Defying Terror

Chapter LIX

September 6th, 2030, 9:12 pm

"Sergeant Larsson!" A shout bursts from close to the front of the queue. The line to the nightclub has us squeezed against the vibrating window, restricting any movement up or down the procession. No lack of space ever stopped Sergeant Brayden Lee. His beach-sand hair and faded skin illuminate against the cyan fluorescence of the name of the club above us.

I cannot remember the last time I was in downtown Woodrow for a swing of fun. Yes, I was around when I was on the run months ago, but that wouldn't fall under the jurisdiction of "fun."

Queen's City bustles in this area, with taxis and sports cars being valeted up and down. The street occupies a white and red glow from the streaming lights of vehicles that pass by us at the club. People who aren't waiting to get in are passing by without much of a care, heading for their destination. Along the sidewalks, color splashes in vibrancy along the neon beams that hang over the doors of every building. Oh, how I missed urban beauty.

Ambiance is enlightened in blue over our heads. For a reason unknown, Queen's City is the only region in the whole Empire that has the legal drinking age at twenty-one instead of eighteen. Ambiance is a nightclub that serves alcohol, so we have to be old enough to drink under region regulations. Not a single kid in either Class 29 or 30 is twenty-one, though Lee has a way to get each of us passed the bouncer. We just don't know what it is yet.

If Brian discovers the level of misconduct we are committing, he'll be more disappointed in me than he already is, no doubt. I inquired with him after the seminar if he and his class had any initiation-like events after their ceremony, to which he said no. In other words, the amount of room to make up a lie and get away with something as illegal as this is quite minimal. I doubt he would inform Master Sergeant Petry of our dishonesty to discipline us, though it's better for everyone if we stay silent.

"Yo, Larsson!" Sergeant Lee presses himself against the glass beside me and points at Craig. He clasps his hand over his inferior's shoulder and blinks a couple times. With his back turned to the bright Ambiance sign, the only thing igniting his face is the dim streetlights. There is a punctual yet distorted appearance to Lee's eyes. There is a slight tremble about him. I catch a whiff of something rancid.

"Craig, listen, man," Lee mumbles, quivering. "As Sergeant of Class 29, wait, 29, right? Right. I have to pass this shit onto the next Sergeant so that you can give it to the next Sergeant next year and he can give it to the next chick. I'm calling it, thirty-some is gonna be a chick." He giggles, raising his other hand with something burning inside his grasp. "So, you know, I got this fat fucking blunt with your name on it."

Before Brayden can juggle the blunt, Craig pulls it from his fingers. He takes a hit, coughing as he hands it back to Lee. "Holy fuck, man. That's some heavy shit."

"Dude, that's what I'm saying! Look, I gotta go back to the front of the line but come find me in like, I don't know, fifteen minutes, and you can have another hit." Brayden shoves through the remainder of Class 29 and 30 to maneuver to be first in line. Someone needs to watch him, but it won't be me. At this rate, I'll have to keep an eye on Craig instead.

I turn to our Sergeant who observes Lee traversing the line. "I didn't know you smoked, Craig."

He snickers, raising his cheekbones. "I don't."

The order of Imperial Guards proceeds toward the entrance of Ambiance. The kids in Class 29 are located closest to the door, only behind one separate party of clubbers. Class 30 was shoved in the back of our company of nineteen, though for good reason. What kind of idea could Brayden Lee, whose mind is in the clouds as we speak, concoct? The bouncer will take one look at him, stumbling over his own feet, and not allow him to enter, which will fall collateral on the rest of us.