Letting the World Burn Read online

  “See! That's what I like about you, Quincy. You're always looking out for me.” He turned to Francis. “You could learn a thing or two.” Mattis spat in Francis' face. The big servant stared forward.

  I loudly cleared my throat. “Well, I got what I need,” I said. Hanging around Elites for too long made me sick. “I'm out of here.”

  Mattis shook his head. “Now, Quincy. Hold up.” He placed a hand on mine and smiled. “You know, I really want to thank you for everything that you've done for us, for me. Time after time, I ask for your help, and you always do what needs to be done.”

  “Nobody can beat your pay,” I said.

  “No, no, no,” he said. “I really want to thank you, Quincy. How about a nice dinner at the finest restaurant in the whole city?”

  Usually, Mattis would drag me to an opera when he wanted to ‘thank me.’ I hated opera. Those screechy performances always made me feel like my goddamn ears would bleed. I didn't want to spend an extended time with him, or anyone else, but I could use a good meal. Not to mention, I often fancied about getting drunk off ritzy Elite wine.

  “Sure,” I said, knowing that at least I would get a good meal and drink.

  “Excellent!” said Mattis. “And Marie will be joining us. I hope that isn't a problem.”

  “Not at all,” I said.

  “Great,” he said. “I'll have Francis drive. It'll be splendid!”

  Chapter 2

  Mattis spent the next few hours picking out a suit for me. By the time he was done, I was dressed in a suit that was lined with sparkling gold. He gifted me a velvet tie that Francis wrapped so tight around my neck I could barely fucking breathe. His suit may have looked fancy, but it itched, and I could feel it chafe against my ass.

  We rode to the restaurant in the back of a limousine. The whole time, Mattis and Marie muttered on about mindless gossip while I kept to myself. I thought about getting drunk off Elite wine.

  I turned to face out the window, staring off at the sprawling Elite mansions. The Elites walked their purebred dogs down the sparkling pebbled sidewalks. The women were voluptuous, with massive protruding breasts that bounced with every step. Many of the men walked shirtless with bulging pectoral muscles and tight, iron-hard abs. They were supposed to be the ‘ideals of human perfection.’ Mattis called Elites, ‘humanity's next evolutionary step.’ These people just looked like plastic dolls. No matter how many times I saw the Elites, they still just didn't seem like real people.

  After a brief ride, we arrived at The Ornate Palace, the finest restaurant in the whole city. Two Commoner security guards stood beside the big orange door. They were armed with assault rifles, and a drone hovered above them.

  We each stepped out of the limo. Before Mattis shut the door behind him, he barked orders at Francis, telling him to be back in an hour. Mattis slammed the door behind him and swung around.

  “Francis is such a fucking idiot,” said Mattis. He spat on the ground and kept walking. “If he's not back in an hour, he's fired. That fool might as well fight for every scrap of food he wants. Damn Commoners.” He turned to me and smiled. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” I said with a shrug.

  He escorted Marie and me into a wide eating area. Dozens of tables were laid out before us, decorated with porcelain vases that were stuffed with white roses. The roses shimmered as if they were embedded with diamonds. They were probably the result of genetic engineering, I surmised.

  Only a few of the tables were full, with small families that each had dozens of plates of barely eaten food before them.

  Mattis stepped up to the hostess who stood behind a mahogany pedestal. She was pretty for a Commoner, and she was lucky to be given a chance to work right under the Elites. However, there was no mistaking her for anything more than a Commoner. She had a strange, slightly misshapen lip that gave her away instantly.

  “We have a reservation,” said Mattis, grinning a gold- toothed smile.

  “Governor Gerome Mattis,” she said, in a chipper voice. “Right this way, sir.”

  She nodded. Beneath her pleasant veneer, there was this cold emptiness behind her eyes. It was as if she was just a robot, like those synthetic prostitutes that flash their manufactured flesh on the streets.

