The Tales of Flesh and Blood

All In The Name of Peace

There was a saying that I thoroughly hated, but still said, anyway, anytime my fellow apartment neighbors did something stupid.

You can't hide from power, but power can hide from you.

Port was like that. If he wanted to see you, he saw you. However, if you went looking for him, chances were, you wouldn't catch him by surprise. If you found him, it was because he wanted you to. He had so many minions that it was beginning to turn into a cult, and he always seemed to know everything about anyone, but this was something a lot of people doubted until he came knocking on their door. Those of us who lived in his apartments? The only thing he did for us was keep us from killing each other. It was like we were some sort of social experiment where he sat back to watch us perform all sorts of extremities until he felt like he had to intervene. This being said, if you knew that he was looking for you, don't hide. Don't even try.

My backpack resting at my feet, I sat on a bench at a lone bus stop located just up the street from the apartments, careful to keep the collar of my hoodie up high enough to hide whatever damage had been done to my neck.

I better make sure Hadi doesn't see this. She was working all week, so there was a very slim chance that we would even be talking to each other until the weekend arrived, but I knew that if I wanted to hide any injury from Hadi, I would have to be sleeping with my belly facing the back of the couch. I personally haven't looked at the damage, but judging by how much it hurt to breathe, I had a faint idea. It was going to be an interesting week, indeed.

A silver-grey Beta (one of the many car brands invented here in Buation) driving down the street suddenly caught my attention. It didn't look all that suspicious, but as there were few cars driving around on this mellow Tuesday evening, all cars were currently fishy. I triple-checked to make sure my collar was as high up as possible and glanced over at it, careful to not move my head too much.

The car parked right in front of me, tinted windows and all. The back door on the passenger side barely rolled its window down enough to toss out a pair of what looked like one of those pairs of sunglasses that curved around your head. I knew better.

"Put those on," a voice ordered from within the vehicle.

I stared at the glasses for only a moment before bending down to grab them with a defeated sigh. I hated how they made us do this. Sure enough, as I made to slip the glasses over my face, my vision was considerably dampened - I could only see the faint outline of things. I didn't hear the gentle sound of a car door being opened, which meant there had already been someone behind me, because I felt someone take my wrists to cuff them behind my back. Only then was I aware of a door being opened, and whoop-de-do, I was shoved into a vehicle no one would be able to recall much later on. I swore beneath my breath, trying to calm my panicking heart.

"Evening, Tria," a pleasant voice said from behind me. I sighed.

"Hello, Port," I replied, then, after a brief pause, "Is this really necessary?" I felt the car begin to move. "I've seen you before."

"Ah, yes. You haven't seen those who work for me without their masks."

I took in a long, steady breath. I wasn't in the mood to challenge him, and I wanted to avoid talking as much as possible. Holy hell, Landon had a grip.

"Is something wrong, Miss Hale?"

Yeah. I'm practically blind-folded and cuffed inside of a car I've never seen before, I thought. It didn't help that we were in the modern century, way past the age of mafias and blood feuds and monarchy, yet there were still places where a person could gather and assemble arms to mark their own 'territory'. It was unnerving and nearly surreal. I hated how fake the city of Gallin was. Any formal government official was just a joke. I didn't say any of this out loud, though.