Wise Men

Chapter 14

Sorry for the short chapter, folks, but believe me, there's lots of stuff going down.

--Napoleon

 “We've all heard of the infamous Wise Men.” A new news anchor sat at his desk, hair slicked back, a cheap suit on his shoulders. His eyes were glass, pupils dilated as though he was drunk, and all as he repeated mindlessly the words on the teleprompter. “They've gained traction nationwide with their stance against government corruption and the upper class. Recently Governor Louwer has announced his war on the Wise Men, we'll explore this controversy at eleven.”

 Revelin shut off the TV. “Murder?” he scowled as he look back at our early antics. We'd been present at several murders and never caused any. “They have no proof.” His eyes glowed like embers as he tossed the remote across the room. Vi was behind him on the sofa, laying back and pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes shut to her grieving love. We'd already been in the penthouse for a week and she already looked so tired. Revelin continued to brood, wringing his hands behind his back, his jaw set.

“Revelin.” She peaked an eye open when she called to him. “Sit.” I could only wish I had that control over him because at her request he sat, more confused than anything at the sudden order.

“Why--”

She interrupted him by massaging his shoulders. Immediately, his muscles relaxed into a quivering puddle as her fingers pressed into his knotted flesh. She stopped a few moments later, and looked at his face, “Better?” All she got was a moan in response.

“What do I need to do to get that treatment?” I asked, dumbfounded.

She smiled slyly, giving her eyes a mischievous spark. “Do you really want the answer to that?”

“You really don't, Christian,” Revelin added, laying back on the sofa with his eyes still shut. Vi rested a hand on his arm, her eyes languidly moving from me to Revelin and back. “We need to have another rally.”

“We'd be painting targets on our backs, Revelin.”

“If the corrupt government we're fighting scares us into hiding then we're not going to do much good.” I hated how right he was and shut my mouth.

“I'll go inform the facebook group,” Vi said, standing up. She sounded tired, but then again, I would be exhausted if I had to deal with Revelin all day and all night. She stretched, pecked him on the cheek, and left. I couldn't see this ending well.

~*~*~

It didn't. Before Revelin could say a word, the shrill cry of police sirens rang through the downtown roads. I cursed, and if I were closer to Revelin, I'd have heard him say worse. We did not need to peer between the curtains, the scorched holes in the red velvet showed clearly the rotating blue and red lights which bathed the street.

Revelin rushed toward me. He had a mad look in his eyes, like a dog trapped for days in a rusted cage. With each word he said, his arms were animated and his eyes almost screaming. “Get Vi out of here.” His composure, even his cold anger, was ripped away suddenly by those screeching sirens, as easily as his mask could be torn from his face. His eyes dark and menacing, blaring as loud as those policemen, it was hard to imagine how painful it must have been to imagine Vi locked away to rot in a small cell.

God knows I didn't want to imagine it.

I ran to the back room where I knew Vi was getting ready. The crowd erupted into shouts as I grabbed Vi, but fleeing the scene became a less viable option by the second. She tried to pull away from my grasp; her eyebrows knotted as she asked, “What the fuck is going on?” Her voice had to shout over the crowd. I heard a gun ring through the crowd, piercing the crowd; the distinguished noise forced the crowd into havoc. Vi and I froze, her hands pressed against mine, sweat slick between our palms and the shadows of old soot thickening in the corners of our eyes. Another and another blast sounded.