The Perfect Threat

3. Storm Breaker

~Alex~

After- how did Zoey put it? Oh yeah. After I promptly sat myself down at the teacher's desk, a blank and miserable look on my face, only one thought passed through my mind: Sir is going to kill me. Yes, my father refused to allow me to call him 'Dad' or 'Father' or even 'Daddy' or 'Dadda' which was especially hard when I was little. It was always just simply: Sir. I held my face in my hands, dreading the future where Sir would be home, most likely informed of my misbehavior by one of the other Monarchists running the city's security cameras. God, did I hate those things. I knew I had revealed secret government information to Zoey, information she shouldn't hear, though at the time, I had thought she needed to know. I do agree with you, little reader person, that watching over a girl you hardly know is completely insane, but would I say that to Sir, a Monarchist, at the rounded mahogany table with all of my father's wealthiest friends and clients spread before it? Not in a million years. I wasn't of age and still considered a child at fourteen, definitely not permitted to speak in front of a gathering of adults. Because you know, I might embarrass myself or endanger Sir's reputation!! Haha. Yeah right.

On school grounds, or any public grounds, it was mandatory, as the school principal said, that I proved my worthiness of being a Monarchist (following in my father's footsteps, 'of course') by speaking only in a mature, "sophisticated" tone. I had to control the Normals of my environment at all times and take pride in leadership blah blah blah... As of now, I was doing just fine with my leadership, thanks. I was The President of the Monarchist's Apprentices (yes, that needed caps) and was even spending my after school hours, monitoring the Detention classes for three hours for extra curricular like I had today. Though Sir had still said it wasn't enough. According to my father, I had to not only prove my loyalty and honesty of being a Monarchist, to the one and only great Monarch, I also had to prove my worthiness of the job. Greeeaat.

*Flashback*

Ten years ago, I sat on my eight-year-old bed listening intently as my father had warned me of a government crisis, his weight mostly on his toes, his back curved. That was back when my mother was still sane, now at 44 years of age, she spent most of her time in bed, causing my father to lose a piece of his mind along with her. In the government, the Monarch was fussing over a huge crisis, threatening his power and the utopia he had inheirited from his ancestors. According to Sir, a horrible civilization was growing once again, somehow thriving still even after the people of it had all been removed (or as I now called it, executed) from our city centuries ago so that only the best of our civilization could reproduce, (urgh... those were my father's words, okay? NOT MINE) allowing our present race to have the most positive genes. Basically, good person plus good person equals another good person, and so on. A certain of the poorest of traits; greed, ignorance, dishonesty, fear, and aggressiveness were being passed down from generation to generation, forcing criminals into our world. This civilization had once been named the Chaosed by the First Monarch, back when the a city named Manhatton was thriving with a race of "genetically impure" Chaosed. Supposedly, the Chaosed planned to overthrow Monarch DeCaprion and begin their own government, potentially beginning a civil war in the process. They had ever changing emotions, allowing then to have inhuman abilities, as my father had said, and control the elements. Those who could control the Earth were called the Fueled. Those who could control fire, were called the Ignited. Water elementalists were known as the Coursed. A person with the power to control the world's storms we known as the Struck. Some were less obvious, like the invented who could invent (go figure) the world's most advanced technologies ad had a way with tools. !The most powerful form of the Chaosed was the Plauged, people only born of destruction and death.

That night, while my mother lay asleep alone in the bed my parents shared, my father gave me a mission. He was lenient on my eight-year-old self and I was eager to please him. He told me I needed to watch over this girl, Zoeanne McGinty, for she was suspected of being Chaosed, though until she grew older and her Chaosed traits shown brighter, she was just to be watched, not harmed in any way. She would have been the first Chaosed person in our city DeCaprion to even pass through its boarders. My father had told me that he suspected she had been able to pass through because she was too young and was able to slip under the moniters. Although she had only been eight at the time, in the same grade as me, second, I was still told to report any disruptive or "odd" behavior to Sir so that Zoeanne could be removed from our city. At the time, I hadn't known that the government was willing to murder a young eight-year-old because she posed as a threat to the Morarch, but I was honored to have been offered a chance to please my father and the great Monarch, for that matter.