be a problem. Shuttles were basically soundproof and there would be nobody outside in daylight to hear him anyways.

"We're ready to go?" Nikhita asked as she stepped into the garage. A sniper rifle was slung over her back.

"Yes."

"Good."

Nikhita was about to send a message to Ghoad, but then she noticed that Koris had contacted her.

Young: Now are we absolutely sure that no Rebellion is going to mess us up today?

She had to laugh. Lord Young, along with the general public, would be utterly shocked if they learned that the Rebellion was headed up by two high-ranking members of the House of Oxen Security team. Yes, she knew for a fact that the so-called Rebellion would be messing things up today.

Kothari: We're monitoring downtown today and there have been no apparent threats recently.

Young: Good, see you in a half hour.

"Great," she said before putting her phone back in her pocket. "Let's get going."

"When are you going to turn on the cloaking?" Proteus asked.

"When we near the end of the city. We might be noticed by general traffic managers if they spot a shuttle that's not appearing on the traffic flow report."

That was the thing about cloaking. A shuttle couldn't exactly turn invisible, but Nikhita could take it off the radar so that her shuttle couldn't be tracked electronically. Only the police and security had such abilities due to the fact that chaos would break out in the air as autopilots couldn't detect cloaked shuttles and that could lead to collision if nobody was paying attention.

"Will it not be noticed if a shuttle suddenly disappears off the radar?" Proteus asked as they flew through the Manticore sky.

"Nah, we're gonna simulate a parked and turned off shuttle."

"How so?"

"When we fly over the Dài mall's garage I'll turn on the cloaking. In the traffic report it'll look like we parked in the mall's garage."

"I see, that makes sense. The mall is close enough to the edge of town that the likelihood of being seen is minimal?"

"Yeah."

The two flew in silence for most of the remaining trip. Having a casual conversation with an Olympian wasn't possible nor was Nikhita in the mood for one. Today was far too important of a day for small talk.

Just as she had said, Nikhita turned on the cloaking as soon as they flew over the Dài mall's garage and soon afterwards they were over the city's walls.

Proteus looked back at the city of Manticore. It looked so displaced in the giant desert. He didn't understand Nikhita's desire to move to this planet in the first place, yet he doubted it was due to the scenery. No, something from her past chased her here and it was unlikely he would ever figure out what it was.

"Now the only thing we have to worry about spotting us is miners and anyone at the Jordanis estate," Nikhita explained.

"Is it likely that either of these groups will see us?"

"Jordanis and his son are at the parliament building by now so only his Olympians are at the estate, but they shouldn't be a problem. Also, the miners don't start until late afternoon, but they probably have the day off due to the election."

The shuttle circled around the estate Nikhita searched for shade. They couldn't land in any of the garages for security surveillance reasons and also due to the fact they were probably all locked. She finally landed the shuttle on the opposite side of the estate to the Jhard.

"Good luck," she said as she opened the shuttle door.

A surge of unbearable heat suddenly filled the cockpit. Nikhita felt incredibly uncomfortable, but Proteus did not seem bothered. Olympians were designed to withstand both the light and heat of the Jhard. That's why construction and miner companies pounced on the opportunity to order Olympians: they could work even during the day.

Proteus watched the shuttle fly back to town before scaling rocky wall surrounding the estate. If Nikhita was right, then the facial recognition software in the surveillance cameras would not be alerted by his presence. His face was almost identical to every other Olympian's – save being more masculine – so the facial recognition would identify him as one of Jordanis' servants.

Jumping down from the wall, Proteus looked directly into the lens of the nearest camera. No alarms went off. No automated turrets started firing at him.

Miss Kothari was correct about the security system. Good.

He walked at normal pace through the courtyard. If the surveillance footage was reviewed later he did not want to look suspicious.

The only problem now was getting indoors. It was to be assumed that all the doors were locked so he had to do it the old-fashioned way and ring the doorbell. Yes, it was odd to ring the main doorbell during the day seeing as the Jhard would kill humans, but Proteus had already come up with an excuse when an Olympian opened the door.

"Hello, brother," he said in a peppy manner when the door was opened.

The name stitched into the uniform of the Olympian who opened the door was Apollo, of whom looked slightly confused to find an Olympian outside even though all the doors were locked.

