Conspire

Part Four

Just a short chapter, sorry. I wanted to get something done for y'all though. The aesthetic above is for Warrick.
°oOo°

"Father," I addressed him sweetly. "How are you today?"

"Adrianna? Is that you?" He says, sitting up.

Who else would it be? It's not like you get many visitors when all you do is lock yourself up in your mansion and wallow in self pity.

Instead, though, I reply, "Well, it's that day again, isn't it?"

"Oh? Already?" He murmurs thoughtfully.

"Now, don't tell me you've been down here all by yourself this whole time," I say. My voice is sweet but sharp, like a candy knife. "Alana wouldn't like that, now would she?"

He flinches at the name and shakes his head, now moving to stand up. Warrick is watching the exchange with a curious look on his face. As always, he stands in a way that is both relaxed and ready for a fight at any moment. He is a sharp contrast from the man in front of me, Thomas.

His silk bathrobe is a royal blue with an elegant paisley design but it is crumpled and loosely hanging off his thin frame. His graying hair is matted and his sad eyes look as vacant as always. Thomas reeks of alcohol, matching the empty bottles that lay on the carpet.

Quite honestly, he was the perfect target. His real daughter, Alana, passed away years ago but he has never forgiven himself. Probably because her death was entirely his fault. Now, he lives in his mansion, rarely leaving and always drinking.

Manipulating him was as easy as twisting a knife.

"Come on, Father," I told him, grabbing Warrick's arm to pull him along too.

A part of me was surprised that he still hadn't noticed Warrick. The other part of me was complete unsurprised, for Thomas spent most of his time focused on himself. On his guilt. On his grief. He would be completely out of  it and hand me a blank check simply because I look like Alana and have a similar name.

I lead the two upstairs and through the halls, heading to Thomas's study. The door creaked open and I plopped down on the top of his desk with a calculated amount of casualness.

Sliding his checkbook towards him, I asked Thomas, "Dad? Do you want to eat lunch together today? We could even go for a walk if you want."

"Sure," Agreed Thomas with a smile.  When I'm being so obvious, he certainly knows that I am using him for his money, but he doesn't even care. He has more money than anyone could ever spend in two lifetimes.

That's how it was in our country. The streets were full of the poor, those breaking their backs to get food on the table while the rich just got richer and enjoyed a comfortable life of luxury. No one had an easy life though. Not since the war that have is our powers.

The country North of us was at war with another country. Our king made some bad decisions and we lost everything while the Northerns won fought their war. During this fight, a special weapon was unleashed on their country, killing almost all of those who weren't away for the battle. Most of the survivors had unusual side effects from this strange weapon. They grew powers, powers that would be passed down genetically.

While the Northerners grew back their country after winning the war, we remained in poverty. Companies bound together to have a monopoly on resources, securing their wealth while the poor were left with little hopes. Eventually, those with powers began to be hunted down and locked up so they does to us, their neighboring country.

Our country was a perfect target, except for the fact that we had so little. We had no border security and relaxed rules, allowing anyone to enter as they wished. Those with Powers were able to quickly take over small towns. Eventually, our king built up our police force, but the police took over the towns.

Since then, every town in our small country has been battling within each other for power. In my town, I, under the guise of Klaw, an the unnamed ruler. The name Klaw sends fear into the heart of even the toughest and fiercest people. And if it doesn't, I can always visit them and send some fear into their head.

Benefits of having power over fear and pain.

Soon, we were seated at a large wooden table that was decorated with an annoying amount of fake flowers that were slightly dusty. A large chandelier hung precariously over the table, making me slightly nervous. I fiddled with the zipper to my leather jacket as I waited and made small talk with Thomas.

Warrick sat across the table from me. A gasp escaped from his mouth and his bright blue eyes widened. A smirk appeared on my face as I realized he was gawking at the amount of food being brought out. Even I sometimes get stunned by the amount of food the rich waste. It's as if they don't even know how terrible the rest if the population is doing.

Food was placed on the table by maids with quick and precise hands as they set down the silver platters. Thomas started to pray out loud for the food as he always did, but dozed off in the middle of his prayer. His head drooped until he jerked it up, his eyes wide and Thomas now awake.

"Oh, good. The food's here," He mumbled. "I probably already prayed. Let's eat lunch already."

Warrick's eyebrows raised with amusement but he was quickly distracted once more by the feast before him. I'm still not sure why I took him along with me, but at least now I can say I've done my good deed for the month by bringing him to this food.

Not that I haven't sacrificed enough already.