RainCaster (edited)

Rules

"The first step in becoming a Royal is discipline."

That's what my mother always told me. Discipline, responsibility, loyalty, rank. Those were the four principles of Royalty, although some were weighted over others.

The first rule was always the hardest. Following orders was—and still is—something that, no matter how hard I try, I can't bring myself to go through with. I still remember getting a thorough beating from my former Captain day after day, usually because of something smart ass-y I said in front of a higher ranking soldier. I knew he agreed with my comments, but he never said it out loud. As a Captain, it was his job to listen and obey, his job to enforce order among his Squad mates.

The second rule was always the most confusing. Back then, I knew very well what our responsibilities were, but there was a part of the rule that added a twist to the concept. Do whatever it takes to protect the Crown. Last time I checked, "whatever it takes" was bolded and underlined, as if only one of the two wasn't enough to emphasize that point. I never paid much attention to it. I probably should have.

The third rule was always the most obvious, yet the easiest one to break. Logically, it shouldn't be; loyalty was a common sense factor, the foundation of all Clouds and the Squads that protected them. It was the first card weather control pulled on me, during my demotion trial, and ultimately their strongest contention. The main reason I was stripped of my Royal status.

The fourth rule was always the most sinister. Kind of like the second rule, only no one needed to bold or underline anything to make it clearer than it already was. To be a Royal was to rule over your subordinates. To be a Royal was to make sure no one stepped out of line. To be a Royal was to punish those who did so, to blame innocents for your mistakes, and to kill any who might spill the secrets that you held.

I was that Royal once. That prancing, arrogant, wannabe prince who thought he could do anything, be anything, say anything, and get away with it all.

I stepped on the poor, crushed people's dreams, stole candy from a baby with a flick of my hand.

I threw rebels around, sent kids to hospitals, flung pretend heroes over cliffs, and everyone would say it was the rebel's fault for voicing his opinion, the kid's fault for saying the truth, and the hero's fault for doing what was right. Because in the end, nobody wanted to end up at the bottom of a cliff.

Pokester was right about the clouds; the sky is about as grey as my name. I lean against the wall of a small apartment building, careful to keep myself in the shadow of the alley as I peer outside.

My Mercedes is parked by the sidewalk, Leanne in the driver's seat. It was a hard decision, entrusting Leanne with my car, but it was our best option. The alternative was to stand around awkwardly by the sidewalk and basically have a paper taped to his back, saying "I'm over here and my friends are gonna ambush you."

Parkside is a quiet neighborhood in San Francisco during this time of day, an occasional vehicle driving past and one or two joggers wearing earbuds that peak from their pockets. The houses on this street alone have all the colors in the rainbow and, in my opinion, the strangest architectural shapes I've ever seen. The abnormal structure is due in part because of San Francisco's famous sloping roads, so most of the buildings—residential or business—are built in strange angles. Most days, there's a blanket of fog in the air, but today the neighborhood is bright and shining.

On the opposite side of the street, Hailey sits, perched on a cardboard box in another alley, and scans each passerby with narrowed eyes (like a cat). Sampson is further down the street. Mara and Kyo are flat on their stomachs on top of the apartment roofs, keeping a sharp lookout. We're all waiting.

Sometimes I wonder, if I hadn't done what I did that night, hadn't been demoted and sent to San Francisco, hadn't met Hailey and the rest of the team, what would I be doing now? Robbing another toddler? Kicking another beggar? Laughing because I killed another man who was only trying to save someone else from corrupted Royalty?

I doubt it could be better than what I'm doing now.

Poor Leanne looks like he might wet his pants, staring at Odd-eyes' deadpan face.