"Lord Jordanis requested that I inspect the water fountain's pump. It appears he forgot that I was outside when he left and locked down the estate," he said while gesturing to the large fountain in the centre of the courtyard."

"Understood," Apollo replied in an equally cheerful manner. He would've believed Proteus even if he had said he had sprouted wings and flown there. Olympians could not intentionally lie to each other – well, Olympians of the new model couldn't.

Proteus followed his brother to the servant quarters were three of them already resided as they had no chores at that moment.

Apollo, Orion, Eos and Theseus, Proteus noted as he looked at all of the names stitched into their uniforms.

They were all sitting still like mannequins in the servant lounge area until Proteus finally noticed what he was looking for: the servant kiosk.

The other Olympians continued to stare blankly at the table in the middle of the square-shaped couch as Proteus went over to the kiosk. Not surprisingly, the thing looked virtually untouched. Olympians probably wouldn't use if even if they needed to.

It's still set up for members of the Servants Union, he noted. Lysander had obviously not bothered to change it, but that would make it easier to file four complaints as the Servant Union had protections in place for situations like this.

"Apollo, come here," he said when he had finished filling out the first form. "Confirmation of your identity is needed."

"I do not understand why," the Olympian admitted, but that did not stop him from pressing his thumb to the screen so it could be scanned. Olympians were all virtually the same except for the thumb on their right hand which was coded to be unique so that there was some way to distinguish between Olympians.

"I am filing a sexual assault complaint for you," Proteus replied simply. There was no need to lie.

"What is a sexual assault complaint?"

"It means Lord Jordanis sexually abused you and so the police will investigate him."

"He did not sexually abuse me."

"Lord Jordanis wants you to file this complaint," Proteus said firmly.

Apollo, although obviously still confused, asked no more questions and went to sit back down. The supposed Dolos said Lord Jordanis had given him orders and therefore he couldn't refute.

Proteus requested the other three Olympians confirm their identity the same as Apollo before he sat back down with the four of them.

"People will come for you to ask questions," Proteus explained to them. "Each of you must tell unique, but stories similar in premise and you must repeat the story every time you questioned about it."

The four Olympians exchanged looks of concern. Why would Lord Jordanis want them to do this? It was neither their place to ask nor their place to question what 'Dolos' was telling them.

Proteus gave each of them a detailed story that they were to repeat to investigators. Each story involving Lysander touching them inappropriately, harassing them, and in the case of Orion: rape.

"... You are not to inform anyone that Lysander has given these requests through me or any mention of my presence here," Proteus warned them.

"These are very odd requests," Orion remarked in an anxious tone. He had no idea what rape was, but the way Proteus described it, he knew it was nothing good. "Perhaps Lord Jordanis is mentally ill."

"It is not in our place to question his orders," Theseus said in the same anxious tone.

And humans think we're emotionless, Proteus as he looked at his worried brothers. Are fear and concern not feelings?

The five of them sat in silence for the entire next hour, but that was not uncomfortable. Dead air was natural to all of them if nothing needed to be said.

This is all for the best, was a thought that kept repeating in Proteus' mind. Miss Kothari says that ruining Lord Jordanis' public image will draw sympathy to Olympians. Humanise them. We need that. Humanising us can end forced labour. Lord Jordanis may suffer, but if his suffering benefits all Olympians then it is worth it.

* * *

Lord Young sat with other members of the House of Oxen and watched as the votes poured in. The end of day was nearing as was the end of the election. As he watched he was also reading over his victory speech.

"You were right about the downtowners giving you a boost," one of the other Oxen members noted. "They certainly bumped you up another notch."

"Which is why we have to make sure that the downtowners can see the projectors during my speech."

"They should be able to," another one assured him.

"And we're sure no Rebellion group is gonna try to fuck things up tonight?" Adina asked.

"Chief Kothari has confirmed that," Koris stated. "She and most other members of our security team have the rooftops covered and downtown points of interest monitored."

"Police and security officers from other Houses are doing the same thing," one of the security guards in the room informed them.

Young looked back to the glass door across the room. Through it he could see Andromeda and Melody sitting and talking. Flick and Perseus were back at the apartment watching the election stream live.

Just one more day and I'll sort all my family shit out, he thought before he turned back to look at his speech.

To his surprise, he received a message from Lord Jordanis. It was unusual for two rivals to talk as the election votes were coming in, but not illegal.

