Six years later

Crimson Capet.

I loved my dad’s desk, unfortunately I never did homework after that night.

I had dreams like any average teenager, and they vanished like any old trend. Meanwhile my red hair darken, my hips rounded out, my chest became a bit fuller. Every year I hoped things would get better.

Who was I kidding?

Yet I stretched out and stifled a grown. Months after the office nightmare. The world's paranoia escalated and the news consistently promoted hysteria and fear. Cities and towns were destroyed in frequent riots and violence. Monsters, thieves and criminals roamed the brand-new forests groves that had sprouted around the city debris and remains. 

Evening was setting in, and the day’s events had been unbearable, putting me in a rather irritable mood. I chewed flavorless gum while sprawling on a patch of grass in a model like pose, no one was around, but it was the most comfortable position, but not by much.

I looked at my wrist and grumbled, regretting I had no watch. I’d been here for hours and by now I wished to be home in my decent excuse for a bed than anywhere else.

The things we do for money?

The moon sat suspended around a fluid green fog that twisted and swirled in erratic patterns. Over the years I'd heard Hundreds of experts, from philosophers to scientists question and investigate the Green’s purpose and exaggerated supernatural influence. Everyone wanted it gone, but they didn't know how.

Meanwhile the world attempted to get into some reasonable order. Each leadership group embracing the latest or most popular theory or social-economic government structure no longer embraced any formal democratic ideals. People fought and worked for themselves. The colonial mentality my history teacher had called it back when I still went to school.

Then there was me and my friends. Those who worked to take back what criminals had wrongfully taken. People tried to keep their treasures close and make sense and the chaotic world breaking around them. For little kids playing with toys, when their perfectly imagined world falls apart, everything comes to an end, but it turns out alright in the end because parents can come to the rescue.

For me, it literally fell to pieces and continued to crumble. By the time I turned eighteen, which had been two weeks ago. I no longer felt like a kid, because it was all about survival. Like the Red Scare from centuries ago, Everyone suspected everyone else of terrible crimes; a literal state of alienation.

Everywhere someone looks there are destroyed freeway overpasses, battered buildings and a sea of black ash from scorched cities left in ruin.

When the sun goes down, paranoia sets in, and people rush inside to bunker down for the night. They’ll tell stories while struggling to settle in, everyone hoping to awake up alive and sane for the next day. Psychological trauma or supernatural transformation, a believed but unproven affliction brought about by the Green.

I let out a loud exhale and leaned back glancing to my right and left searching in vain for anything to attract and keep my attention. I couldn’t peruse the internet in my dad’s office, in a comfortable chair waiting for Sally, his assistant to bring me dinner. Instead, I spend my days and evenings in alleys, shady parks and graveyards, stealing back what people have already stolen.

Given into my annoyance against the anxiousness, I begrudgingly pressed a finger to my ear.

“Rene, are you sure I can’t put thief on a resume?”

A laugh followed my question, granted it wasn’t the greatest conversation starter but going stir crazy in the middle of the night didn’t sound all that appealing either.

“What,” Rene replied, suppressing her giggle, “Are the headstones giving you the silent treatment?”

“Ha, well you know” I shot back, “They really are one sided conversationalist.”

“Fair enough, and to your question Cris, honestly would you ever fill one out?”

Cris, the new name I hid behind. Honestly, I doubted people would guess Cris stood for Crimson instead of Christina or some other feminine C name.

The pitter patter of fingers running across a keyboard fell on my ears followed by few beeps before our conversation continued. “Maybe, you know I might have to keep my options open if these idiots don't show up. Why do thieves work at night anyway? I’m hungry and tired.”

“Hold on Cris,” Rene said, her voice breaking up due to static and feedback, “Warren needs some directions.”

“Roger that,” I said, removing my finger from my ear. Short and to the point. Also, hopefully this was the signal to make our move.

A faint breeze bustled through the grass and leaves tangle with my hair. I groaned and stood up, quickly adjusting my waist length leather coat to block to the chill. Once satisfied I tapped my pistols strapped on both hips, partially to remind myself I had them, for the job and for security.

The night does have eyes.