  She led us past rows of empty tables, to a corner booth, in the back. To my left, there was a fountain with a naked stone harpy gurgling out spouts of water. We each took a seat at the table. Mattis ordered some wine that he could barely pronounce, and the waitress scurried away.

  “I really want to thank you for everything that you do for us,” said Mattis. “Sometimes, I like to think of you as an Elite myself.”

  As he spoke, I resisted the urge to scratch away at my skin. The suit kept chafing, scraping against my flesh. The fabric held in my heat, causing me to sweat and become slightly dizzy. I didn't know how others could stand wearing this uncomfortable clothing.

  “I'm just doing my job,” I said with a shrug. “You pay me, and I do whatever you say. I don't need you to thank me. I'm just a mercenary.”

  That’s all I was. No more, no less. I disposed of whoever became a problem to the governor, all without a second thought. The people in the slums called me a race traitor for my deeds, but that didn't matter. Those people could call me whatever they wanted.

  “Well, in any case,” Mattis said. “We might have a lot of work for you in the coming months.” He leaned into the table. “I'm sure you've heard of the protests.”

  I had. The protesters were a bunch of Commoners who had gotten sick of the system. They wanted a better life for their families and themselves. So, they took to streets, waving signs in the air and shouting for reform. They claimed the world was unfair. Well, the world was unfair. Some people just had to learn to suck it up and live with it.

  “Yeah,” I said. “They hold up signs, block traffic. Sometimes I drive past them on my way to your district. They're annoying.”

  Mattis nodded. “And while Commoners protesting is nothing new, this is different.”

  “How so?” Quincy said.

  “They’re more widespread than they have been in the past. That’s why I need you to do some investigating,” said Mattis. He flashed a gentle smile. “I hope you don't mind.”

  “I don’t mind, assuming I’m well-compensated,” I said.

  “And, that's why I like you, Quincy.”

  Moments later, the waitress returned and poured the three of us a glass of dark red wine. Mattis proposed a toast, and we each took a sip. I found the wine to be average at best. It tasted bitter with a weird, metallic aftertaste. Still, Mattis and Marie seemed to enjoy the wine. Maybe it was just due to my inferior Commoner taste buds. Despite the taste, I slogged back glass after glass until I felt light-headed and woozy.

  Upon the waitress’s return, we each ordered our meals. I didn't know what anything was on the menu, so I just ordered chicken something. The waitress chuckled, as did Mattis. I probably had pronounced the name wrong, but I didn't care. I just hoped this wine was potent enough that I could get shit- faced by the time our entrees arrived.

  “Mattis,” Marie said. “I'm sure you don't have to worry about the rioters. They'll scream and throw a fit, but then everything will go back to normal. They're just being a nuisance. I mean, this isn't the first time that something like this has happened.”

  “Yeah, but this time it's different,” said Mattis. “There’s way more of them, they're angrier. What if they turn violent?

  I mean, it's nothing we can't take care of, but…” He fell silent.

  “Well, if they do turn out to be dangerous, I'm sure your men will have them executed,” said Marie.

  “Definitely. We’ll shoot every one of them dead. I don't care what it takes to end this little 'rebellion' of theirs.” He turned to me. “So, Quincy, I want you to offer them some money to stop their silly rebellion. A hundred grand should do the trick. Tell them it’ll come straight from my finances.”

  “They’d be stu
pid not to accept,” I said. I knew that they would foolishly refuse the offer. The resistance claimed they valued their ideals over monetary value. The assholes that ran the resistance had their head too far up their asses to ever accept any money from an Elite. “Just give me the location of the protesters, and I’ll tell them about your offer.”

  “Wonderful,” Mattis said. “And as expected, you will be well-rewarded for your efforts.”

  He was right about that. Mattis always paid well, and I didn't even need to question him about that. With his money, I’d bought a cabin outside the city. One day, I’d return to that cabin and spend the rest of my days there. I probably wouldn’t live long enough to have that luxury. I suppose that was for the best, though. Without my family, what was the point of anything?

