“So, Mr. Fulgen, where would you like to see yourself in five years?”

  “Well, hopefully not homeless, not in jail, and not dead.”

  “Err… why those things in particular?”

  “All of them almost happened to me yesterday.”

  Halfway up the Spire, Jessie Faxton sat nervously in a lobby with Captain Tetsumi.

  She rubbed her forehead, wishing she had a hot cup of tea. “Shones. Was this the right decision, captain?”

  “Why are you asking me? You’re the one who knows the boy.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m asking: Because I know him. And this pressure, the chief, everything else. I’m almost afraid to go into work later. Shones, some of those reporters’ questions were just disgusting. Can’t a woman ever do something for a man without assumptions being made?”

  Tetsumi gave a sympathetic grunt. “That’d be nice, wouldn’t it? Just know you have my full support. I’ll go down with you, if it comes to it.”

  “I don’t want you to do that if I’m not doing the right thing.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be the right thing?”

  “Because I’m not even sure it was right for Jett. And I don’t mean he might be getting away with crimes he should have paid for. I mean I’m wondering if I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than prison.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  Jessie stared out the window. “It’s the most sincere I’ve seen him, probably in my entire life. I didn’t know he had that in him. It felt like he wanted to fight, needed to, but he was also so full of doubt.”

  “Kind of like you?”

  Jessie straightened. “Let’s not go overboard. We are nothing like each other.”

  The captain chuckled. “Right. Anyway, here he is.”

  “Shit.” Jessie quickly smoothed down her outfit and put on her stern face. Sure enough, Jett was crossing the lobby with several G-Tech sorcerers in tow. She looked for his friend Wally, and bit her lip when she saw he’d been forced to switch to a wheelchair.

  “Jess,” I said with a wave. “Good to see you again. Never thought you’d hear me say that, eh?”

  “Likewise,” said Jessie, and her smirk said she meant all of what I’d said. But her eyes looked tired, and I spied tension in her shoulders. So this was rough on her.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  Jessie slumped, looking defeated. “The chief of police wants me fired, that’s all.”

  “Utter bullshit,” Tetsumi grumbled. “Yeah, folks are looking to save face and lash out after that debacle. And some are pissed at the prospect that you won’t be the one to take the fall, Mr. Fulgen. So they’re yelling that there’s no greater justice being served, that you can’t lead us to a bigger fish and that’s what this Elite Privilege setup is supposedly for, yada yada.”

  “It’s a fair point,” muttered Dante as he paced past us.

  I sank into a chair across from Jessie as Wally rolled up next to me. “Shit, Jess. Look, if you really–”

  “Don’t.” Jessie held up a hand. “We already had that talk. I’ve got people backing me up. We even got the union involved. My job is safe. Just do your part, as best you can.”

  “Right.”

  We sat in silence. Marin and Castillo sat down nearby and started a whispered conversation.

  Finally Jessie gestured at Wally. “Is he okay?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I mean, you are okay, right, Wall?”

  “I’m better,” he said, staring at his hands.

  “A reporter hit us with a zinger we weren’t ready for. Asked about the… incident from a few years ago when I was in the skid circuit. Don’t know what the hell that has to do with last night, but I guess dirt is dirt, huh?”

  Jessie leaned forward. “What did happen? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “So. I met… Squid.” I ground my teeth, reminding myself again to ask about him. “I met Squid when I was messing around at a skid park soon after I dropped out of college. I was just blowing off steam, but I also managed to show off enough to impress him. He approached me and scouted me.

  “We talked sponsorships. We talked circuits. We talked… my past. He got me some materials, and I had Wally build me a competition compliant stick and shoes. Squid pulled some strings and squeezed me into one of the late tryout events for the Grand City Circuit.

  “When I hit the competitions and started placing right out of the gate, it pissed certain parties off. There are some underground betting rings that have a very expensive, very long haul wager in place about the outcome of the entire season. Those get locked in before the late tryout, so when I joined the roster it caused quite an upset. There are bets you can place on last-minute additions, but no one ever does.”

  I closed my eyes, not looking forward to remembering. “Do you know who Luca Santoro is?”

  “Damn it,” said Captain Tetsumi. “I certainly do. He’s one of the Seven Hellions.”

