It had always felt wrong to sit in the Prime Minister's office on the top floor of The Tower. It wasn’t my office to sit in. It was his. It always would be his.
In the first few weeks after his death, the office had smelt exactly like him. Walking through the door was like walking into the past. Like walking into his embrace. But the smell slowly faded, and my one remaining reminder of him died with it.
The two bookshelves still sat in each corner of the room, littered with more documents than they had been during my first visit. I found myself sitting at the crimson wood desk that day, as I did every other day. I spent more time at that desk than anywhere else. I’d even found myself spending nights drifting off to sleep in the chair.
The nameplate on the desk had of course been changed once I had become Prime Minister. Before it had read ‘PM Steven Santrrer’, whereas now, it of course read ‘PM Albert Santrrer’. It felt more wrong than anything else to have my name engraved in the same spot that his had once been. When I first took office, the first thing I had done to his nameplate was moved it to the bookshelf on the right side of the room. And that was where it still sat.
The photo still hung on the wall. The photo of Grandad with my Nan, Mom, aunt, and uncle. A pang shot through my heart when I realised that everybody in that photo was dead. Or, to be more accurate, had died for me.
Then there was a knock at the door.
I lifted my head from my hands, trying my hardest to look both awake and like I wanted to live. I stared, for a moment, at the door, hoping against hope that it was not an official that had knocked.
‘Yeah?’ I called, my voice sounding tired and bored.
The door handle slowly moved downwards before the door itself came inward. It was Asbel.
His mop of black hair was matted with grime and grease, and his face was blacked in places; evidently, he had just come from his workshop. His clothes told the same story. He wore traditional blacksmith clothes, and there were coated in blackness, which may or may not have been soot. There was a high chance that it was burned.
He smiled sadly at me after closing the door, and I noticed that he was holding two newspapers in his hand.
'What now?' I sighed, closing my eyes and wishing I were anywhere else. ‘What dirt have they dug up on me this time?’
He tossed the two newspapers onto my desk. ‘They either make you sound terrifying or like a baby.’
I opened my eyes slowly, trying to convince myself to look at the headlines. One read: ‘Prime Minister Albert Santrrer, 13, seen duelling old friend’, whilst the other said ‘Santrrer, 13, barely manages to faze old friend in deadly clash’.
‘Well,’ I said slowly, ‘they certainly have their different takes.’
Asbel nodded. ‘It’s world news.’
‘I know,’ I murmured angrily. ‘I’ve had five separate officials tell me that they’ve gotten calls from other nations about this whole thing.’
‘What?’ Asbel shouted, appalled.
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘France, Spain, and Japan have all given their piece on it.’
‘What’d they say?’ Asbel asked, intrigued.
‘Pretty much that they’ll back us if this evolves,’ I replied.
Asbel stared at me for a moment. ‘You don’t think it will get that bad, do you?’
I didn’t respond.
‘Do you?’
I thought for a moment, staring determinedly at the desk in front of me. ‘I think it will.’
‘Come on, man!’ Asbel said, taking a step forward, a crazed grin spreading across his face, like somebody realising something that they did not want to be true. ‘It’s Maltor! He can’t create an international scandal!’
‘He already has,’ I said quietly. ‘If a country on the other side of the world is calling to cement their status as our ally, I’d say it’s pretty serious.’
Asbel didn’t speak for a moment or so. ‘Do you think you can beat him?’
After thinking for a moment, I said quietly, ‘Maybe.'
'You know I’ll be here every step of the way, right?’ Asbel said reassuringly. ‘Making all the smoke balls you need.’
I smirked at him. ‘Thanks, man, but I think my first order of business should be to address the people, you know- Gods, I sound like a political brat.’
‘You are a political brat,’ Asbel said sarcastically.
‘Oh, shut your fat mouth,’ I said, laughing.
Asbel scoffed. ‘What are you gonna do? Write a speech?’
‘Nah,’ I said casually. ‘It’ll roll off of my tongue. That’s how I gave my speech when I became Prime Minister.’
‘Wait, that wasn’t rehearsed?’
‘Surprise?’ I said, faking jazz hands. ‘No, I came up with that on the top of my head, on the spot. Didn’t you know?’
Asbel blinked. ‘And you doubt your capabilities.’
I looked again at the newspapers. The photo on the slightly less supportive one was not flattering at all. I looked like a monster. My eyes were full of a silent rage, my hair caught mid-flight as I leapt up at Maltor, both of us readying our swords. I looked hideous.
