Trent

Lucidea will never change. Norton used to drill that into Trent’s head when he was a kid. He never quite understood what he meant by that. Was the country locked in eternal chronostasis by some supernatural being? Unlikely. Was everyone in the country immortal? Doubtful. Was the country under the thumb of a fascist autocracy that did everything in its power to maintain the status quo? Close but not quite.

Today, as he walked through the streets of Haven City and bumped into three separate people who called him a ‘dirty hobo’ before going their way, he finally understood the meaning. Lucidea was eternally indifferent. You either clawed your way to the top and left a mark or drowned among the faceless masses.

It was seven in the evening. The radiance of the midday sun had been replaced by the sparkle of neon billboards and a sea of car lights that hurt his eyes to look at. It was a moonless night. Trent had never cared much for Haven City. He preferred the countryside and that was one word that didn’t come within a mile of describing the City of Dreams. Long ago, he’d dreamed of settling down in a farmhouse, far away from civilization and the hustle and bustle of the big city. He’d start a family, become a farmer, and spend the rest of his days in the quiet solitude of the open fields before one day, passing away peacefully in his sleep.

That was a lifetime ago.

Lisa was dead. Caroline was dead. Rob was dead. He’d smoked the last of his parthume supply before the flight to Haven City. The symptoms were already back and worse than ever. Trent felt weaker than he had ever felt in his life. His cheeks were hollow. His eyes were two lifeless rubies embedded in deep sunken sockets. It got to the point that he struggled to even stand upright against the stiff evening breeze. And his cough was back.

Of course, it was.

After only thirty minutes of walking, his heart felt ready to explode out of his chest. His body had had enough. He plopped down on a nearby bench to catch his breath. His wheezing drew the attention of some passers-by. Some whispered snide remarks while others dialed for the police but none were brave enough to make small talk.

Lucidea will never change. He laughed. This time, at himself.

A man looking much like him settled down on the bench and began scratching his chest with all the grace and dignity of a dying pig. “Lovely evening, ain’t it, brother?” he spoke with an accent that suggested Regalian heritage.

“Sure,” Trent answered dejectedly.

“You seem unpleasant, partner. Lovers spat?”

“No. Just life, in general.”

“Ah, gotcha. Wanna talk about it?”

Trent eyed the man from head to toe. He looked about the same age as him with an unkempt stubble that couldn’t have sprouted more than a few days ago. He smiled through mottling teeth and smelled, well, almost as bad as him. Trent wanted to bash him for his dusty overcoat and mismatched jeans and oversized shirt but took one look at his own attire and decided to keep his mouth shut. Even so, he felt compelled, for some reason, to indulge the man. “Do I know you?”

“Bill Foster.” The man grabbed his hand and shook it. “Artist, lover, hustler, and the next mayor of Haven City wrapped into one beautiful package.”

“Ah,” said Trent.

“But enough about me. What’s got you so down, my friend?”

“We’re not…” He sighed. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Come now, don’t be a stranger.”

“You are literally a stranger.”

“Well, aren’t you a rude one?” Bill huffed. “Look pal, people like you and me, we’re nothing to this world. Them folks think they can walk all over us cause no one’s gonna make a stink if we’re dead in the gutter. We only got each other. So, I will say it again. Don’t be a stranger. Worst case scenario, you spill your guts to somebody who’s got zero sway in your life.”

For some ungodly reason, the hobo was making sense. Trent wondered if he was starting to lose his mind. But then, he thought that if he was actually losing his mind, he would be the first to know. So, he discarded the notion and concluded that he was, in fact, not losing his mind.

“Oh, what the hell!” He shrugged.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” Bill asked.

“Fine,” Trent sighed. He chose his words as carefully as possible. “A long time ago, I had this goal. And I wanted to achieve it no matter the cost.”

“Ohhh, you’re a passionate one!” Bill giggled. “I like that. So, what did you do?”

“I… I did everything I could. I sacrificed everything I had. I hurt people close to me. And now, when I’m this close to getting it, I don’t know if I want it anymore. What if I lost everything and it was all for nothing? What do I do now?”

Bill patted his back and nodded glumly. “I know the feeling, man.”

“Do you now?” Trent raised an eyebrow.

“Years ago, I knew this woman - Rebbecca. She was the finest piece I ever knew. Total bombshell. I tell you, I would’ve given the world to spend a night with her. And I did.”

