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CHAPTER THREE: INVICTUS

 

I hovered over Ricky, watching him work his technical magic. I blinked back smoke between his keystrokes. Ricky’s hands waved holo-screens back and forth. Switching them around as he read hundreds of lines of codes and commands that instructed my band on everything it knew about me. Or at least what it thought it knew. Somehow, in that back alley, I found a chance to start anew. Someone upstairs had pitied me enough that they dropped a new identity right in my lap and who was I to turn down such generosity? It beat dragging my sorry ass through the mud, day in and day out. 

 

“You find anything yet, Ricky?” I asked, gripping the back of his chair.

 

Ricky didn’t answer back. Too focused on the shifting lines of text in front of him. He leaned in to the screens as if straining his bug eyes would change a thing. 

 

“From what I’m seeing or not fucking seeing….whoever wrote the program that messed with your band is a literal genius.” Ricky said, finally leaning back as he took another pull from his blunt.

 

It was my turn now to be confused. I shifted my stance, positioning myself to get a better view. Unsure of what he had meant. What did he see? I read the commands on the screen, my eyes running from left to right and back again like an old-fashioned typewriter. Nothing I saw popped out to me. The same basic code that could be seen anywhere else. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary. But there has to be something. This makes no sense. Designations don’t just change by themselves. I continued to stare at the screens. Looking for a clue, a hint, anything that would give me an idea of what happened. I tapped away at the screens, frustrated. There was something there, I just couldn’t find it and that drove me crazy. Knowing it was there, but lacking the evidence to prove it.

 

“Some wicked shit, right? Whatever program hacked your band, changed your designation and self-terminated so no one could trace it back. There’s not even a bread crumb left to follow back to the original source code. If you never open your mouth, you’d pass for a Noblesse and nobody would be none the wiser, bro. I got to hand it to whoever designed it.” Ricky said with a straight face, putting out his blunt, turning back to face me. “So, what are you going to do now? I mean, you got the pick of the litter here, bro. Have you thought about what you want to do when the employment roulette comes around?”

 

Ricky’s question caught me off guard. Reality had already set in, but I hadn’t taken a minute to really figure out what I wanted to do with my new life just yet. The possibilities were endless, but the probability that I could pull any of them off was not. I needed time to think about what I’d choose for a job, something I could fake it until I made it. Being a Noblesse meant that even if I didn’t meet all the requirements like one normally had to, I could still qualify for a job slot just by virtue alone. Thank the heavens for nepotism.

 

“I don’t know, man. At first I just wanted something respectable, you know? Engineer or some shit. But now… I think I might thinking too small, you know? Like maybe… maybe I can pick a job where I can actually help people. Do for those that can’t do for themselves.” I said, rubbing the back of my neck, pacing around the cramped minimalist apartment.

 

“So what you think you some kind of ‘Robin Hood’ of the Destros now or something? Rob the rich, give to the needy. Bro, you tripping. What you need to do is focus on coming up with a plan and keeping yourself out of a fucking dumpster. Didn’t you tell me that Hound was searching for something? Maybe he was searching for exactly what YOU found. This shit is more than enough to drive those motherfuckers on top of the hill crazy. Destros suddenly becoming high-ranking, respectable members of society? You don’t need to be out here sticking your neck out more than you need to unless you want to lose it, man.” Ricky scoffed.

 

I took a second to really take in what he said. I can almost hear my heartbeat thump away in the background at a steadied pace. His words were harsh. Cutting deep, but Ricky meant well. I mean, he’d never steered me wrong before. Ricky saw what happened to my family… what happened to me. He was there when shit hit the fan. He lost his parents too. That’s how I met him, rounded up by the Hounds before they sent us off to the orphanage. He’d do anything to protect me, and I loved him for that. That’s why I’d do the same for him. Loyalty meant everything to us Destros when it was hard to know who to trust.

 

“Alright, alright. I get it. I just wanted to make my parents proud, but I understand.” I threw my hands up in defeat. “I’ll worry about wiping my own ass… anyway, since you asked, I know I’m not the greatest at studying, so anything I got to go to school for an extended period of time is out of the question. And as much as I’d love a comfortable office job as much as the next Destros, being stuck inside for the rest of my life would drive me crazy. I think if I get lucky, I’ll try picking up something more on the manual labor side of things. Working with my hands. That way, it won’t be expected of me to be as cultured.” 

