CAPE CARNELIAN IS a haven for those with questionable morals, a paradise for the scum of the Earth.
And Maisie enjoys it immensely.
It's a playground for people like her — psychopaths, sociopaths, criminals, killers. The police force cares little for anyone whose family name doesn't come from royalty and the lawlessness of the capital means next to no people snooping around. Murders are overlooked, burglaries are met with little more than an exasperated sigh, and stumbling across drug deals and gang disputes are day-to-day activities.
Maisie is currently sipping tea out of a tiny china cup in a quaint cafe, watching two men fight to the death. It's an interesting juxtaposition; the inside of the cafe is quiet, serene, peaceful and the outside — which happens to be a smaller version of Cape Carnelian's massive town square, just without the glowing signs and skyscrapers and royals running around — is a jungle, a madhouse, a clamor of those deprived of entertainment. She hums along to the soft classical music playing through the overhead speakers as one man sends a swift punch to the other's gut. The first man is tall and lanky, with a mop of dirty brown curls and a manic grin on his face. The second, the one who is currently bent over and gasping for breath, is big and burly, made completely out of muscles and scars.
They're surrounded by a ring of men, women, and children, all filthy and scrawny. If Maisie wasn't so damn dead inside, she'd probably feel bad for those people, feel something akin to sympathy. They're the slum dwellers, those who can't and won't make it out of the worst parts of Cape Carnelian. They're the ones who suffer most at the hands of the materialistic monarchy. They're the ones who bet on fights like this one to earn a little extra cash.
"Aiden, Aiden, Aiden!" The crowd, muffled by the glass window, cheers, obviously in favor of the skinny man, although a few still urge the bigger man on, having wrongfully placed their bets on him, most likely out of sheer idiocy over his size.
The second man may be huge, but he relies on brute strength where the first has an unbelievable speed and a nasty right hook.
The spectators boo as the big man lands a hit on the favorite and sends him flying towards the concrete. But what they don't know — and what Maisie's eyes have been trained to see — is that their golden boy has let the other man hit him. He lies on the ground, faking dizziness, faking defeat, and waits for the witless giant to loom over him, to bask in his glory.
And he does. The big man's shadows covers the fallen man's body, ready to put an end to it, but Maisie can see the smirk, the deceit, clear on Aiden's face. One more step and Aiden's leg moves, gracefully, swiftly, sweeping the giant's feet from under him and causing the tower to fall. His face lands harshly on the sidewalk and Maisie relishes in the blood that pours from his nose as he lifts his head up a fraction.
Aiden rises and sends blow after blow after blow, a flurry of kicks and punches and satisfied growling. The music in the cafe reaches a crescendo in sync with the fight and ends the same.
A death in broad daylight, surrounded by countless witnesses — its a feat that could only take place in Cape Carnelian.
"Who's next?" Aiden calls, his teeth bloody as he shows off that arrogant grin of his, and Maisie finds herself rising to the challenge. She throws a few bills on the wobbly table, takes one last sip of her now cold tea, and walks out the door and into the crowd. She has to push her way through sweaty bodies, ignoring the stench that threatens to bring up her lunch, and steps out of the circle and into the ring.
This is what makes her feel alive.
"I'll fight you," she says sweetly, fluttering her eyelashes at him as he stares in what she thinks is shock. "No killing though, you're too pretty to die."
