City of Empires(Book One in The Kindred Trials)

Chapter 2: Atticus Skull

Atticus hated waiting.

His clock ticked and tocked in the corner of his room. His room was smoky from the flavored vapor he was inhaling through a silver flute held beteeen his lips. His heart thrummed with the vibrations echoing through the floor from the rock music blasting through a large set of speakers propped up against his bedroom wall. He lounged on a swinging seat high above his bed with his long legs dangling over the armrest.

Waiting for the Kindred Trials meeting was a bore. He actually wanted to be out in the weapon's field using weapons from the armory to test on the errand boys. The only rule was that he didn't kill any of his workers. He could wound them, but not kill.

Ruling the weaponry Sector was the ultimate high for him. He didn't have to do much but watch as prisoners were used to test new weapons as a punishment for their crimes. He only had to sign a small slip of paper for new advanced weapons to be manufactured and sold to the three other Sectors.

Neola Baron and Atticus Skull were close friends and colleagues because of Neola's position as the ruler and commander of the soldiers that defended the Four Sectors. Her soldiers used his weapons. They didn't have much in common other than their hatred of the other two rulers. The Phoenix and the Angel. Nicoline Allaire and Vincent Moser. They belived in good and equality when there was only violence in the city. They would never succeed at being courageous leaders, the peace-loving bastards. Well, no. Nicoline Allaire had sworn revenge when her parents died a very long time ago. She had stood at the family crypt with fire raging in her eyes. But she had shut herself away for a year and resurfaced as a quite, normal girl.

Vincent Moser was convinced that following World Peace orders would destroy the chaos already destroying the world after the wars nearly wiped humanity off the face of the earth. Now he lived quietly in his Sector with his family and carried out his own duties. The Capitol could no longer have four different Rulers. Reports had been turned in about citizens no longer being able to maintain following the rules when visiting other Sectors. It began to cause riots and the violence statistics went up by fifteen percent. Now the Advisors came up with a plan to make all rules work with the citizens of the Four Sectors.

The Kindred Trials. Each Ruler needed to participate in a series of tests and elections that would win them votes until only one Ruler was named the Ruler of Thrones. All Four Sectors would be combined into one whole city. The other Rulers would earn high positions in the government. It was still a fair fight, but Atticus didn't want fairness. He wanted fun.

And waiting for the gathering with the Advisors and the three other Rulers was tiring. Waiting was boring and only made him want to put a bullet in his head. He blew out another whisp of smoke. He touched the braid in his hair. One side of his hair was a shade of silver and longer than the short, brown side of his hair. When sitting in bright lights or even the sun, the dye in his hair would change colors. It was the latest trend and Atticus enjoyed staring at the fascinating colors that constantly changed in his hair.

It was without a doubt the Advisors would ask for fair trials. If any of the Rulers turned the odds in their favor they would immediately be sentenced to prison and stripped of their family name. Atticus was the only remaining Skull alive since his father and brother died in a lab accident. They were developing an explosive grenade that released acid when Atticus accidentally pulled the clip and the grenade exploded in his father and brother's faces. But Atticus was a survivor with scars that ran up his arms. He had to wear long-sleeved shirts to hide the disfigured tissues that took ten years to heal. Some nights he would wake up from a nightmare with his arms burning. His bodyguard, Flora, always ran into the room with her dirk in hand, only to find the same thing every time. Atticus thrashing in his bed, clutching his arms with his face twisted in pain.

She would wake him up, apply a cooling gel to his skin, and then retreat to her chambers for the night. They would not speak of the incident the next morning when Flora stood by his side as they checked new weaponry in the armories. Atticus would carry dark bags under his eyes and refuse to speak to her for an hour before he began to give orders. This was the routine every time he had a nightmare, which was more frequent since he had been put on edge by the Advisors' orders. They were bringing his nightmares to life: failure that led to boredom. But he was willing to pay the price for a new thrill. He would spend less time in the firing arena and would focus on training himself physically and mentally, because the Advisors refused to give out any information about the Trials until the day for the tests.

Before the tests the four Rulers would first need to give a Campaign Speech to begin gaining their supporters. The more people they had on their sides, the better. Atticus knew if he used the defense tactic, his entire Sector would vote for him and spread word of his Campaign. Everyone wanted to be protected from the enemies outside the city. After the wars, nobody dare step out of their houses without a switchblade or poison to defend them. Besides, Atticus Skull supplied the soldiers with weapons that defended the Capital. Who wouldn't vote for him?

"The peace loving bastard civilians in Moser's Sector," he grumbled under his breath. Another cloud of sweet, flavored smoke passed through his lips. There was a brief knock on his door. Flora stepped into the room. She walked further into the center of the room. Then she craned her neck and saw Atticus sitting on his lounge chair. She bowed. Her dark, inky black hair fell forward into her eyes. It was a short bob, like a man's almost, with hair on the crown of her head that she had left messy for the occasion.

"My king," she said. "It's time."

"Good." Atticus held the flute between his lips and began to swing on his chair. Then, when he was swinging the chair backwards, he fell forward and spun in the air. He bounced onto his bed. A joyous laugh passed through the flute, causing a wider cloud of smoke to puff out from the end of the flute. He loved it when she called him a king. It made him feel special since his own mother didn't remember her son, and he was no king. Not yet.

"What a lovely day, isn't it?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. She was wearing a red, silk jumper with the pant legs tucked into long, combat boots. There was a plunging V-neck that revealed silky skin. He grinned and rolled to the end of the bed until he was on his feet. "You look stunning. Is he ready?"

A sly smile appeared on Flora's face. "He's been waiting for a while now, my king."

"Good. Now let's go have some fun."