The Prince & The Popstar

I Feel So

"Sometimes, I wish I was smart
I wish I made cures for
How people are
I wish I had power
I wish I could lead
I wish I could change the world
For you and me"
— Box Car Racer

     Inside the prince's spacious and lavish chambers, Henry slowly paced back and forth while Ava sat at Vincent's roll top desk, nervously tapping a quick rhythm on its surface with her fingernails. Samuel was comfortably curled up on the king-size sleigh bed, playing a mobile-friendly version of Mario Kart on Ava's cell phone.
     "How do you think it's going?" Ava asked Henry, finally breaking the drawn-out silence.
     "If history is any indicator, it's most likely going terribly," Henry responded flatly.
     "I know any conversation with The King is going to be a steep uphill battle, but have you no faith in Rufus?"
     "Why should I invest something as precious as faith in Mr. Spencer? He's nothing more than a cheap facsimile of The Prince, toting the useless abilities of singing, dancing, and acting. The person we need is masquerading as a popstar 9,000 kilometers away."
     "Look, I agree that Vinny's arsenal of knowledge and skill would undoubtedly prove useful in our current predicament, but Rufus thinks well on his feet and his motivations are in the right place."
     "You should really put your feelings aside and see the bigger picture."
     "My feelings?" Ava replied with an arched eyebrow.
     "Don't sound so dumbfounded, Ava. It's utterly apparent that you are quite smitten with Mr. Spencer. I've seen the way you look at him."
     "You haven't the faintest idea of how to properly analyze the complex emotions of women. You believe the slightest display of affection signifies absolute infatuation. You think yourself above most men; however, in this circumstance, you represent the majority of them."
     Henry looked at her blankly. "And you think yourself clever by avoiding reality with a few well-crafted thoughts I cannot refute. But, at the end of the day, you're going to realize you're not lying to me; You're lying to yourself."
     A few light, successive taps drew both of their attention over to Samuel who held up his Magna Doodle with the words: Stop it. Rufus is not the problem.
     Suddenly, the large oak chamber door swung open and Quinn stepped inside the room, followed closely by Rufus.
     "What's the matter?" Quinn asked, looking at all of their tense faces. "There's a strange energy in here."
     "Pay it no mind," Ava replied, straightening her posture. "What did The King have to say?"
     "Nothing helpful," Rufus stated. "But, he's not the only game in town."
     "What do you mean?" Henry wondered.
     "It's a quite obvious option," Quinn said. "We bring this to the police."
     Simultaneously, Henry scoffed as Ava immediately looked down at the floor while Samuel went back to his game.
     "What?" Rufus asked.
     "The police are useless," Henry replied. "Like all underpaid public servants, they're overworked and ineffective. According to The VLG, crime has risen in the kingdom 30% in the last year. That's a significant statistic that really shows how well they do their job."
     "But, there are a few on the force who remain steadfast and duty-bound," Quinn argued.
     "Name one," Henry replied.
     "Chief Weatherred," Quinn stated firmly.
     "Uncle Tim?" Ava responded. "If The King refused to help, it's not likely we'll receive any aid going down that road."
     "I don't understand," Rufus replied. "Am I missing something?"
