Bren
walked the route that took her into Downtown, where the Strifepalms had
constructed The K.G. Community Center. They never told non-members what the
K.G. stood for, but the other societies knew enough to deduce what it truly
stood for. Bren didn’t bother knocking on the door, she walked on past. She
knew she’d have gotten their attention by now, but she was relatively sure the
Strifepalms had more important things to worry about. They had to know who she
was, and had to know that she wasn’t going to be bothering them.
Frank must have been using a map on
his phone to trace the path; Bren couldn’t see how else he’d know a way to get
between all four buildings. The Bricklayers headquarters was next; located on
the other side of the river. She’d have to walk across the bridge. She hated
the idea, knew that it’d be a perfect area for her to get ambushed, should the
Strifepalms have seen her pass by first the Memorial Center and then the K.G.
Center. But she continued across it without incident. A construction worker
gave her a wicked eye as she passed him, but Bren didn’t look up at him. She
was pretty sure he was a sentry for one of the four. If disguises were anything
to go by; a Bricklayer.
The Bricklayers, not being fans of
subtlety, made their building out of brick. It was the reddest brick that Bren
had ever seen, of course. Masterfully done; it was the work of craftsmen. Many
who visited had told Bren how perfect it looked.
Most just called it the Brick Center. Most
everyone in the town knew who they were, but most assumed they had more to do
with masonry than the worship of another of the four heroes. If they knew about
the heroes at all.
Bren didn’t wander too close; she
caught a glimpse of Frank near the front entrance. He had his phone out and was
holding it at arm’s length in front of him. The kid was taking a picture of
himself standing in front of the building, grinning sheepishly.
There’s an emotion, halfway between
fear and pity. That was what Bren was feeling. “Frank!” She shouted.
Frank looked up at her, a smile on
his face that quickly withered as soon as he recognized who’d called his name.
“Bren?” He shouted back.
Bren looked both ways and crossed
the street, “I told you not to do this,” she said, “I bet it’s probably too
late now to stop whatever you’ve got coming, but maybe I can get you back to my
car alright.”
“What do you mean?” Frank said,
“I’ve been to three of these so far and I haven’t gotten jumped or anything. Bren,
I think you might be overreacting
about all of this.”
“I talked to the… I already cleared
up your situation with one of the societies. But you have two after you now
probably. There’s no way they don’t think you’re up to something. I hope you
didn’t knock on any of the doors.”
“I knocked on…” Frank trailed off.
“How many?”
“All of the doors,” he said finally.
“Frank, you kind of just proper
fucked yourself,” Bren said.
“You sound real fucking sure of
that,” Frank said.
“Yeah, I am,” Bren said. She figured it was about time to tell him, since
the kid was dead anyway, “I’ve had dealings with all of the societies at one
time or another. Because of who I am.”
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