“You did what?”

“I gave her everything: my money, my car, my beautiful bungalow. We were happy together, for a while. But as my luck would have it, it wasn’t meant to last. In the end, she chose someone else and kicked me to the curb.”

“Wow!” Trent exclaimed. “You had no idea you were being exploited?”

Bill slapped his skull with a sharp tap. “Some part of me knew. But what could I do? I was too madly in love.”

“Huh.”

“I did bad things too, you know? Hurt people I never meant to hurt. I gave up everything for Rebecca. And yet, here I am.”

Trent pulled away from him. “Well, that is certainly a… story, friend. But I don’t see how it’s supposed to help me.”

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Bill placed an arm over his shoulder, looked him in the eye with two sparkling emeralds, and smiled brightly. “Sometimes, it takes losing the world to know you’re wrong. Always know this, pal: it is never too late to start over. You can’t undo the damage you’ve done. But you can keep it from getting worse. And hey, once you realize that, you’re already doing better than you were yesterday.”

Bill yawned and glanced at his broken wristwatch. “Goodness me, look at the time! I gotta go, pal. But you stay strong. And remember, don’t be a stranger.”

He got up, gave Trent a thumbs up, and disappeared into the sea of people walking by the curb. Trent sat pondering his words for a long, long time.

∆∆∆

Haven City Convention Center or HC-3 had attracted the biggest crowd in entertainment history. Word on the street was that Roland was supposed to announce a new product. It was said to be Blink’s first foray into what they called ‘entertainment hardware’ and the entire world was holding its breath.

Trent wanted someone to put him in a body bag and throw him over a dam. He was having enough trouble standing straight without having to deal with a crowd of sweaty teenagers spouting unfamiliar lingo left and right. He could’ve sworn half their words were made up. Well, all words were made-up, in a sense, but that was a trip he had neither the time nor the mental faculties for.

The HC-3 had been modeled after opera houses in Regalia and as such, provided a nice contrast between striking gothic architecture and young men having loud arguments about their favorite cartoons. The building was shaped like the lotus flower, which was said to be the symbol of purity and rebirth.

Trent took one look at the lotus petals covered in pink gold that glistened under the brilliance of the neon-lit cityscape. Then, he saw the men at the forefront of the crowd waving their tickets in the air and proclaiming which character from Blinking Foxes they would like to sleep with and wondered if someone had designed the convention center as a big fat joke.

Getting past security was a breeze. Even with the lingering dregs of his former strength, Trent was still a world-class assassin. Besides, the guards had their hands full ensuring none of the “more interesting” people got in without an entry ticket.

He reached backstage with little to no trouble. His cough had been acting up a bit but he decided that presently, it was the least pressing issue. Soon, the Order would hear about Rob. And since killing one of your own is forbidden by ancient decree, he would be marked for death. That is if Roland didn’t kill him first. Either way, he was certain that someone or something was going to beat cancer to the punchline.

With those high hopes in his heart, he looked around and before long, found Justin Roland instructing some light operators on the second floor.

He called his name at the top of his lungs. “Justin!”

No answer.

Trent hesitated for a moment. He could still turn back. If he took another step, there was no telling what would happen to him. Roland hadn’t noticed him just yet. If he wanted, he could put this whole affair behind him and spend the rest of his days in hiding.

He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. No. I’m done running.

He took a deep breath before calling out a second time. “Justin, it’s me! I’ve come to talk.”

Seeing no response, he kept walking toward him. Weirdly enough, no one else seemed to have noticed him either. Perhaps, I need to be louder.

Before he had the chance to call his name a third time, someone decked him across the face with a baseball bat. Trent found himself surrounded by a platoon of armed men. They dragged him to his feet and held him upright as Justin Roland walked over with a smug expression and kicked him in the stomach.

“Could not listen to your master, could you, lapdog?” Roland laughed.

“Justin, wait…” Trent said weakly. “I’m not here to kill you.”

“Shut it. Not another word out of you. Do you have any idea of the damage you’ve done? You’ve set back our cause by decades, Trent. Literal decades! If I can’t find a way to counteract the Frost in time, it will be on you. All those lives, every single person on the planet is going to die. And for what?”

“Please, let me… I want to make amends.”

