Retribution
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Prologue

The heavy rain poured down on the warring city. Fires raged as angry outbursts scattered throughout various districts surrounding the capital building. The angry shouts and cries of the public could be heard below as The Rebellion fought to make it to the Capital's steps. Overhead, Fliers could be seen, dipping and diving as they fought in the air. Lightning strikes flashed across the sky, illuminating the aerial battles in a magnificent white blaze. The city was absolutely immersed in hellish chaos. The Capital, a stone building that had once been considered the crown jewel of The Republic's architectural feats, now stood just barely after sustaining damage done by Fliers. On each side of the once glorious structure, war waged. The furious yells and screams of people, fighting to make their way to the Capital entrance. Endless gunshots echoed as bullets ricocheted off of buildings, hitting other than the intended target. Before, the Capital steps had once been a polished, beautiful marble. Now, they were stained with dirt, blood, and several lifeless bodies. Three figures stood on the soiled steps. One was a hooded figure, forced on their knees being held at gunpoint by another figure. The last figure stood guard, battered machine gun in hand. Each figure looked ragged, worn, and vicious. In the eyes of the figure who held the battered machine gun, the chaos, death, and hellfire that surrounded them seemed to have no end. This wasn't the new beginning they were promised. This seemed to be an eternal punishment.

"This wasn't the revolution we asked for."

Chapter 1: The Dreamer

Clack, clack, clack, clack, went the shoes of a young girl, her short cut bob of black hair bouncing as she hurried down the marble hallway of The University. Her white, collared button-up was normally ironed and neat, but today wrinkles lined the edges of her shirt in a slovenly manner. Her knee length slacks held up by a pair of suspenders; the only thing she could manage this morning since she woke up late.

"Finnigan McCalaster, you are so stupid, stupid, stupid!" She scolded herself, upset that she slept past her alarm, causing her to lose approximately 17.5 minutes to prepare for the day. Vital, vital time lost because of her own sloppiness.

Caught up in her own thoughts, she almost ran into an oncoming student.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" She snapped, instantly regretting the hostility that had left her mouth. She didn't let them know she was sorry though, she just continued to scowl unpleasantly.

Dodging narrowly, the student glanced somewhat apologetically over their shoulder, but turned and hurried on without a word.

Straightening her already wrinkled black and gold tie, she turned and continued striding forward, already lost in thought.

"If I lost approximately 17.5 minutes today, then I only had 5.40 minutes to eat my breakfast" She pondered, chewing on a length of hair that had somehow made its way her mouth. "So that means I didn't have the regular 16.9 minutes I needed to complete my regular healthy breakfast..." Sighing, she straightened her black, steel-rimmed rectangular glasses. "I guess I'll have to splurge a little more for lunch...looks like I’m packing lunch tomorrow…”

As she made these silent calculations, she almost ran yet again into another person; snapping out of her trance just in time to stop before bowling them over. Scowling once more, she opened her mouth to make a snarky remark. Only, she stopped when she noticed the University staff uniform on the figure of the person. Glancing up, her dark, chestnut brown eyes grew wide as she realized that not only had she almost ran over a University Professor, but she had almost flattened her employer for the semester.

"Uh...good afternoon n, Professor McFallon." She squeaked weakly, attempting to straighten what she could about her uniform to appear more presentable.

"Ms. McCalaster," He returned with nod; his stony grey eyes sharp and piercing. Finni had always flinched somewhat until recently when she had grown accustomed to it. A tall, well-carried man, William McFallon, or "Professor McFallon" was the University expert on Ancient History, or just History in general. His nearly-white blonde hair and sharp grey eyes made him a popular conversation topic amongst the University. His strange appearance only added to his poor reputation as a crazy, mysterious teacher. Nonetheless, the students found him intriguing. The Professor frowned slightly. "You're late, which is unusual. You're always so punctual."

"Apologies, Professor," She replied hastily, bowing slightly. "I had some...complications; it won't happen again, sir."