  I'd had some great memories at that cabin. Back when I had a family, we'd go out there every weekend. Still, some days, I visited that cabin and found myself dreaming of the past. I would think of my wife and my daughter. Sometimes, I would pretend that they were still there with me. When I thought about my wife, I could hear her voice talking to me. It was almost as if she was right there. Then, I'd think about my daughter. I imagined her still running around, playing in this tree swing that I had built for her. What I wouldn't do to have those days back.

  Shortly after, the waitress brought out our meals. She handed me a silver plate that held a small glop of white and brown paste with a sprig of mint clinging over the top. It looked unappealing, but at least it was a free meal. I didn't care either way.

  She filled my glass of wine, and I drank it down quickly. A few minutes later, she gave me yet another glass of wine, and I drank that, too. The world spun around me, and I could barely sit upright in my seat. I munched away at the measly meal.

  “Thank you, again, Quincy,” said Mattis.

  I glanced up at him. “I'm just doing my job,” I said.

  “And your job is vital to the functioning of this great city,” Mattis said.

  I nodded. “Don't mention it,” I said.

  After we'd finished our meals, we left the restaurant. We stood outside in the darkened city streets when Mattis stepped forward, screaming. He waved his hands and stomped around like a lunatic.

  “Where the fuck is that idiot?” he proclaimed. “He was supposed to be here five minutes ago! He's fired! God damn it, he is fired!”

  Mattis kept screaming and carrying on as he threw a tantrum. Marie and I stood a few feet away, watching him. She didn't say anything but just stared forward with a blank expression. I was usually good at reading people, but I couldn't read her.

  The limo pulled around the corner. Mattis snarled at the vehicle as it pulled up to the curb. He hopped inside and started berating the driver. Marie and I slowly slid in beside him.

  Mattis slapped a hand against the back of Francis' head.

  “Do this one more time, and you're fired! Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The governor nodded and sat back. He turned to Marie and me.

  “I'm sorry about his rudeness,” he said. “Some Commoners can just be so inconsiderate.”

  The vehicle pulled forward and began driving back toward the governor's mansion. The whole time, Mattis quietly sat in the corner with his arms folded. Marie kept her hands placed firmly on her lap as she stared forward. She still just looked so devoid of emotion. I just turned my head and looked out the window, watching as the sprawling Elite manors whizzed by.

  After several minutes, the car pulled to the front door of Mattis' mansion, and we each stepped out. Marie bowed toward Mattis.

  “Governor, I had a great time, but I need to get going,” she said. She turned to me. “Quincy, we'll keep in touch.”

  Shortly after, another car pulled up to the side of the building. She said her goodbyes as she stepped inside, and the vehicle drove off.

  “I should go, too,” I said, as I stepped away from him.

  “Those Commoners are such fools!” Mattis spat. He stomped his foot on the ground and furrowed his brows. “After all I gave them, they choose to turn their backs on me like this. They're so stupid.”

  “I agree,” I said, shrugging. I took another step away. Mattis cleared his throat harshly, trying desperately to grab my attention. I froze and cocked my head back toward him.

  “I will kill every last one of the protesters if I have to!” Mattis declared, thumping his fist against his chest. “They should know the punishment for insubordination! They're a bunch of idiots! Idiots, I tell you! They're not like you. If they don’t accept my generous offer then I will see every last one of them hanged!”

  “They don’t understand that fighting the Elites is suicide,” I said.

  “Exactly!” Mattis said.

  I knew that these protesters wouldn't be much of a threat. How could they be? These people were just a bunch of poor idiots, blinded by anger and rage. None of their protests were taken seriously since the Elites still had all the power and money in this city. That was just the way things were.

  About two years ago, there was another string of protests and riots. I had heard from Mattis about how one riot resulted in the death of over a dozen police officers. Mattis reacted by sending in a private militia to eliminate the opposition. By gunning down the protesters, a message was sent to the other Commoners. Protesting would get them nowhere. Violence would get them nowhere. They had jobs to do and roles to fill. Social mobility is a myth, and nothing they could do would ever change that.

