The Masks We Hide Behind

Chapter Four: "FUN AND GAMES"

As we drove, I asked, “Where are we going?”

“One of Starrick’s factories. When the world is full of nasty things, we must tear those things apart,” Roth answered, somewhat cryptically. I didn’t mind. I’d grown to trust Roth.

Eventually, we stopped, and scaled a large building. We both glanced down at the factory. One of the largest in London. Under Roth’s instruction, I got down and placed TNT all around it, before climbing back up to where Roth was perched.

Before Roth could give the order to light the crates, however, I gasped and pointed to the doors of the building, “There are children in there,” I said.

“My dear boy, Starrick relies on child labor far too much. The time has come to end his production line.”

“Not like this!” I yelled.

Roth’s face took on a much angrier look, “Why not? I can do whatever I damn well please! Soon, you will know what it’s like to be free as I am!” He looked down at two Blighters who were very confused by the turn of events, “Light ‘em up boys!”

“No!” I jumped down and landed with my hidden blade imbedded in the throat of one of the Blighters. I ran towards the other one, my blade piercing the man’s neck, swiftly killing him. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” Roth called.

I looked up at him, “We’re not playing games anymore, Roth!”

“No. We’re not,” Roth’s eyes met mine for a moment. I looked at him, silently pleading that he wouldn’t go through with the plan. For a brief time, perhaps a fracture of a second, Roth’s gaze softened, and then he gave the order to light the crates anyway.

The building exploded, erupting into flames and knocking me off my feet. I forced myself to get up, and I covered my mouth with the collar of my jacket as I ran into the burning factory.

I had to get in through a window, because all of the doors were either blocked off or locked. Once I was inside, I managed to clear one doorway, and several children filed out. Some of them couldn’t get outside on their own, though.

I brought a single child out, who was not harmed, but merely scared, and then bolted back inside. I brought out a second child, a third, and then, smoke burning my lungs as I did so, I helped the fourth and final out from under a beam that had fallen in the explosion.

I gasped for air, sitting a safe distance from the flames. I had received several burns, but none were serious, and no one had died. I jumped when someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Lewis, and he spoke when I looked at him, “A gift, sir. From Mr. Roth,” He handed me a large black box, a letter resting on top of it.

Incredibly confused, I opened up the letter and read it silently to myself.

My dearest, Jacob, 

Alas, it seems our adventures together have come to a close. Though our time together was brief, it has left a lasting mark. I wish you well in all your future endeavors. 
           
            Cordially, Maxwell

Post Scriptum: I’m putting on a show this evening. All of London will be there. Enclosed, please find your invitation.

I looked at Lewis, who began to speak again, “You should be warned, Mr. Frye, that when Roth is angry with one, he generally brings suffering to many.” With those words, Lewis left.

I tucked the letter into my coat pocket, and glanced at the box in my hands. I opened it, and inside was simply one thing. The corpse of Roth’s pet crow. Slowly, I closed the box again, made plans to have it stuffed, and then made my way to the Alhambra. I knew what I needed to do.