Flexing my fingers, I stretched readily myself for action. Leaning to either side then doubling over to touch my toes. My back ached, but it eased after a moment. Satisfied and facing the headstone, the engraved name barely visible in the darkness, but I could see it perfectly. NICHOLAS CAPET, sat displayed in a bold respectable font, compared to its neighbors. Taking a knee, my fingertips gingerly danced across each letter, First the C and then the A for a few seconds longer before moving towards P and the E and the T. The year 2139 sat beneath it followed by a dash and a lot of empty space.

“Well daddy another year has passed.” I said softly, I tried to figure out what he'd say, but nothing came to mind. “I think it appeased the community council to put this up. Maybe they’re a little more convinced I’m normal and not living out a fantasy that you’re alive instead of-.” My voice trembled and I pulled myself away. Despite the pain, the survival and near-death experiences I was still daddy’s girl. My skin felt hot and my heart pounded in my chest.

“dead.” I finally managed to articulate.

Over the past two years, I’d heard every legal argument to declare my dad dead, but I always refused. I hated the looks on their faces. I hated on it made me feel. Despite all of that, they never let up. I brought my arms close to my chest, standing stationary for just those few seconds caused the chill from the air, and the stone to cut through my clothes causing goosebumps and hard shivers. It would ease after a while, nevertheless the circumstances were far from ideal or comfortable, but thieves must pack light. I sighed then moved my hair from my face. “I never graduated, but I do have a job of sorts. I’m trying to learn, I practice art when I can and thankfully I’m still alive.”

Cris knock of the nostalgia, now is not the time to get sentimental or emotional, Rene would go all therapist on me, complete with horn rim glasses and a notepad. I loved her like sister, even though she sometimes comes off a bit nosy. I sigh then switched my comm to an open link, so we could talk freely without the push button feature, “Rene, how are we doing on time? Is Warren all set?”

“T-minus 15 minutes,” Rene replied, her voice harmonized by faint clicking in quick secession. “Warren's almost in place. Whats our weather like tonight? Are we deep dark murky green or a dash of jealous envy?”

Chilled basket case, I thought, cupping my hands and blowing softly through a hole between my thumps. “It’s a bit hard to tell.” I said, using a perky weather girl tone of voice; a mix between airhead and drama queen. “The Hover state has yet to punch through, oh hold on- three, two, one-”

“Ladies, this act of yours is getting old” the deep husky voice of Warren cut it. but I ignored him and figured Rene would do the same. He mumbled under his breath, but said nothing.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said with a chuckle, “Big Brother.”

Holding my hand up towards the sky which swirled and spun like a glossy kaleidoscope, mixing different shades of green, black and gray. For several seconds, the colors brightened then faded then clouds started to puff and stir like dry ice in water.

I rose to my feet as tints of red blinked through the clouds before a large aquatic ship-like structure punched through the cloud wall. Dozens of tiny lights flickered and pulsed along it perimeter and spine; several portion sticking out at odd angles like shark fins in the ocean. At both ends, two wide circular jets pushed the air in various directions creating funnel cloud like tendrils visually were quite striking, like a kite tail or rope off of a ledge. The entire vessel construction centered on a massive orb that glittered like the moon, if it were a orange fireball.

“What’s the verdict?” Rene asked.

“It looks like tonight is a mix between murky and envy,” my voice sounded loud as the Hover state airship banked to the right then accelerated towards a heavier patch of clouds, “that’s the fourth Hover state I’ve seen today. They’re on the move more than normal.”

“Ever wonder what hover state life is like?” Rene commented, “I know it’s not a dark secret. However, I can’t imagine accepting the illusion of safety when you consider there are hundreds of people working day and night to make sure the state ships don’t crash into a mountain range, each other or fall out of the sky?”

“Never underestimate the power of one’s imagination,” I said. "Its the main reason I believe the ships were constructed.”

“Security and peace of mind,” Rene added pointedly. “Anyway, I don’t see the point to go up there when a possible punishment is being sent back down to the ground.”

“You and me both,” I replied through chattering teeth. “Dang I should have worn thicker clothes. It’s colder tonight then it has been the past week.”

“That’s the price you pay for function over fashion rebel.” Rene replied, her voice flat and humorously grumpy. “I could set you up with cute stuff, nothing over the top, but certainly better than what you have.”

“It must be the witch in me,” I replied slyly.

“Ha ha,” Rene said sarcastically, “Let’s not joke about stuff like that, especially on fluctuating frequencies."

