III – The (Respectfully) Busty Princess of Chicago

Previously on ‘Glitch’:

Macro, the local bully, is about to give Edward the beating of a lifetime! Yet something seems to be troubling the guy. It is almost as if he did not want to hurt Edward! (He’ll still do it, though)

For Thief Queen, who is still trapped in Edward’s head, it doesn’t matter! She asks her host to give in and let her solve the situation. Yet what could her offer mean? The boy is resilient, and he refuses her strange deal.

However, nothing now stands between his face and Macro’s fist. What will happen now?

-| Glitch - |

Macro had Edward pinned with the backs against the wall. The boy swallowed dry. The punk’s fist hovered over his face like a predator about to pounce.

“Your last chance, dude,” warned Macro. He was twice as strong as Edward, and it showed. The numbers did not lie. “Hand the money,” he ordered.

“C-Can’t you just have my word that I’ll pay you tomorrow?” bargained Edward. He carried the Heart in a Vat in a pocket. “I really need to go home real quick—”

“I need it now.”

“Well,” Edward faltered, “maybe I could pay interest.”

“I can’t decide if you have a death wish or if you are a moron—”

A loud whistle echoed across the dark alley.

“What now?” snorted Macro as he turned at the exit of the alleyway. The shadow of a girl around their age eclipsed the sunlit street outside.

She pointed at the punk’s face and rose her voice, “One more touch and you’ll be back to a detention center, Mark Ross.”

An ultraviolet monocle covered her left eye. She could see that the police had tagged the punk with a UV pen.

Edward faltered as he faced his bully, “Mark Ross? You got a name?”

“No, I’m a freaking indigent,“ remarked Macro as he narrowed his eyes at the girl. “So you are gonna send me to a re-education center? You and what army?” he challenged her.

Two men in black suits covered the exit of the alleyway. They were so large that their suits blocked the alley like a bulkhead. Their shoulders were so vast and straight that they could pass as a wall.

The girl smirked. “Are Steve & Steven good enough for you, Mark?” she asked, chortling maniacally. “I could call more.”

Macro buffed. He spat on the ground and pulled his body away from Edward.

“Cow,” snorted the punk as he stuck his hands in his jacket and walked away. He stood no chance against the girl’s brutes.

Edward sighed in relief. He faced his saviors. “T-Thank you!” he said as he walked to the girl so that he could bow to her in gratitude.

She recoiled. “Not so fast!” she yelled.

“What—”

Steve & Steven surrounded Edward. Steve held the boy by the jacket as if he held a cat by the scruff while Steven searched his clothes.

“Wait, wait!” protested Edward. “Why are you touching there, it’s personal—”

“No drugs, Ms. Marchesi,” said Steven. His sunglasses were so dark that Edward wondered how he could even see. “Just some weird toy,” finished the man as he showed the Heart in a Vat to his boss. “It’s smelling funny, though.”

“Looks innocent. Just because the Cubs own this area, it doesn’t mean that everyone is a thug,” she said, crossing her arms and approaching Edward. Her long black hair was straight and lustrous like silk. The skirt of her private school uniform alone seemed more expensive than all the houses on that block. She wore a choker with a hammer-shaped whistle attached.

“Wait, Marchesi?” asked the boy, recoiling. “Are you a parent of Judge Marchesi, the mayor?”

“I prefer Sophie Marchesi,” she said in a pompous manner. “I’d grab your hand but you are kinda sme—”

The boy could not lift his sights away from her chest. Her voluptuous bust barely fit in her uniform’s blouse. They resembled a pair of golden Suns setting over her ocean-blue blouse. “Oh my God,” he faltered, “is that a—”

She slapped him so hard that the boy fell to the ground.

“A-Argh!” Edward agonized. She had hit him on the same cheek that Macro had punched.

Thief Queen, who watched everything from inside his mind, mocked him yet again, “I hope it is a closed fist next time.”

Sophie Marchesi’s cheeks reddened. Her hands covered her chest. She screamed at a hurt Edward, “what you think you were looking at, you perv?”

