Black Collar Crime: $5

  “You good, man? Why the long face?” Gus asked Xole as the two made their way to the plaza that preceded Amesworth International. It sat inside the block rather than on the corner like most buildings. The block itself was a wide area, housing smaller shops who paid a fee to do business. It was almost like a mini outside strip mall. The area looked lively despite the over looming clouds beginning to drip rain.

  “Bus fare’s killer,” Xole replied, trying to forget about what he told Yesfir. Despite how he felt he couldn’t help but shake the regret he felt.

  Gus looked confused. “Thought the sitter was bringing you? Not that I wanted to see her or anything, even though she’s fine as hell and—”

  “Let’s not get into that.” Xole quickly interjected. As him and Gus reached the front, he noticed there was a detector in front of the doors, those doors in which were being guarded by a larger and gruff-looking security guard.

  ‘Ester?’ Xole thought, ‘He’s usually always at Gus’s father’s side, what’s he doing out here today?’

  “Sup boys!” the bigger man said with a smile, slapping each of them a high five.

  “Not much,” Xole replied, looking left and right, “Seems pretty empty today.”

  “Yeah,” Gus said, glancing around himself. “Hey, Ester, you get demoted or something?”

  “Ouch!” the fair skinned man laughed, recoiling as if he were punched in the gut, “I sure hope not!”

  Xole groaned, “I think what he means is, where are Sam and Mitch? It’s not like them to miss a day of work.”

  Ester’s smile vanished and was suddenly quiet.

  “Let me guess, Xole’s girl was hungover again and they had to smuggle him in the trunk again?” Gus smiled, hands on his hips.

  “That was only once, Gus.” Xole said, tinging in annoyance, “And no, I took the bus, like I said earlier.”

  “Suuure you did!” Gus laughed.

  “Sam and Mitch are…gone, boys. Killed on the job,” Ester broke his silence, “Some psycho followed them home and murdered them. We have reason to believe they came here before so your father insisted installing a system to monitor Talents now. Get a gauge of who’s more dangerous.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence between the three.

  Xole shook his head, “There’s…there’s no way. I mean, I’m pretty sure anyone would be scared off by your Talent, Ester. Like, what psycho goes around picking fights with Bodily Talent users?”

  “The same psycho who killed the two of them,” Ester answered, “Remember, Sam, Mitch, and I all share the same Talent.”

  “That son of a bitch!” Gus exclaimed angrily clenching his fist.

  “Gus,” Ester said.

  “It was probably those fucking homeless, wasn’t it?! I heard this city’s always had problems with them!”

  “I don’t think they could’ve pulled that off.”

  “It doesn’t matter!” Gus spat back, “People are always so jealous of my family they’ve got to do shit like this to get to us! They’re just mad cause—!”

  Xole pot his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Easy, birthday boy, I’m pretty sure the culprit’s gonna get caught in no time. Ester’s the strongest guy your father has, remember? Besides you’re scaring our other guest of honor.” Xole said reassuringly, motioning to the top of his friend’s head.

  “Oh right! Sorry little guy,” Gus said, taking his hamster out from his hair and examining it. The creature seemed frightened.

  “I thought father Amesworth hated pets,” Ester said, narrowing his gaze on the two boys.

  Gus began to sweat. He rubbed his eyes under his sunglasses. “Well, you see—”

  “If he knew,” the guard winked at them and let them through. “Have a great day boys! Oh and don’t worry about the detector it doesn’t work yet, but the one upstairs just might.”

  Gus just laughed, punching the smirking man in the arm and hurrying through the door as Xole followed before giving Ester one last look.

  “Hey, man, I am really sorry about—”

  “It’s fine Xole. Really it is,” Ester stopped him putting his hand up. “I just want you two to enjoy your day, that’s all.”

  “Well I don’t know if I can,” Xole said turning to catch up with Gus, “but I know he will!”

  “Oh and Xole!” Ester called out, “Could you do me a solid and keep an eye on him for me?”

  He simply raised his arm to give a thumbs up, disappearing from Ester’s view.