The Professor sniffed in mock disdain. "I should think not! I can't have an assistant keeping my papers together if she can't keep herself organized!"

Despite his stoic demeanor, Finnigan could see the usually poker-faced Professor poorly attempt to suppress smirk.

"Just because you're academically ahead of your years does not mean I will be easy on you! If you can graduate from The University at 17, then your brain must certainly have its priorities in order."

"Yes sir, so sorry sir," Finni apologized once again, her words however, dripping with sarcasm; exaggerating her bow to a full-blown fancy curtsey.

As academically advanced she was, Finni's premature age did not allow her to work off campus. Seeing as how she had too much time on her hands, her former Ancient Historian Professor offered her a part-time job as his work assistant. Just something to keep her busy. Since her mom was working much too hard to put food on the table, Finni gladly accepted.

The Professor gestured for her to follow.

"Well, no matter. We still have work to be done!" He declared, still trying to be stern but failing terribly.

"Better late than never, hm?"

"Absolutely sir," Finni breathed, relieved that the Professor hadn't seemed too upset with her little inconvenient slip-up.

The pair quickly entered the Professor's office. Finnigan let out a small breath of admiration as she observed Professor McFallon's office. No matter how many times she'd been in this room, or how many hours she spent here, the beautiful wooden architectural structure of the room never ceased to amaze her. The office itself wasn't extremely large and roomy, but rather comfortably cozy...when it was actually clean, that is. The walls were painted a rich, dark brown, riddled with age and time. A large, glass-crystal window decorated the wall; the golden velvet curtains drawn back, allowing sunlight to filter in and illuminate the dust particles floating around in the massively cluttered, dusty office.

The Professor himself was tip-toeing cautiously around the stacks of papers and books. Finni stood in the doorway, her expression a cross between exasperation, awe, and irritation.

"Uh, Professor McFallon?" She asked, beginning to neatly file away the closest pile of papers next to her. "Didn't I just clean last week?"

The Professor's head popped up from behind a mountain of files, manila folders, and textbooks.

"Hm? Oh yes, I supposed you did." He replied absent mindedly, his head quickly disappearing behind his desk and back into the drawers filled with who-knows-what. "I believe I had something here for you to look over...now where did I put those test papers?"

Sighing, the young assistant began to clean the office while the Professor continued rummaging around in his desk drawers for whatever it was he was looking for. After stacking most of the books back on the dusty bookshelves she grabbed the nearby wastebasket. Taking a large pile of paper in hand, she started sifting through documents, attempting to determine which ones were and were not important. A half hour into the process gave her no relief. It seemed that while she had been sorting, the books had somehow found their way off the bookshelf again, and the piles of paper had only grown, rather than receded.

"I'm sure they're here somewhere...." Came the muffled thoughts of the Professor, no doubt lost somewhere in this abyss he called an office.

Bored, Finni stood up and began to walk around. Despite the fact that the beautifully crafted office was a complete mess, some of the stuff you found in here could be pretty worthwhile. Once, Finni had found a bronze-coated, hand-crafted contraption called a 'compass'. The Professor said that it came from a faraway place where water stretched for miles and miles, and creatures who breathed water ruled these things called 'seas'. He told her to keep it. It lay at home, underneath her bed in a box full of special things.

Gingerly making her way to the bookcase which had been neatly stocked before, Finni ran her fingertips over the bridges of the leather back journals, and books, reading each title and notification with great care, as if the words themselves would break if she were to say them too harshly. Her fingers stopped abruptly on a small gap between books. Peering closer, it seemed that there was something in the crack holding the books apart. After taking the books off the shelves and carefully placing them elsewhere, she managed to grasp what the object was. It felt thin, and papery, like a file of some sort. Pulling gently, as to not accidentally rip or damage it, she managed to shuffle it out of its hiding place.

"What....? 'Project Retribution'?" She whispered to herself, reading the big black print letters on the front of the thick envelope she had unearthed from the bowels of the bookshelf.

