Legend of Kataria (Draft Version)

Chapter 1

Catrial was a sweltering trap of death.

Fifty thousand people had congested onto one massive strip of grass and road for the annual appearance of the nation's beloved king. Celebrations had begun several days before and most of the party-goers were either drunk or very nearly so. Not one of them cared about what was happening around them and no one gave a second thought to the skinny black-haired teen moving amongst them as silently and swiftly as a ghost.

It was an easy oversight. At first glance, he was easy to miss with his poorly trimmed bangs and unruly dark hair brushing untidily against his shoulders. His attire was nothing outside of ordinary; a dark blue t-shirt, dark jeans with rips near the knees, and gray mud-coated Converse. Indeed, to most observers, there seemed nothing extraordinary about him at all.

Unobserved, he wove his way through the bustling crowd, feeling the pressure of bodies pressing in from every side. The sun bore down hard on his back and he pulled a dark baseball cap further over his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the solid brick pavement, watching shoes and skateboards go flying past. He felt the sweat inch down his neck and wished once more that he'd thought to bring a towel, but at that moment he had more pressing things to attend to, such as not being seen.

For a brief moment, he looked up, taking in his surroundings. His bright eyes scanned the crowded streets, dozens of vendors, and the large platform, perfectly positioned with a clear view of the sparkling Triceon River. He spotted no immediate threats, but he knew how quickly that could change. He also knew how much of a gamble he was taking, appearing in broad daylight. The king was a powerful man and very dangerous. If word got out that the teen had been spotted, the whole of the city's police force would be bearing down on the square in an instant. Such was the authority of the most powerful man on Griffion to deal with thorns in the government's side.

And Russian Blue was such a thorn.

Of course, that was not his real name. However, as the identity of a criminal mastermind, it was appropriate for him--in more ways than one. His true identity was a closely guarded secret. Not because he feared for his family's sake (his mother had left and his father had died years ago), but because it would be a terrible inconvenience if everyone were to know that the fearless rebel had once been like them; ordinary and unknown.

Tires squealed from a nearby alley and he instantly locked his gaze on the sidewalk, continuing to shoulder his way through the mob. Pedestrians screaming into their phones shoved past him without so much as a second glance. Once, he would have found this extremely irritating. Now, he relied on the distraction to pull off his mission.

Doors slammed shut and he shot a glance toward the street where a family was piling out of a large minivan. A brief ghost of a smile crossed his lips but vanished just as rapidly as his eyes fell on a man standing on the adjacent sidewalk. Their eyes met and Blue stood still, assessing the situation. The man smiled wickedly and started toward him, a hand reaching into his pocket, perhaps to draw a weapon.

In the teen's eyes, that could only mean one thing.

He'd been made.

Keeping his heart rate calm and his expression neutral, he turned and began struggling through the mob in the opposite direction. As he did, he cautiously brought a hand to his head to adjust and turn on his comms. "Red," he muttered, pretending to scratch behind his ear as a cluster of older women scurried by him, shrieking about sale prices or something. "I think I just got spotted. What's your ETA?"

For a moment, the only sound was static. Blue glanced back over his shoulder, spotting the man wading toward him. The gun was clearly visible now. Grimacing, he whipped back around and took off, shoving the oncoming traffic away, no longer caring about the illusion of calmness. He heard the shouts of anger and surprise from his pursuer and that only made him run faster. He darted across the sidewalk toward the vendors, hoping to disappear among the crowd.