  Xole hurried through the main lobby to Gus. The wide space was clean and futuristic looking, with digital advertisements projecting overhead showing off Amesworth’s latest products and technology. Multiple projections of Brandon Amesworth’s performing different activities blinked around the room before returning to a digital ad:

  AMESWORTH PRESENTS: HISTORY THROUGH A HOLOGRAM—COMING SOON!

  “This is gonna get wild man.” Gus beamed, waving to the desk lady. “If I end up manifesting Spiritual Talent my dad will be so proud!”

  “Spiritual?” Xole asked puzzled “Wasn’t that just a myth though?”

  “Gus!”

  The two looked over to see the narrow-faced desk lady looking at them while on the phone, “Your father is sending someone down to gather you in a few minutes, wait here until then”

  “Ha! Typical dad! Always wants things perfect before a big show,” Gus said. He quickly pulled Xole to the side and made their way to the bathroom. He walked inside a stall motioning for Xole to follow.

  “Uh…no,” Xole said squinting at him, “Just no.”

  “Just who the hell you take me for?!” Gus exclaimed, “Stalls are top secret, so no cameras! Now hurry!”

  Xole shook his head stepping inside, “Small though, really?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Gus looked around before locking them inside. “Now, Xole, my folks told me never to tell anyone but since you’re my friend I’ll let it slide. Spiritual Talents are the real deal! Cool huh? WAY better than being a meat head or playing with sticks all day.”

  “Wait a minute then if that’s the case why keep it such a secret in the first place? Thought rich people loved to market everything?”

  “Don’t know but if it’s kept the country afloat without causing another power struggle then who cares? Anyways, only one per family can inherit it and once said person is dead, then next in line inherits it. Usually, it’s the next one born or the oldest before the age of twenty. So, with grandpa outta the way—”

  Xole blinked. “Wait, you KILLED your grandfather?!”

  “Yeah! Wait, no, NO don’t worry dude he’s already dead!” Gus laughed, slapping Xole’s shoulder, who he breathed a sigh of relief. Rich people always had a way of making him feel uneasy in one way or another.

  Gus let out a breath of his own. “Whew! You know the only person more exited for this than me is probably my old man. All the meetings, training, medication, this is a big moment for him, man.”

  Xole sighed and shook his head, “Look Gus, I know how important this is but why tell me? You know I don’t care about Talents and all that stuff.”

  Gus turned away. “Cause you’re my best bud! I just need you to have my back like you always do…”

  His voice drifted suddenly lost as he lost his footing, stumbling back against the wall, his glasses falling off his face and under the stall door. Xole moved quickly, grabbing his arm, slowing his fall and helping him to the toilet seat.

  “Just like that!” Gus said chuckled weakly, “Now where’d my glasses go?”

  “A slip?! Gus this is the fifth time this week you’ve collapsed!” Xole exclaimed “I’m telling your father—”

  “NO!” Gus nearly shouted jumping back to his feet to look at his shorter friend dead in the eye. “He can NOT know about this! He’ll be crushed if I let him down because I’m weak. The business is relying on me to have this Talent. If not, we’ll lose number one and his reputation will be tarnished!”

  Getting a better look at his friend, Xole could clearly see dark circles under Gus’s swamp green eyes, which had begun to show signs of blood. His own eyes widened at the sight.

  “Gus, at this rate your life will be tarnished. I get your excited, but all this needless responsibility is gonna kill you!”

  “Xole…man please.” Gus put his hands on his sides and paced as far as the stall would allow him before stepping back. “Just forget about my dad, this is for me. You said you’d have my back, didn’t you?”

  “I mean…”

  “Look, just help me get my face washed. After today I’ll talk to my father. Hell, if it makes you feel better, I’ll even invite—”

  Before he finished, the stall door was thrust open.

  They both looked in horror to see a woman. Her head was shaved and tattooed on both sides but the top to show off long black silky hair. Her ears were full of small piercings with a larger one on her on her left earlobe. She wore a white dress shirt and red necktie under a black long coat that went down to her shiny silver-heeled boots. She just stared at the two, her dark eyes somehow cutting through her darker eye makeup that curved upwards.

  “My name is Anastasia,” she spoke in a smooth, yet icy tone. She quickly snatched both their hands. “I’ll be your escort up.”

