It was one-thirty in the afternoon the following day and time for Alastair Zhu, the Shadow District President, to clock out. His usually punctual deputy was nowhere to be seen, which naturally caused him to worry.
Not for her safety, of course, but for the uncertainty of how much overtime he’d have to do before she got into work.
He sat at his desk, gazing boredly at the holographic screen in front of him, and scrolled impatiently though “The Daily Shadower”—a digital publication worked on by a single jobless Shadower who seemingly had nothing better to do than report on the, frankly, very underwhelming goings-on within the District.
Today the local outrage seemed to consist of three main stories. The first was a detailed criticism of Cassian’s decision to put the district tuck shop out of business in order to save money. He didn’t pay that any mind, Cassian was a top-level economist and seemed to know exactly what she was doing. Besides, there were more important supplies to fund than teas, coffees and cold slices of buttered toast.
More interestingly the second article was one of the author’s self-proclaimed “conspiracy theories”, going to great lengths to convince the readership that there was something suspect about Cassian’s decision to withhold her surname from the people of the Shadow District.
Sure, Alastair agreed it was a little unnerving, but in an age where the mere mention of a name could set the Purples on you for the rest of your days, he could understand her reluctance.
Lastly, the final pages of the day’s publication were dedicated to a detailed recount of the attack on the Shadow Market the night before. He’d been saving it to read until last, having already seen the mess in the central hall, hoping that the details of the event weren’t too stress-inducing. The last thing he needed was another stroke.
Alastair adjusted his glasses and leaned further into his desk, reading every word carefully and occasionally repeating bits out loud in disbelief.
At last he reached the part that recorded how Cassian was sent flying down the staircase, accompanied by a less than flattering photo of her laying in a pile on the floor, Ali stood over her looking concerned.
He leaned back in his chair with a drawn out groan and rubbed his face exasperatedly, “So that’s where she is.”
Supposing he should make a VisoCom call, he tapped the frame of his glasses twice and began navigating his way through the interface. He wasn’t the most technologically skilled, so this often took him a while.
Right as he was about to instruct the device to call his Deputy and offer her the day off, he heard clumsy feet stumble up the corridor outside. A scruffy looking shadow staggered past the papered up window and all of a sudden the office door swung open.
Cassian stood droopily on the other side, gripping the doorway for dear life. An enormous pair of pointed sunglasses covered her eyes, her hair was knotted, shirt halfway untucked and several cuts and bruises peppered her skin.
She was not fit to work.
“Cassian,” Zhu began, clearing his throat.
“I know what you’re about to say,” Cassian croaked, raising a finger, “It’s tough shit, you won’t get ridd’a me.”
“Then you won’t get paid,” Zhu crossed his arms sternly, “Go home.”
“Huh,” Cassian shut the door behind her and started hobbling towards her office desk, adjusting her wonky clothes as she went, “funny that’s exactly what Ali said last night after I pissed him and all his new mates off, nobody wants me around these days.”
“The usual excitability I presume?” Zhu raised a brow, watching her with concern as she limped. He honestly wasn’t surprised she’d gone and irked Ali again. The two of them often fought like siblings.
“What? Karalee’s a Shadower now! Can ya’ blame me?” She sat on the corner of her desk, looking as though she needed a break. “His new mates are pretty cool… and weird… you met ‘em yet?”
“Indeed. This morning,” Zhu nodded, “Although I was made aware of their visitation beforehand. In fact, Karalee’s been popping in and out to see Ali about that mech suit of hers for months.”
Cassian’s jaw gaped, “Behind my back??”
“Well I can hardly imagine how you’d have reacted if you’d simply seen her in passing,” Zhu chuckled, grabbing a clipboard from his desk, “You'd have held her for ransom.”
She scoffed and waved a hand, choosing to ignore his gross misjudgement of her, although part of her did wonder exactly how she would've acted if she'd run into Karalee sooner.
“So…?” Cassian tapped her prosthetic fingers on the desk rhythmically, “Don’t s’pose you know why they’re here? I have my suspicions.”
“I’ve been told that is Ali’s news to tell you,” He said. Of course he knew what they were here for, he had to approve their Shadower licences after all.
“Was it Ali who told ya’ to zip it?” She smirked knowingly.
“Naturally,” he smirked back, “But don’t spoil his fun, ask him yourself if you’re so desperate. You know he likes structure; he’s likely waiting for the right time to tell you.”
“Right, well any longer than a week and I might start to get offended,” she moved around the corner of her desk and instead sat in the corresponding spinny desk chair. Like a child she pushed back on it and swirled around in circles giddily. Zhu watched for a moment and thought about how to voice his concerns.
He decided to keep it simple.
“You’re hungover,” he muttered, “And you have a limp. The Daily Shadower didn’t detail a leg injury after your fall.”
“Yeah well there’s a lot that loser chooses to miss out,” Cassian sighed, she couldn’t understand why the author was so obsessed with her. “But really, if you’re worried…” she hesitated for a moment before giggling cheekily to herself, “...don’t be?”