‘And they didn’t have a better photo of me?’ I said, gesturing to the paper.
‘Apparently not,’ Asbel said, trying, and failing, to sound enthusiastic.
‘Thanks for the support, mate,’ I replied sarcastically.
‘Well, maybe if you were a bit more beautiful then they’d have a good one,’ he said, in mock disappointment.
I scoffed. ‘Shut up.’
‘Well,’ Asbel began, quickly changing the subject. ‘Would you like me to let the officials and stuff know that you wanna make a speech?’
‘Nah, don’t bother,’ I said hurriedly. ‘Don’t trouble yourself with that, you’re not Prime Minister. I’ll tell ‘em. You just go and do…whatever you were doing…’
‘Just don’t tell the authorities what I’m- oh wait,’ he said, in his usual joking manner. He, of course, knew that I did not know what he was making.
I laughed. ‘Anything else?’
‘Nah, that’ll be all, Your Highness,’ he said, laughing as he took a bow before exiting the room.
The moment the door shut I slid my head into my hands and let out a long breath. I hadn’t even thought about giving a speech to the people; I had just said it in the spur of the moment. But now that I had mentioned it, I realised that it was pretty much necessary. I had to calm my people down.
Despite all of this, not a single tear came into my eye, which, to be honest, was a shock. I had cried a lot during my first few months at RoCity, but after Grandad’s death, the tears seemed to have vanished. Looking back on it, I realised how much becoming Prime Minister had changed me. My life had become public. My secrets had become everybody’s secrets. In the mess of becoming an international face, I had hidden everything that bothered me. The last thing I needed was a photo of me sobbing on every Mutant newspaper in the world.
It was good to be around my friends, as I could distract myself from all of the unwanted thoughts. Once alone, however, the world seemed to crumble beneath me.
And I was continuously dogged by my failure to keep my loved ones alive. Grandad and Henry had died for my sake. They had given their lives to keep me safe. And now it had started all over again. The next war. Who knew how long it would be before the next one, too? I knew perfectly well that war was a cycle. And I knew as well as the next person that cycles did not have an end. Nor did they have a beginning. They were always there, and they always would be.
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I slammed my fist hard into the desk, ignoring the wave of pain that it caused. I was simply useless.
***
It was two days later that I finally gathered the courage to give my people their speech. I had told my officials of my plan the previous day: I was to give the speech from right in front of The Tower, and the event was of course to be televised. My face on more media. Just what I needed.
Ethan, Jay, Natasha, and I all stood in the lobby of The Tower. Jay was a small, skinny boy with curly brown hair and mischievous blue eyes.
‘You haven’t planned this at all, idiot!’ Natasha said as Ethan grasped my shoulders.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I murmured, staring at the ground. ‘So long as I get the message out.’
‘What if this does become something bigger?’ Ethan said, voicing the question that had been plaguing everybody’s minds since Maltor’s re-arrival.
‘Then we’ll just push through,’ I said quietly. ‘But I expect you all to listen to me when fighting him. Not cuz I’m Prime Minister, but cuz I know Maltor more than he does.’
‘Yeah, cuz you grew up together,’ Jay said, not meaning to strike a chord in me.
I remained silent for a brief moment. ‘Yeah…‘grew up’ together…’
‘Sorry!’ Jay said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean-’
‘Sir,’ came a voice from behind me. ‘They are ready to hear you.’
Turning around, I saw a tall man with slick black hair and a pointed nose waiting expectantly for me to address the people.
‘I will be out in a moment,’ I replied before turning back to my friends. ‘Maltor will see this.’
‘What?’ Natasha said.
‘This speech will find its way to him one way or another. I have to be careful what I say.’
‘Just be yourself, I guess,’ Ethan said, shrugging. ‘You sure you don’t want us out there with you?’
‘I’m sure,’ I said determinedly. ‘You’ll hear it anyway.’
Natasha quickly hugged me. ‘Good luck.’
I stared at her, then Ethan, then Jay. ‘I’ll need it.’
I stepped towards the front doors of The Tower, placing my hands on the door handles. I took a deep breath. Now, how does one calm down an entire city off the top of their head? I was about to find out. I hoped.
