Crossroads: Day 1 - Xorik
Greetings reader, this is Xorik, your author speaking. This is my first independent work as an author, and as such, any suggestions would be fantastic. I'm also going for realism here... so if I make any stupidly obvious mistakes in the way the world works, for Phoenix's sake tell me! So I can correct them and allow for more total immersion.
As this is the first chapter I'm posting, I figure it's only fair to inform you about the method my story as a whole is going to be told. Each chapter I write is going to take place on a certain day, this day will be indicated in the title. Each chapter will also be told though the viewpoint of one of three characters, they are: Xorik, the Graffiti artist, Mordikia, the Detective, and Veers, the Inventor... this information will also be included in the title.
This is not to say that I am not willing to expand on any character you see fit. After I get this tail (sorry... couldn't resist) to its conclusion, I will be willing to go back, and retell it from the perspective of ANY named character. This story has been months in the making, if they have a name, they have a background. Because they have a background I can write this story from their perspective.
Disclaimer: I do NOT advicate any of the activities portrayed here, so for the love of Phoenix if you do them, blame yourself, not me.
All clear now? Okay then... our story begins...
Day One: 2:56 pm: Suspended from the Side of a Police Station. Don't ask.
Hssssss...rattle rattle rattle Hssssssss
I start winching my rope up; my eyes watery from the fumes; my normally steely feathers of my wings, tarnished by dustings of back spray-paint. My reflection in the window indicates that my face didn't fare much better, my beak, normally white with a black tip, is now almost entirely black, with a few spots of red and a multitude of other colors, my face doesn't even appear as a kestrel's would, for the distinctive bars and coloring is obscured by blue streaks from when the spray can leaked, my chest remained white, though the black speckles of my species are far more numerous than I remember, only sparing a stripe on my chest covered by my bandoleer. Looking down, I see that my pants did not survive the trip appearing as though a rainbow had vomited on them. Contemplating the trouble necessary to get the paint out of my feathers, I curse my species! There is few clothing brands that allow for an avian to fly while wearing a shirt and those that allow such freedom of movement are rarely in the price range of a college student.
Though for me, spraying the entire side of a police station is worth it, every single tagger in this city will know who did it. A swooping image of avians in flight, completely unique from all my other tags... as far as I know, I pretty much make them up as I go, and the only element to remain unchanged is a single eye. It's as close to a signature as I am willing to place. It announces me as simply "Watcher". A moniker that "Claws" gave me, and it stuck. I encouraged this, as it gave people something else to call me instead of Xorik.
In this town, recognition is key, and reputations are built on risk. Tagging a police building at noon seems like a monumentally stupid thing for anyone to do, but here, in Cyper City, it's one of the few buildings nobody has tagged yet, with good reason. The ground level has glass windows facing all directions, and the building is perpetually crawling with cops. To get to the roof, where my harness is secured, requires either walking though said building that is still crawling with cops, climbing up 6 floors glass and concrete, the entire time hoping that no one who sees you cares enough to stop you, or, my way, Flying.
This tag was one of the more difficult ones to set up. For starters, I had to empty the building of cops, a difficult proposition even in a city as crime ridden as Cyper. This was accomplished more by luck than anything else, as at this time the cops were occupied with something bigger, and they were keeping it from the press, although I couldn't help but notice that the patrols around the city had picked up and there was less staff in the building. Two reasons that led me to choose today to start my mural.
The second issue is one I have already hinted at. The fifty foot, sheer cliff of glass. This was easily my most difficult, and largest, mural, so I had to think of something that would allow me to traverse the side of the building with ease. My exploration of the problem resulted in a pulley system. One set to allow me to travel side to side at my leisure, and another set to allow me to go up and down, and lock the position. It took Veers and I several days to get it to work properly, however, it works flawlessly, we could likely sell more of these harnesses to other taggers, it would help put us though college, something my paint budget is hindering for me.
Looking into the window, I see a Feline on the phone, talking rapidly, however, I cannot hear what she is saying, however, going by how she is glaring at me, I can only assume the conversation is about me. I am on the fourth floor and going up as the first police car pulls in below me. The lion in blue looks up, impressed, shocked, and pissed off, though the latter is the one that dominates his face. Gazing at the car from whence he immerged, I see his partner, a canine of some sort, shaking with laughter.
The lion pulls out his radio, calling someone, but I'm not overly concerned about it. Thinking back, I knew that I was pressing my luck, I had been painting the building for the better part of 3 hours, starting as the cops left for lunch and relying on Vanessa to listen to the police radios to make sure the cops wouldn't show up unexpectedly... like this. I hear more sirens, close by, a signal to speed up my ascent, and to get this harness off. While the rig is convenient to paint a large building alone, it is less than ideal for making a quick escape.
"This is the Police! Remain where you are! You are under arrest for trespassing and vandalizing a public building." This is the cat, species is a mystery from this high up, but he is clearly a predator of some kind.