The bottom of the envelope read "Confidential; For those against". Gently undoing the binding that held the envelope shut, she began to pull out the paper contents. But before she could actually read any of them, she felt a hand rest unexpectedly on her shoulder.

"Whew, I couldn't find any of those papers!" said the Professor, quickly snatching the documents away. "On the other hand, I have some other errands for you to run for me as of the moment."

"Wait, what's-" But before she could finish, she found herself being pushed towards the door. The Professor put a wad of notes in her hand.

"I'll need you to go out and buy some more pens for me, and maybe some notebooks while you're at it?"

"But sir-"

"And buy yourself a snack, hm? I heard you muttering to yourself about not eating a proper breakfast."

"Hold on-"

"Good then? Alright, see you later!" He said cheerily, shutting the door and leaving her alone in the corridor.

She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it. Then she opened it again, and shut it once more. Glancing down at the amount of money Professor McFallon gave her, she estimated that she'd be able to buy a good amount of ballpoint pens, and few notebooks, and a nice big lunch.

"Sometimes I can't tell if he's trying to help me, or fatten me up so that he can eat me." She thought to herself, making her way through the large hall. "Even so that was peculiar...especially for the Professor"

Large, glass windows lined the walls of the hallway, letting Finnigan see clearly into the open courtyard. It was just the beginning of Spring; the grass was a deadish brown, and the trees naked with the exception of tiny flower buds on every other branch.

Students also dotted the enormous courtyard. Some walked in groups, discussing something important, Finni was sure. Others sat on the concrete benches surrounding the grand, water fountain; the school's treasure.

The water fountain itself was about eight or nine feet tall (give or take a few inches). From the bottom up where three bronze child-like angels, all stacked on top of the other. Each angel blew a horn, from which the water flowed up, out, and into the pool surrounding their feet. The sun's light glinted on their wings, giving off an almost holy glow. Silver and copper coins dotted the bottom of the pool.

It was said that good things come to those who drop coins into the fountain. By dropping a coin, you made an offering to the angels, and maybe even to God. By praying at the fountain, you could eventually attain your wish.

"Hmph, merely rubbish," Finnigan thought to herself, "It's completely illogical. Just chance, perhaps, but that's all it is."

She made her way to the main entrance and headed down the stairs. Making her way toward a hidden corner underneath the University stairs, she began to whistle. Finnigan loved riding the bike.

Pulling up the kickstand, she cautiously wheeled the motorized bicycle outside, backwards. Sunlight gleamed off the bronze rims as she swung her leg over the seat, making herself comfortable. Absentmindedly, she began to polish parts of the bike with her sleeve.

The bike is what we currently call motorcycles in our world. In her world, it was a gift to her from her good friend David Werlston, a skilled and witty mechanic whom she had been friends with since their toddler years. He was aware of her inability to travel to work without paying for bus fare, and, seeing as how money was tight enough in her family, built this for her. It was what he called a “gesture of kindness”. The entire bike was made of a bronze-like alloy; both durable and light. It wasn’t just a gesture of kindness, but an object she cared for dearly.

The Autumn air was crisp and chilly; it felt cool on Finnigan’s warm skin after her frantic run toward the Professor’s office. Still, her mother would’ve scolded her if she didn’t wear her scarf. She wrapped the hand-knit gold and maroon striped cloth around her neck. It was a present from her mother last Christmas, and a treasured possession ever since.

After several moments of making sure her hair wouldn’t cause and irritation underneath her helmet, she ignited the engine.

The bike came alive with a deafening roar which startled the few pigeons strutting around on the campus lawn. She grinned as she slowly rolled off the school sidewalk and onto the asphalt. After revving the engine a few times to scare the small children who were playing in the road away, she kicked up her heels and was off.

After a couple right turns and some wrong ones, she found herself at the entrance of the market. It was only maybe a couple hours before noon, but the market was already hustling and bustling with throngs of people going this way and that. She parked her bike, but didn’t lock it; no one else in the city knew how to ride or use it. Well…that and David had told most everyone that it had a special security system that would blow you up if you weren’t the owner.

