[color=dcdcdc][h1]Masks[/h1][hr][hr]
[color=00a99d]“This is our chance,”[/color] said Benedetto, adamantly. He was all for the cause. Unlike Jocasta, whose loyalty extended only as far as her sense of gratitude and fear that she would be a target should she strike out on her own, he shared the goals of the other who stood in this room with him. He shared them to the very core of his being. [color=00a99d]“They’ve pushed too hard for their fucking war and now even the rich kids are getting squirmy.”[/color]

[color=000000]“Your words may not betray you, Ciano, but your demeanor here does.”[/color] The figure in the black mask clasped gloved hands behind the small of its back. [color=000000]“Why should we care for the opinions of the rich? Why should we spend our hard-earned funds on their folly?”[/color]

The youth scowled. [color=00a99d]“It pisses me off too but, if we don’t, then Revidia or Perrence will get their hands on some big weapon and the war will come even faster.”[/color]

[color=fff200]“And why, Ciano,”[/color] said a second masked figure, [color=fff200]“should we want to prevent this war?”[/color]

[color=00a99d]“‘Cause it’s people like us who'll die!”[/color] he retorted, temper flaring. 

[color=ed1c24]“People like us die anyhow,”[/color] said a woman in a red mask. [color=ed1c24]“And, usually, when we do, we simply accept it. Perhaps we grumble some, here or there, but we never get angry enough to [i]do [/i]anything.”[/color]

[color=a9a9a9]“Unless there’s a war,”[/color] said a silver-masked figure with a rich Torragonese accent. He shook his head. [color=a9a9a9]“I don’t like it either, but it needs to be something brazen, something that lays bare the truth.”[/color]

[color=39b54a]“I would rather a hundred thousand die in the span of a year and then so many less for the indefinite future,”[/color] added a woman in a green mask, [color=39b54a]“than continue as we are.”[/color] She shook her head. [color=39b54a]“Something has to give.”[/color]

They were all against him here: the adults - the people who knew better. For all their talk of ‘we’, it wouldn’t be [i]them [/i]dying. A silence built. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly through its seconds. [color=00a99d]“So that’s it?”[/color] Benny demanded, [color=00a99d]“we don’t help when we can?”[/color]

[color=92278f]“Try to see the bigger picture, Ciano,”[/color] said a scholarly voice. [color=92278f]“If -”[/color]

[color=ffdead]“Our friend is right,”[/color] interjected an unexpected ally. It was Certosa - Jocasta. [color=ffdead]“It is important to see the bigger picture, but i would argue not only that. It is important to see all angles.”[/color] Benedetto bristled. Why was she speaking in support? She was not on his side. She never truly was. [color=ffdead]“If the students are allowed to publicly take control of the music box, then they are tied to it. They have taken a stand and, in doing so, divided the ruling class. They have made themselves a flashpoint and a target. We can use them to start undermining our overlords from within. Unlike you who are older and wiser, I have not yet given up hope that we might have our revolution with a great deal less bloodshed.”[/color] She glanced his way. [color=ffdead]“It is a hope that I believe Ciano shares.”[/color]

Benny scowled. [color=00a99d]“Don’t speak for me, Veleno.”[/color]

Their eyes met for a moment and then she looked away. This was a plan of hers, he knew, a [i]trap[/i]. Jocasta was ever setting traps and he was her favourite prey. It had been that way since he had first arrived. 

[color=a0410d]“The students will surely be martyred,”[/color] rumbled a man in a dark wooden mask, [color=a0410d]“and they are not the sort of martyrs that we need. They will make some doubt the course they've chosen and the necessity of our great work. A few decent-hearted individuals on the other side does not erase the need for them to fall as a whole.”[/color]

[color=00a99d]“Not all of them were born rich,”[/color] Benedetto reminded them.

[color=ffdead]“And not all here were born poor,”[/color] Jocasta added pointedly. That was it! It struck the boy that this would fail but she would fail with him. She would appear on his side, and then she would worm her way into his confidence and report all of his actions back to their seniors, as she had before. Jocasta was a snake. He couldn’t disavow her, though. Not now. They were always telling him to ‘behave’ and they were all hypocrites, for they were bad people, just like him, as soon as they left this room.

It was ten more minutes before that happened: ten minutes of pretend deliberation and discussion that was designed to lead to an inevitable conclusion: “thanks, boy. Now butt out and let the adults make the decisions.” He all but stormed out, fists clenching and unclenching themselves, and stood in the near-empty plaza. He could kill half of them, he knew. It was just the other half that was the problem. Benedetto spat on the ground and then Jocasta was beside him. She sat there under the moonlight with her porcelain face and her hands folded demurely on her lap. Her long, pretty blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and… her chest. They were so [i]big[/i], and her waist was so [i]small[/i] and her eyes bright and wide and… He scrunched his face up in a snarl. [color=00a99d]“What do you want, cripple?”[/color] 

She ignored the insult. [color=ffdead]“A victory,”[/color] she sighed. [color=ffdead]“To actually be listened to.”[/color] She let out a snort. [color=ffdead]“How about you?”[/color]

Benny kicked at a pebble. [color=00a99d]“You can stop trying to be all friendly and shit.”[/color] He watched it skitter into the distance, across the cobblestones and past the small fountain. [color=00a99d]“I’m never gonna like you. I know you’ll just rat me out to them and they’ll all think you’re so fucking great. That’s what you do.”[/color]

He could feel her eyes upon him, but he didn’t give her the satisfaction of meeting them. He’d wait and let her seethe while she came up with some new plan for either getting into his confidence or under his skin.

[color=ffdead]“Whatever,”[/color] she said shortly, setting hands to wheels. He looked over as she turned and wheeled away, without even glancing back.

Crickets chirped and water splashed peacefully in the fountain. [color=00a99d][i]Fucking bitch.[/i][/color] She kept hoping he’d forget: forget how she’d stepped over him - figuratively - within days of their first meeting, how she’d [i]used [/i]him, how she’d [i]betrayed [/i]him. Everyone had, really, and he wasn’t that convinced anymore that they were any better than the people they were supposed to be fighting against. If they wouldn’t give him the money, then he’d steal it. Benedetto gathered energy to himself and launched up into the sky, reveling in the cool of the wind on his skin, through his hair, and the flapping of his shirt. He’d steal what he needed, then. Stupid Ingrid and that asshole Desmond were actually doing the right thing. He’d steal the money to help them and because… fuck these people who thought they owned him.

He continued heading north, away from Mudville and out over Ersand’Enise. There’d been some fight in the Workman’s Quarter earlier in the evening. A half-dozen people had died. It had taken twenty minutes before help had arrived because the school’s people didn’t patrol the Workman’s Quarter. Everyone would talk about it the next day, of course: what epic magic was used and all that shit and, yeah, that pretty cool, but they'd hardly waste a breath on the people who died because those people weren’t special. They didn’t have magic. The sum of their lives would be six: the number of casualties, to show everyone how bad it had been and how heroic the people who’d stopped it were. 

The boy's fists clenched and unclenched. If the past few months had taught him anything, it’s that he was strong, but not the strongest. There were some people who he just couldn’t go up against - not yet. He had to find another way to…

Then, Benedetto got an idea: an idea that could change everything.[/color]

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