The idea for Fatal Purity was rather simple. What if the world of magic and fantasy in a series such as Lord of the Rings or Wheel of Time had continued to progress past the pseudo 16th century? What if, instead, that society had continued into the future? What might that be like? Here, I settled on a somewhat cyberpunk-ish feel, but I’d really like to sit and take another crack at it. Though, I do think that this sequence asks a number of good questions to get the story going.
The night was pitch, a murky pool of black that showed Imperial City in its true light. The streets were never quiet, with sounds of sirens always just outside of earshot, and the sounds of revving engines at any and every street corner. Imperial City was on its course.
“Maggie.”
There was a whisper in the air. The Purist slang for their perceived enemies, was an easy accusation. It seemed to be the main purpose of tagging a wall now, designating areas that gave penchant warning to any Believers who entered that they were definitely not welcome there. It was the topic on every mind, and on the tip of every tongue.
“Are you pure, or impure?”
The police reports came in every day with another attack. The dispatchers had finally started simply to categorize the importance of the incident. If it was Maggie-related, then it was generally just left on the wayside. There were just too many of the calls to field them all. The thought was that these people brought it all down on themselves. So what if it all came crashing down around them? There were far too many other problems for them to deal with. Drugs, poverty, violence… They filtered out the Maggie noise and focused on helping people instead. Focused on the Purist cause.
Except for one. Lieutenant Travis Chattersen knew that there was a definite problem brewing. He’d said as much, many times, and here he sat, waiting outside the Commissioner’s office, waiting for the door to open so he might bring the problem to his attention. He straightened his tie, going with the off-white gold striped, his lucky tie, for confidence. He rubbed his face, noting that even after his morning buzz, some of his stubble still remained. The secretary glanced over at him, and he sat up a little straighter, offering a slight smile. It had already been ten minutes, and still the meeting was late.
Either that, or they’d simply chosen to let him sweat in the lobby for a little longer.
Knowing Commissioner Trisk, neither situation would have been surprising. A phone rang, and the secretary answered. It was a very brief conversation, with the secretary’s only response as “yes, sir.”
“Lieutenant?” Chattersen looked up as the secretary called his title. “Commissioner Trisk is ready for you.” Chattersen stood up, nooded with a small smile, and walked his way past the desk, and to the frosted-glass door with the Commissioner’s named unabashedly proclaimed across it. He turned the knob, and stepped inside.
Commissioner Trisk was a powerfully-built Khaleian man, grey hairs buzzed short atop his head. His dark skin was taut, but weathered. To call him intimidating would be to call the sun only “bright”, or the deepest abyss simply, “dark.” Even so, he followed basic formalities, and smiled slightly as Chattersen stepped in, indicated for him to take a seat.
Chattersen also noticed another man, who he was actually surprised to see. Mayor Modell Neilsen was a short, lean man with a face that would make a cynic gain faith. He nodded to Chattersen, but the kind gesture really only served to make the Lieutenant feel a little more nervous. He reached up and scratched at his ear, suddenly aware of an intense itch.
Supervisor and Officer exchanged small talk for a while, but Chattersen was distinctly aware of the Mayor’s consistent gaze. The third man said little, nodding to a question asked, or answering with a soft voice in short, one-word phrases. Chattersen wondered if perhaps he was actually on some kind of trial here, as opposed to the topic he was here to discuss.
“So, Lieutenant,” said the Commissioner at last. “You seem to think that we should be pursuing this Believer fad a little more closely?”
“Well, sir,” began Chattersen. “I feel that our policy of ignoring the problem until it goes away is not the correct response to a situation that could easily turn into riots in the streets.”
“You think that the department isn’t doing their job correctly?” The Mayor spoke with a soft, but incredulous tone. It took Chattersen off-guard a little.
“Sir,” said Chattersen carefully. “I just feel that the issue should be treated with more priority than we’re giving it.”
“What do you propose?” Asked the Commissioner. “We’re already understaffed as it is. And I hardly see the Believers as a danger, at least not one as easily riled as some of the mobs that we’re dealing with every day. I thought they were a peace-loving group.”
“They are, sir,” responded Chattersen. “But even the most peaceful of men can be provoked to anger if the time is right.”
There was a pause as the Commissioner considered this. “What about this new player I keep hearing about?”
Chattersen was confused. “New player, sir?”
“My office keeps getting reports of a certain Believer vigilante, especially in Eastbrook, your neighborhood. Carries around a glowing sword.”
Chattersen blew out the breath in his lungs. “The officers in my precinct have been calling him ‘Blue-Blade’.”
“I’ve heard stories that he’s been attacking citizens, removing arms. From what I understand, he’s directly responsible for the deaths of at least fifteen people, admittedly criminals, but nonetheless, fifteen people in the month.”
“Not much more than speculation, I’m afraid, sir. There hasn’t really been much evidence to go on. He’s a wraith. Witnesses have said he carries that sword, and might have what seems like a Pedia N-Class right-arm enhancement, but not much else to go on. Officers have only ever caught brief glimpses of him, really.”
“But he’s a danger to society, is he not? We can’t have people randomly going about, killing as they please.”
“But as you said, sir, he’s only killing criminals.”
“Those are the only ones that we suspect, and that we know of,” replied the Commissioner quickly. “And as you said, we don’t have many details on him beyond that.”
Chattersen scratched his ear, the itch driving him crazy, even as the Commissioner continued.
“Isn’t an individual like that, a suspected killer, more of a concern than this group of peace-loving Maggies?”
Slowly, Chattersen nodded his head, but he didn’t like where this line of thought was going.
“Then focus your efforts there,” said the Commissioner finally. “Take care of this Blue-Blade, or whatever you want to call him, and bring him in for questioning. Then we’ll see if this suspected riot that you’re so worried about still requires our attention.”
“But, sir, if I may…”
“You have your orders, Lieutenant. You may leave.”
Chattersen stood there for a moment, and then glanced over at the Mayor, whose face was blank, unreadable. Finally he nodded, and turned and walked out of the office.
He nodded with a quick smile at the Secretary, but inside he was fuming. As much as the Commissioner may want to downplay it, the Believers, as the Maggies called themselves, were a powder-keg issue, and who knew what spark might fly randomly that would set them off? Could it be that the Commissioner was, in fact, counting on such a riot?
He had to put such thoughts out of his mind. With the different crimes in the city, and with these new threats looming, especially of a certain terrorist organization that was rumored to be making high-profile assassinations almost weekly, he couldn’t take the time to think about the possibilities of corrupt government officials. He had his orders. He was to take down Blue-Blade, and bring him in. As he thought about it, though, perhaps this new player might have the information he needed to find out exactly what was going on in the Believer organization, so that this imminent riot could be quelled once and for all.
“Are you pure, or impure?”
He walked quickly now, making his way to the Eastbrook precinct.
