Chapter 1076: Troubles In The City Of A Hundred Steeples
Chapter 1076: Troubles In The City Of A Hundred Steeples
Far away, in Montreal, different events were already happening, which Alex wasn't aware of yet, thanks to his neuro-phone being a piece of scrap because of an impromptu EMP.
Jack was currently holed up in his underground office, conversing on a video call with the woman who had been the stem of all his latest problems.
"Miss Prime Minister... I understand we have an agreement to train the soldiers you need to fight off the monsters across the country. This training is crucial, I know. But please understand my problems as well.
"My strongest fighters are currently away, and what little we can do for your men will be wholly inadequate. Can't you wait a few more days before sending your first wave of soldiers to my compound?" he asked, trying to remain as polite as he could.
The woman on the screen looked at him with a deadpan expression before sighing loudly. "Mr. Boudreau. I know you are a busy man, but my time is also precious to me. You had agreed to train the first batch of soldiers this month and have already pushed the date back by a week. "I can accommodate extenuating circumstances and am willing to push it back again, but I'll need a better reason than, 'My assistant has gone missing.' This shouldn't affect your capacity to train my men unless you are saying your assistant was going to do the training himself," she said, her tone neutral.
Jack kept a smiling face, trying his best to hide his clenched fists.
"Ma'am. The issue lies deeper than just my assistant disappearing on me. The people I sent to get him were the ones who would train your men. With them gone, the training we could give them would be marginal. All my experts are gone.
"Can you push it back one more week? I assure you they will be back by then. I would never dare slight you, Prime Minister," Jack assured her, trying to appeal to her leniency.
She gazed at him with a disappointed look.
"Surely you can't think I am that easy to blow off, Jack. I know you want to throw yourself into politics, but I have been in this game for much longer than you, and I know a brush-off when I hear one. Give me the real reason for this delay, or I renege on our deal, and you learn to swim on your own in the cesspool of political campaigning."
Jack's eyebrow twitched at her threat. He needed her backing if he wanted to ease himself into the political field, and he needed that if he wanted his future plans to go smoothly.
With a deep sigh, Jack gave up the appealing approach.
"Fine. I'll give you your reason. But I don't take lightly to being threatened, Amalia. Your father may have saved my life in the past, and he gets my eternal respect, but you don't get it by extension. Don't push your luck," he said, his tone sharp.
"My apologies if I have offended you, Jack. But this is business. You know how it goes. The biggest leverage gets the biggest stick. And I doubt you have leverage on me. Now, speak.
Jack scoffed at her comment, thinking about the dirt Gu Fang had already dug up on her before going AWOL, but kept mum about it.
"A Chinese organization took my assistant, and they aren't reaching out for ransom of requests. This means they don't intend to give him back. Gu Fang has been loyal to me for years, and I don't intend to watch him get taken like this lying down.
"I sent my experts to get him, as the firepower they can bring to bear will be necessary for this rescue. But they need more time to get to him. That is why I need an extra week. I'm asking for seven days, not a second more. Can I get that, or does it pose too much of a problem?" he asked, his tone aggrieved.
The woman smiled at his honesty and waved her hand dismissively.
"Not a problem at all. We are still managing to handle most of the monsters we find with standard weapons. They may be resistant to bullets, but RPGs and advanced weaponry still seem to do the job. But the trend is rapidly on the decline.
"You get a week, not a second more, just as you asked, Jack. But don't call me back asking for an extension. There won't be one. And I won't be there to take your call, should you try my patience," she declared, her tone firm.
"Fine by me. Thank you, Prime Minister," Jack said, his shoulders relaxing.
"Goodbye, Mr. Boudreau," she said, hanging the call up before he could reply.
Jack looked at his screen with gritted teeth.
"To think her father and I served in three different deployments, and she still has no respect for his memory... Politics have corrupted this woman to the core. Fucking bitch," he growled at his black screen.
He dialled an extension number on his phone, calling his new receptionist.
"Yes, Mr. Boudreau?" a woman's voice responded.
"Cynthia. Try calling Mr. Leduc again. If you reach him, tell him I need him back in Montreal ASAP," he ordered, anger still leaking through his tone.
"Sir, I've already left ten messages. I don't think I'll be able to-
"Just do it, Cynthia," Jack growled, interrupting her.