Jordanis: You're absolutely thrashing me.

Koris cocked an eyebrow upon reading the message.

Young: Hardly. A 13% lead isn't much.

Jordanis: But it's enough. Make sure you thank Fae. She's the one who got you all these voters.

Young: Yes. I must also thank the downtowners.

Jordanis: And make it clear to them that all the promises you made may not come to fruition.

Not this again.

Young: I'll keep my promises. I will raise the downtowner minimum wage and I will unite Manticore.

There was a good minute before Lysander replied.

Jordanis: See what happens when you fail. Manticore will crumble due to unfulfilled promises.

Koris read the message and chose not to reply. He was not about to get into this bicker again. He had practically won and had nothing left to prove to Lysander.

"Twenty-two minutes until victory," Adina told him as she looked at her phone.

Soon this will all be over, Koris thought with a relieved sigh. Lysander is wrong. I can change so much when given ten years of power.

Nikhita Kothari made a few calls to other security guards before she parked in the KING CO. garage. She had used cloaking to get there and, according to the traffic records, she was patrolling the rooftop of another building closer to the Parliament House.

The KING CO. building was closed due to the election so nobody saw her as she carried the limp body of a downtowner up the stairs. It certainly worked to her advantage that this was one of the last buildings in the whole of Manticore – and that was the exact reason she chose it.

"Hmmph!" Erik groaned through his cloth gag. Nikhita had decided to gag him just in case he screamed.

"I know, Erik," she said in a distracted manner as she focused on making up the stairs with him and her sniper rifle, "I know."

"Hmm!"

"This isn't personal. In fact, I think you're a great kid. This is a case of unfortunate bystander. The good must suffer so that the great may succeed."

She took a break and leaned against a wall after the fourth flight of stairs. Yes, she was strong and Erik was light, but carrying a body was still not an easy task.

"But you see," she panted as she continued up the stairs, "this isn't your city. This is a city humans took away from the svellik and ruined. We have to cause some chaos before the svellik can rebuild their city. Gotta break it before you fix it, if that makes sense."

Erik didn't understand. He no idea what was going on.

"The same imperialism happened back on Earth. They took my homeland. I fought, I failed, I ran, but it's going to be different this time. The svellik will have their home returned to them. Will there be bloodshed? Yes. Do good people have to die? Yes. Is it worth it? Oh yes.

What is she talking about? Erik thought. His mind was the last thing he had any control over. What do the svellik have to do with anything?

Finally they reached the top of the KING CO. building. The faint light of the Jhard could still be seen off in the distance, but it was safe to move around outside now.

Nikhita had to act fast. Carrying Erik up the stairs had taken longer than she had expected.

She set up her sniper rifle to face the Parliament House's courtyard where a podium was set up. Grabbing Erik's hands, she rubbed them all over the rifle and especially around the trigger. It was expected that her own DNA would be on the thing seeing it was registered in her name, but Erik's DNA would help prove that he was the deadly sniper. After all, he was a crazy downtowner who she had unwittingly let into her home, but she had been tricked and he stole her rifle to cause chaos.

"It's on auto target and set to fire twice," she told him a she adjusted the rifle on its weapon mount, "so you don't have to worry about aiming. You just have to sit here and look guilty."

"Ghlph!"

"Indeed," she said in a condescending manner. "I'll probably be back in fifteen minutes. See you then."

Erik tried desperately to move as he saw Nikhita disappear into the stairwell, but it was no use. He had no way out of this situation.

Lord Young laughed when Adina hugged him. The voting had stopped and he had won.

This is all so surreal. I can't believe I've won, he thought.

"Two minutes till you go to give your victory speech," Adina warned him. "Don't screw it up. Everyone is watching. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone."

"Got it. Let me just quickly say something to my family."

To his own surprise, Andromeda kissed him when he entered the room they were in.

"Nǐ not mad at wǒ?" he asked curiously. She and Melody had given him the cold shoulder all morning.

"Wǒ not going to ruin nín de big moment," she assured him with a sincere smile. "That is no way to start nín de chairmanship."

"Have wǒ ever mentioned that wǒ ài nǐ?"

"Not enough."

"Nice job, Koris," he heard Melody say. She had not moved from the couch and still had her eyes on her phone.

