If the Outer Reaches was the moat where all the trash sunk, and the Estates were the rooms and ballroom of the nobility, Mid-Town was the rest of the castle. It was, as its namesake, in the middle of the two parts of the city in more than just its location. It was almost as clean and orderly as the Estates with just as many people and shops in the Outer Reaches.
But more than that was the kind of people, shops and sights in Mid-Town that drove home to Jeff that he was no longer in his world. While he truly didn’t see his world, he had a good idea of what it looked like. The sounds that he received gave his world an image—of tall buildings of stone and glass, of noisy vehicles and planes. Of the hustle of people on their phones and of ships and technology mostly in plastic. Of people wrapped in cloth of the latest fashion or in corporate wear.
In Mid-Town, Jade-lev replaced vehicles—some pulled by large animals like rhinoceroses for added protection and social status, and some moved on their own. Instead of planes, metal-and-glass mast-less galleons moved through the skies more commonly than planes and helicopters combined in his world. And instead of phones and tablets, people still used papers and books, writing with actual pens. Here and there an occasional horse or pack animal dragging carts could be found. And instead of the usual cloth, everyone wore a bit of metal on them, and not just belts or earrings or necklaces.
Even walking around at night, lit by the city lamps, no one looked suspicious or out of place. People felt safe here, unlike in the Outer Reaches, but neither did they walk languidly as they did in the Estates. Everyone moved with a purpose.
‘You do know you’re acting like a child seeing a new toy,’ Roth said as he walked the streets in a steel worker’s mask and suit, carrying a set of tools that were not exactly in the steel worker’s trade.
‘But it’s just all so…strange.’ Jeff knew that it was all normal, he felt it was normal. But at the same time, he also knew this was not the way things were supposed to be. His and Roth’s lives were still a jumble of confusion in his head.
‘As fuzzy as your images are,’ Roth said turning a corner to the warehouse district, ‘your world is even stranger. Plastic? And what about those phones? Little squares where you talk to people anywhere without physical connections.’
To be fair, wireless technology was, indeed, amazing. Even he still couldn’t wrapped his head about all that information and data floating in the air.
Roth sidestepped a passing cart and stopped at one of the buildings. In this area, most of the buildings were identical: three storeys high and large enough to store at least three airships in. Unlike in the Outer Reaches, the warehouses here were clean and scrubbed down every day. Workers wore identical suits for the place they worked in, and not some strange combination of whatever people could put together in the Outer Reaches.
He squeezed through the alleyway between the two buildings, put on his cloth mask and removed his worker’s mask. Shrugging his worker’s clothing and turning his coat inside-out, he was in the all black garb of Shadow. From his toolbox, he brought out his tools and attached them to his arms, strapped them across his body, and put his goggles on his forehead. Then, he dismantled the toolbox and the mask, and set them aside to make them look like scrap.
‘I know I should know all about this,’ Jeff said, ‘But, wow, you’re efficient!’
‘I’d be dead if I wasn’t.’ Roth shot his hand bow that opened up into a grappling hook as it shot up. He tugged the rope twice and climbed, his feet barely making scraping sounds as he pulled himself.
Pulling himself up, he unlatched the hook and walked to a corner of the roof. Cutting off a square large enough for him, he descended to the rafters making sure to close replace the section he cut.
Books talked of men moving with cat-like grace, but it was the first time Jeff actually saw a man move as quickly, precisely and softly as a cat on beams that barely fit the width of Roth’s feet. But Roth’s eyes weren’t on his feet. They were on groups of men gathered below. He stopped in the middle and crouched.
At the front of the warehouse, there was a large wall. On one side, which took up less than a tenth of the space, was a display of gears with different specifications and a desk for an attendant who entertained clients who chose from the displays during the day. Behind it were large machines for the gear work, but they were not arranged in the most efficient and space-saving manner as with all manufacturing warehouses. Here, the machines were pushed to the side creating a large space in the middle. And there, in that space, were the rebels.
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At the end of the warehouse, he could see the smallest group. They worked quietly on desks with tools and glass discs that magnified things on the desk. One of them, Roth saw was Nadia. In the middle were four other groups. One, he could see was headed by Dai. The man seemed to be teaching them to fight. He didn’t know how long the rebels had been training, but if they were new, it would make sense why they were far from being combat-ready.
Of course, Roth could have just come in and said the password the rebels gave him, but it always paid to be certain. Always better safer than to walk into another trap.
