Cardinal Tower (Trinity Central Book #1)

Chapter 2

I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late I'm late

0930

0930

0930

0930

0931

A green fluorescent display, blinking on the side of Cardinal Tower is just another reminder that I had too much fun on the streets again. My lungs feel as though they're about to burst as I continue my way to the smallest building left standing at Trinity Central. The other two notable ones include Stafford Corporations, the global scientific powerhouse, and Cardinal Tower, the hub of Trinity Central and where the current president now reigns. He's actually just around my age, taking over after Carpa Malum killed off his father.

Trinity Central resembles a bustling city that have yet to realize the effects of Carpa Malum. People in this area don't have to fear Karmas as much since there's a Trinity guard posted at every other lamp post, and they scoff at the idea of poverty and desolation. Instead, they smile past their cakey makeup and lavish ornaments, powdered wigs pointing their noses towards power and holding their heads up high. In other words, this street is swarming with Stella and Rex aristocrats, none of which are above eyeing me and my disheveled attire with disgust.

I've grown used to their judgemental eyes, but everything that Trinity Central represents contradicts my entire existence. I have no business being here, and they know it. I know it. I hear a group of girls whispering about how I belong in the factory district but I pretend not to notice. There's no use in starting another fight now.

The lab I'm making my way to is a branch under Stafford Corporation's research and development chain. Despite this information, I can't stand the Stafford name. Before the bomb, their company was well known for their brilliant and innovative process of harnessing carbon from the air, and using it as an energy source to power the entire country. Their branches were planning on stretching internationally before the explosion, but afterwards, they needed to stall their projects due to the bomb. Not much is known about the founder, only that he survived and so did his heir. Since last year, they're dedicating their research and lab facilities to reverse the effects of the bomb on the environment by using those who've succumbed to the radiation as test subjects.

Some tried to hide their parents and children or give them a proper burial, but they have the power to barge into any home and just take whichever rotting carcasses happen to be lying around. I never approved of their methods, but as time passed, I stopped caring. My vigilante spirits and Tetra roots force me to loathe these capitalist pigs, but my empty pockets tell me to just put up with it. My own survival is the only reason I do anything anymore, otherwise I'd let my indifference take control.

I push open the door while trying to fix my outfit, hair, bag, anything to look slightly more presentable. My training period ends today, which means I start getting paid tomorrow. Working on a Stella salary can help Devon and I raise rank in about two years time at most, and I don't mind the work; It keeps me busy at the very least.

The second I push through the glass doors, half of the heads turn to me with disapproving glares, the other half are too preoccupied with whatever else they were already working on. My trainer, Castro, a middle-aged man already balding, screams my name from across the room.

"Castelle!" He called, his raspy voice resonating throughout the facility. I turn to the booming voice of Castro, his face plastered with disappointment and anger. "This is the third time you've been late this week, and you wonder why you're still not heading any projects here. You're extremely talented and I'd hate to see those talents go to waste." He continues to speak, and I look at him with apologetic eyes even though I'm not listening to a single word he says. I see groups of lab coats behind him, chuckling at my lecture and it takes all I have to keep my innocent facade in place.