"Talk with her afterwards," Andromeda muttered. "Just get through this speech."

"Will do."

"Go time, Young!" Adina said as she opened the door.

Koris kissed his wife one more time and strode away, practically skipping.

Time to tell Manticore what the future holds.

Erik lay there on the roof sobbing. He could not see what was happening, but the sniper rifle began to move on its weapon mount, adjusting itself.

People won't think I fired this, he reassured himself. I can't even move.

His eyes shot open when the rifle suddenly went off. His body would have also jolted, had he been able to move.

Oh, fuck.

It fired again.

Lord Young stood at the podium with a confused expression. Where did everybody go?

As soon as he stepped up to the podium the whole world had gone silent. The reporters, security, everyone was gone. And they didn't just leave, they vanished.

"Ugh," he rubbed his temple. He suddenly had a splitting headache.

"H-hello?" he said into the mic, but it wasn't working.

What the fuck is going on?

"Nín hǎo, Koris," he heard a soft, familiar voice say behind him.

He gasped when he turned around.

"Fátima," he said in disbelief.

His sister.

It was impossible, but there she stood, wearing purple and black – her favourite colours.

Immediately he stepped on the podium and started towards her, but he had to pause briefly. The pain searing through his head was almost blinding.

"The pain will go away soon," she assured him in Mandarin.

"What's going on?" he asked. Although he loved seeing his sister, the surreal situation had completely disoriented him. "Did I pass out?"

Fátima gave the "eh, kind of" gesture with her hand.

"Did I, oh, God," he shook his head feverishly. "Am I dead?"

His sister gave him a sad smile followed by a slow nod.

Lord Young paced back and forward a few times as he tried to process what was going on, but in the end he just fell to his knees sobbing.

"Why?" he asked through the tears. "What about everything I was going to do a-and, oh, God, Me-Melody?"

He felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

"A cruel twist of fate has brought you here," she said softly. "I do not think it was your time, Koris, please know that, but we cannot change what has happened."

"H-how did it happen?" he asked as he tried to regain his composure. He wasn't sure why he was trying to keep it together, only his sister could see his breakdown. "Why did I die?"

"That does not matter," she said simply.

"Tell me!" he hissed. He had never liked being mad at his sister, but due to the circumstances he couldn't control himself.

"Nikhita Kothari."

"What?"

"Nikhita Kothari killed you."

Koris froze. That was almost a greater shock than dying.

"S-she was my friend," he stood up and looked his sister in the eyes. "How could she kill me?"

"It's not that she wanted to kill you," she assured him, "but it was necessary in her eyes."

"Why? Why would my best friend think she needed to kill me?"

"She needed to kill the chairperson – whoever it turned out to be. Her desire is destroy humanity so that the svellik may rebuild their society."

He took a few steps back while shaking his head.

"That is not the Nikhita I knew."

"But that is the Nikhita who killed you."

There was a long silence. Koris walked around the courtyard. Processing all this madness was incredibly difficult. A part of him still believed he was just having a nightmare and that he would wake up soon.

Looking down over the fence, he could see that the streets of downtown were barren just like everywhere. It was truly just him and Fátima alone in this strange universe.

"Ugh," he groaned again as more pain shot through his head.

"When you're ready, we will leave and all the pain will go away," his sister informed him, the sad smile returning to her face.

"Leave and go where?" he asked while turning to face her.

Without saying anything, she opened the door that had once led back into the Parliament House, but now a bright white light filled the archway as the door slid open.

Heaven? Koris thought.

"The beyond," Fátima replied – reading his mind.

"Is... is it heaven?"

"No."

Koris' heart sunk. He let out a surprise laugh.

"Please tell me it's not hell."

"It's not hell," she said with comforting sincerity in her tone.

Koris sighed.

"My conscience will die when I go through that door, won't it? I will be consumed by the eternal oblivion."

"You will have to find out for yourself."

He looked back to the podium: the symbol of his crushed dreams and ambitions.

"I was so close," he said more to himself then to his sister. "So close to making a real difference."

"The universe is a cruel place," she said honestly, "and when you are ready, we will leave it and rest in peace for all eternity."

"I don't feel ready."

"Nobody ever is, but take your time."

"If I wait long enough, will the Jhard rise?"

"This version of the Jhard, yes."