  __________________________________________________________________

  “So, boy, you wanna tell me your side of all this?” Mr. Holdover asked Xole as the beaten-up cop car sped through the long empty bridge exiting the main island. The trio managed to get out just before a city-wide curfew was declared. Anyone caught outside would be arrested on spot, dissuading anyone from entering and exiting Empire City.

  There was no response.

  “Kid look, it’s okay. Going through shit’s just another part of life we all have to deal with."

  Again, no response.

  “Xole?”

  Xole stayed silent.

  “Hey, BOY!” Mr. Holdover snapped, “You ignoring me, idiot?!”

  “Probably because he’s asleep,” Shakar replied, examining his semi-extended staff. “It’s been a long day and its best we all take a moment to gather our bearings.”

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  Mr. Holdover slammed his foot on the break, causing Xole to lurch forward, falling off his seat with a loud ‘thud’.

  “AHH, HELP! YESFIR, GUS, ANYONE!!” he panicked, thrashing his arms around and jolting upwards. His head shot around the car, shaking, before remembering where he was. “Oh, uhh, are we there yet?”

  “Eh, no I just thought I hit something.” Mr. Holdover smirked to himself, “But since you are awake now—”

  “You’re terrible.” Shakar cut in.

  “—I need you to tell me what exactly happened.”

  Xole sighed. “I just…I don’t know, alright? Every time I try to remember it’s like a haze and whenever I feel like I get close, I feel…afraid.”

  Shakar glanced at Mr. Holdover, who continued to stare forward as they exited the bridge into the suburbs. The three were silent for a moment. Then, Shakar spoke up.

  “Ah, I see. It’s not as though you can’t remember, it’s more like you don’t want to remember. Am I correct?”

  Xole didn’t say anything.

  “Well, Xole, if you don’t want to remember then I guess you don’t want help either. I’d say it’s a fair trade considering what I’ve put myself through for you so far.” He pointed to the side of the road. “Perhaps we could leave you in that ditch over the—”

  “Shut up you self-entitled, kufi wearing prick!!” Xole snapped, “How are you gonna start up a school if you can’t help a single person like me!?”

  An odd grin formed on the farthest corner of Shakar’s head tilted downward briefly. He twisted it back into a smile and turned to Xole face to face.

  “My school won’t cater to people like you in that regard.”

  “You know what?! Screw you, AND that cursed school! I hope it never happens!”

  “And I hope you find whatever peace you’re looking for.” Shakar replied calmly, “I mean you probably won’t but—”

  “I’m done here!” Xole declared grabbing the door handle. “Stop here, I’ll get out!”

  That caught Mr. Holdover’s ear. He was actually enjoying the back and forth, even chuckling a few times throughout their banter. Then the kid had to make a statement.

  “Boy, sit down. Kufi, shut up or I’m throwing that stupid hat out the window.” He warned, taking view of the oncoming neighborhood. Even on the outskirts he saw trash bags tossed on the sidewalk and a few rough-dressed homeless men dragging more bags across the street. He glared at the sight.

  “Does every city in this country look this rough?” Shakar asked staring out the window.

  “I dunno,” Xole replied, “I don’t think I went out much anyways.”

  Mr. Holdover made a face. “Wait, I thought you couldn’t remember anything?”

  “It’s more of a feeling than a memory, ok?”

  Shakar nodded, “Real convenient.”

  “Could we just change the subject please?” Xole leaned back. He started to regret following these guys more and more. “You seem pretty invincible, angry guy. Are you one of those Talent users?”

  “Well, no shit.” Mr. Holdover looked over his shoulder to see the kid was wide eyed. He was surprised to see he was genuinely stunned.

  “You must be a rare example of someone Bodily Talented despite coming from a poor background,” Shakar piped in.

  “The hell gave you that impression?!”

  “You were clearly strong enough to fight off that other Bodily type, Bob, with minimal damage despite him also being a Collared worker. Meaning, you’re clearly skilled and experienced.”

  “Oh. That’s probably the nicest thing—”

  “And you were trying—and failing I might add—to start a business, had no negotiation skills at Amesworth—not to mention your building looked like a complete dump—”

  “You know a pissed off driver could easily kill all of his passengers, right?”

