Clockwork

Chapter Eight

Up in the Capital, the video was going viral. News channels, social networking and video sharing platforms were blowing up with the number of views. It was all anyone could talk about, posters of the video encouraging this from every street corner.

A seething Queen Avarice sat on her throne, her bony limbs visibly shaking. She looked like a bomb about to explode; her face was no longer a picture of grace and beauty. Her lips seemed to now be in a permanent snarl. How dare that low life expose her! How could he turn her own people against her. Feeling faint from shock, she sat back on her throne, the leather not feeling as comfortable as it once did.

"Kyros! Come, we must talk." her shaky voice screeched.

Something had to be done before the riots started.

                                                                                                      *

True to Avarice's prediction, riots broke out across the Earth. First in Landmass 5, where a gang of furious workers infiltrated the Shard. Then in Landmass 9, the once grand Statue of Liberty lay on the ocean floor, the flame it once held forever extinguished by the waves. It wasn't long before she had to take drastic action.

Assembling her finest army, Avarice sent them to where the riots were raging. Each solider armed with a GD6-0 (the newest, most lethal gun in the world) were given orders not to take prisoners. By the time they were gone, the streets were painted red, a clear message to those who disobeyed.

Once again, the Earth was silent, bowing to the reign of the Queen.

                                                                                                       *

Prince Kyros was pacing his room in anger. He was disgusted with his mother's actions, murdering rioters and innocents alike. He vowed that his rule would never be like hers.

For days he refused to come out of his room, refuse to eat, drink or talk. His once bright eyes grew dreary, his face hollowing.

By the time the Queen had had enough and had sent someone to force him out of the room, he was gone. Not a trace of the young prince could be found, except the window left open, a ladder of bedsheets revealing his motives.

                                                                                                       *

Sprinting away from the blinding lights of the palace, Prince Kyros began to look at his options. He would have to leave Metropolis, the stronghold of Avarice's Earth. Running away would be hard, he was annoyingly recognisable, especially with his royal clothes. Yup, those wretched rags would be the first to go. He had always hated them, it wasn't fair that he could dress in the finest silk while others couldn't even find enough fabric to cover themselves. He stripped off his golden shirt, retching at the sight of it. Stumbling towards the boundary of the palace grounds, he tripped.

"Shit." He muttered, then laughed. His mother would have smacked him for using such vulgar words. This freedom thing felt good.

Dumping his clothes in the nearby river, he wrapped himself in the only normalish looking clothes he had. Still, his white silk shirt, black trousers and black cloak wasn't exactly the most conspicuous. He'd have to make them more ripped and dirty. Making a mental note of this, he crawled over the border of the palace.

Much to his annoyance, the door of the wall was locked, the wall itself too tall to climb.

A hand landed on his shoulder, making Kyros almost jump out of his skin.

"Prince Kyros?" The owner of the hand asked. It was old Joseph, the guard at the door.

"Forgive me for asking your highness, but what are you doing out so late?" Old Joseph wheezed. He was a short old man, with a curved back, a victim of scoliosis.

"Shhh!" Kyros said, dragging the man away from the door.

"I'm..."

"Running away from the palace?"

"Kinda."

Only Old Joseph could talk to Kyros like that. He had known the prince the whole of Kyros' life and had always been there for him. He was the one person Kyros could talk to without the Queen finding out.

"Then I won't stop you. Your future was never in the palace, boy. God be with ye, Kyros." The old man bowed, turning to the gate. Slotting his card in the chip reader, he opened the gate. Kyros knew that old Joseph would be punished for this. Severely.

"Joseph, you didn't have to..."

The old man shook his head and pushed Kyros towards the open door.

"Go. I will be reunited with my family again."

Kyros ran forwards to hug the man. Joseph's calloused hands lay on his shoulders, shaking.

"Thank you." Kyros whispered.

Joseph nodded. Patting Kyros' back, he let go.

"They'll be here soon."

Right on cue, a light lit up the wall, blinding the prince and the guard.

"Go!" Joseph yelled. Kyros ran, towards the door. A few meters clear of the door, he turned around. The closing door showed Joseph, lifting his hand in a final goodbye. With that, the door shut, the shouts of guards and the barks of dogs piercing through the veil of the night. A gunshot rang out, followed by a thud.

Kyros kept running, his tears streaming down his face.

                                                                                                      *

Hunter returned to Felicity in silence. He tapped her on the shoulder.

"We should leave."

"What? Why?"

Hunter told her about what he had discovered by the smoke.

"I didn't check for more bodies."

Felicity stood, swaying slightly. Her hand was on her mouth, her eyes glassy. They stood together for a while, until Felicity snapped out of it.

"Right. We'll just need to fix the jet, then we can go." She said, determined to leave the field.

"I've managed to out the fire out, help me get every useable resource out of the jet."

With that, the pair picked their way through the shell of the jet, occasionally announcing their discoveries.

"Hunts, you know you're bleeding, right?" Felicity motioned to Hunter's arm.

"What? Oh yeah. It's fine."

"Whatever you say, Hunts."

                                                                                                    *

"Hey! The bike's alive!" Hunter cheered. "A bit scratched but nothing a lick of paint won't fix."

"Oh good." Felicity replied. "At least we can drive out of here in case I can't fix the jet."

They continue rummaging. Felicity managed to find quite a few old cogs. One of her watches must have exploded.

"Flicky, you didn't tell me that you got a new telescreen. Hang on, it's beeping"

Felicity shot up.

"Give that here now!"

"What-"

Felicity snatched the telescreen from a confused Hunter's hand. She started to attack it with a screwdriver, the telescreen wailing in defence.

"This is why we don't have nice stuff, Flicky. You just damage them."

"I'm not damaging it, moron. I'm disabling the tracking device."

"You mean someone could have been tracking us?"

"Most likely."

"Well, we're screwed then."

Felicity shook her head. How could she be so stupid? Of course the telescreen had a tracking device. Stupid, Felicity, stupid.

"We need to return the telescreen before we get in more trouble." She told Hunter.

"Why? Finders keepers, losers weepers."

"We'll be the ones weeping if the owner catches us, which he probably will due to that bloody tracking device."

"And I can finally get my earnings back from him. Win-win situation, Flicky."

"Except that it belongs to Prince Kyros."

"Well, apart from that." Hunter snorted. "Assuming you're correct that is."

"I don't intend on finding out. I'm gonna drop it at Metropolis."

"Don't be stupid. You'll be arrested on the spot." Hunter grabbed her.

"Let go, Hunts. I have no choice. Turn the telescreen, and myself, in or be chased and brought in."

Hunter sighed in exasperation.

"The Queen really needs to revisit her sense of humour. Surely she would have gotten over the oil incident, it was like 5 years ago!"

"I don't think it was just the oil incident. I did steal $5000 from the royal bank."

"You what?"

Felicity smiled apologetically.

"It was there for the taking, you know? It's not like I kept it anyway. The people in the slums needed it."

Hunter burst into laughter. He managed a sentence between his giggling.

"Icky Flicky the cat burglar. Oh what have I got myself into?"

"I was going to ask myself the same thing."