“No! You don’t get to make amends.” Roland pointed angrily at him. “I wanted to grieve with you, you know? I loved her as much as you. Killing her was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. You know how much she meant to me and yet you never gave me a chance to explain myself. From the beginning, everything has always been about you. About your love, your feelings. Well, news flash, bud! There is a great big world out there that does not revolve around you.”

“I cannot change the past!” Trent’s voice rang so loudly that the entire group fell into a deafening silence. He coughed and continued. “I cannot change what I’ve done. I’m dying, man. I cannot change the damage I’ve done. But I can do better.”

Roland signaled his men to lower their weapons. “You want to do better? Do you think you can forgive me? After everything I did? After what I took from you?”

“No,” said Trent. “I don’t have it in me. But this is bigger than me. I’ve lost too much already. I want to die with dignity, Justin. And I cannot do that if I’m filled with hatred. I want to kill it. Please, help me kill it.”

Roland fell on one knee and cupped Trent’s battered face with his fingers. He spoke with absolute venom in his voice. “I don’t believe a word out of you.”

“I see.” Trent sighed and lowered his gaze. “In that case, I’m all yours. Do what you will. I’m… I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

“Me too. Goodbye, old friend.”

Roland was about to give the signal when a bullet came flying through the main curtain and grazed his cheek. He jumped to the ground as a flurry of bullets rang across the air and filled the atmosphere with lead and death. His team tried fighting back. Some took cover while others charged forward in strategic formations. One by one, all of them were gunned down.

Trent and Roland were lying prone surrounded by dead men. They did not dare to move an inch.

The ruckus was quick to spread as the audience behind the curtains raced for the exits. Trent heard their terrified screams and winced.

“What the devil is going on?” Roland demanded.

Trent crawled over to a nearby corpse to inspect the bullet wound. It was a high-caliber round engraved with a phoenix perched atop a crucifix. The symbol of the New World Order.

Shit.

“What is it?” asked Roland.

“Norton’s Elite Guard. Insurgency Unit. Looks like the old man’s about as good as his word,” Trent replied.

“Fuck! Is he insane? The place is crawling with civvies.”

“He wants to make it look like a terrorist attack. Perfect cover for an assassination. We need to get you out of here. Now!”

Trent and Roland jumped to their feet in an attempt to get away but found their path blocked by an Elite Soldier dressed in nondescript black armor. You can’t even tell his skin color behind that mask.

“Do not resist!” the man barked, aiming his gun at them.

As he pulled the trigger, Trent jumped out of the way and tackled him to the ground. He ripped away the gun from his hands and struck him over the head with the blunt end.

“Come! We do not have a moment to waste.” Trent gestured for Roland to follow and raced toward the main stage.

Roland yanked him back to the ground as another barrage of high-caliber rounds shredded the curtains. “We’ll never get out alive that way, idiot! Take the stairs. There’s an emergency exit on the fifth floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Trent protested. “We’ll be shot down before we make it past the first flight.”

“At least, we’ll have a fighting chance. The main stage is a straight-up death sentence.”

“We will have a clear view of the forces and we can take cover behind the seats. It’s a rock and a hard place, Justin. We’re fucked either way.”

Roland punched the ground in frustration and yelled. “Goddamnit Norton! You fucking moron!”

Trent had given up on living a long time ago. From the very day the doctor had confirmed his cancer, he had pretty much accepted his fate. He’d only hoped it wouldn’t make him suffer too long. But even more than that, he didn’t want his friends to suffer because of him. That had been his one wish.

Even today, with what little shred of honor he had left, while he was still sucking air, he had no intention of dying while he could still save someone. Despite everything he’d been through and everything he had done, he wanted to do this one thing right. Some part of him believed it could make up for everything he’d done.

The truth? He just wanted to go out with a bang. He laughed at himself for his shallow motives but his weakened body was beyond caring.

That is why when he saw a platoon of Elite Guards launching a flurry of bullets toward Roland, he did not think twice before jumping in the way. He simply shut his eyes and accepted the sweet embrace of death.

But as luck would have it, he was not meant to meet his end just yet.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with the platoon of injured Elite Guards rolling in pain at his feet, Roland’s slack-jawed face, and Hope Hastings striking the most excessive superhero pose he had ever seen.

He could not help but smile.