He had just stepped off the metro that connected New Jersey to Manhattan.
“—Less than two days from now, the United Nations plans to host a grand ceremony introducing the queen.”
Lowering his head, Mikey stared at the crowd that occupied Penn Station.
“Following the coup that plagued the kingdom, Queen Lecca-Maradel Emma Arish—the standing monarch of Yondel—has planned a visit to the giant apple years after first contact was made in Pakistan. Many speculate that this visit is intended for the kingdom to establish diplomatic relations with the United States for purposes related to shipping across worlds and the expansion of magical sciences.”
Lifting his phone, Mikey eyes passed over a message from Allen. Good luck up there. I’ll keep you posted on anything else I find. Turning his hand over, settling his gaze on the scar on his hand, he lowered the device and slipped it back into his pants.
For the average commuter, transitioning between the cramped and oddly clean interior of Penn Station to the open streets of Manhattan, it was a comfortable journey. Even with the few trips he had in the city from former business, Mikey couldn’t help but feel nervous as he silently strutted along the busy streets. Here and there he would spot bodegas or corner stores that would catch his eye, and though he did want to get around town, he wanted to head to his first destination he had in mind.
“Dirty dogs! Getcha’ dirty dogs over here!”
Well, I am in New York City, he told himself. It’s not every day that you can chow down on literal trash. Mikey didn’t exactly remember the last moment when he truly spent the time to explore any of the destinations he visited in his short lifetime. Being a part of “Tourism Theory” was something that he didn’t want to be involved with. The last time he did any touring, his old-time friend ended up in a coma, and he was struck by a bullet. He already knew that there was no correlation between the two events at all. Even with the information he had from Allen, the likely hood that he would ever be caught in another terrorist incident was at an all time low. Mikey couldn’t help but still feel disappointed—all he wanted to do was stay at home and run his store—not hand it over to his adoptive father as he investigated what he argued was an outrageous task.
“I’ve got new information on what you’re looking for.”
Wandering into the nearest bus, Mikey had whipped out his phone calling Allen on speed dial. Seeing the officer like this—a scowl painted on his face, and his jaw tightened like he was about to snap—it was unfamiliar to the usual composed exterior he presented with his standard-issue black suit.
Through the screen, his brown eyes were hidden underneath black rimmed blue light glasses. Though he meant to call with proud and charitable intentions, he was now a man that held information that changed the very reason why Mikey was in New York to begin with.
“So, to keep this short, a scientist from the Deep Ocean Corporation has met with representatives from China’s Xai Hornet Industries.”
Mikey arched an eyebrow as Allen continued.
“This complicates things for both what you want and the investigation we hired you for. Reason is, is due to a suspected member of the MFR, one James Washington being on Xia Hornet’s roster.”
“How did you guys figure it out?” Mikey inquired as the bus slowly came to a stop in lower Manhattan.
“The internet of course. Facebook of all places. We found that he was following the main recruiting account.”
Mikey clicked his tongue, “Huh, typical.”
“Anyways, you can still back out of this one. Since the Chinese are getting involved, I don’t want you to get tangle in this mess anyways, not when we have units assigned to it already.”
“Is that an official stand down order?” Mikey turned the corner of the street he was on passing an unoccupied NYPD cruiser and unmanned barricades. “Last I remembered, even though I was going to deny the request, I’m here due to the siphon and the chance to learn what the hell happened in Spain.”
“God my boss new that sending you up there was a mistake. Alright listen, if you can get us anything on the MFR, do so. Nothing will happen anyways.”
“Knock on wood.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Allen let out a cough before he looked away from his computer’s camera, “Alright, well in any case the city mayor knows you’re in town, so don’t be afraid to ask some help from the locals.”
“I’ll be fine, bye Allen.”
“See you later.”
Closing the video call, and removing the earbud from his left ear, Mikey stowed both devices as he crossed an empty park walking towards a railing that was less than 200 feet away from where he stood. The cold of winter bit against his face, and he tucked away his hands in his pockets as he reached the railing, stopping himself short as he looked high into the sky.
Unlike the towering skyscrapers that surrounded every corner of the city this place was barren.