 

I turned around, walking back to take a seat on the couch while I eyed Ricky. Looking for any hint of disagreement on his face.

 

“That’ll be the best thing you can do, man. From what I can see, even if your class changed, your scores didn’t. You didn’t do as terrible as you thought, which leaves me wondering how your ass got Pariah, of all things. Maybe it was your stupid high physical potential score. But that makes sense, since your old man used to be a soldier back home, wasn’t he?”

 

“Yeah.. I think so, at least. My folks never talked much about their life before coming here.” I said, trying to remember the last time my father ever talked about home.

 

I drew a blank. I remembered a lot about my parents and my little brother. The spicy food my mother loved to cook. The games my brother and I would play. My father’s stern voice yet loving embrace. He’d taught me everything he could in the time he spent alive. His lessons were simple. A man that didn’t work didn’t eat. A man should be able to be proud of the work he does and a man must always protect his family and those he loved. They were simple lessons, but they stuck with me forever.

 

“Well, you just might be in luck. Either way, we’re going to have to get you up to speed. Can’t have my only Noblesse homeboy out here embarrassing himself.” Ricky got up from his seat, swiping over the holo-screen from his computer onto the television as an old daytime drama came on.

 

“What are you doing?” I asked.

 

“If you want to survive, nobody can learn you used to be a Destros. Nobody. And since we can’t fix your whack ass wardrobe, that leaves us with fixing up your game.” Ricky said.

 

“What you mean fix? My game slicker, than anybody you know.” I said indignantly.

 

“And most of the people I know are fucked up Ichor-fiends, D. That ain’t saying much. You talk fine for a Destros, but that ain’t going to cut it for no Noblesse, man. Just shut up and watch. It’ll help.”

 

“Whatever.” I shook my head, adjusting myself in the seat as I muttered. “My game tight.”

 

###

 

Ricky and I watched hours of Noblesse dramas. Pausing between the hour long episodes for a smoke break. Ricky might’ve been an Ichor dealer, but he’d never even had a lick of the stuff, so we stuck to his weed. I didn’t see too much problem with it. If someone wanted to escape reality, they should be allowed to. Long as they did what they needed to, to make sure bills were paid and their fridge was full. I started practicing the mannerisms I saw in the male Noblesse characters. Their hand gestures. Their accent. Anything and everything I could work into my everyday speech.

 

“Good day Ricardo.” I said with as much condescension as possible.

 

“Try it again.” Ricky said.

 

“Good day Ricardo.” I repeated, titling up my chin, while looking down on my best friend from the tip of my nose.

 

“Twist that stick up your ass a bit more and you just might be good to go.” Ricky laughed, punching my shoulder before heading into the messy kitchen. You decide yet?”

 

“No, not yet. I’m trying to take it as slow as possible, make the right decision. I probably won’t know for sure until I get my options if I’m being real with you. Like I said….I just want something respectable.”

 

“Yeah, you say that, but wait until you see all of those jobs with a bunch of zeroes at the end.” Ricky said, shuffling through pots and pans.

 

Ricky flipped on the stove as he began preparing the little bit of meat he had. Hacking away with his cleaver.

 

“That won’t change me, man.” I said, almost shouting over the sound of him chopping up the meat. 

 

“Money and power changes everybody D, everybody.” Ricky said, not even looking my way as he slammed the cleaver one last time.

 

###

 

Days came and went. Weeks passed. It was finally time for employment roulette as Ricky and I waited for the moment the clock projected onto the wall zeroed out. I watched marathons of soap operas and television dramas catered to the upper-class accompanied by the caress of weed smoke in my lungs to relax my nerves. Wherever I ended up working, I needed to be perfect. I pinched my legs every time I twitched uncontrollably. My coworkers would pick me apart by every syllable uttered, every slight glance and movement. I sat on the couch with Ricky. Holo-screen pulled up as my band counted down the last few moments before the roulette began. I tried my best over the weeks to figure out what job slot I’d pick. But none of them seemed like they would be satisfying. Ha. Can’t believe I’m thinking this hard when weeks ago I would’ve been a puddle of guts in some hole, deep in the Devil’s ass-crack. I zoned out, running through every scenario. Best case or worst. What if they find out? What if I’m not good enough? No, I have to be. There are no ‘what if’s’ anymore. It’s do or die. 

