--About an hour before ‘Maxine’ was abducted--

“Fucking fuckers,” Max said, spitting on the two kids who had tried to hassle his group. “Don’t ever fuck with guys like us, or you’ll fucking get it.”

He was young, handsome, and rich. But the world misunderstood him. No, it wasn't the world misunderstanding. Rather, the issue was how everyone else that formed ‘society’ was too ignorant to understand him. Too latched on modern sensibilities. He came from a rich family; his dad was a senator and his mother was a minor nobile. Despite their high rankings in life, they had the same minds that some trash plebeian would. Because of this, Max despised them. He despised his sister even more. She was the absolute definition of a ‘privileged liberal’, always shouting about unethical exploitation and other marxist bullshit. And at the same time, she didn’t even realize how her action perpetuated that state. To think that they shared the same name. Bullshit.

What kind of imaginative parent names their children the same name?

Maxine Vasquez was the older sister, and Maxwell Vasquez was the younger brother. Both went by the nickname Max. It caused utter chaos at social events and with servants. But truthfully, Maxwell enjoyed that chaos.

Currently, as rain sprinkled down on his head, he stared down at two random kids that had tried to pick his pocket. One of his friends, Benny, caught them, then proceeded to beat them bloody. Dragged into an alley and stomped into the pavement. Multiple broken bones, from what Max could tell.

But what did he know? That’s what his shit-dad would say. Max dropped out of college when he realized he wasn’t ever going to go to an Institute, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand medicine. He knew more about the human body than most people. Probably even most scientists.

“Hey, they’re still alive, right?” Even after blowing his lid, Benny asked the question. He was washing blood from his fists.

“They’re alive, don’t worry,” Max said. He looked at his other friend, Eren. “Check their pockets. If they’re pickpockets, they might have something else. Maybe we can get some quick cash.”

Being the son of a rich politician meant Max didn’t need to worry about money, but his friends were different. They needed cash. That was the reason they hung out with him. He was nothing more than a source of money for them. But that was exactly why he liked them; in reverse, to him, they weren’t anything more than two bodyguards that didn’t listen to his father.

Eren flipped the kids over and searched them, ignoring the moans of pain. He lifted a few wallets up, which Benny snatched.

“Damn! Nice haul, baby!”

“Keep it,” Max said. “You guys can split it. You did all the work anyway.” Then, he changed the topic entirely. “What time is it?”

“8:30. We still have some time before our meeting.”

“We do, but is there any point in wasting it? With these shitstains? Let’s go.”

Both Benny and Eren shrugged. They followed Max out of the alleyway then down the streets.

It was not a nice part of town. This was where scum lived. Where gangs and lowlives collected, stealing from and murdering each other. It was a dog eat dog world down here. Blood flowed down the streets openly along with the rain. Even then, however, there were people that the residents here knew not to mess with. If a rich person is walking around with an entourage, they’re someone important. Those kids made a mistake and were lucky to leave with their lives.

Down a flight of stairs was an underground bar that Max’s group met at very often. It was a quiet establishment, and they often reserved the backroom.

But tonight, the entire place was closed down.

In Paris 2014, gangs were not the biggest thing you needed to worry about. The world was a dangerous place, and cultists were some of the most dangerous groups out there.

This was a cult meeting.

And everything had already been decorated.

The tables and chairs of the bar had been moved to another room. Instead, on the concrete floor was a massive circle made from goat blood. Inside the circle was a square, and inside the square was a six-pointed star. At each meridian of line touching, another circle was painted, and across every line was a human finger bone. Candles were placed strategically to illuminate the entire scene, but not to produce enough light to keep it above dim. Everyone else was already here.

This was what Max did with the allowance his parents provided. He ran a small cult. And after months of research and planning, tonight was going to be the night that they brought it all to fruition.

Max hopped onto the bar counter and coughed loudly, drawing everyone’s eyes to him.

“Good evening, my friends and companions, I hope that tonight everyone is doing well? Ha! Of course you are! Because finally, everything's coming together,” he said, both his arms raised high. “After so much time, we’re finally going to do it! We are going to summon and bind a demon! Make it our fucking bitch and demand it’s power for ourselves! Then we’ll change this shitty world for the better!”

There weren’t any cheers, but it wasn’t because people weren’t excited. It was because the darkness and gravitas of the situation didn’t call for happiness. This was a moment all thirty people gathered together knew was serious. Dealing with demons was incredibly risky and illegal. Even if you were suspected of doing so, the Church could have you erased.

This was a private building and all the above floors were empty. Max bought them all out. But if even a single policeman happened to pass buy and try to see what was going on, everything would be over. For that reason, everyone was quiet as a mouse.

“Take your places then, everyone,” Max said, crawling down from the table. “Make sure you’re entirely in your circle. We can’t make any mistakes. And don’t accidentally scuff anything. Even the slightest error could be fatal for all of us. Eren, can you grab the wine?”