It was silent.
Letting his gaze fell, his hazel eyes settled on a reflective pool at the bottom. Water fell from edge, running all around the perimeter of these grounds. It collected at the bottom, where white lights remained dimmed only to be brought to life in the late crawl of the sun’s retreat. Here the air seemed so clean. The sprouting trees that surrounded this space was a stark contrast to the hyper-advance, grueling grounds of the rest of New York City, and all around the edges of the hole, flowers stuck out of engravings on the carefully preserved metal in front of the railings.
Walking the length of the northern side, Mikey looked at all the names. He couldn’t imagine how many were inscribed in just this one strip, and when looking beyond, he could see additional marble walls that held the names of people that had lived beyond.
Hesitation flooded his body as he stopped at the opposite corner reaching out his right hand.
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It barely made contact against the frozen metal. It was uncomfortable to the touch. A part of him wanted to stay here, to learn everything about this place.
“It’s disrespectful to touch it, sir.”
Turning around to the young, feminine voice that had called out to him, Mikey quickly withdrew his hand and shoved it into his jacket’s pocket.
The first thing he noticed was her bright golden eyes clashing against silver and jet-black hair. Her pale skin almost blended in with the gentle white dress she wore. And for the winter, she wore a green shawl underneath a brown cape. She looked younger than him, around 14 or 15 from his guess.
“Thanks, I didn’t know that.”
Letting out a soft hum, she silently shifted to the side he was on.
“What is this place?”
The question took Mikey by surprise. You know we’re not supposed to touch it, but you don’t know what this is? He cleared his throat, “This is the 9/11 memorial. It’s a place where those that died during the September 11th Attacks in 2001 are remembered.”
Remaining silent and slowly nodding her head in understanding. Her gaze remained lowered into the reflective pool before being drawn away to an imperfection in the metal next to her. As she simply remained still as distant wind chimes and the swift breeze from the Hudson River flowed into the city. What’s she doing? Mikey asked himself as she stepped to her left stopping before the mark. Pointing a finger, she traced what was a smudge on the surface of the steel. He barely noticed, but her eyes narrowed as she whispered a word that he couldn’t make out.
A harsh red line ran through her right arm and from her index finger, a harsh blue flame radiated from her fingertip. A magician! Mikey restrained his sudden excitement as the girl lowered her finger to the metal letting the flame meet the imperfection. Just hovering above the smudge, the sudden heat burned away the mark. The blue light ceased once it disappeared leaving only the final moment of the warped cold air around her hand.
Tucking her hand below her cape, she twirled around and slowly walked back to Mikey only leaving a respectable distance between the two, “My father always told me about this place when I was a child. His great-great grandfather was a first responder when the attacks happened, but he never told me about the events of what happened.”
“Didn’t have access to a phone growing up? Me neither.” Mikey nodded his head in understanding as the girl remained silent.
“Sir, if you don’t mind, what is your name?” She tilted her head in curiosity.
“Michael Ames Herrman, but you can call me Mikey.”
He reached out a single hand.
The girl seemed confused for all but a moment before something clicked in her head as she stretched out her own hand.
“My father’s name is Mike. I think you two would get along.”
Mikey chuckled, “It’s a common name.”
“Indeed.”
“What about you?”
She looked up with a confused look, “Say again?”
“Your name.”
A flash of crimson tore over her golden eyes.
“Sara Kaitlyn Randall. Sara Randall.”
“That’s quite the mouthful.” Looking over Sara, Mikey felt his body tense as he saw a group of suited men slowly walking from the trees that surrounded the memorial. FBI? NYPD? He questioned who the men were, their uniformity wasn’t uncommon amongst federal agencies, but parts of their dress were uncommon for anything local. One thing they all had in common were old-fashioned leather pistol holsters on their hips and a red and gold pocket square in their suit jackets. Remaining at a comfortable distance, enough where Sara didn’t notice, Mikey understood that their silent stares were a warning to wrap up the conversation he was having with the girl.
Is she a suspect, or is she being escorted? Then again, the picture of two strangers conversing, one being what he guessed was a child, wasn’t the best image in the eyes of the modern world. Fucking politics.