There was a moment of silence before the woman responded in a tenuous tone.
"Yes, Mr. Boudreau. I'll call him again."
The line hung up soon after, Jack tiredly resting his face in his hand.
"Everything tends to go to shit at the same time, always. It's like bad news can't come alone," he mumbled, annoyed by the situation at hand.
With Gu Fang gone, he had to hire a new assistant, but he couldn't tell her all the secrets Gu Fang knew, as he didn't trust her. This made his job all the more stressful, as he had to bear most of this load on his own, and he was beginning to feel the pressure from it all.
"I hope they bring you back safe, old friend. I don't know how long I can deal with all this alone..."
For all his projected strength, Jack knew very well how his age was starting to affect his body and mind. And all this stress was only accelerating the decay that years in service of his country had installed within him.
Having an extra set of shoulders to bear the load with him had kept most of this at bay before. But now, on his own, he felt like he could become frail and break at any moment.
His wife was trying her best to keep his morale up, complimenting him daily, even though half her compliments were empty air, and they both knew it. They both liked to think it was helping, but who were they kidding?n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om
Jack was now barely sleeping, and his already poor eating habits had only worsened. At this pace, he wouldn't last a month before he was skinny and decrepit. But Margarett didn't know what to do to cheer him up.
After all, she had never been the kind, loving, and nurturing sort. This was way beyond her emotional capabilities.
'Hopefully, those kids bring Gu Fang back in one piece. He's too old for this shit...'
But this wasn't the only issue going on in Montreal. Far from it.
The crime rate had been on the rise.
Violent attacks in the shadow of the night; burglaries without a trace for cops to grasp at; people feeling observed in the sanctity of their homes, even when the shades were drawn and
the lights closed.
Very few people knew what was happening, and the cops couldn't make heads or tails of all this. It was like the city had taken a dark turn, and they couldn't tell who or what was causing
it.
Of course, for all the bad that was happening, some were trying to become vigilantes, causing an added layer of chaos, as people brutalized like this could hardly be prosecuted, even if they were recorded committing a crime.
This made more trouble for law enforcement than it solved, and they were in over their heads.
Sitting at his desk, alone in the pitch darkness, only lit up by an old desk lamp that could barely project light further than a few feet, and sipping on a glass of brownish liquid, Detective Charles Trudeau was contemplating an old case, his face a mask of confusion. "A lot of weird things started happening after that gunfight. And everywhere something strange happens, there is almost always a connection to you," he muttered, inebriated by the
whisky in his glass.
The file on his desk, complete with medical reports, confessions, and his personal notes, all
on paper of course, as the detective liked the old feel of paper in his hands, was currently open
on
a picture of a young man with brown hair, blue eyes, and an innocent smile. "Alexander Leduc... What did you do to the world, and where the fuck are you now? At least,
when you were around, things seemed calmer. Now, everything is absolute chaos. Can't even take a day's rest with all these cases-Oh shit!" the detective cursed as he swung his arm at the cases and sent a wave of whisky flying on them from his glass.
He tried dabbing the liquid with tissues, but the stench of alcohol and the stain of the brown liquid were already imbibing itself in the papers.
"Fucking... I need sleep," he muttered, looking at the mess.
But he knew he was too sloshed to drive back home, and no taxi would take a drunk in at this
time of night. Not since the chaos started.
"Fuck..."
He looked over at the couch in his office, one he had been all too acquainted with lately, and
stumbled to it.
"Another night spent in your arms, old friend," he mumbled, crashing into the couch and
falling asleep immediately.
And that night, more attacks happened, leaving more people wounded and broken in alleys, both from the attackers and their victims.
Leaving the scene of one such attack, a man raised his hood over his head, trying to hide part
of his face.
"Dumbass," he spat, looking over his shoulder at the weirdly bent teenager.
"At least try to gauge your opponent before lunging at them like an animal. I've had tougher opponents in ten-year-old children at the gym," he mocked, walking away.
Clark wiped the dribble of blood under his nose from the one lucky shot the teenager had
struck him, and smirked.
"I wouldn't have lasted a second if Alex hadn't taught me about mana... I wonder where he is
right now. Fucker owes me weeks of pay and the worst training session of his life. I can't wait to put him through the wringer," he grinned as he walked toward his home.
'At least, he was a real challenge...'