Untitled
an excerpt

Prologue
I remember when the wars began. Twenty years ago I wasn’t much more than a boy, but I was old enough to notice what was going around me and take note. Oil had become scarce and nobody believed anyone else that it was truly gone. It couldn’t be gone. The human race just wasn’t ready for the radical changes that would occur if the story was true. And the first step to extinction is denial. The United States, where I grew up and still live, was just as involved as every other country. Luckily, or unluckily for those of us who survived, the economy hadn’t quite reached the point of feeling the loss. There was still enough in the industries and the factories to make our lotions, gasoline, plastics and the million other things that take refined oil to produce them. This only prolonged the denial, until the debates turned into fights and fights were then wars.

Corporations were happy to support their governments by providing whatever resources they had to offer. At the time, the offer didn’t seem as suspicious as it might seem now, but then again, every one was desperate. The planet grew barren after the millions of deaths. Most of the world was a wasteland after WMDs had been unleashed unto the landscape. The sky has been scarred and only a bit of the sun comes in past the darkened clouds, causing agricultural detriment which, luckily Sanderson Corporation was able to provide laboratory substitutes for our fruits and vegetables. It seemed so life saving at the time, so utterly amazing that they had been researching agricultural genetics. Now it just seems convenient.

The world’s oceans are in a process of reclaiming land. The polar ice caps long gone from the warming on the planet have made the ocean level rise about 20 feet. Florida was an afterthought and most of California was gone, not to mention that most of the main cultural and political centers in the eastern states of America were gone as well. Kentucky suddenly wasn’t all that far from the beach, and neither was Oklahoma for that matter. There were other consequences that came from the gradual changes that felt so fast that no one seemed to see them coming. Almost no one. There were warnings of course, but denial had been with us for a long time.

A few were watching though. The big players in the United States were watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. These big players now own the last of the livable cities in what was the premiere world power. Indigo Industries, originally based in Virginia, quietly moved their headquarters to Chicago, Illinois a few years back without warning or much of an explanation, but then again, most of the public had never heard of Indigo Industries, or cared about what Indigo did for them. When the war broke out, Indigo stepped in as a concerned and community aware company and donated oil for the war effort. It wasn’t until after the war when the government was so bankrupt that it couldn’t pay it’s debt, and Indigo offered to lend them money, that some people became suspicious. It wasn’t many of them, nor were they outspoken. At that time, there wasn’t much choice for the United States government, so what could they do? They took the money. From there it was a free for all, with companies offering money, and there wasn’t much the government could do other than just bite the bullet. Buy-offs, illegal gifts and influence by large corporations became the way of politics until the people no longer trusted the government. The three branch system that Americans had been so proud of for so long fell to pieces, and thus came the rise of the ‘Big Three’.

Besides Indigo, there were two other major contributors to the money loans to the US government. Black Rock Incorporated had deep pockets since they were in the security sector. Several countries had outsourced to Black Rock for their bodyguards and assassins. Black Rock didn’t call them that, of course, but the men were strong, vicious and well trained. Some were ex-marines, others former cops and still others were just big guys who liked beating people up a little too much. Either way, their personnel was in high demand by places all over the world. They offered their people during the war, although most of the personnel stayed back in the US. Black Rock knew what was going to happen, and while they put on a helpful front, just like Indigo, they were waiting for the eventual fall of the government. Their station outside of Las Vegas, Nevada was perfect for the training that their army.

Sanderson Corporation, the helpful benefactors that now produce 85% of all food consumed in the US, and several other countries, was the last of the Big Three. Keeping with their shining image, Sanderson also sent in money. They were the largest donors, loaning about $3 billion in funds. Sanderson’s fat wallet came from its dealings in pharmacology and pharmaceuticals. The genetics program did not become highlighted until later years, and is now the main source of income for the company. Genetics was being used behind the scenes for human testing. Still, this information is not widely talked about, nor do many know the truth about this company. Only those who search for the truth can find out about it.

This story isn’t about me, the ex-assassin from Black Rock, and it isn't necessarily about these corporations, but rather a young woman whose very life was torn apart in a very unpredictable manner.