  “See? Point proven.”

  “What about you?” Xole asked, glancing to Shakar, “What’s your Talent?”

  Shakar raised an eyebrow. “I thought I made it clear back at the parlor.” He took out his bead-headed staff from his side pants pocket. “This retractable staff is my tool of choice. Key word being ‘tool’, meaning my Talent affinity would be of the other type, Material.”

  “Other type?” Mr. Holdover questioned, “Aren’t you forgetting one?”

  “Nope!”

  “So, you use weapons to fight instead of your body?” Xole asked, “Like those two at the parlor?”

  “Not weapons, tools. Just like Bodily types utilizing aspects of their bodies.” Shakar corrected, filling his staff with more red powder. “Anyone can be Talented in anything; art, driving, cooking. It’s all about how you apply yourself. Most people would rather live their best lives than dedicate their passion to combat. It’s why we see less and less people choose to even use their Talents for self-defense, let alone combat anymore.”

  “Bunch of morons, those are.” Mr. Holdover spat.

  Shakar didn’t say anything.

  “Hey,” Xole said, “What if people just want to be happy?”

  “Happy? You think they’re HAPPY?” He exclaimed, nearly hitting a terrified pedestrian. “What they are is complacent. They can trick themselves into thinking they have it easy and living their ‘best lives’ bullshit. In reality, they just turn a blind eye because they either can’t understand or don’t want to!”

  “Well at least they have Talent,” Xole said bitterly, “If there’s one thing I do remember vividly, it was failing to be good at anything. That’s probably what got Gus killed.”

  Mr. Holdover saw his head was tilted down from the mirror. ‘That name again.’ He thought.

  “Say, boy,” he said, “you ever thought your Talent may not be Bodily or Material, but Spiritual?”

  Xole felt a chill run up his spine. “Well…the name’s familiar. That’s about it.”

  Shakar sighed. “Now would this be considered a feeling or a memory?”

  “Would you just knock it off?!” Xole snapped to the younger man. He uneasily sifted back into his seat, turning to Mr. Holdover. “Hey uh, what does this ‘Spiritual Talent’ even do? What makes it so special?”

  “No one really knows,” he replied, his eyes still on the road. “That knowledge was wiped out almost seventy years ago, along with about half of this damn planet.”

  “Wait WHAT?”

  “He’s referring to a popular theory among black web forums, the ‘The Great Reduction Theory’.” Shakar sighed. “Allegedly, there was an American scientist, who discovered that the government was using Spiritual Talent to manipulate their people in preparation for the coming cold war. In response, he would leak his findings to the public, inciting a nationwide revolt while he would retreat to an isolated part of the earth in an attempt to blow it up. And since we’re still here, he clearly forgot to finish his work.” he took a breath. “Pretty good for a hoax.”

  “A hoax?!” Mr. Holdover lurched forward, running a red light. “The planet got fucked so badly the entire world held a temporary ceasefire! No more Cold War, yet millions of people died! Don’t tell me you think some ‘mega quake’ caused something so convenient, let alone so-called peace!”

  “Well, considering a fault-line found afterwards…”

  “So pretty much we know nothing!” Xole threw his hands up, rubbing his eyes “Ugh, this is why I hate history.”

  “Oh, OH EXACTLY! And that’s not all!” Mr. Holdover continued, swerving to the sidewalk. “These mother fuckers had the nerve to literally put in everyone’s head that he was some type of ‘dictator’ or some shit and that he manufactured some big ass earthquake with stolen documents! Can you believe it?!”

  “Well by your logic he did.” Shakar said.

  “You know what I mean!!”

  Xole stroked his chin. “So, the Spiritual Talent’s power is…brainwashing?”

  The older man finally took a breath. “I would say manipulation. These elites used their Talent to remove everyone’s knowledge of what actually happened and replacing it with some corny ass name, the ‘Big One’.”

  “I can hardly believe it!” Shakar gasped, shooting his hands to his head.

  Mr. Holdover almost reached for the clown’s neck. It took all he had to ignore it and swerve off the sidewalk. Xole felt his hands fall to his face, he was getting nowhere.