As if. Dumbass cat thinks I'm going to come down? As far as I know, my species is impossible to recognize under the paint, beyond the avian bit, and without a species, it becomes impossible to get an identity. I give him a bird of my own, and keep climbing. Reaching the top of the wall, I reach over, and hoist myself to the rooftop, using my knife from my bandoleer to separate myself from my harness. I look at the length of rope and the pulleys I had set up with a measure of sadness, it was a mere prototype to be sure, but it worked! I regard the loss as a tragic waste, and hope it won't be used successfully as evidence against me.
My mourning is cut short by the sound of paw steps coming from the roof access stairwell. Realizing that movement is the best way to ensure my freedom, I jog to the edge of the building. Looking down, I see three more squad cars have pulled up, lights flashing. The laughing canine is no longer laughing, and has a shotgun in hand. Normally I'm okay with guns, I have a few myself at home with my parents, however, I have a slight aversion to those aimed at me, much like the one in the canines hands. I jump back quickly, this time, I can hear his laughter.
I hear beating on the roof access door, thinking quickly, I sprint to the other corner of the building overlooking the side of the street where the gun toting loony can't see me. I check the street level below my new position, there are still police under me, however, none of them have guns out of their holsters.
The door slams open. I dive off the building without hesitation, flaring my wings in order to avoid a painful (and fatal) collision with the road below, leveling my altitude, I fly off into the night. Add resisting arrest to my rap sheet.
Day One: 5: 10 Pm, Veer's dorm room
"Where's Vanessa?" Veers, straight to the point, as always. He's one of my best friends, and one of the few people outside the graffiti artist community to know that I am Watcher.
"Donno... I would have been here earlier, but the blues have an eagle on the force, and I didn't expect an aerial escape. Anyway, you got something to get the paint out?" I said, pulling at the dried paint on my face, hoping that I could get it out of my feathers without paint remover; I shuddered at the mere memory of the pain.
"... Scissors." A completely serious tone accompanied this.
I rub my temples out of frustration, a gesture completely lost on Veers, as the bandages that kept the dim light I needed to see by from hurting his eyes prevented him from seeing it. Though, as a bat, I think he can hear the ruffles of my feathers and can interpret the gesture.
"Look... I can make something for you so this becomes a nonissue, hell; I already have the measurements of your face, so it won't take too long." Said he, a slightly eager tone to his voice gave away his obsession with invention, as if the room littered with blueprints, masses of wires and plastic whose purposes elude me were not enough of an indication.
"Wait, what! When did... how...my face? I ... you know what? I don't even care. Go for it. Just... tell me how much it's going to cost me. WAIT! Don't. Surprise me. I'm using your shower now." Sometimes, like right now, he scares me. Turning and navigating the metallic mountain, I work my way to his bathroom.
Before hopping in, I check my cellphone, half hoping for a call from Vanessa, nothing. I try to call her, after several rings, it cuts to voicemail.
"Vanessa, its Xorik, wondering why you didn't meet me at Veers like we planned? Anyway, call me as soon as you get this... I'm getting worried about you. Love you." Putting thoughts of her aside, I set about the laborious task of getting spray-paint out of my feathers. It took me about 2 hours to get all of the paint out, by the time I got out of the shower, Veers was standing outside the door, and he didn't look amused.
"Do you think that could have taken any longer?"
"I can get back in if you like."
"Oh, no you don't, look, don't take this personally or anything, but a couple cops were here, looking for a falcon covered in paint. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." He paused, rummaging in his dresser, pulling out a pair of faded denim jeans "Take these, your pants are pretty much ruined anyways, and those are too short for me anyways." He gave them to me, looking rather concerned.
"Thanks," I said, taking the jeans and slipping them on, other than being slightly too long for my 5'5" statue, they fit reasonably well. Turning to leave, I grab my bandoleer and slung it across my chest. Realizing that the bandoleer contained incriminating evidence against me, I removed all the spray cans used on the police station and gave them to Veers. "A gift, use 'em however you want. I owe you one!" With that, I walk out of his apartment, checking my phone again, getting concerned.
My phone did not indicate any calls from Vanessa. It remained blank, save for a few congratulatory texts from Claws, Mist, and the other graffiti artists who had evidently either witnessed my handiwork first hand or seen it on the news. Two messages, from Twisted and Shadows, offered to pay bail for me in the event I get arrested for it. I thank them all for their complements and offers, though the lack of messages from Vanessa still disturbed me.
I elect to call her again... still no answer "Hey... Vanessa, please call me! If I did something... I at least want to know... call me, text me... something... I'm... well... I don't know what to think of this... I mean... are you mad? If so... I'll let you cool off but please, at least let me know why. I still love you... Xorik."
Almost immediately after restoring my phone to my pocket, I feel my it vibrate, playing a upbeat tune that I recognize immediately as Vanessa's ringtone. Quickly I answer; a sense of relief filling my body was nearly palpable.
"This is officer Mordikia of the Cyper Police, I am going to have to ask you to come to the station... to identify a body."