“No, now you really ought to tell me,” Zhu said, genuinely worried by her laughter. It was usually never a good sign.
“Well,” she flipped her hair with a devillish grin, “After Ali fixed me up I took a trip to the red light sector-”
“Actually nevermind I don’t want to-”
She revelled in the opportunity to make him uncomfortable, “Thought it’d be good to let off some steam…”
“Cassian I suddenly care very little-”
“And you know what they’re like round there.”
“Actually, I don’t-”
“Animals, I tell ya’,” she gestured to the scrapes on her skin, “Best night of my life.”
Zhu exhaled loudly and slammed the clipboard down on her desk, “I’m glad you had fun.”
“Oh that sounded very sincere,” she replied sarcastically.
“You’re right, it wasn’t,” he narrowed his brow angrily at her, “Seeing as the injuries are self inflicted, I retract my offer to give you the day off. Get working.”
She took the clipboard from the desk and scanned it over with a smug smile, “Didn’t get much done did’ja?”
“All the more reason for you to crack on,” he stood from his desk as she did in order to see her out. She limped towards the door. Despite her explanation, he still felt something was amiss. “But if you do struggle, take a break. Please.”
She lowered her sunglasses so he could see her deeply tired eyes, “I appreciate your presidential concerns n' all that, but I’ll be fine.”
Zhu sighed and nodded, hoping she was right. The two of them bumped fists as they usually did when it was time to swap over shifts.
Her eyes trailed down to something situated on the wall behind him and she pointed, “Oh, and if I’m up top, I’ll keep an eye out for them, yeah?”
He knew exactly what she meant, turning back to the tatty photograph. His wife and daughter stood in the frame, gazing back at him, gentle smiles on their faces.
Cassian made that same promise to him every day, but he never appreciated it any less. One day, he hoped, they'd all be reunited.
“Thank you, Cassian,” he said softly as Cassian left. He got to packing his belongings into his leather satchel and getting ready to return home. Well, it wasn’t really home but rather a large empty bunker with a lumpy wire-frame bed that he had claimed. It wasn’t pleasant, and he technically still owned an apartment above the ground, but it was no longer safe for him there, and considering most other Shadowers had lived in these temporary underground residences since the breakout, he’d felt it only fair that their leader do the same.
He sauntered out of the office after a few moments of getting himself together and immediately bumped into Ali, who must’ve been waiting by the door the entire time.
“Good afternoon, Ali,” Zhu said, vaguely startled by the eagerness he could see in the boy’s visor.
“Afternoon Prez!” He rocked back and forth on his feet, “Mind if I show you somethin’ real quick?”
“I would love to, Ali, but I have already clocked out and I’m rather tired,” he sighed, clutching his satchel.
"Oh don't worry," Ali smirked, clearly up to something "You'll like this."
Curious now, he supposed it wouldn't hurt to investigate Ali's latest shenanigans.
*****
Cassian traversed the halls of the Shadow District, trying to look busy as she made sense of the clipboard in her hands. The messy scrawlings on the clipboard intimidated her and only sought to worsen the ache in her skull. She had to stop for a moment to steady herself and give her knee a break.
Sure, perhaps she’d do a few of the tasks at hand, but it was as her father had said: helping was almost entirely counterproductive to her cause.
She’d set herself a mental quota for the day. Nothing too ambitious, just four Shadowers. Surely that would be enough to brighten Darius' mood.
Setting back off down the market hall she scanned the area for utilities; things she could use as an excuse to bump off a few Shadowers. These would usually be large boxes of stock that needed transporting to other sectors of the Shadow District, but it seemed today Zhu had done all of those jobs and not much else. Of course, it made sense, the man was built like a truck; she was a twig by comparison.
Passing by a stall of second hand books, nose-deep in her clipboard, she accidentally clipped the shoulder of an impressively tall man.
“Oh my! I do apologise,” said a familiar voice. Sylvester turned around, book in hand, and shot Cassian a startled look. “Cassian! G-good afternoon- ah…oh no…”
He briskly put the book down and dusted off its cover.
“Readin’ the books so you don’t have to buy ‘em, eh?” She teased, Sylvester’s posture continued to crumple self-consciously.
“Ahhh! I’m terribly sorry Cassian! I promise that was never the intention!” He really was a nervous wreck.
Cassian sighed and put a hand on his shoulder, “Mate, calm down, I’m not the police. You might as well take as many as you want, nobody has time to read these days anyways.”
Sylvester’s eyes glimmered, “Free of charge?”
During the course of their conversation Cassian had come to notice a small pile of boxes had in fact been left towards the end of the tunnel, she peered around the absolute beanstalk of a man, counting how many there were. It seemed to be around six.
“Well… perhaps there is something you could help me with in return,” she grinned cleverly, “Whadd’ya say you help me run a little errand?”
Of course, Sylvester didn’t notice the crossed fingers she held behind her back.
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