City of Knives, City of Glass: Part Three

Submitted by C B Wright on
Crossfire Safehouse

Senator Tobias Morgan stares down at his hands. They’re trembling slightly—either from fear or exhaustion, CB can’t tell. The Senator certainly looks exhausted, and if everything he’s saying is correct, he has plenty of reasons to be afraid.

“The government is full of cabals.” The Senator’s voice betrays nothing of the tremors in his hands—it is as strong and confident as it has always been. For most of the time CB has known, he’s hated the smug surety in that voice. Now it sounds less smug, more defiant.

More like Alex.

City of Knives, City of Glass: Part Two

Submitted by C B Wright on
Almost a Dream

David Bernard stands on the cracked stone floor of an open dojo in the middle of an endless grassy plain. A warm wind blows, carrying with it the smell of dry soil. The sky is clear and blue, and the sun shines hot on his face and neck.

He glances around the dreamscape, briefly wondering if this is the one he always uses, and not a clever counterfeit. It feels right, which probably means more than whether or not it looks right. The only thing that doesn’t seem right is that he’s alone. Usually, that’s how it should be. Today is a little different.

“Come out,” David calls.

City of Knives, City of Glass: Part One

Submitted by C B Wright on
Crossfire Safehouse

The chair in the center of the room looks like it was taken from an old black-and-white horror film—a mashup of an electric chair and the table Frankenstein’s monster was strapped to just before it came to life. It’s made of heavy wood, with metal clamps along the arms, legs, and torso, all closed and locked firmly in place. The back reclines, but at the moment it’s set fully upright—not a comfortable position, especially when all of the clamps are locked in place. The man strapped into the chair is tall, lean, and despite the bruise patterns and scrapes along his face and neck, manages to preserve an air of quiet dignity. Senator Tobias Morgan, the Junior Senator from New York, stares at his captors looking neither unafraid nor intimidated. If anything, he looks impatient.

Shades of Red: Part Five

Submitted by C B Wright on
Crossfire Safehouse

CB isn’t entirely sure where this safehouse is—he passes out before they arrive, and when he wakes up he’s on a cot, covered in bandages, his shoulder in a splint.

He sits. It hurts to sit, but he can do it. He’s sore from head to toe, but his head is clear—good sign—and his shoulder only hurts marginally more than the rest of him does. It’s a small room, about twice as wide as the cot itself, and only a little longer. A small trash can sits beside the cot, and he can see the tattered remains of his t-shirt spilling over the side of it. A clean canvas button-up is draped over a folding chair; his boots sit at the foot of the cot. Next to his boots is a pair of brown slippers.

He smells coffee.