Chapter I: The Unexpected Meeting
Raven was tired, and wet, and as much as she loved getting paid, she wondered if sitting in an air conditioned bar soaked was really worth it. At the moment it seemed that it was not, especially since her contact was about ten minutes late. As a professional thief, and a good one, she didn’t take kindly to being brushed off, and when someone was late, to Raven, it was equivalent to saying that she didn’t matter.
While she waited she had taken a seat in the booth farthest from the entrance, with her back to the wall, watching discreetly each patron enter. Her tight fitting clothes that covered every inch of her skin were enough to make the bartender look twice, but Raven ignored it. The clothes were necessity not something to draw attention to her body. Her dark hair from which her namesake originated from was pulled back in a tight ponytail, the strands reaching below her shoulders. She wore no makeup, and the briefcase in hand showed that she was clearly not here for pleasure. Raven may have seemed like a rarity or a spectacle to most people, but the bartender and its regulars were used to the odd sights that were common in this place. After all, the nondescript smoky meeting place was not in the best place in Chicago.
Brushing back one of the black sleeves of her turtleneck to glance at her watch, Raven noticed that her contact was now fifteen minutes late. Another five minutes and she would walk. Wasting time was not on her list of things to do, and while she didn’t know what she was going to do with a case load of highly illegal weapons, Raven figured she could find some other coalition or rebel cause to take them off her hands for a pretty price. She was done being cold.
Sliding out of the booth, ready to take her silver briefcase with her, she noticed a man walking into the door. He wasn’t a normal patron either with his well-manicured looks and a suit that probably cost more than her apartment. Pausing she waited to see if this was perhaps the man she’d been waiting for. Their eyes met, confusion settling in one pair and irritation in another. Holding the briefcase to her body, the man walked in her direction and sat across from her in the booth.
“Hello,” he said, “You’re a bit more petite than I imagined you to be.” Raven held back a snort. Most of the people she worked for believed that she was male, a common misconception. Apparently the idea that to be successful at any occupation meant that one had to be male still survived even after all the progress that the world had seen in women’s rights. Huzzah. If perceptions didn’t change, it didn’t matter what kind of legislation was put in place.
“I’ve heard it before. I’d also like to mention that as a contracted employee of your…organization, I’d like to be treated with respect, especially with regards to time restraints and management.”
The man’s brow furrowed, and then a lopsided smile came to his face. “I apologize for my late arrival. I was kept in a meeting long after negotiations should have been discontinued. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t happen again,” she said, still freezing cold, “this is the last time I work for that son of a bitch Gage. Your boss sends me on ridiculous missions with more than enough men to take me down thirty times over to get some special guns, and do I always come through, yes. Do I ever get the respect I deserve? No. I find that it normally has something to do with my sex.
“So if you’ll kindly give me the money for the job and then let me go on my way, I’ll stop interrupting your…negotiations.”
Much to Raven’s irritation the man seemed to be quite amused with her little rant. “I see that you don’t approve of Sebastian Gage. It’s a common view, by why do you work for him then. I can tell you that he is much appreciative of your work.”
“I don’t take kindly to flattery, and it doesn’t matter what Gage does on his own time, but when he wastes mine, I don’t approve. And why I work for him is none of your business.” To tell the truth, times were hard, and Raven worked consistently for Sebastian Gage because he paid well and normally on time. What the crime boss did on his time or with the resources that she stole for him, she honestly didn’t care.
“I see, well I was telling the truth when I said I approve of the work you’ve done for me. It’s why I’ve taken time out to meet you today. After the extensive work you’ve done for my family, I figured it was time that I saw who exactly was doing all this superb work. Excuse me, I’ll try to dispense with the flattery.
“As I was saying, I brought you a little something extra for all your good work. I thought a good fifty thousand extra would be a good apology for my lateness, and an excuse to keep you from not working for me again.”
Raven snorted with disbelieving laughter. “You’re not Sebastian Gage. He’s one of the most feared crime bosses in Chicago; the modern day Al Capone they call him. You look as if you couldn’t hurt a fly,” she said, her voice trailing off a bit as she appraised him once again. He did look impressive in the suit, broad shoulders, most likely muscular arms to go underneath, and if she thought about the expense of the suit, it made sense since most flunkies might be well off, but not that well off. He seemed to have an admirable poker face as well as he watched her make that second appraisal. His green eyes were unnerving. Raven was a bit disgusted that she hadn’t noticed it before and put it together. It seemed the cold and her impatience had caught her off guard and that thought alone put a chill down her spine. She was awake now as she soberly spoke again.
“If you’re giving me a bonus, Mr. Gage, then where is the money. I doubt that $250,000 could fit in the pockets of your jacket, no matter how well made it is.” She had given him at least a once over when he had come in and he was packing heat underneath that pretty coat but that was it.
“No, you’re right. I don’t have it with me. It’s in my car outside, and it’ll be in here shortly.” She didn’t doubt he was telling the truth, he had all the signs: he was making direct eye contact, even breathing, lack of sweating, and when she looked at Sebastian’s movements they were even and natural. “But for now I’ve got you captive to ask a few questions.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How about you just hand over the money and we move on? You don’t need to know anything about me.” If she wanted she could run out of here and not a single person would be able to stop her, but she wanted—needed—this money. If she didn’t get it she wouldn’t be able to pay her landlord the rent this week, and then she would be kicked. But she doubted that she was going to get her way.
“What is your real name? La mort noir. The black death. It’s a bit dramatic and over the top don’t you think?” A server came near, and he waved him away.
“My mother was French. Dramatic is what we do best,” she said, indignant.
“So I see,” he said appraisingly, “But you haven’t answered my question.” Raven did nothing but glare. “So you refuse to answer any questions?”
“There is no reason for me to do so. Would you answer the questions of a total stranger?”
“But I’m not a stranger, I’m your employer.”
“Only until you pay me and then I’ll move onto someone else. Besides, the title of employer does not necessarily mean that the person knows anything about their employees.”
“If you promise to answer with just your name, then I’ll let you go and get your money and you never have to see me again.” It was a tempting offer for Raven, more tempting than she’d like to admit.
“Fine. My name is Raven, and if I see that you put that name out to the other crime lords or possible employees, I will be knocking on your door, and it won’t be long until you will be nothing but history, Mr. Gage.”
“You don’t seem that dangerous to me. No, I’d say you look like every other woman I’ve ever seen.” His hand reached out to touch her face in a bold move across the table.
Raven’s hand moved so fast that Sebastian didn’t even see her hand life off the table before it was holding his arm. “You don’t want to be touching me, Mr. Gage.” There was something behind that voice, something terribly painful, and so he desisted, his hand wriggling out from under her tight grip.
“If you walk outside the bar you will find a trash can across the street, hidden within it is the money.” Mara got up her eyes burning with anger and something else. She shoved the briefcase into his lap and left, her mind thinking about how disgusting she was going to be: wet, tired and covered in garbage. It would be worth it tomorrow when she could place her rent in her landlord’s hands though.
She could feel Sebastian eyes on her as she left, and she fought the urge to go back and smack him across the face. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so irritating, or if she hadn’t been in such a mood, or if she wasn’t wet because of the rain, or if he hadn’t been so damn good looking she wouldn’t have been so flustered, but as it was Sebastian Gage had now just become the most frustrating and arrogant person she had ever had ever had the chance to meet.