PROBLEM - Anthony Lockwood

CHAPTER ONE

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i

even the railway system is fucked

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EVERYTHING WAS FUCKED, after the Problem. The country learned to adapt into what had become known as the 'new normal' and everything and everyong had fundementally changed. Services which were once alright became neglected. What was the point of improving them now, if everything was to shut at sundown.

Curfews were hell.

Alice Deane had never really lived in a big town or city for a long amount of time.

She'd visited villiages here and there, some small towns. But that was it. Mostly for supplies, for training - never for staying.

Alice's body shook from the cold, but also from something else. She looked sickly there and she could tell that the other passengers were looking at her, trying to figure out what a girl like her was doing on a train to London. Her olive skin looked pale from Vitamin D defiency, and her small stature almost curved in on itself. Alice was small, she knew that, it didn't help matters that she was still 17. She had long, curly black hair, and large dark eyes. Almost doll like, in a way, framed with long curly lashes. They would have been beautiful, had they not been as black as her soul and filled with rage. She had the kind of eyes that made the hairs on peoples' necks stand up.

There was something about her, which screamed talented.

And she was hoping that was obvious enough to land her a job as an agent.

The train slowed to a stop and she stood up, getting out along with some of the other passengers.

Once again, she recieved some strange looks. She had a large bag with her, it looked dishivelled and there were scuffs on it. She wasn't complaining, she was glad she'd managed to dig it up at all.

Memories flashed through Alice's mind, and she forced herself to push them back.

Keep going she urged herself look only forward.

Strange for what looked like a talented child, she carried no rapier. But unbeknownst to everyone around, she had a small knife in her pocket, hidden from view.

Alice made her way through the train station, eyes wide at the bustling nature of the city. Everything was so big, there was so much of everything.

A hand on her arm jolted her out of her musing.

Alice snapped around, narrowing her eyes and tearing her arm away. 

"Sorry," It was a woman, maybe in her late forties. With mid length blonde hair, she carried some leaflets. "Is this your first time in London? It can get dangerous here, especially at night. Come to one of our centres."

I can take care of myself.

Alice backed away, shaking her head. "No, no thanks." She turned and made her way through the train station, trying to get away from the woman. As she walked, she passed a glass wall, and found herself staring at her own reflection as she walked past.

She wore black pointy shoes and a long, cotton brown dress. It was flowy, with bishop sleeves and a corset back. She had a long, black cloak on top, bound at her collarbone. She kept the hood down and let her hair flow. It was dry and damaged after the events of the past few months. But she kept it out anyway, if it wasn't up, then no one could see the inflammed marks at her hairline, where she'd dug her own nails in.

Keep going she urged herself.

In a way, she understood the stares she faced. Dressing like this was normal back home, but London had moved on, modernised.

Alice chastised herself, London was home now. Not Pendle.

She made her way through the streets, stealing a newspaper from a stand and hiding it in her cloak before joining a crowd and dissapearing within the streets.

Ads should appear there, hopefully.

But, nonetheless, she made her way through the streets, following the signs and the crowds, until she finally found what she was looking for.

Fittes.

The building was huge, expertly built with a modern, sleek design. Alice hated modern architecture, but she had to admit it was nice. Everything was full of lights and posters and people. So many people. But when she turned, her smile vanished.

A huge line.

Alice sighed. She had all the time in the world, to be fair.

Her feet were beginning to hurt, which was probably her fault for wearing flats and not proper shoes. But she'd been standing for over an hour when she finally reached the counter.

"ID, refrences and parental permission please," the man inquired. He was blond, with dark glasses and a crisp suit. He looked like he was born with money and Alice hated that for some reason.

Alice reached into her bag and handed him an ID card and tried not look as suspicious as possible. She'd magiced that out of a scrap of paper and a drop of her blood. It looked believable but she hoped that she had gotten all the formatting correct. "I don't have the other things, though but I do have my grades one to four."

She'd also magiced those out of some blood and paper.

Not one day in her life had Alice actually worked as an agent.

Besides talking the ghosts out of being dicks.

"No paperwork, no processing," he told her.

"My parents are dead," Alice declared.

"Legal guardian's permission then," the man hissed, "Or are they dead too."

Ashiya grit her teeth, "I've been waiting over an hour."

The man shrugged, "I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't look remotely apologetic.

Feeling significantly smaller than she had when she walked in, Alice began to look for other agencies. Rotwell sent her away too. Three independants shut the door in her face.

Alice wanted to set herself on fire.