     Ava sighed deeply and began to explain their history with The Chief of The Verastorian Police. Years ago, Timothy Weatherred started his career in The Palace as Head of Security. This is where he began developing a relationship with a young Prince Vincent. He acted as more of a father-figure to The Prince—solid, strong, wise. When Vincent discovered his affinity for the self-defense techniques explored in Aikido, "Uncle Tim" was the one who guided him through the methodology and served as an exceptional sparring partner. For the next few years, he continued to cultivate his relationship with Vincent and marveled at the prince's ability to thrive, despite his unfortunate isolation. However, Vincent's trajectory shifted radically the moment Quinn left The Palace for university. Uncle Tim immediately recognized the immense gravity of the loneliness Vincent was experiencing. Soon after, Uncle Tim presented The Prince with a family relic that had been passed down through generations of Weatherreds. It was an elaborate map of a secret passageway that led out of The Palace and to a path which winded through The Highwind Mountains and to the shores of a secret island, known only by Uncle Tim's ancestors. He then told Vincent that it was time he embarked on an adventure to seek out his own personal slice of paradise. Now, Uncle Tim never expected that The Prince would find friends on his excursion, but he thanked God that Vincent finally met his crew—compassionate, like-minded young people who helped him grow. Once The Prince was back on a promising path, Uncle Tim accepted The King's offer to become the next Chief of Police, due to his years of dedicated, outstanding service. As a parting gift, he promised to keep The Island of Misfit Toys a shrouded secret by informing security teams that the two-track trail leading to the island was ultimately impassable and should be avoided at all costs. He also deemed the area as a no-fly zone, citing a dead spot for radio signals and electronic communication arrays. He then informed Vincent and The Crew that this was the last time he could assist them. With his newly appointed position, he could not bend the rules anymore. They would now have to step up and take full responsibility for their actions. Uncle Tim's last conversation with Vincent conveyed the fact that he would always be there for moral support, but that's where he felt his duty ended.
     "So, as I said before, if The King is out, Uncle Tim is out," Ava reiterated.
     "I understand your hesitance, I do," Rufus replied. "But, we have to at least try and reason with him. The important thing is we have an established connection that can get our foot in the door. After that, we do everything we can to sway him."
     "And if that doesn't work?" Henry asked.
     "I dunno," Rufus admitted. "I guess I'll improvise."
     Henry folded his arms. "This isn't a skit, Mr. Spencer."
     Quinn took a step forward. "You all have two choices: you can either sit here and stew, adding nothing of value, or you can join me and Mr. Spencer as we play the only card we have. Make up your minds because we are leaving now."
     Samuel quickly jumped off of the bed and stood next to Rufus. He cleared his Magna Doodle and jotted down a thought. He held it up for Henry and Ava to read: Do the right thing.
     Ava stood up from her chair, smiled at Samuel, and then looked to Henry. "Unless you can think of a better idea, I'm with them."
     Henry cleared his throat. "We have always operated as a democracy. I will honor that. The majority rules."
     Rufus grabbed his bug-out bag by the roll top desk and nodded to the group. "Okay. Let's do this." He pulled out the cadet hat and aviators from his bag, put them on, and headed out with a little pep in his step.
     Fortunately enough, Quinn had the foresight to request a vehicle larger than the standard town car. As she led Rufus and The Crew out of the side entrance of The Palace, a luxurious, black Range Rover pulled up to the bottom of the entrance steps. Once everyone piled in, the SUV took off and headed to a historic stone building on a city block along the border of The Financial District and The Quarters District—The Verastorian Police Department HQ.
     Inside, a number of officers hustled around the central bullpen which was split up into cubicles. A steady stream of ringing telephones filled the space with a slight echo. Quinn approached the front desk with Rufus and The Crew following her lead.
     "Hello, Sergeant Vandeven," she said, brushing her platinum blonde bangs to the side.
     The desk sergeant looked up from his plethora of paperwork and dropped his pen when he met eyes with Quinn. "Oh, Ms. Gunnerson—um—hello," he clumsily replied. "How can I assist you today?"
     Quinn flashed that alluring smile of hers. "I would like you to inform Chief Weatherred that The Prince requests a meeting with him immediately."
     Sergeant Vandeven looked perplexed. He leaned forward and whispered, "'The Secret Prince'?"
     Quinn pursed her lips and nodded, touching her nose with her index finger.
     The sergeant quickly reached for the phone on his desk, fumbling it at first as he pressed a few buttons. "Sir? Yes, you have some unscheduled visitors here. Yes, I understand, but you're going to want to take this meeting—trust me. Yes, sir. Right away, sir." Sergeant Vandeven placed the receiver back on the base and stood up. "Okay, Ms. Gunnerson, you're going to go to the corner office all the way in the back and to the right."