  I blinked. “The what?”

  “One of the mob bosses from level seven,” said Jessie. “The casino districts. They aren’t all allied, and there are a lot more than seven of them. That’s just what cops call mobsters if they’re based there.”

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Ah. Great. Well, he cornered me one night and said I needed to start throwing races. Or else, dot dot dot, you know the drill. I refused to his face, with some colorful language mixed in. Double checked with Squid. He agreed. Said he’d get some extra security detail for me just in case. Said I’d be fine.”

  I grimaced. “He was right, and he was wrong.”

  Wally shrank in on himself.

  “He didn’t target you,” Jessie said.

  “No. I’ll spare you the details. W-...Wally doesn’t like to revisit it anyway.”

  He just smiled at me from the hospital bed. He’d been in a coma for over a week. They knew he’d never walk again before he even woke up.

  “I couldn’t keep going after that. I left the pros and didn’t look back. It broke my heart. I think it broke Squid’s heart, and I think that’s why he eventually left too.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?” Jessie asked. Tetsumi winced at the question.

  I couldn’t keep the snideness out of my voice. “Oh, why not indeed? Well, we did. They conducted a very thorough investigation. You know what they found out? That it was an accident. That Wally had ‘fallen.’ And he apparently landed right on top of a crowbar or three.”

  “I see,” said Jessie. “It’s funny, my partner told me a very abridged version of that story not long before our… initial encounter last night. So it’s true?”

  “I’ll drop this pardon thing and go to jail before I walk it back. So, if I was kind of an asshole in the following years? If I pissed cops off on purpose and ran? If I still have a bit of lingering distrust for cops, no offense? That might be part of it.”

  I then realized that basically all conversation in the waiting area had stopped, and everyone was staring at me. I met eyes with Marin and Castillo, who looked absolutely scandalized, and I shrugged.

  “I don’t see any reporters in here.”

  “Uhh,” a throaty voice stammered. It was Brandon. He stepped forward awkwardly and stopped in front of Jessie. “Miss Faxton? Brandon Luxford. I just wanted you to know, it’s an honor to meet you. Big fan of your work. Big fan of your family’s work. I think your dad was the one who found my ring. So, big thanks for that. We’re still working on Jett. Got some kinks to iron out and all. It’s nothing we can’t handle at G-Tech! Cops are awesome!”

  He gave Castillo another thumbs up.

  “Um.” Jessie stood, obviously uncomfortable to have the bulky man towering over her, and tentatively shook his hand. “Thank you?”

  “A cop once helped me find my pet rabbit,” Tina offered. “The neighbor’s dog had already gotten him, but we still found him.”

  There was an excruciating pause.

  “Estoy rodeada de pura esta gente inútil,” Castillo muttered.

  We were all saved when a portly city employee timidly entered the lobby. He glanced around, seemed to steel himself, and said, “Mister Fulgen? Miss Faxton? And… company? We’re ready for you.”

  If I’d felt out of my league before, the proceedings of the pardon drove it home. We were ushered into what looked like a courtroom, except with a raised dais and a podium instead of a judge’s chair. Press cameras clicked as Team Ambassador escorted me past a cordon to a small table in front of the dais. I glanced back. Wally elected to stay near the entrance to the room, looking out-of-place. He gave me an uncertain thumbs up.

  Marin and Castillo sat on my left, Jessie sat to my right, then Tetsumi, followed by a dour-faced policeman with a mustache who glared daggers at me. It took a long moment of staring at his badge, patches, and embroidered hat before it finally clicked. This was Mitch Mortis, the Chief of Police. He had it in for Jessie, and I’m sure he’d heard wonderful things about me.

  Several political busybodies sat at a desk behind the dais, shuffling papers. I could feel my neck prickle as reporters and other gawkers whispered behind me. A notary came over and arranged several stacks of papers and pens in front of us on the table, cautioning us not to take or sign anything yet.