“Aye.”

The bronze acquaintance of Max went into the back to grab the bottle they prepared weeks ago. Inside of it was blood mixed from a daemon. The cost for that was ridiculous. Slowly, he poured out wine into glasses which Benny started handing out.

“Everyone, make sure you don’t spill,” Max said. “And make sure you drink at the same time as everyone else. Like we practiced. Don’t be nervous! This will be the time we finally accomplish our goal! Once you have your glass, get in your spots. We’re going to be starting soon.”

It took little time for people to meander to their assigned spots. Even if Max was trying to encourage them, it was still frightening. This was the calmest life or death situation any of them had ever been in.

Max was the last one to take a spot. He was in the six-pointed star, since he felt like that was one of the safest places to be. There was no proof of that, but even he was feeling superstitious at this moment. Who wouldn’t be? Though to him, the worst possible thing that could happen would be nothing. If all this work and time was wasted. That would be so embarrassing he might actually die.

“Let’s begin.”

After a quick chant in a language none of them really knew, each cultist pulled a knife from their pocket and slit it across their left palm. They dripped the blood into their chalices. One, two, three.

Simultaneously, everyone drank.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Then, the glasses were dropped and shattered across the floor.

Nothing happened. The candles across the room flickered. Everyone’s breaths were tight in their chests. The sound of the rain getting heavier outside was like drums bashing against their skills. A single bead of sweat rolled down Max’s forehead then around his nose. It stopped at the tip.

***

--Around noon that day--

The world is huge. Absolutely massive. Even though a majority of it might be an absolute wasteland, there is so much to explore and so much to learn. Every single person is a human being and have their own stories that need to be heard to learn it all. You can’t just happily spend your life stuck in a room, in a single plot of land, letting yourself be pulled along like a puppet on strings. That isn’t how a human should live.

“If only I could make it more poetic,” Max said, scratching away the spelling errors she made. “To be, or not to be. That is the question.”

Not even one hour ago had she been trapped in the clutches of her parents. But thanks to her maid’s help, she was able to escape. The new ‘Maxine’ was dressed up like Max, and Max dressed up in the maid uniform and changed to a new outfit as soon as she had left the estate. Now that she was out in the open, it all seemed so much better. It was brighter than she had imagined. Seeing it all from the window was nothing compared to actually being out here.

There were birds chirping. The sun was able to peek it’s head through the clouds. The Eiffel Tower sat off in the distance, piercing up. The glory of District 5.

And with a cup of coffee at her side and a petite sandwich, Max was in a perfect moment of relaxation and clarity. This was what life was supposed to be like. Satisfaction. Not sitting and waiting to be married.

She packed light; only a single backpack with a few pairs of clothes and her personal things. One of them was her journal, and another was a vintage camera, which she pulled out to take a snapshot of some birds sitting on a historic statue. It was a fountain, displaying some of the brave soldiers who fought back against the hordes of demons fifty years ago. With the tower in the background, she could frame the composition as she desired. The sun was in the middle of the sky, so there wasn’t much in the way of shadow cast, other than some from clouds.

Snap.

It took a few minutes for the photo to develop, and Max was pleased with herself when she saw it. For safekeeping she put it in her journal.

Now that she was done eating, it was time to set about on a journey. What should she do first? This was the beginning of her journey, and it needed to be fitting for a first stop. Something big! And something grand!

***

Five hours of walking later and the only thing Max could consider grand were the blisters on her feet. Not having a car sucked.

“I should buy a bike…”

Her gaze lingered on a couple riding down the road on their own bicycles. Then, once they turned the corner, she focused on another biker. He looked nice enough to flag down.

“Excuse me, sir!”

“Yes?”

As Max called out to him, the biker slowed down and came to a stop. He was wearing sunglasses, which he removed.

“Can I help you?”

“You can, actually,” Max said. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to ask where you bought your bicycle. I don’t have one and would like to buy one.”

Even though she was perfectly polite, his eyebrows slowly furrowed. Then his mouth scrunched up as he thought.

“Uh, to tell you the truth, I have no idea,” he said. “Sorry. I don’t remember. I bought this bad boy years ago. I’m sure there are bike shops around the area though. There are tourist maps at information centers, if that’s what you need. I’m not sure if they have a list of bike shops, though. You might need to use a phonebook. Sorry again.” Before Max could say anything, he hopped back on his bicycle and road away.

Well, that was mostly useless. Max was going to ask if she could just buy his bike, but he ran off way too quickly. How rude was that? What a jerk.

“Looking on the bright side,” she said, pulling out her journal to write this down in her diary. “He told me to: ‘go to an information center and get a tourist map’. That sounds like a good idea, so that’ll be my next stop.”

…

But Max just stood there on the side of the road as time passed. She didn’t know where any information centers were. This was kind of hard. Well, if it was easy, then everyone would do it!

