Black-Market Taboo

GENRE : Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Steampunk

COVER MADE BY : @Smilies

I n t r o d u c t i o n

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     "Gwen!" I heard him yell not too far behind me. The sound of guns firing and cannons going off and insane people screaming and shouting nearly overpowered any other sound that made an attempt in being heard; a.k.a. Will's voice. But I heard him anyway, and in a split second, I whipped around, inevitably allowing the rest of the group to safety without me.

     Will was clasping the tearing end of the gigantic gear for his dear life, his entire body trembling in fear. If he looked down, he was bound to fall; whether he wanted to believe it or not- one wrong move and everything was over.

     But as the murder-crazed officers including Queen Aramilla rushed toward the half-broken gear meters away from where I stood, there was near to nothing I could have done to save him- it was either let him die and escape or die saving him. And while there was a gut feeling gurgling annoyingly in my stomach not to, I took three steps back then bolted forward, springing off the factory, feeling an unsettling feeling in my lungs.

     Miraculously, my hand caught onto one of the churning gears and it was just in time for me to swing myself onto a higher peg, a split second before my hand slipped with the tar. "Will don't move a damn-"

    "Get 'er!" One of the men yelled, firing at me. His bullet grazed my shoulder, but the pain was sustainable enough for me to continue. I sprung from peg to peg, finally reaching the gear closest to Will's. As Queen Aramilla and her stressful slaves- I mean officers- rushed forward, I fumbled in my pouch for something- something to throw. 

     Yet it seemed that the Queen had gotten a lot faster.

     By the time I'd found the bronze gadget from my pouch, they were already on the exact same gear as Will. Crap. Accidentally dropping the gadget, I leaped over the pegs with strong intentions of reaching Will and just snagging him before they do. It seemed that the odds weren't in my favor. Not today. Not ever.

     Once my foot came into contact with the warm, slippery, tar-covered churning peg, I'd unexpectedly lost my balance; thus falling against the gear I was previously on. And I fell.

     "Shoot him!"

     "Gwe-"

     And his voice was cut short by several gunshots.

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     "Mother!" I yelled impatiently, pounding the tar-covered cloth against my father's bronze work desk. The strong blow caused all the metal gears and antiquities scattered across the surface to fly off onto the worn out floorboards; leaving only the box of tools sturdy on the desk.

     "What now, Gwen?"

     Blowing a sweaty strand of hair away from my forehead so that I could see better, I furrowed my eyebrows together and pursed my lips at the tall, disheveled boy peeking through the doorway with absolutely no courtesy. "Gus, is your name, mother? No. I didn't think so. Now get out." My hand flung to the side, directing my fourteen-year-old brother out.

      "Well, mother is currently dealing with yet another one of her customers- which you should be helping her with instead of fiddling with father's stuff. Besides, it seems that you've made quite a mess rather than a gadget." Much to my annoyance, Gus welcomed himself in even further, circling the lengthy bronze desk as if there weren't valuable items on the floor that he was carelessly stepping on.