     "Thank you, Sergeant Vandeven. Good day to you," Quinn replied before gesturing to Rufus and The Crew to follow.
     Quinn knocked on the office door and waited for a response before entering. Now, Chief Weatherred was a man on the shorter side, but he was incredibly stout with large biceps which stretched out the sleeves of his polyester uniform.
     "Quinn," he said with a wide grin. "It's been far too long, darling. You're still a knock-out."
     "Ah, Tim, you have always spoiled me with compliments," Quinn replied. "If you're not careful, I may start believing them and think myself above you."
     Uncle Tim looked over at each member of The Crew. "Ava, Henry, Samuel, good to see you all again." He then looked over to Rufus who slowly removed his cadet hat and aviators. "My Prince," he said, slightly bowing his head.
     "Hello, Uncle Tim," Rufus replied. "I wish this were a social visit, but we have actually come here with a pressing, time-sensitive matter."
     "I see," Uncle Tim said. "Please, please—tell me what has you in such a tizzy."
     "The children at The Markland House," Rufus said, stepping forward. "Some of them have gone missing. I have already spoken with The King, but he immediately dismissed the situation, writing it off as a statistical probability."
     Uncle Tim was quiet for a moment. He then looked to Quinn and The Crew. "Would you all wait outside? I'd like to speak with The Prince alone."
     Quinn politely nodded and urged The Crew to do as instructed. Once they were all outside, she gently closed the door.
     "So, you're trying to track down the orphans who have mysteriously disappeared," Uncle Tim said, leaning back in his chair. "You should know that we are aware of the situation and we're doing everything in our power to recover them unharmed."
     Rufus' skin tingled. This doesn't feel right, he thought. "There's something you're not telling me."
     Uncle Tim leaned forward. "You want the whole truth? You're not going to like it."
     "I've accepted many things I don't like," Rufus replied.
     "Honestly, the case is on the back burner," Uncle Tim admitted. "We simply do not have the resources or manpower to launch a full-scale investigation. It's an unfortunate truth. I am sorry, Your Highness. You know I hate disappointing you."
     Suddenly, the office door swung open and an officer entered.
     "Apologies, Chief," the officer said. "But, you said you wanted any evidence from Markland House to pass through your hands before it was forwarded to forensics. This was found underneath a bed in the dormitories."
     The officer handed over a flash drive to The Chief, who set it down on a tall stack of paperwork on his desk. Rufus immediately fixated on the drive.
     "Thank you, Flores," Uncle Tim said as the officer stepped outside. He then brought his attention back to Rufus. "Like I said, we're doing everything we can. It's just going to take some time. Look—" Uncle Tim swiveled around in his chair and reached for a cell phone on his back shelf. Rufus took this gifted opportunity to quickly swipe the flash drive off of the desk and tucked it inside his pocket. Uncle Tim once again swiveled around and handed Rufus the phone. "Take this burner. I will call you next week and go over any and all progress made on the case. You have my word."
     "Thank you, Uncle Tim," Rufus replied with a crooked smile. "I feel so much better."
     "Eat some more protein, Your Highness," Uncle Tim said. "You're looking a little thin."
     Rufus nodded and nonchalantly walked out of the office. Quinn and The Crew were eagerly waiting for news, but Rufus hastily motioned for them to follow him out of the headquarters.
     Once they were loaded back up in the black SUV, Quinn turned around in the front passenger seat and asked, "What's going on? Why were you in such a rush to get out of there?"
     Rufus took the flash drive from his pocket and held it up for everyone to see. "What did I tell you before? When all else fails, improvise."
     Then, Rufus took a closer look at the drive. There was a white P-Touch label wrapped around it with large letters spelling out: "PROJECT COEUS".
     Rufus arched his eyebrow. "What's 'Koh-us'?"
