Gears to Riches: Story Of Success And Tragedy

Chapter 1: Warning Shot

Photo from: BBC

The city of RotarSwell filled with the dark, grey clouds of steam and bright with the colored lights on the buildings coming to life. The sounds of whining fans, pounding machinery, sparking electricity, and clamps of steel filled the air. RotarSwell was a city filled with opportunity, where entrepreneurs could flourish with their next million-dollar idea. The city churned them out like the cogs of a machine to keep it alive and thriving. With fresh ideas always being made, the city was a playground for new players to add to the city's game to win a checkmate. Once the game started, there was no way of telling when it would end, either minutes or hours. The city does have a mayor, but Rotorswell is controlled by much more than Mayor William Tafford. Like a doll, the strings were not visible to the naked eye. Deals in the making unknown by the naked eye and for high prices.

It was a cold night within the city; a stiff breeze filled the empty spaces as the sounds of machinery filled the rest of the area. Leaves were blowing by across the concrete as the moon shone like a lightbulb to the buildings' colorful lights. The night seemed calm to contrast to a male running down the streets of Copperstead. They appeared within a hurried sweat, running as fast as their feet could carry them and eyes shifting like the ground during an earthquake. He had kept a tight grip onto a book as he ran, seeming to hold to it like it was his child. He patted as he looked to the old covered book.

"I have to hurry fast," the man muttered under his breath, looking for a short route. Without using his head, he quickly shifted to get by the people walking and making a turn down into the ally streets. He scattered soon down the streets, not caring how tired he was already or how his hair kept getting in his eyes. He just wanted to get out and get out quickly, unsure of how much time he may have left. The male looked behind him to see if he was followed but met with a hard smack of the wall. He peeled himself off the wall, panic spreading as he tried to find a way out. He was frantic like a rat in a corner, soon being commented by an almost hiss like laughter.

"Now now, little mouse, you caused this yourself. You shouldn't have been snooping around where you shouldn't have" spoke a voice, revealing a male in a simple suit, shining, deep blue eyes scanning the cornered prey. The smaller male was shaking as an elongated shadow had gone over him, him looking to the ground.

"This has gone long enough, Daemon. You know how badly these people have done to this city. You don't let their hold be that strong onto you." the small male spoke, stern as he kept hold of the book close to his chest. The taller male seemed to chuckle as he adjusted the cuffs of his suit, shaking his head.

"Of course you would say that. Despite that, they seem to have better ideas than that infestation you call a group. One of their members can't even steal a simple item without getting caught one step out." Daemon laughed, almost like a hiss as he looked to the thief. "Besides, little mouse, we don't talk nicely to those who steal from the boss."

"We? There's only one of--" spoke the smaller male, but was soon met with a smack to the back of the head, making the male fall down to the ground. A little laugh came from a new face, Daemon smiling to himself.

"Well what do you know, Ringo? Guess I can be a good teacher for a hired gig," Daemon spoke, soon picking up the book from the unconscious body.

"So what do we do with the body? Leave it for the police?" asked the protege, soon met with a hush from Daemon.

"Oh how you still need to learn...we do leave the body left behind...but with some changes," Daemon chuckled, lifting the body, walking off with book and mission in safe hands. The moon was covered by the steam of the city, leaving it not to be witness to the crime at hand.

— — — — — — — — — — — —

Police lights were soon flashing bright as it shines onto the caution tape. Security drones, along with police officers, make sure to block off the scene from trespassers and wannabe reporters. As the mob was trying to uncover some news, a car door slammed shut as two figures approached the area. One looked over, soon making a slight chuckle as he saw the crowd.