The first thing I saw when I opened the doors was a lot of people. Then I saw the cameras, which had all begun to flash rapidly at the sight of me. Whilst the throngs of people were being held back by strings of red rope and half a dozen guards, the cameras and microphones shot forward towards me as I stepped forward, one of them even hitting my forehead.
The people were shouting. Some in joy, some in anger. Some in fear. Most in enquiry. They wanted to know exactly what had happened. They wanted to know what to do. They wanted to know who to follow.
I stepped forward, about three and a half feet from the rope separating me from the people, to where the microphone was standing. Speakers had been set up in numerous places: on the walls of The Tower, on the ground near the ropes, and on the ground on either side of me.
I took a deep breath, the sound amplified by the speakers, causing the crowd to fall into silence. I looked around at them all; all the expectant faces, the hopeful faces, and the furious faces. Clearly, I was not as popular as my officials tried to make me believe.
‘A little over a year ago, you bested Amy Wright. You beat her at her own game. And for that, I thank you,’ I began, scrambling to think of words. ‘All of us, every last one, thought that, with her death, it would all be over. We foolishly believed that the cycle had ended. And, as I am sure you all know, we were hit with the hard punch of reality yesterday: the cycle is not over. Yet.’
I took another deep breath. This was the worst speech that I had ever given.
‘Maltor Confussée, an old friend of mine, returned yesterday. I, along with my close friends, believed that I had killed him a year ago after he betrayed us and sold us out to Amy Wright. He will want his revenge. And I want to apologise for that. My actions that night dragged you all into the situation we are in now.
‘But I want to assure you all that, no matter what, I will fight. Not for myself. Not for the world. But for you. My people. I understand that I am young, and that many of you doubt my capabilities, which is even more understandable when considering the impact that my grandad had. I by no means can do anything like what he did, but I can at least try. I will pour my heart and soul into keeping you all safe and ensuring that the past will not be repeated. I will take all the necessary steps to keep every last one of you alive throughout this, even if it brings me to my breaking point.
‘Even now, as I am trying my hardest to assure you, I can see the doubt on your faces. I can hear your whispers of discouragement. I can tell that many of you do not like me at all. But I will fight. I will fight so that you do not have to. This is not my attempt to be chivalrous, but more so my attempt to not let any more die for me. I will fight. And I will keep fighting until it is over. I will keep you all safe. Because I am Albert Santrrer, descendant of Titan, and Prime Minister of one of the largest Mutant safehouses in the world. And with my determination and your courage, I believe that we can do this. And, with that, I do not know what else to say other than ‘good luck’.’
There was a moment of silence. I stared out fearfully into the crowd’s faces and let out a shaky breath. The cameras began to flash even quicker than they had been for the entirety of my speech, presumably they wanted to catch the look of unfiltered fear on my face.
Then somebody in the crowd began to clap. Then somebody else. Then even more people. Even those that were watching me angrily slowly began to clap their hands together for me. It wasn’t long before the entire crowd before me was clapping wildly and a few people even began cheering.
‘We’ll dedicate our hearts!’ somebody called, pumping their fist in the air.
‘We’ll fight with you!’ called another.
It was five minutes before the crowd had calmed down enough for the cameras to turn back to me and for the questions to begin.
One interviewer with a small nose and slick black hair shoved his microphone forward and said quickly, ‘Do you think this will escalate into a major war?’
I stared at him for a moment before leaning into the microphone. ‘It will.’
‘Albert! Albert!’ another interviewer called.
As I began to turn to my left, another microphone was shoved under my nose.
‘How are you going to keep the people safe?’
‘Leave him be, he’s just thirteen!’ a member of the crowd called.
I dismissed them and answered the question. ‘If need be, I will impose new systems and rules. But I assure you that if I do that, then they will be placed with the people in mind.’
A sweat broke out on my forehead.
‘Can you kill Maltor?’
‘What?’
It was the first interviewer. He had pushed his microphones closer to me, and this one question had silenced the crowd, who were all eager to hear my answer.
‘The next time he and you fight, will you kill him?’
I paused for a moment. ‘I don’t quite understand the question, sir. Do you mean ‘can’ or ‘wi-’’
‘Will you?’
I stared at him blankly. His wide brown eyes seemed unbothered by the abruptness of this question, even though it had made my entire body numb.
‘I can assure you that I can kill Maltor,’ I replied after a long pause.
‘Will you, sir?’ he repeated.