  The front door opened behind him. He turned and frowned when one of his servants stepped outside.

  “Go back inside!” he squealed. He raised a hand, and she flinched before rushing back inside. The doors slammed behind her, and Mattis turned back around. “Thank you, again, Quincy. Thank you for everything that you do.” I turned around and walked toward the parking lot.

  “Yeah, don't mention it.”

  Chapter 3

  That night, I sat in my apartment. I scrolled through dozens of programs, hoping there was something halfway decent to watch. I sighed as I kept glancing through program after program.

  A cramp seized in my gut. Chills crawled up my arms, and I found myself craving an old habit of mine. I couldn't go back to that. I'd been clean for a couple months now, and these had been the longest two months of my life.

  So, I walked into my kitchen and took a swig of rum from the liquor cabinet. It eased the pain of withdrawal. When alcohol warmed my stomach, I didn't feel so alone. It made me feel happy, almost.

  I stepped out onto my balcony and stared down at the streets below. They were near vacant, aside from a few teenagers huddled in an alleyway. Being in the mid-districts, I didn't have to worry about all the bullshit in the lower districts of the city.

  In the lower districts, I'd expect to see a few teenagers injecting smack. There would probably be a shootout, and some looters would rob a few of the corpses. By the age of nine, I was sleeping with a gun under my pillow.

  I couldn't raise a family in that environment. I did whatever I could to get us out of there, and I worked my ass off to impress those damn Elites. It didn't matter if people considered me a traitor. I was going to move up in this world for my family.

  But none of that mattered anymore. Everyone I cared about was dead anyway, and here I was drinking myself to death. What other point was there to life? Every time I'd ever found happiness, this cruel world had found a way to snatch joy from my pathetic existence.

  I groaned. Whenever I was alone, I would think too much. I walked back inside and took some more shots of rum until I passed out in a drunken daze.

  The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache. I slammed down a fistful of painkillers and was out the door. I had another job to do, deal with those rioters. They would consider me to be a traitor, but I knew they wouldn't actually harm me. If they tried, I was sure that I could fight my way out of a tough situation. Or they would kill me. Either way, it didn’t matter.

&nbs
p; I hated driving through the Commoner districts. These areas were nothing but a cesspool of disease, drugs, and filth. It was always weird coming back here. The worst jobs were the ones where I was sent to these districts. I hated dealing with these people. I hated everything about it.

  I parked on the side of the road and heaved a sigh. The protesters should just be a few blocks away. So, I stepped out of my car and proceeded to my destination.

  Mangy Commoners huddled around burning dumpsters. Their faces were splotched with dirt and grime. The crumbling apartment buildings towered overhead, casting a darkened shadow onto me. I took a left toward the Commoner hideout. A burst of gunfire rang out nearby. I froze, grabbed my gun, and glanced around. After several moments of silence, I continued.

  I avoided the lower districts whenever possible, but I never turned down a job as long as the pay was right.

  I rounded a corner and came face to face with a pair of bodyguards blocking an alleyway. On the walls beside them were painted images of dual red lions. The lions were the symbol of the protesters. I was sure that they meant something or symbolized something, but I didn’t know what. I didn’t really care either.

  I stepped up to the guards. They just looked back at me with a twisted snarl on their faces.

  “I'm here to speak to your leader,” I said.

  “You...you're Quincy Abrams,” one of them muttered. “Get away, traitor. Get away, or I'll shoot.”

  I cocked a brow. I wasn't having this today. “I don't think the governor would be too happy if something bad happened to me,” I said, shrugging. They stared back at me with a dark glare. “Listen, I'm not here to play games, and I'm not here to start a war. I just need to have a quick talk with your leader, and then I'll be on my way. Clear?”

  “How do we know we can trust you?” said one of them.

  “You don’t know,” I said. “But if I tried anything bad, I'd be an idiot. After all, I'm vastly outnumbered.” They nodded in agreement.