"I'm going to wait for that. I've never seen a sunrise with my own eyes."

He plopped himself down like a child at the edge of the courtyard and stared in the direction that the Jhard would rise from hours from now. Fátima sat down next to him.

The siblings talked for hours, Fátima even managing to make her brother laugh. To his own surprise, Koris was beginning to feel at peace. And, after watching the blazing Jhard appear in the sky, he followed his sister into the light as his mind got consumed by nothingness.

Utter chaos had broken out in the living realm. A minute had passed since Lord Young's lifeless body had collapsed beside the podium, but nobody had reacted. Everyone was in too much shock – everyone except Chief Nikhita Kothari.

Her walkie-talkie was buzzing with all the security guards trying find out what had happened and where the source of the fire was from. She didn't answer them immediately and instead got a head start for the KING CO. building so she could set up the scene.

Only when she reached the garage of the KING CO. building did she finally reply to all of them: "I've tracked the source of the fire to the KING CO. rooftop. I repeat, KING CO. building."

"I'm on my way," Ghoad hissed.

No surprise, Nikhita thought. The svellik was on the rooftop nearest to KING CO. so that no other security guards would be close enough to see exactly what went down on that rooftop before the shots were fired.

Chief Kothari ran up all the flights of stairs and kicked the door to the stairwell open. Unsurprisingly, the poor little downtowner was still lying on the rooftop next to the sniper rifle.

"Assassin sighted and armed," Nikhita said into her walkie-talkie. "I'm preparing to make an arrest."

She knew Erik had heard that when he let out a desperate moan.

Nikhita removed the little remote control from the rifle so that it looked like it had been fired manually. People would be suspicious if a downtowner figured out how to work the automatic fire control. She then removed Erik's gag.

He tried to scream something, but the mapo had made him lose control of his words. Only guttural moans escaped his mouth.

"Subject resisting arrest," she said into her walkie-talkie as he continued to wail at her through his tears.

Ghoad landed with a thud on the rooftop.

"Hello, Nikhita," she said calmly.

"Hey, could you hold him up?" her chief requested as she took a few steps back and prepared her handgun. "Make it look like he's standing. The coroner will be able to calculate the angle that the bullet pierced his head so we have to get it right."

"Cerrrtainly," the creature replied as she lifted Erik up by his shoulders.

Erik sobbed. It was all he could do.

"I know, Erik I know," Nikhita muttered. "Ghoad, hold his head up properly."

The svellik complied. Nikhita was glad that Erik was facing away from her. She would have a much harder time looking an innocent boy in the face as she killed him.

Taking aim with her handgun, she fired once. Ghoad let go out of surprise when the bullet passed near her hands and pierced the back of Erik's skull. His lifeless body dropped like a wet towel hitting the ground.

Nikhita again responded to the buzzing voices coming from her walkie-talkie: "Subject terminated. Ghoad has just arrived at the scene as well."

Both women looked down at the body of the lifeless downtowner.

"I feel bad forrr him," Ghoad hissed.

"Me too," Nikhita agreed.

Erik had never stopped falling when the svellik dropped him. He passed through the floor and fell into the white oblivion.

The downtowner didn't know what to do besides scream. Would he fall for all eternity? Is this what death was?

No. He was surprised when he felt himself land in someone's arms. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see who had caught him. Fear slowly drained from his body when his eyes met the familiar pair of his brother's.

"Mark?"

Lord Jordanis stood up when he saw his rival collapse dead next to the podium. He was just shocked as everyone else.

"Holy shit," Princeton gasped, causing his cigarette to fall out of his mouth. "Was... was he shot?"

Lysander didn't answer. He was still looking at the screen and trying to understand the situation. The cameras did not pan away from the body. Usually he would think that was insensitive and inappropriate, but right now his morbid curiosity got the better of him. The blood pooling around the chairperson's head certainly suggested he was dead.

Then a cruel thought appeared in Lysander's mind: I won. By default I have won.

"I gotta call Melody, see if she's okay," Princeton said more to himself than to his father as he got up and dialled his ex-girlfriend.

Jordanis looked through the glass door into the other room. He assumed it was just as chaotic in there as it was in the House of Oxen room, but for different reasons. The House of Oxen members would be grieving, but also figuring out what that meant for their party. The House of Dragons, however, were more excited that Lysander now held the chairman position.