He walked over on top of the tallest machine and dropped down, still silent in the midst of the cacophony the people below were making. One of the men training under Dai saw him and froze. Roth leaned against the machine, his arms crossed under his chest. A few more moments and the lad cried out to Dai, the quarterstaff he had at the ready.
Roth suppressed a laugh. People would have been dropping down and dying one by one if that was the job he was here for. He had made his entrance as noticeable as possible, but only one person actually saw him, and it took a few more seconds before he raised the alarm. People turned to face him quite unsure what to do.
Before anyone else could react, a man covered head to toe in grey garb stepped in between Roth and the rebels.
“I didn’t know when you were going to come down, or where from.”
Mandu. Of course he had an identity to hide as well. Moreso now that he was also a public figure. Stepping on so many eggshells.
“I guess I still have a measure of unpredictability.” Roth pushed off from the machine. “I only saw three eyes watching out for this warehouse.”
Jeff started. ‘There were three people watching?’ He didn’t even notice.
‘Of course, you won’t notice. You were busy being in awe.’ Jeff said.
“Seven. Only one mentioned you, but even then, in passing.” Mandu shrugged. “They need more training. But you didn’t see the other four, so that’s good enough.”
“Grey Cloak,” the man who saw Roth first cut in, “You know this man?”
‘Grey Cloak?’ Jeff mused. ‘That is so on the nose.’
‘We don’t need to be creative for names,’ Roth said. ‘We just have to be remembered. I’m not the first Shadow. There was one twenty years before me. But he was more of an assassin in the pure sense.’
Mandu nodded. “This is Shadow.” He paused and a ripple of murmurs went through the ranks. “He will be helping us free our brothers from the Games.”
The cheering started out small, but the enthusiasm carried and soon, more and more people joined in. Roth winced, feeling pressure knowing that people expected a lot from him. Quickly, Grey Cloak rounded them up and settled them back to what they were doing.
Roth stayed where he was. Mandu and he hadn’t gone over the plans, or what they were going to do to wreck the Games, so he waited, but it was Dai who came up to him.
“How many would you have killed if your job here was to kill us?”
Roth raised an eyebrow under his cover. Dai was very much aware of the situation. Again, the man was more astute in combat than he let on. “Counting Grey Cloak’s warning, I’d say I’d have gone through a quarter of you before I have to deal with whatever countermeasures Grey Cloak has.”
Dai’s brows rose. “I thought you would have gone through more.”
Roth shrugged. “I hit and run kind of guy, and not a pure assassin. With Grey Cloak here, I would be more cautious. You don’t get a second chance at life. You screw up, you’re dead.”
Jeff cleared his throat. ‘Um, hello? Second chance here?’
‘Shut up. We will go to that priest again soon and find out how to get you out.’
“No style or school of fighting, I reckon?” Dai looked him up and down. “Just plain survival, instinct and raw skill.”
“Fighting styles are for fighters. I’d rather spit out a poisoned dart and kill the man from afar then hide before his friend can strike back.”
“To each his own.” Dai smiled.
At that moment, Grey Cloak stepped up with Nadia in tow. “We have to talk about how to infiltrate the Games.”
“Before that, you have to have a name first. Calling you ‘the rebels’ isn’t exactly the most inspiring way to start this,” Roth said. “Grey Cloak called me Shadow in front of everyone and you see the effect? You have to have a name that you can use to inspire the same thing.”
Grey Cloak nodded as he led them to a small corner office with piles of papers that looked like orders. He closed the door behind them. “We’ve tried. But we can’t come up with anything.”
‘Well, since you guys are so literal, why don’t you call yourself Red Band?’ Jeff laughed. ‘You know for the tickets in the Games.’
“Red band,” Roth said.
‘Whoa! Wait. What?’ Jeff choked.
“Red band?” Nadia asked.
“Many of the common people—those who are not of the nobles—are forced to pay to watch the games,” Roth said. “To signal they have paid, they wear red bands on their arms. Many wouldn’t like to be there, but they have no choice. They might lose their jobs. Let’s make that red band a symbol of power to the people.”
‘You’re serious?’ Jeff said in disbelief.
‘Might have been a joke to you, but it’s a good idea,’ Roth said.
Dai grinned. “I like how you think.”
Nadia nodded. “It makes sense.”
“Red Band it is, then.” Grey Cloak sealed the name.
‘What do you know, Jeff? You can be helpful sometimes.’ Roth grinned under his mask.