***

After another five hours passed, Max was hopelessly lost. In the distance a clock rang out signifying that it was almost midnight, and Max let out a sigh. Perhaps she should try going back home? She was back to that soldier statue, which seemed somehow intimidating at night.

That would be surrender! She thought. I’d be proving that I’m just a dainty little flower if I did that! Then it’d make my maids and my sacrifice meaningless! Dad wouldn’t listen and he’d still send me off to get married...no, I need to tough it out. It really isn’t that bad…

Except she had no idea where she was, and no idea where she should go to sleep. The city is a dangerous place at night, she knew, especially for beautiful women like herself. There must be hotels or something around here that she could use. If not that, maybe she could go to a hostel? It was less than preferential, but it could work. She took a look at the tourist map she had purchased from the information center and tried to study it.

Of course, it was useless.

Max had no idea where she was on it. She didn’t know any of the streets in the area, so she couldn’t find her location. Why wasn’t this more friendly for travellers? Nothing seemed to line up at all!

Maybe spending the night on the streets wouldn’t be so bad.

She saw a group of tall men in black walk by, large mustaches on their face, talking about how much money they were going to get. They hadn’t seen her, fortunately. There was a small crack in the wall where she could jump and hide in.

“I guess this is better than anything else,” Max said, quietly. She felt like her voice betrayed the hearty attitude she was trying to fool herself with. “Is this really pointless?”

“Is what pointless?”

Max flinched at the response and stared wide-eyed at the man who suddenly appeared outside the entrance to her tiny hiding place.

He was tall and fit. Handsome. His hair was long and dirty blonde, tied into braids that wrapped around his head. A very feminine hairstyle, but with his sharp features, it almost made this stranger look like a fashion model. But his clothes betrayed that; he was wearing dark rags with a red shirt.

“Sorry, I didn’t spook you, did I?” He asked. “Didn’t mean to, if I did. It’s just that you’re sitting on some of my stuff, and I was wondering if I could grab it from you.”

“What stuff?”

“Just take a peek under your butt and you’ll find out.”

Max fumbled around for a bit before finding a bag that was very obviously not her own. Way too rugged. She felt horribly embarrassed as she handed it over.

“Sorry, I didn’t see it.”

“What? You’re way too quiet sis,” the man said putting his ear closer. He was close. Close enough she could smell him. Surprisingly, he smelled really manly. Like someone who worked with cars. “Eh, whatever. You squatting here?”

“Squatting?”

“Yeah, you know,” he said. She didn’t respond. “Huh. Okay. Well, you aren’t a cop, right? Gotta say, you don’t look like one.”

Why was he asking that?”

“No, I’m not,” Max said. She was wary of this man as he slowly walked backwards to what she now saw was a group of other people. Many of them had strange colored hair and piercings. They were all dressed similarly to the man. “Who are you?”

“Me? Or us?”

“Both?”

“We’re just some friendly neighborhood pranksters,” the man said, smiling with half of his mouth. From his bag, he grabbed a can of spray paint. “You wanna join?”

As he spoke to her, she saw what the rest of his friends were doing. Using cans of paint, they were making a collage on the buildings, ground, and on the soldier fountain monument. All different forms of art, but there was a general theme from their work. Nature. Beautiful green trees sprouting from the ground, with animals and bright blue streams curving throughout the street. On the soldiers, they were painting his marble skin black and his clothes many shades of red.

It suddenly became clear to her. The red and black. They were all wearing those colors, and when they finished a piece, they left a red and black line as a mark.

“You’re anarchists,” Max said, dumbfounded. All the reading she had done suddenly felt validated. These were people who understood her. It was a sign that she had met them so suddenly. There was meaning to that. “Am I right? Revolutionary punks?”

The man rubbed at his chin.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. More or less sums up the ideals we fight for,” he said. “But more importantly: name’s Arco. Arco Jacks. No really. That’s my name. Pretty cool right? Nice to meet you, little miss wall fixture.”

Max climbed out of the wall. His jab at her was playful, but she didn’t want to look weird. When she was standing and started dusting herself off, Arco held out a hand. With some hesitation, she took it.

“Max Vasquez. Nice to meet you, Arco Jacks.”

“Huh,” Arco said, raising an eyebrow. “Jacks and Vasquez, huh? Those are pretty similar sounding names, aren’t they?”

“You’re right,” Max said. “They are. What a coincidence. Can…” Her voice trailed off. It was too much to ask for.

But Arco knew what she was asking for, and he handed her a canister of spray paint. Her eyes were focused on it like she was staring at manna from heaven. To her, this was one of the most precious things in the world.

“Fuck yeah. Go crazy! Show these fucking capitalist pigs who the fuck you are!”

It was the spark that lit her crazy and Max allowed all the stress pent up inside her body to spill out on the pavement in front of her.