It was one of those nights, the kind where the sky was as black as pitch but around the brilliant moon it was rendered grey. The cold was so sharp and fierce that each breath was almost like a new ghost was escaping from my body.
I had never felt so alive.
I was walking down an almost deserted street, it was that time between people going home from work and people heading out for the night to dance their problems away. A quiet time.
The footpath was cracked and grey from overuse and from the constant freezing temperatures. My hands were plunged deeply into the warmth of my coat as I walked quickly and silently down the silent street. There were honking cars in the distance but they were far away, enough that it could almost be mistaken for a dream or an errant thought.
The cold was beginning to sting my lungs and I knew that I did not have that much time until my hands would be invaded by the frigid air. I was nearly there, I think.
I stepped up to peer over the railings that prevented people from falling into the river that divided this old city in two. As I gazed into its murky depths, I could not help but wonder how many countless stories it had heard over the centuries from people. Here the whispers of the running water a recollection of what the river had heard! Here the rising swells and the shuddering crashes the insidious and pure stories intermingling!
I turned sharply to the sound of approaching footsteps. I took a deep breath in when I had realised that they were just a young couple waking side by side with a dog on the leash. I could see steam rising from the dog as it panted with exertion as the young couple power walked down by the river. They did not acknowledge me as they walked past, engrossed in their conversation as they were. I settled in for what could be a long wait.
I stamped my feet. I was on the point of growling but I knew that it would not be wise to show any signs of frustration as I knew that I was being watched. My watchers would be uneasy to see any form of agitation coming from me, especially considering the recent crackdown on several of their operations.
He was an hour late, I was beginning to think that it was more likely that I had gotten the wrong address when I heard more footsteps approaching and for some reason my gut clenched and I knew that this was the person that I was waiting for.
I kept my expression calm and cooled, not that it was capable of much expression with the cold having immobilised most of the muscles in my face. I just hoped that I was able to speak coherently.The man stepped forward and I could see immediately that he had a slight limp in his left leg, which might come in handy should I need to make a quick getaway.
He walked further and the moonlight then hit him at a good angle as his features began to reveal themselves to me. He had long dank blonde hair with a puckered face and green eyes. However it was not his eyes or his hair that grabbed my attention, it was the livid scar that ran from the left corner of his lip to just under his eye along his cheekbone. It was a stark reminder of the word that I was getting myself into.
He looked me up and down and said with a low gravelly voice, "name" and I knew that he was not asking for my actual name but for the name that the person that I am meeting had supplied me with to ensure that it was me who showed up and that it was not a sting operation. "Lad" I said in my most neutral voice. The blonde man grunted and turned his heel, he gave no sign I should follow him but I guess I should.
He walked swiftly through the more run down areas of town, and I heard the catcalls of the various gangs, almost like wolves howling as they warned their rivals from getting too close. It was getting late and there were more people coming onto the streets, looking for another adventure to fill in the gaps between the moment they were born to the moment that they die.
As I was left with that musing though, I was led through the cramped and dirty streets of the poor side of the city. The sights were not so bad but the stench was awful, no wonder these people turned to crime when the government prove so ineffective? Why would you trust a power that never seems to serve you when you need it most when there is a real tangible power that can protect you, even at a cost? I personally believe that the cost is too much, but I am not so one sided that I cannot empathise with the poor people of our city
The blonde man stopped in front of a nondescript house and knocked twice on the weary door. He was replied with a husky, "password?" and the blonde man snarled it under his breath and the door swung open with a squeaky grown. I was in.
There was a different kind of smell emanating from this place, a sweaty smell and judging from the groans that were coming from the various closed off rooms, it was pretty obvious what was the source of that smell. I winced when a particularly loud scream nearly punctured my eardrum and I could see a small weasel man grinning at me lavishly and said with his husky voice, "would you like to join them love? I would dare say that there are a lot of men who would love to play with that pretty dark hair of yours." I resisted the urge to pull my gun on him and instead fixed him with an icy glare.
The small grubby man backed off with his hands up in the air and the blonde man laughed in a strange way, as though his vocal cords did not work properly. I looked at him but he saw me looking and began to scowl when he caught my gaze. I quickly diverted my gaze and he grunted and we both headed over to a lift that I had only just noticed at the other side of the reception. It opened with a quite ping and we stepped in and then closed with a tired sigh. The lift shuddered and then began to lead me into the decent of the underbelly of the city.
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Thank you so much for taking the time to read this part! I really do appreciate it. Especially since this is the first part of this book and I know how cumbersome it can be to slog through the first chapter, trying to decide if you like it. But if you got this far I really want to say thanks a million. I would be forever grateful if you would vote on this and if you liked it enough even add it to your reading list, it would mean the world to me!
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The Underbelly (First Draft)
Science FictionI am an agent with a vengeful streak. My current job? To track down an Underbelly boss and assassinate him. My motive? He was involved in my mother's murder and every major crime in the Surface society. The catch? He is also my father. My advant...