The City | Zouis

Hello lovelies. So, we're here with yet another story but this time it's not just us! You all better be cheering your asses off. We're collaborating with Britishmusiclover! Yay! This story is a bit different from the other fanfics here on wattpad I believe, but I swear this is going to be awesome. The first chapter is written by us, but edited by Anne. Hope you enjoy reading! :3

   It was a stupid idea. A stupid idea. The likes of it failing were so much higher than his survival. But the thing is, Malik's have always been known for being intelligent creatures. They know what they get themselves into before they get themselves into it, and they know exactly what to do when the plan crashes. They don't have a plan A, B and C. They only have one plan; do it before it gets too late. And as the raven haired boy stood in front of the tall building, eyes scanning across every single surface and every single corner, he knew that this was the time. Even a day later would be too late. So either he had to take a chance or he had to give it all up. Malik's have never been good at letting go. He walked towards the big glass door, making sure to look to the right, left, up, and down.

  The boy was stood on the glass bridge that connected the Polune and Qualai. Both of those building are what you'd address as the main big shot buildings where only the important and wealthy people worked – the absolute best of them got the pleasure of having those big towers as their personal homes.

  The Qualai was the most important of those two. It was the house of the Government, if we can even call it that anymore. For dozens of years that group of people has been getting stronger, their power growing and growing to the point where they've taken over the world. Well, the parts of the world where people can live under their command. The parts of the world they actually care about. The Government gets a say in everything about everyone. If a person has gotten to the point of publicly speaking disgracefully about the Government I can assure you that they will be dead in a matter of minutes. If someone breaks one of the big laws you might as plan the funeral. If someone such as looks as he's up to evil, the Government won't let it pass. And the Government controls. It's like the Illuminati has finally reached their goal. And they were the type of people who ruled the Qualai.

  The Polune on the other hand is a whole other story. You don't have to be the big man around to get into that one. Yaser Malik was one of the more important people in the Polune. His office is placed on floor 93, high ranked enough that they all had to wear suits and dresses. His job was to was to watch over the City, correct the wrongs from rights. There may be days in which criminals decide to stay inside for the day, and on those days he has the simple job of watching over the electrified trains. The trains hang on two threads up in the air, high above the people walking on the ground, and drive through the busy city.

  And since Yaser Malik works in the Polune, it's only logic that his son would come visit from time to time. But never has the man been as unpleased to see anyone more than when his son came over to his work that dark and cloudy day, wearing a baggy ripped jacket made of what his father called 'trashy old fashion hobo denim', and black pants that Mr. Malik wasn't impressed with either, covering his head with some stupid hat that had a beak standing out at the front.

  Zayn walked inside, greeted his father's coworkers if they stared at him for over four seconds. He took the one elevator he knew was the fastest by experience and pushed a button to speed up the 93 floors. A small peep of disapproval could be heard from the top of the lift and the boy restrained himself from rolling his eyes, knowing that Hoverboards such as his were not appreciated in the Polune – nor the Qualai, for that matter – and that the peep was just one of the workers disapproving his everything.

  In less then thirty seconds he was at the spot he had been waiting to reach, and he made sure to keep himself from showing nerves because that would immediately raise everyones interest. “Welcome to floor 93, Mr. Malik.” he chuckled lightly to himself, knowing that he was definitely not welcomed there, nor anywhere near that building as a matter of fact. He had caused quite the scandal there one day, but that is of course a tale for another time.