"Agreed," Warren added, "and heads up. The targets on coming into view. You’re lucky it’s dark tonight, it should provide enough cover for a sneak attack.”

Dusting myself off, I headed deeper into the cemetery. “That’s the hope, especially if the thieves are packing more heat now the Scavengers are lurking closer to the communities borders. I need the element of surprise on my side.”

“There is no one better to surprise an unsuspecting target,” Rene replied. “I’ll be ready on my end."

“Good luck Cris.” Warren added.

“Over and out”

Drifting towards the trees one hand resting on my right thigh pistol. Careful to avoid the smaller headstones. I gently kicked at the ground to avoid an unwanted collision and every few seconds I scanned the hills and surrounding fields for any signs of lights or movement.

I never considered myself scared of the dark, but I knew the dangers lurking there. A fact eased by the knowledge of a solid crew watching my back, and a good plan in the works.

Rene our resident hacker, den mother, and fashionista certainly knew how to fish for information. Like I said nosy, but she was smart and calculated enough Warren and I frequently admitted her genius. With a heavy fashion sense and a wardrobe to boot Rene looked at the world like a string of computer code needed to be cracked or a skirt in desperate need of the right accessories. While Warren, a former police detective, he knew weapons, and combat tactics. He had survival training and certainly was the dependable eye to avoid dangerous situations.

Warren’s weathered voice spoke in a precise military tone, “Cris, I'm ready. Just say the word."

Taking a minute to get my bearings, my eyes adjusted, and I spotted my marker and changed my direction. The chill increased its attack, striking ferociously at spots along my legs and back that were damp from my lounging. Reaching the hill, I pushed through the thicken patch of brush and weeds

 I stepped and leaned into the stretch hopefully keeping the weeds still to provide cover. “Cris hold your position, something is happening.”

Moving to my back, I stared up at the sky once more.

Rene jumped in, “Cris, sorry but I need you to double the check the job instructions. I want to make sure the hand off plan coordinates are decent with some escape routes.”

“Why did you ask five minutes ago?”

"Sorry."

Reaching down my neckline, I removed a small card beneath my bra strap. On the outside, it looked like an old school library card. Yet tapping it twice against the back of my hand cued the micro-circuits linking a prerecorded message to my ear receiver.

“Retriever 4035,” the familiar automated voice gave audible clues to indicate whether the speaker was male or female, and no sounds in the background offer a clue wither they were a group or an independent operator.

“The Obsidian dragon 12th century relic. It was stolen and the owner or owners want it back in their possession. Payment will be made on delivery with assurances nothing is traced or connected to the following information.

Signed, Anonymous contact”

“That's always annoyed me” I said linking the message to Rene. “There is a reason everything is signed and sent anonymously.”

"Its all theater." Rene added.

Once the card was back against my skin, I gritted my teeth as a sharp cold wave surged across my exposed flesh. It was just for an instant, but that was enough to make me tense and a bit nauseated. Moving to my knees I shielded myself behind in the weeds. For a snatch and grab to work, I needed to be quick and agile to vanish in a blink of an eye.

Rummmm a small motor revved on the other side of the tall grass near an Victorian style crypt, complete with aged religious carvings on gothic themed pillars. Moving to a crouch I wedged myself between the crypt and an aged gardener’s shed. With carefully time movements, as lights flashed and surveyed the area on the other side of the hill. My ascent brought me to a weed cover hilltop overlooking a clearing where a shoulder length blonde man sat on a motorbike next to a single tree. He didn’t seem nervous or concerned but he kept his arms folded, the lights on and his bike idling.

Oh this is going to be interesting the arrogant muscle man sort of a guy, releasing the safety strap on my pistol I settled in to wait.

“I don’t care if it’s an inconvenience,” he exclaimed, into a comm device, the word phone having been discarded years ago. “I'm the one whose in trouble. If they’re not here in twenty minutes I’m gone.”

The thief paced around the clearing, kicking dirt in agitation but staying within a protective distance of his bike.

“Don’t you threaten me,” he spat into his comm device, “You're not the only interested buyers for the Obsidian Dragon. Hurry up or I'm gone.”

“Cris we’re ready,” Rene said.

“Then let’s go,” I finished. Reaching for my pistol and sliding it out of its holster.