“If this is your first visit to New York I’d recommend swinging near some of the big tourist sites. You’ll get your fill before the day is over.” He took out his phone as he took a half step to turn around, “And—I’d personally recommend checking out the museum behind you. A bit expensive, but it goes to preserving this memorial.”
Sara watched as the man named “Mikey” walked away in a brisk pace bringing his phone to his ear. Not sparing another glance towards him, she returned her attention back where the imperfection had laid on the memorial. Down the line, she could see the public servant that was on shift for the day slowly cleaning up other marks and removing the scattered flowers and flags from the memorial. She didn’t know what to make of this place. Her father had indeed spoke about what this place was and the importance of the event that led up to her standing here years in the future, but being here gave her an eerie feeling like she was encased in an empty tomb.
The lead of her security detail stepped out from the last of the trees and joined her at the memorial. In total there were five men, two that shadowed her, with three others that were more heavily armed acting as rapid responders.
“You’re a clever princess. I didn’t expect you to bolt at the last second on that subway.” Larry Silver, the lead agent said. Two days ago, he was enjoying a glass of refined mead, and enjoying the company of fellow men from his neighboring country. A day ago, he was assigned to this new protective detail, one where he was ensuring the safety of a nation’s princess, one that wasn’t his own. And now here he was strolling the streets of this unfamiliar place, taking in the sights as much as he was looking out for the young 13-year-old who had the same temperament and excitement as her father, and the presentation and power of her mother. This was no Scarborough Fair and now more than ever he wanted to confine the lass to the nearest hotel and leave her there while political processions commenced. To lose the crown princess in a city that towered anything the Federation had to offer—he would be killed—God forbid he lost her here or anywhere. He had already failed his mission, having lost Sara twice. Once in Times Square, and the second in transit to lower Manhattan.
It was by miracle that no one else had lost track of her.
He looked towards the reflective pool. This place held history that went beyond his own nation. It was so familiar, yet never the same. The vehicles that crawled down the streets. And high above the skies, towers interrupted the brilliant blue of day, something he was just only starting to imagine with the newest subsidized construction efforts in the Federation. Amongst everything though there was one thing that remained the same: Politics. No matter what place, wherever it was, the tear of people and their governments was something that plagued every nation. Following the latest war in the Federation—if it could even be called a war—the show of political, rather lack of political awareness was something that had claimed the life of over a thousand individuals in the span of a year alone. It was the boiling point of everything that had built leading from the Great War. And now he lived with the same people he once stood against, protecting their leader int eh name of a civilized “republic” or “democracy” as the Americans so proudly threw around.
“Princess Randall, we still have to make the meeting at the Empire State,” James Wilcock, one of the rapid responders said patting Larry on the shoulder.
“I know,” She responded, seeming usure if she wanted to leave the memorial. “Who are we meeting again?”
“The city council, and a representative from the United States Department of Agriculture. Along with that, the following meeting will be conducted with Legal Attachés from the FBI and Department of Homeland Security,” he explained.
“What of the President?”
The question took James by surprise as he reached into his suit jacket removing a small notepad. “Well ma’am, President Norman is scheduled to be present for the meeting that is to commence at UN headquarters at 13:00. Just after lunch. It’s currently 0900.” He said tactfully before stowing the notepad.
“If they already know that we’re in town, then who the hell broke the news to the President?” Larry said.
“Probably someone in Washington. Some reporters or socialites that wanted to get some publicity from knowing about our confidential trip here. The President already new, but they made it public forcing him to acknowledge it. Oh, princess, an official apology has been extended from FBI regarding the large crowd we saw upon landing at LaGuardia.”
“We’ll compensate for the unexpected. My father has already adjusted plans for us to reunite at the Empire State before he heads to that meeting with that corporation.”
“Ah yes, the so called ‘Deep Ocean’, what the hell is that supposed to even mean?” Larry said as he and the other men began to shadow the princess as she walked towards the underground subway terminal.
“Don’t know, sounds like a class I would’ve took at my Alma Matter.” James grunted.