Fingering the Notes in her pocket and clutching the shoulder strap of her satchel, she made her way slowly through the crowd with a great many excuse me’s and beg your pardon’s. She picked up several new pens along with some fresh ink (the Professor was always spilling it on his desk and himself). After browsing through the books that were on sale, she bought several rather large notebooks and the latest newspaper edition.

“‘Gaelic has done it once again! Last term leader to rule our peaceful country once again!’ Wow, no kidding huh?” She muttered to herself as she read the front page headlines of the paper. “It’s funny how he’s been elected almost 5 terms in a row. I guess the public seems to really like him.”

Just then, she heard a buzz and felt a vibration come from the inside of her satchel. Setting her purchases down on a cafe table, she ordered a croissant and Ginseng tea as she pulled her Personal Interface (P.I) out of her bag. She had forgotten that her notification setting had been left on vibrate. After checking through several days’ worth of notifications, she opened a link to a live stream from the Capital building channel. It was a speech, the annual re-election speech given by Gaelic every year that he'd won. Finnigan glanced around her, seeing that everyone else was currently tuned into their P.Is. She turned her attention back to the screen.

"Friends," He began, his unusually golden-colored eyes glowing with a mysterious aura. "It is an honor to be your leader once again. The city of the Republic has not only lived in peace because of my reign, but because of the wonderful society that we have created...together. Under my reign, we shall live in peace and harmony; and prospect envied by every other population surrounding our own." At this, his eyes seemed to glow fiercely for a moment.

"How strange..." Finnigan pondered to herself, but kept watching.

"Our city has been growing abundantly in resources and population. Everyone here seems to be quite well fed." He chuckled to himself, then his eyes began to glow intensely yet again. "In order to contain our magnificent Republic City's population to a manageable standard, we will have to all work together and pitch in. In the future, starting now, families will be limited to producing one child. Those who, from this day forward, produce more than one child, they will be taxed and their family will be demoted to the lower class of living as form of punishment for not heeding the law of our fair city. Those already in the possession of more than one child will not be affected at this point in time. Remember, this is all in the best interests of keeping the Republic economically healthy, I expect you all.." His eyes flashed for a millisecond, snapping Finni out of trance she hadn't realized she'd been in. Was that vice she had seen in his eyes? Or was it a trick of the light?
"...to comply with this message. Thank you, and have a wonderful rest of your evening. You are all...dismissed" Gaelic seemed to hiss that last phrase before he stepped away from the podium off camera. Then the screen went blank signaling that the live stream was over, with the words "Do not forsake the words of The One, for he is the key for the peace and harmony of our beloved Republic!"

Finnigan shut off her P.I just as her croissant and tea arrived. The waitress had also just finished watching the screen, her eyes looking quite dazed and blank, as if she wasn't mentally all there.

"Your tea and croissant," she murmured monotone, her eyes never once glancing in Finnigan's direction. "That will be 14 Notes, please."

"Oh yeah, sure," Finnigan said as she rummaged through her pocket, pulling out and counting 14 wrinkled notes. "Thanks."

"Oh, you are welcome. The One, Gaelic, encourages us to care for our fellow Republic inhabitants." She droned, her words coming out slow and steady. She took the notes, neatly folding and sticking them into her apron pocket. "May the peace and harmony of The One be with you."

Quite disturbed and unaware of what to do, Finni awkward nibbled her croissant while the waitress meandered away.

"'Cuz that wasn't strange in any way possible..." Finnigan thought to herself as she sipped her tea. Curious about the waitress' peculiar behavior, she began observing her as she waited from table to table. After several minutes, Finni began to notice that it wasn't the only waitress that was acting like this, but it was the other people in the cafe. They all seemed dazed and blank, as if they weren't quite...them. Quite creeped out at this point, Finnigan hurriedly packed her things and ordered a 'to-go' box, deciding that maybe she'd be more comfortable eating at her friend's place.

The waitress who brought her the box simply smiled blankly and said, "May the peace and harmony of Gaelic be with you."