  Finally the old man in the center of the dais cleared his throat. “Be it known that on this day, the twenty-second of Issa, in the year 4998 P.S., that officer Corporal Jessica Faxton of the GPD Elite has elected to invoke her Elite Privilege and confer a condition pardon upon one Jett Fulgen for crimes committed…”

  This went on for some time. I caught hints that it was roughly what Jessie and I had discussed the previous evening, only in pompous legalese. I caught the bit about employment at G-Tech for at least six months. I noted that Marin frowned slightly at that and the Chief of Police scoffed. Perhaps they both thought that wasn’t much of a commitment. But then I saw Marin and Jessie exchange a nod, as if in respect of a well negotiated agreement. Then there was the bit about me not getting in trouble again. Which, you know, whatever.

  Finally the notary started passing papers down the line. Many, but not all of the papers needed a mark from the CEO, myself, and Jessie, if not the other two cops. Marin eschewed the pen she’d been offered and got her own out of a breast pocket. It was a gleaming and elegant-looking golden fountain pen, and she used it like a master, signing each sheet with a flourish, her lettering precise and just flowery enough not to look out-of-place on a legal document.

  Then I promptly ruined the effect with my left-handed chicken scratch. I had no idea what half of what I signed meant, even after hearing the notary explain it, so I just started to think of every sheet as “Do you want to go to jail? Sign here for ‘no.’”

  And that was pretty much it. The magistrate on the dais declared my pardon concluded, and suddenly Marin was standing me up and turning me to face the flashing cameras, Castillo sneaking in at some point and whispering for me to smile.

  Then came the handshaking. By which I mean the intentional freezeframing of me grasping the hand of some random person who smelled like politics and money so there wouldn’t be any blur in the photo. Again, like the paperwork, the people just kept parading past me, and I had no idea who any of them were or what they did, so I just did what I was supposed to. I heard Marin greeting many of them with “Councilman” or “Councilwoman.”

  The reporters started up again.

  “Mr. Fulgen, how does it feel to receive a rare conditional pardon?”

  “Are you going to reform your ways?”

  “What is your relationship with Corporal Faxton?”

  “Are you really a sorcerer?”

  “Mr. Mayor? Will you be endorsing this pardon?”

  Mayor?

  Shones. Damn. It.

  I turned to see that Julian Garner, the mayor of the freaking Grand City itself, had just strode into the room surrounded by his bodyguards. He was, of course, “mayor” of over two hundred fifty million people, and in any other place he’d be called a president. But Gigopolis loved making things sound quaint. So sure, it had a “mayor” and a “city council,” not a president and a senate. And that mayor was now mere feet from me.

  “Not at this time,” said the mayor. “However, I did want to meet the young man who has taken our city by storm.”

  “Mr. Mayor!” said Brandon. I just wanted to—ow!”

  I didn’t see exactly what happened, but I glanced over to see Castillo shaking a finger in Brandon’s face, and the large man was practically cowering.

  “Mr. Fulgen,” said the mayor in a smooth voice, drawing my attention back.

  “M-Mayor Garner,” I stammered, accepting the handshake and almost reflexively facing the camera for a moment with a rictus grin on my face. “It’s an honor.”

  I thought? An honor, right? I didn’t really follow politics, but I’d heard some good things about this guy.

  “How do you feel right now?”

  “Honestly, sir, it’s still sinking in. I feel… sorry I gave a lot of your cops a coronary? Kind of, I guess?”

  Castillo gave me a frustrated look, but she also looked overwhelmed. It seemed she hadn’t expected this turn of events either. And what was I going to do? Feign muteness in front of the mayor?

  Mayor Garner, for his own part, chuckled. It was, surprisingly, not overdone or performative, to the point where I could almost believe it was genuine. “Well, we all make mistakes, don’t we? I bet you’ll be a great boon to the GPD once you’re all trained up, eh?” He winked at me, and before I could think of a response he was shaking hands with someone else.

  More questions peppered me.

  “Do you think this pardon makes up for what you’ve done?”

  “What about the allegations of violence at The Frozen Lady?”

  “Mr. Fulgen, what happened to your family twelve years ago?”

  My teeth ground together again. I found I had to fight not to recall the amulet to myself. That quirk of the Coat Check skill, that would return the amulet to me if I was in danger, was trying to trigger.

  My skin felt clammy. The room swam before me.

  “I need to go home,” I whispered to Marin.