     Ava squinted and focused on the label. "It's pronounced 'Coy-us'," she said. "Coeus is the Greek God of Intelligence."
     Everyone looked at her with some degree of surprise.
     "What? I know a few things," she said, slightly offended.
     "Do we have any way to see what's on it?" Henry asked.
     Quinn reached inside the large Louis Vuitton bag on her lap and pulled out a tablet and a USB hub which had a compatible cable. "Here—load it up using this."
     Rufus took the tablet and inserted the flash drive into the USB hub. Innumerable files and folders appeared on the screen, most of them heavily encrypted. There was, however, an accessible file which was a copy of an email with a few attachments. Rufus touched the icon of the first attachment, opening a Word document.
     "What does it say?" Ava asked.
     "It's an overview of Project Coeus," Rufus replied as he read it over. "Oh, my God."
     "What?" Henry pressed.
     "The project requires human brains in early development," Rufus said as his eyes widened. "It utilizes nanomachines which are directly injected into the subject's bloodstream. Once these nanomachines reach the brain, they increase dendritic activity and stimulate dormant areas in the frontal and parietal lobes."
     "They're forcing human evolution," Henry stated.
     "And they're using the orphans as test subjects," Quinn deduced.
     "That's unconscionable," Ava said quietly.
     "What do the other attachments say?" Quinn asked.
     Rufus attempted to open them by touching the icons. "I can only access one. The others are password-protected. But, it looks like some kind of shipping manifest for specialized tech."
     "A shipping manifest should have an identification tag for the container," Henry pointed out.
     "Yeah, it's right here," Rufus replied. "AMDD-112465."
     "So, we need to search The Shipyards for that particular container," Quinn said. "That's the only way we're going to find any additional information."
     "How many containers do you think are at The Shipyards?" Rufus asked.
     Quinn took a second to think it over. "Maybe upwards of 250,000."
     "That's insane! Where would we even start?" Ava asked.
     "Start at the south end and work our way north," Henry replied flatly. "We'd have to wait for nightfall when security is lighter."
     "But, 250,000 containers?" Rufus responded, trying to wrap his head around the number. "That would take—what? How many days are we talking about here?"
     "Not days," Quinn said. "Weeks."
     "That's crazy," Ava said.
     "It would be crazier to sit on this information and do nothing," Rufus replied. "Alright, so we already know that we need to do this at night. We need a team to scan the containers and a lookout to give them a heads-up if any security starts sniffing too close."
     Samuel waved his Magna Doodle from side-to-side: I wanna be the lookout. Please, please, please!
     Ava gently stroked his hair. "I think you're going to have to sit this one out, sweetheart."
     "Ava, the lookout might be the safest part of this plan," Rufus said. "If you, me, and Henry are scanning containers, we're not left with a lot of options."
     "What about Quinn?" Ava asked.
     "You're going to want someone driving up and down the roadway that runs along The Shipyards to alert you of any suspicious activity," Quinn advised. "Remember—whoever is behind this may be trying to locate the container as well. If they're smart—and I have no doubt they are—they would wait for the cover of night to search The Shipyards as well."
     Ava looked down at Samuel. "Okay, you're in. But, you have to promise me that you will run away as fast as you can at the first sight of trouble."
     Samuel grinned and nodded happily.
     "Well, give us a signal that there's trouble and then run," Rufus added.
     "Wait," Ava said. "How is he supposed to let us know there's trouble if we're busy looking through the containers?"
     "We could get him a whistle," Henry suggested.
     "I like it," Rufus said. "Simple and effective."
     "So, I take it we have the plan?" Quinn asked.
     "Oh, yes," Rufus replied. "We have the plan."
     Over the next several weeks, Rufus, Quinn, and The Crew put their plan into motion, using every minute of darkness to comb The Shipyards for the lone container. Rufus, Ava, and Henry explored every inch of the shoreline and thoroughly scanned every container they came across, having to climb several of them to reach the containers stacked on top. Quinn patrolled the area in her BMW while Samuel fulfilled his position as lookout, carrying a cowbell rather than a whistle.