‘If the opportunity arises-’
‘Is your past with Confussée causing you to hold back?’ asked a third interviewer, who had actually managed to weasel their way through the rope, and two guards instantly wheeled onto her and practically threw her back into the crowd. Even so, she still jutted her microphone over the boundary and into my face.
‘Um, ‘my past with him’?’ I said slowly. ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean. I have not had-’
‘You grew up with him, did you not?’ she continued. ‘You’ve known each other nearly all your lives. Is this holding you back?’
There was no way that she knew. Nobody knew about The School. Nobody other than my friends knew that I had been tortured for seven years alongside Maltor. Sure, pretty much everyone knew about my wings, but only a select few knew about my bird DNA.
‘I can kill him,’ I said as quietly as my throat would allow. Even so, the words reverberated throughout the city as I said them. ‘The past shouldn’t-’
The Power.
I felt the familiar tingly feeling encompass my entire body and pure fear shot through my heart like a bullet. Looking down, I saw the yellow lightning running up and down my arms irregularly before it slowly began to creep towards my chest. Not now. Not here. I couldn’t.
‘I believe that’s all we have time for,’ came a familiar voice.
A hand descended onto my shoulder. Looking up, I saw Charlotte standing behind me, her face determined and ready to face the crowd. Her usually tidy black hair was messy, and her warm green eyes are wild with fierce resolve.
A unanimous groan appeared to rise from the crowd, and the interviewers pushed forward into the rope, desperate to ask me more questions. Charlotte pulled me backwards and pushed me into the front doors of The Tower. Without even thinking for a moment, I ran inside.
Ethan, Natasha, and Jay were all still standing there waiting for me.
‘That was gre- Albert?’ Ethan said as I ran for the lift as fast as I could.
‘Where are you going?’ Jay called after me as the lift doors shut.
I knew where I was going. That forest. The place where I had killed Maltor. I would let The Power free and then I would destroy it completely. That thing could not be left standing.
The world around me became a blur as the lift ascended, The Power growing on my chest. Pain began to flow through my body as I tried my absolute hardest to keep it under control.
Then I was on the top floor.
I ran for the trapdoor to the roof, yanking it down as quickly as I could. I had to get to the forest. I did not even close the trapdoor behind me. I leapt from the edge of The Tower, unfurling my great black wings, which now had grown to be over seven feet each, and began to soar southward.
Praying that a cameraman didn’t notice me, I ramped up my speed as the yellow lightning coated my neck and face. My vision had become tinted and I was struggling to keep my eyes open.
Then everything seemed to disappear. One moment I was soaring over the Valley, and the next, I was in the forest.
I let it out.
As I began to tumble towards the dark grass, I felt The Power take over my body. It probably happened in half a second, but it felt like an hour to me.
My body grew hot and my mind went blank. The entire world turned a shade of yellow and I felt all of my negative emotions take control.
I grew large and powerful, everything becoming exaggerated and hostile. Yellow lightning cracked down from the sky, striking my body as I arched in both pain and surrender, giving in.
I took a step forward, the ground shaking beneath my feet. I let out a long breath, steam pouring from my mouth. I was powerful. I was a God.
Throwing back my head, I let out a ground-breaking roar. Birds flew from their perches and the sky itself trembled from my power.
I took another step forward, trying to calm myself. I was angry. The world was beneath me. The trees creaked every time my foot hit the ground. I knew where I was going, and it would be easy to get there. I would destroy everything in my path.
The Power…it felt good to let it out. It felt good to use it. I was unstoppable whilst using it. The world answered to me. My hair fell in front of my face as I continued to walk slowly towards the spot where I had done it.
‘I’m gonna…end it all…I’m gonna…kill the world…I…am…a God…’
Then I got there. I stared down at the insignificant building that now appeared to jut out from its surroundings. I lifted my foot up high.
‘I did this.’
My foot fell to the ground, and the tremor that it caused made the building crumble in on itself.
‘I am a monster.’
I brought my fist down on the remaining half of the hall, debris flying everywhere as I did so. I continued to beat down on the piles of rubble, letting out a jarring roar with each punch. The Power…it was good.
Trees fell, birds flew away, the ground trembled, and I roared. I was unstoppable. The Power made me a God.
I had to fight Maltor. My best friend.
Even after the hall was beyond destroyed, I continued to beat the ground where it had once stood. I was a beast. I could not be stopped.
The world would bow to none other than I.