Although Lord Young had technically won the election, he was not officially chairman due to the fact the inauguration ceremony had not taken place and therefore he was still only considered an chairman candidate – but now Lysander was the only eligible candidate left.

So much death. What a strange election this has been.

The image on the screen switched to the reactions to the sudden death of Lord Young. Most were just staring blankly trying to figure out what happened, but the downtowners were already rioting. Now there was no chance that they would ever be treated equally to the uptowners. They knew that, and fires had been started.

Humans become animals when they're angry. Hope is lost for them.

A head of the House of Dragons entered the room. Lysander assumed they were here to discuss his chairmanship, but the odd look on their face suggested otherwise.

"The police are here for you," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

Princeton stopped talking to a distraught Melody when he heard the head's words.

"I have to go," he said heartlessly. "My father's in trouble."

"What do they want?" Jordanis asked.

Before the head had time to answer, two police officers stepped into the room.

"Lord Lysander Jordanis," the taller one began, "you are under arrest for sexually assaulting four Olympians and one count of rape."

"What?" Lysander shook his head. "What on Manticore are you talking about?"

"Four complaints have been filed against you. Now, will you come willingly?"

Lysander looked back at his son. Never had he seen such a look of hate in his eyes.

"How could you?" Princeton hissed, but he remained absolutely stiff – he was in shock.

"Yes," Lysander said, avoiding eye contact with the officers, "we must get this sorted down at the station as soon as possible. This is some kind of mistake. I believe I'm being setup by the Olympians."

"That's the thing about Olympians," the shorter cop said, "they can't lie."

* * *

Perseus was unsure of what to do. Hours had passed since the assassination, but nobody in the Sun-Young had recovered from the shock that Koris had been killed.

On the television Chief Nikhita Kothari was being interviewed about the whole situation. She explained how she had let the downtowner into her home until he was able to find another job. Unfortunately, he was connected to the Rebellion and made plans to bring anarchy by killing the new chairperson. The news then danced over to the story about Lord Jordanis being arrested for suspected sexual abuse of Olympians. All the news channels were having a field day. Two jaw-dropping stories in one day!

He heard Melody crying in Andromeda's bedroom. The two were just lying on the bed trying to come to terms with what had happened. Flick, however, was concerning the Olympian greatly. He did not react when he watched Koris get shot. He just sat there, blank-faced, and watched the blood pool around the dead man's head.

His reaction to his father-figure's death is unusual and alarming. I shall go check on him.

He found the boy lying on his bed staring up at the stars on the ceiling. He was just as expressionless as he had been when he watched Koris die.

"Are you alright, Flick?" he asked in a concerned tone.

"No," he replied robotically.

"Would you like to talk about what you're feeling? It may help."

"I can't tell ya anything," he said bluntly. "I can't even trust ya to keep my secrets."

Perseus, unsure of what else to do, left and went about his chores. He made the three remaining members of the house dinner and put it in the fridge in case they got hungry. There would be no family dinner that night.

When he finally returned to his room he found that Flick had gone to sleep. It made sense, it was very late. Almost morning, in fact.

I will sleep as well, he thought. Usually he would ask Andromeda if it was a good time to sleep, but he did not want to bother her after everything that had happened.

When he woke three hours later he discovered the house was silent. Melody and Andromeda had eventually drifted off to sleep, but he was not sure when.

Looking across the room, he realised Flick was not in his bed. It was odd that he had not heard the boy leave. He must've been incredibly quit. The Olympian assumed the boy had gone for a walk – which was a healthy thing to do after everything that had happened.

He stared up at the starry ceiling as there was nothing else to do. He would not start his chores for at least another two hours.

The Olympian was almost in a daze as he stared at the stars, but then, much to his surprise, a shadowy creature blocked out most of the stars. Only its underbelly could be seen. It was three times larger than the average shuttle and had the most beautiful dark blue underbelly speckled with jewel-like green spots that glowed.

A skyray, he realised instantly. I must inform Flick so that he may see it.

He was under the assumption that Flick was on a walk, in which case he would miss his chance to see the skyray, but Perseus still checked the main area just in case he was there.

What caught his attention was the fact that the dog was waiting outside the bathroom door. Kiddo whimpered as the Olympian neared the bathroom.