     "Really? A cowbell?" Henry asked on the first night.
     "Hey, I searched The Palace for The Royal Whistle, but the cowbell is all I found," Rufus said. "By the way, who puts a cowbell on a mantle in a library?"
     "It's a Christopher Walken reference," Ava replied. "Vinny is a huge fan."
     They relentlessly moved forward with their search, coming up short until mid-November. That's when they found it—Container AMDD-112465.
     "I don't believe it," Rufus said, feeling a strange mixture of surprise and relief. "This is it."
     "Let's see what's inside, shall we?" Henry posed.
     Rufus took out an industrial bolt-cutter which took up most of the space in his bug-out bag to the point where he couldn't zip it shut. But, that didn't matter. They had finally found what they had been tirelessly searching for. Rufus snapped the lock with the bolt-cutters and Henry and Ava helped him open the heavy doors of the container. They lit up the dark space with their flashlights, but once they did, the only thing inside was crushing disappointment. It was empty.
     "What do we do now?" Henry asked as his patience dissolved.
     "Hang on a second," Rufus said, stepping inside the container. On the floor, there was a white envelope with a purple wax seal, pressed with a stamp bearing the letter "S". Inside the envelope, Rufus took out a piece of heavy stationary with hand-written words penned in immaculate calligraphy. He read it out loud: "I know you're out there. How does it feel to come so far only to fail? If you continue down this path, you will only find your own demise."
     "Is it signed?" Ava asked.
     "No," Rufus replied, utterly deflated. Nevertheless, he found something as he moved his flashlight. "Wait—there's a watermark. Salchester."
     "Who is Salchester?" Henry asked.
     "I have no idea," Rufus answered.
     "Shhh!" Ava shushed, waving her hand. "Do you hear that?"
     They all stood in silence and listened closely. The hollow thunks of a cowbell echoed in the distance, its tempo quickening until it abruptly ceased.
     "Samuel!" Ava cried out.
     The trio hurriedly climbed down the stacked containers and sprinted towards Samuel's position as soon as their feet touched the ground. But, once they reached the designated spot, Samuel was nowhere to be found. They were in the middle of a labyrinth made up of metal and Samuel could be anywhere. The only things that remained were the cowbell, a mallet, and an abandoned Magna Doodle.
     Ava immediately collapsed on the ground. "No... This isn't happening..."
     Henry's reaction was much more aggressive. He shoved Rufus against a container and grabbed the collar of his shirt. Even with no inflection in his voice, his over-enunciated words lashed out twice as hard. "This is all your fault. If it wasn't for your self-righteous, bleeding heart, we wouldn't be here right now. Are you capable of feeling the weight of that? Do you feel it?" Henry then released his grasp, turned around, and stopped for a moment. "The Prince would have never put Samuel in any kind of danger. I cannot understand why he ever put an ounce of faith in you. He trusted you. And now, all you are is a disappointment. To all of us." He walked to Ava and helped her to her feet. "Come on. Let's split up and cover as much ground as we can."
     Ava stood still as Henry stormed off. She wiped the tears from her beautiful, freckled face and looked at Rufus.
     "Ava, I promise, I will fix this," Rufus vowed.
     She sniffled. "How?"
     "I—I—Well, I don't know exactly, but—"
     Ava held up her hand. "Stop. We failed. We failed those children. We failed Samuel. I'm done. We're done."
     "Please, give me a chance to make this right," Rufus pleaded.
     "Rufus, The Crew is my family," Ava said, shedding another tear. "They gave me purpose when I needed it most. You will never understand what you just broke with your good intentions. Goodbye, Rufus Spencer. Go home."
     And with that, Ava walked away, vanishing in the darkness as Rufus fell to his knees, unable to stand with the weight of the failure that was all his own.