Chapter One

Chapter One

Remnants of Diplomacy

The night was young and closing time was far off. Yet only a few patrons of the Drowning Duck had been through the doors. Each visitor sat on his own decrepit chair, at his own table, with his own glass of cheap booze. The Drowning Duck was an old pub, surrounded and smothered by the city of Empire. The lamps had been doused by the publican and only candle light remained. But none here needed light to continue their lonely business. The Duck had the familiar smells of a pub, of beer and sweat, of rot and urine. The patrons were not remarkable, still one stood out. While the others were busy drowning out reality, Aquila struggled to retain lucidity. Augustine Aquila was a shorter man of average height about 5’10” in the old scale. He was solid, strong and muscular from head to toe. Aquila was not free from fat. His belly and flanks were slightly larger than he would have liked. He looked like a rodeo bull put out to stud. Aquila’s best days were behind him, though in his mind he was still that bucking bull.

The candle before Aquila was dim and burning low. However the ambient light, combined with the light of the room was enough to see by. He sat facing the door with his eyes intently upon its handle.

Aquila’s hair was black thick and lustrous, the kind of hair made for running hands through. His eyes were brown and dull like mud. They were empty and soulless eyes, missing the glint of a normal human being. A hard and troubled life had taken that spark from Aquila. He had smooth and unmarked skin yet wore a beard to hide it. The beard was short was short and well-trimmed and ran from ear to ear and beneath his rounded chin.

Aquila’s eyes flashed as the bar door began to open.

 ‘Bar’s closed’ said the publican as he saw the new arrival enter. The new man stared at his denier with a look of utter contempt.

 ‘Sorry mate’ said the publican as he quickly corrected his mistake.

 ‘He’s in the corner’ he added as he pointed out Aquila. Marc Titus crossed the room and took a seat beside his prospective employer. Titus was a very tall man, far taller than the average. He was incredibly strong, with a body like a mountain and muscles like stone. If Aquila was a bull then Titus was a thoroughbred stallion.

Nothing was said for a moment as Marc signalled to the barman for a drink. His hair was blonde yet shaved so thin it was nearly translucent. Titus wore no beard though sometimes he allowed short stubble to grow. The drink arrived and Titus finished it in one go and asked for another. His eyes were a blue that changed every time you looked into them. By day his eyes were grey, and by night they were almost black.

 ‘Don’t get drunk, we have business’ said Aquila with a disapproving look. Aquila was an impolite man but he never meant malice with his words. He simply lacked a complete set of manners.

 ‘Fuck off’ replied Titus as his second drink arrived. Like Aquila, Titus was gruff and blunt; he on the other hand always intended offense. He hated menial conversations and tried to end them abruptly. Generally Titus was an unapproachable man. Only his friends and employers would come to him willingly.

The slight brushed of Aquila’s shoulder without impact; he cared not for the words of this sordid man.

 ‘What do you want’ spluttered Titus as he finished his second drink and ordered another. Titus was direct and to the point. He was rude, argumentative and confrontational. He looked restless and perturbed and needed to stand up and walk around. Aquila transversely looked cool calm and collected. He was a loner and preferred his own company to the company of others. Titus needed constant stimulus and distraction; otherwise his mind would begin to wander.

 ‘Stop squirming and listen’ cried Aquila, as Titus watched to see where his drink was. Aquila thought of himself of a friendly person, and most saw him the same way. Yet his work often called for him to go against his nature. Time and practice had made him a master actor.

 ‘Get on with it’ moaned Titus. The larger of the two was usually a happy man and always wore a smile on his face. As long as he got what he wanted, and right now that wasn’t happening.

 ‘We have a contract for you’ began Aquila as he pulled an envelope from his jacket. He then placed the package on the table and after a moment Titus picked it up.

 ‘We?’ replied Titus with a wry grin. Aquila did not make a reply. He did not think Titus needed an answer.

Aquila was the leader of an organisation known as the Remnants of Democracy. He had the intelligence of a genius and was the brains behind the operation. He had an unquenchable and never ending thirst for knowledge. Aquila could have been anything, or done anything with his life. Yet he lacked the appropriate application to get the results he truly wanted. Titus too was quite intelligent, though not as brilliant as Aquila. He was well informed and knowledgeable none the less. No one quite realised the potential of Marc Titus, Except for his employers. Unfortunately his employers promoted that talent towards evil.

 ‘Where are we going?’ asked Titus, as he tried to open the envelope without tearing it.

 ‘Don’t open that until we arrive’ instructed Aquila. ‘The target is in District 7’ he added softly. Titus looked around the bar for his slow coming drink.

 ‘When do we go?’ inquired Titus.

 ‘Do you have anything to tidy up?’ asked Aquila.

 ‘No’

 ‘Then we leave now’

The pair stood as the barman arrived with Marc’s drink. He finished it there and then, and passed the barman the empty glass and a fistful of small notes. Aquila opened the pub door and stepped into the cool Empire air. The threshold between the Drowning Duck and the city was like a time warp. Looking back into the pub was like looking back two hundred years. The city skyline was enormous; Aquila had to crane his neck to see the heavens. The light pollution kept the darkness to a hazy purple and smothered the moon and stars. The noise was intense, deafening and numbing. A lifetime had given the citizens of Empire a tolerance for sound.

 ‘Where’s Catherine?’ said Titus bluntly as he too stepped onto the street.

 ‘Inside’ replied Aquila, gesturing with his head towards the Drowning Duck.

 ‘I didn’t see her’ stated Titus coolly. Aquila smiled ‘she was there’ he insisted. The subject was dropped; Titus did not want to say another word about Catherine. Aquila knew that she and Titus had known each other before they left military service. Apart from that he knew nothing. Catherine was the only reason Titus had been given this job.

Cars, taxis, trucks and trains buzzed around like flies. Lights flashed in all the colours of the rainbow. People began to flood the city as evening became night. This was District 3, a grand soup of affluence, poverty, intolerance and inequality.

 ‘Any transport?’ said Titus after a moment of waiting.

 ‘Wait here’ replied Aquila. Titus knew he was a cold bastard and loathed himself for it. He was a brilliant liar with a ridiculous imagination.  Titus had long mastered the art of lying and wondered where he would be if he hadn’t. He was wise beyond his years yet never shared that wisdom with society. Titus could have been a great leader in a time of darkness; instead he chose to be another shadow.

Aquila arrived in his car and Titus promptly entered. The car pulled away from the Drowning Duck and headed towards District 7.