Something has caused the dog to become distressed, he noted.

He pressed his ear to the door. The sloshing of water in the bathtub could be heard.

"Flick?" he said in a voice loud enough that anyone on the other side of the door could hear, but quiet enough that he would not wake Andromeda or Melody.

The dog whimpered again, followed by a little yelp.

"Hush, Kiddo," Perseus whispered.

I sense something is wrong with Flick.

He tested the door lock which, to his surprise, was unlocked.

It could be very rude to open the door if Flick is doing his private business, he thought. But I also sense that Flick is at risk and not checking on him could have fatal consequences.

The dog yelped again.

Perseus made his decision: he was going to check on Flick.

"Flick?" he said as he opened the door.

The dog ran in as soon as the door opened and over to the bathtub. There sat Flick, paler than ever. His blood had coloured the water a rich red and the dog was lapping up as if he'd gone days without satisfying his thirst.

Perseus noted the bloodied multi-tool lying near the bathtub and understood the situation. Olympians had not been taught much about suicide, but he knew enough to know that this was a suicide attempt. The question now was what he could do.

Flick slowly turned to look at him. His eyes bloodshot and his face drained of all colour. He looked as if he was about to say something, but instead he fell forward, slamming his head on the rim of the bathtub.

"Flick?" he asked, hoping the boy was still conscious, but the water suggested that quite a large amount of blood had been lost.

Perhaps I should tell Andromeda, he considered as he stood, confused as a child, in the doorway. No, I cannot disturb her while she is grieving. Maybe I should call the ambulance, but I should ask Andromeda if I have permission to use the phone.

Maybe I should try to stop Flick's bleeding and when Andromeda wakes up tomorrow morning I will ask what I should do.

... But why would Flick do this to himself? If he wanted my assistance he would have asked for it, so maybe he does not want me to help him. If I called the ambulance or stopped the bleeding, would I be going against his desires? And if I didn't save him, would I be disobeying Andromeda? Surely she would want him to remain alive. If only I could ask her.

As Perseus continued to ponder the situation over, Flick's life essence slowly ebbed from his body and into the warm water that Kiddo happily drank.
16

The great star in the sky had just sunk below the orange peaks in the distance. Nikhita poured her svellik friend a drink as they watched the news. The city of Manticore was in complete chaos. No stand-in chairperson had been decided, the only eligible chairman had to fight sexual assault claims, and the disgruntled downtowners were a growing threat to the uptowner way of life.

"You do rrrealissse yourrr plan rrruined yourrr own rrreputation?" Ghoad asked. "Rrrevealing that you had sssex with the downtownerrr and let him ssstay in yourrr home may have not been a good idea."

"My reputation will only take a slight hit," she explained as she handed Ghoad a glass of apple cider. "Yes, the things I did are looked down upon by this society, but the spotlight is on the late Koris Young and Lysander Jordanis. The damage to my reputation is a blip in history."

The news showed fires spreading through downtown and even climbing through some buildings.

"How long do you think it will be until the sssvellik contrrrol Manticorrre Metrrropolisss again?"

Nikhita shrugged.

"Years, I would say. You can't destroy a whole society in just one day. Oh no. It's a gradual deterioration. And, when these people are spent, you svellik may swoop in and reclaim what is yours."

The svellik bowed her head sadly.

"Let usss hope you arrre rrright."

"Hey, if I'm wrong then you can have my head on a silver platter, okay?"

"I do not want that."

Nikhita laughed.

"I'm messing with you, don't worry."

They sat in silence and continued to watch the news. All news channels were feasting on the juicy stories Nikhita had so graciously provided them with.

"Wherrre is Prrroteusss?" Ghoad asked when an image of an Olympian was shown.

"Still at the Jordanis estate," Nikhita stated calmly. "Being an Olympian allows to slip by everyone unnoticed. I doubt Lysander, given everything else that is going on, has noticed that he has one extra Olympian working for him."

"It isss unlikely," the svellik agreed.

After another long silence Nikhita paused the news on the image of Lady Andromeda Sun sobbing. She raised her glass and gestured for Ghoad to do the same.

"To anarchy," she said as their glasses clinked.

"To anarrrchy," Ghoad echoed before taking a sip of the apple cider.

Nikhita then unpaused the news so that they could continue to watch their society crumble.