  “Well then do you have any idea who these rich guys are?”

  Mr. Holdover eyed him from the rear-view mirror. “If I tell you, you better not laugh.”

  “Dude, you think after all that’s happened—”

  “Because every time I’ve told someone this, they’ve either laughed, tried to kill me, or both.”

  “Fine, promise.”

  “I firmly believe a cult of families secretly control of the world.”

  “…Nah you lost me.” Xole sighed leaning back in his seat again. “I think these weird Collard workers who attacked us back there are fishy and all but c’mon man.”

  Shakar shrugged. “In all honesty I must agree. While I don’t trust this government either, the theory’s clearly come off the rails.”

  Mr. Holdover didn’t even notice his knuckles turning white.

  “So, you dumbasses are telling me you can believe in a corrupt system full of submissive government super humans, but you don’t know how their damn strings are being pulled!?”

  “I mean…yeah.”

  Without warning, him and Shakar started laughing, slapping their knees and the car. Shakar even smacked the older man’s back. Xole could feel himself tearing up.

  “Look I TRIED to take you seriously!” he gasped, “But c’mon what did you EXPECT me to say?!”

  The two laughed even harder, filling the car with noise. Mr. Holdover went into a dead stare. He could feel his neck craning. He should’ve just let the kid walk so he could choke out Shakar in peace. Now he had to deal with these two dipshits bonding and laughing over him.

  “Hey,” Xole said wiping a tear from his eye. “Why are we going faster? It’s a residential zone.”

  Mr. Holdover didn’t say anything.

  “Ah, sir?’ Shakar asked, his laugh now turning into a nervous one, “If you go any faster, we’ll crash, and I don’t think this car can take much more abuse.”

  He responded by pressing the gas, sending the car speeding into the narrow neighborhood at blinding speeds with the two now screaming in horror at the mercy of their homicidal driver.

  …

  Brandon Amesworth paced nervously in his office, glancing at the telephone on his desk every few seconds until it rang. He snatched it off the hook before it finished the first ring.

  “Janet?” he asked.

  “She’s here, sir.”

  Brandon took a breath. “Send her up.”

  “She was coming anyways, sir. I’m sorry I couldn’t do anyth—”

  “Its fine, I’ve got it all under control.” Brandon spoke, attempting to regain his composure as the door opened.

  “Miss Roo—*ahem*—Rosa!” he forced a smile, quickly sitting at his desk. “I do hope the transaction went smoothly. The new coat suits you rather well—”

  “M.I.R.S doesn’t specialize in repetition,” Anastasia spoke sharply, heels clicking as she stepped towards him. “So, tell me if my mission was completed why am I still here?”

  “Yes, yes,” Brandon began, stiffening in his seat. “It’s quite complicated for my company as well, you see. People are losing faith after the recent attacks and the murder of my son. Investors have left, deals have been halted, heh, hell I can’t even continue my project on—”

  “Get to the point.”

  “…The three who escaped have classified Intel and I need them eliminated. Happy?”

  “No.” Anastasia strode past the shivering man to the window and looked out it. “Just satisfied. What else do you know of them?”

  Brandon cleared his throat. “The descriptions listed on the news for one, as well as the damaged security footage we captured before their escape. Besides the boy, Xole’s information, we know nothing more nor less I assure you.”

  “Intriguing,” the woman said, her words laced with skepticism. She made her way back to his desk and leaned forward close enough, so they were eye level. “One of the biggest corporate giants on the east coast with a worldwide reputation is lacking information on two consecutive break-ins…”

  “Well, we’re not talking about that, now are we?” Brandon snapped, slamming his hands on the table and raising himself up. “You know what I find ‘Interesting’, Miss Roosa? The so-called best hit-woman on the market not only killed the WRONG target, she couldn’t even keep the other one dead—!”

  In a flash, Anastasia grabbed Brandon by his tie and slammed him back down to the desk chin first with a ‘CRASH!’ He cried out in pain as she held him in place, leaning into his ear.

  “Know your place. White Collard cowards such as yourself don’t give the orders anymore.”

  Choking, Brandon could see the woman’s tie was no longer red, but black. He forced a dry chuckle.