 

“D! D! Yo Davu!” Rick said, slapping my arm.

 

“What, what?” I jumped, coming back to my senses started, eyes blinking rapidly.

 

“It’s almost time bro, look.” Ricky pointed at the clock. 

 

I stared at the time as the last seconds ran down. I raised my arm, ready to select a job slot from the hundreds they guaranteed me an offer from. Come on D. You got one minute to pick. Don’t fuck it up! A new life. A new destiny. Take advantage of it. I encouraged myself. Five, three, one. The timer turned into zeros across the board as job slots poured in on my screen. Color-coded by level of danger. Green were safe office jobs with no actual risk. Yellow were usually construction jobs with a moderate chance of injury, and red showed a high likelihood of potential death. I did my best to read each one. Weighing out my options as quick as possible. Teacher, no. Civil servant, another word for slave. The minute I had to choose dwindled down to seconds. Come on, come on. There has to be something here. Damn the UN! How the fuck is someone supposed to choose a job for the rest of their lives in a minute? I thought of the most scathing insults I could in my mind. The minute time limit the Federation enforced filtered out those who were considered weak-minded. Unfit to work towards the new tomorrow they promised in their propaganda. I looked back at the clock. Thirty seconds left. Come on, electrician? No. Hound? Not even if Hell froze over. Secretary? Be someone’s bitch? I think the fuck not. Fifteen seconds.

 

“D, hurry up, man! There’s no time.” Ricky said, jumping up and down, rushing me to choose.

 

It’s not that easy, though. My whole life depended on a split-second decision. My new life. Ten, nine, eight. The timer kept on ticking down. Come on. There has to be something better. Something with purpose. Something worth waking up for in this cesspool! Six, five, four. I kept scrolling, my heart pounding worse than when I’d watch the Noblesse die while I hid in the corner. My entire screen was a patchwork of yellow and red after having scrolled so far down. I paused, a new color catching my attention. Black? I haven’t seen that yet. What is it? Supe-. A siren blared, alerting me I had my last seconds to select my career. Fuck. I started wheezing. The entire room closed in on me. Sweat condensed in my hands meanwhile my body trembled.

 

“Pick something D, pick! Something, anything dammit!”

 

My finger shot out. Pressing against the black slot that sealed my fate. A bell chimed in the background. Letting me know my decision was finalized. Another Federation slot filled. I dropped back, my sweat drenched back stuck to the leather seat.

 

“What did you pick, D? Come on, tell me, man.” Ricky asked, visibly concerned as he stared me in the face. 

 

I continued to huff, attempting to catch my breath as a recording of a holographic woman’s soft voice played in the background.

 

“Greetings, recruit. I first want to congratulate you on successfully selecting your job slot, thus becoming a respectable citizen of the United Northern Federation. You’ve not only taken your first step into adulthood, but into becoming a contributing member of society in the war against the Parasites. Now, without further ado, I will provide guidance on how to get to the Superiōrem recruit transportation depot where you will be shipped to the Super Soldier enhancement center...” The female holographic projection continued talking.

 

I watched the short holographic orientation through blurry eyes until it finished. My heart was calmer than ever. Superiōrem, huh? That just might work. I won’t have to deal with too many people that might find out who I really am and it’s something with purpose. Something I bet father would be proud of. I started chuckling, accepting my fate while I lit another blunt. Ricky was still standing, eyes and mouth wide opened as realization of my decision finally dawned on him. His neck creaked as he turned to face me. 

 

“D….. what did you do?” Ricky asked, trembling ever so slightly while his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. 

 

It didn’t take a genius to tell why he was shocked that I’d pick a literal death sentence after just escaping one. But this was different. This was my choice. No one else’s. This was my hand to play, and I’d play it well. 

 

“I decided my fate, Bro…. I decided my fate.” As I slumped into my seat, I blew smoke upwards as I looked at the ceiling.