As You Are

Chapter Three

It was another three days until the introductory arguments were finished and both Causidii Acosta and Laurent had no more holes to poke in each others' statements. It had been a whirlwind of character witnesses—thankfully not Dave—and meticulous research on the qualifications of past High Court causidii.

Today, they moved onto position statements. Both causidii knew this would be the worst part of the trial.

"As you were," Venerable High Court Causidicus Cohen spoke.

Everyone sat.

"I call Causidicus Laurent to the floor. Causidicus, state your position."

"Thank you, Venerable High Court Causidicus Cohen. My position is that we should allow free medical treatments for all citizens under a certain income threshold."

Laurent couldn't get out any more words. The audience had become too loud to hear anything over. Castor saw the Venerable High Court Causidicus Cohen's lips move in the shape of a word that looked like "order". Order was not the right word for the state of the court currently.

Castor hadn't realized how powerful one statement could be, when listened to by many. He watched as security tried to hold back the waves of people trying to jump the barricades and make their way towards Laurent. That's when he realized this was not organic. They had been planning this no matter what Laurent's statement was. Anything Laurent, a brilliant and opinionated woman, had to say would be too radical to be accepted.

That is when Castor understood that the vocal minority in this room would do anything to make sure Laurent never served on the High Court. Security was too far from her and too focused on their sad attempt to keep people off of the court floor. The High Court's security detail had already removed the members from the room.

Castor sprinted towards Laurent, he only hoped it was fast enough or that his theory that they wanted her dead was wrong.

Unfortunately, his theory was proven correct. He heard the gunshot right as he pushed Laurent to the ground and right before he fell to the ground himself.

"Shit, shit shit," Laurent was muttering, looking at him. "Castor, we need to leave this room."

"We?"

"I'm sure we could debate this but we're not going to." Staying low, Laurent grabbed a hold of his shirt and crawled along the ground towards the front corner of the room, behind the podium where the High Court causidii sat. Their security detail must have protected them but not extended to High Court causidii position finalists. Castor vowed to change that law if he survived this.

Laurent yanked him close to the wall, then shoved her shoulder into a wall panel, hard. It opened into a secret room. She pulled him inside.

"Shut the door!" She ordered.

Castor reached out and felt a sharp pain in his arm. He pushed through to grab hold of the door and slam it.

"Fuck, I think I hurt my arm." He grabbed his shoulder, his hand coming away wet.

"Acosta, don't panic, but I think you were shot."

"Oh, saints," Castor panicked. He wished he knew which saint dealt with bullet wounds and hiding with your well-matched rival in a small spot when you knew you were screwing her and your country over by taking a rigged position.

Now that he knew the wound was there, all he could feel was the pain radiating away from his shoulder. His dress shirt, which happened to be his favorite one, was covered in blood. So much blood.

"Oh, saints," Castor cried again, at a loss for more appropriate words.

"Acosta, look at me," Laurent gripped his good shoulder. Castor's hands were shaking. She grabbed his chin and turned his head away from the wound and onto her. "Listen, okay?" Laurent waited until he nodded to continue.