  “Well—*GACK*—well, looks like someone’s gotten themselves a promotion…”

  “Good. Now that we’re on the same page things are going to be a bit different this time around. Since secrecy is of the matter, I’ll cut you some slack.” She let him go, allowing him to grab his throat and gasp for air. She turned for the door. The black and white heptagon shaped American flag was clearly visible on the back of her coat. “You have until sunrise to capture them. From then on, I’ll return to exterminate the three. Failure to do so will result in the loss of your company, Brandon. I’ll ensure that Amesworth will have a suitable replacement in your loss.”

  “M-my company?!” Brandon was in awe. “That wasn’t part of our original agreement! I demand to speak with a higher up, NOW!”

  Anastasia tilted her head back far enough for him to make out a sneer plastered of her face.

  “You are. Goodbye.”

  The door shut leaving Brandon collapsed on the table, fuming and cursing. His shaking hands made their way to the telephone, furiously slamming buttons while using his other to fix his messy gray clumps of hair.

  “JANET!” he bellowed over the phone, “Bring me the FBI…IMMEDIATELY!”

  “Y-y-yes sir—” she stammered before being cut off. Quickly, the three men, Left, Right, and Bob, filed into the room standing shoulder to shoulder.

  “Mr. Amesworth!” Bob grinned “I see your still in wonderful shape—”

  “SILENCE!” Brandon’s shrill pitched voiced echoed across the room. His hands rested against his desk, “You three worthless…useless…YOU HAD ONE JOB!”

  “…With, all due respect sir—” Left began.

  “With, all due respect sir,” Right cut in, “you did have more information. Mr. Holdover was present in both our little parlor squabble, as well as the break-in earlier today. Surely if you gave her what you have on him—”

  “NO!” Brandon shouted breathing hard, “Absolutely not!” Taking as many breaths as he could, he finally sat down, clasping his fingers under his chin. Right began to wish he’d let Left finish for once.

  “He knows too much. If I give them him, then I lose control.” Brandon spoke in a stern tone. “Let me ask you, what are the benefits to doing something so preemptive?”

  “Well for starters,” Left began, eying Right, “I’m sure there’s some type of reward—”

  “Yes!” Right exclaimed. “You could be a hero! Someone who saved Empire city from the trio of thugs!”

  “They may even give you a bump in the food chain!” Bob added.

  Brandon just laughed.

  “Amassing wealth, power, fame, it’s all nothing without control. And not like some type of dictator, no. I’m talking about true manipulation. Why should I receive rewards when I could give them? Why should I receive fame when I could create it? Why should I go up a ‘food chain’ when I could make one?”

  The three were silent as he trailed off, picking up an image of Gus, staring at it before abruptly putting it face down and continuing.

  “I’ve learned that despite owning one of the most profitable businesses on the globe and even working closely with the government, I still must answer to superiors and work within laws that I have nothing to do with. I never understood such a ridiculous notion. From that point I’d thought I hit a ceiling, that my questions would remain unanswered. It was at that point I was approached by M.I.R.S. The rest is history.”

  Bob squinted. “Mr. Amesworth that’s great and all…but what does this gotta to do with keeping Mr. Holdover’s identity a secret? You never really answered that.”

  Brandon scowled, strutting right up to Bob to look the taller man in the eye and wag a finger at him.

  “I JUST answered that, you eyebrow-less dolt! He has information that could severely damage M.I.R.S’s secrecy. I’m going to use that against them.”

  “Oh.” Bob replied sounding hurt, “You could’ve just said that without sounding so mean.”

  Brandon rubbed his head, “Regardless, we still have an assignment to do. Not to worry though, I believe Xole will come to us with the right…motivation. Now leave, I’m quite busy.”

  The three left out the door just as Janet stepped inside, quickly closing it behind her.

  “Janet,” Brandon asked, “is he secured?”

  “Yes, sir. We’ve placed Gus in the lab on the top floor in the penthouse. However, the pet is missing.”

  “It’s WHAT?!”

  “D-d-don’t worry we already have ways to track it’s movements once you’re uh…son’s back with us.”

  “Good,” Brandon replied. His face then changed. “That boy still has a purpose to serve.”