“O-Ouch…” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I wasn’t looking at your breasts! I was gonna talk about your school’s shield! That’s the Sacred Heart Institute, isn’t it? That’s where they teach about Glitchers,” he said, glancing at the pressed shield beneath her chest. “I found it interesting, it’s all.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. She heaved a long sigh. A part of her conceded that her reaction was unmeasured. “Fair enough,” she resigned while facing Steve & Steven, “listen to what I’ll tell you, guys.”

“Can’t we just hit him instead?” they bargained, disappointed.

“We’ll give this boy—” She glanced at him, expecting that he’d tell her his name.

“Edward,” he said. “That’s my name.”

“—We’ll give Edward a ride home in the limousine. I may have been a bit excessive on my punishment,” she conceded.

“I think I’m bleeding,” the boy remarked with a hand on his cheek.

“Just a little bit excessive,” she insisted, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go to the limousine, shall we?”

“I-I actually go to school now,” he mumbled, “I have a test in 20 minutes. Just please give me my toy back,” he said, glancing at the Heart in a Vat. “I’ll go straight to school, I swear. It’s much faster to get there on foot—”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Fine! We’ll drive Edward to school,” she resigned.

“B-But I just told you that—”

“I heard enough. Let’s go,” she said. “I hope they at least have showers there.”

Edward, Steve & Steven, and Sophie Marchesi walked to her limousine. Both bodyguards raced and competed to see who would open the door for her first.

“No need for this chivalry,” she said as she entered the vehicle.

Edward followed her yet both men lifted him off his feet.

“You sit by our side, pervert,” they asserted.

“I-Is this necessary?”

“Why the scowl?” they smirked as they threw him into the limousine. “Aren’t we cute?”

Edward sat pressed between both men. Although the vehicle was larger than the boy’s bedroom, Steve & Steven were so huge that not a single more atom fit on their couch.

Sophie grinned at Edward. “Comfy?” she asked while twirling her hair and looking at her phone’s screen.

“N-Not that much,” the boy replied while glancing at Steve & Steven’s sunglasses. “Do they have to wear those even in the dark?

Both men replied, “Yes.”

The girl giggled at him. “Don’t mind my bodyguards,” said Sophie. “The scarier they are, the better they are paid. Dad likes them overprotective. He says we can never be that safe when Glitchers are around.”

Edward moaned. His brain boiled as Thief Queen spoke in his head:

“Mayor Judge Enzo Marchesi, the biggest hypocrite in America. Snitch an Illegal Glitcher near you and the police will be there in 2 minutes. Get your entire block razed by some gangbangers and all that you will get from him are thoughts and feelings,” she snorted. “The Cubs extort people and do what they want with half the city. Yet Mayor Marchesi has the balls of running up for governor saying that Chicago has never been so safe. All because of his witch-hunts of Glitchers. If this dimwit really hated Glitchers that much, his daughter’s driver wouldn’t be one.”

The boy recoiled. “W-What?” pondered Edward as he glanced at the limousine’s driver.

A status card took shape over the man’s head:

Sophie rose her voice, “Hey”—she waved her hand to catch the boy’s attention—“Eddy!”

“H-Hi?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

“You study at St. Michael’s High, correct? It’s the local high school.”

“U-Unfortunately,” he replied.

“Cool.”

Edward looked away and faced the beggars and wild dogs littering the streets. The trash on the sidewalk, the broken shop windows, and the ruined neighborhoods were a painful sight for him.

The girl crossed her arms, discontent with his distraction. “You are not really a fan of my dad, are you?” she asked him. “Young people generally don’t like him. They prefer the Glitchers.”

Sophie glanced at the headlines from fresh newspapers by her side:

“US ‘King Lear’ Armored Train arrives at downtown Chicago for anti-Glitcher drills. ‘Necessary’, describes Mayor Marchesi.”

Edward faltered. “I just don’t get it. What’s an Armored Train going to do for someone who got mugged in an alley?” argued the boy. He glanced at the newspaper. “When people see things like that, they just think that the government is doing all it can to protect itself, not us. Glitchers don’t harm the little guy. If they hadn’t been kicked off Chicago, the Cubs would have grown as much—”

“You’re so naïve,” she said, smirking. “You really believe a Glitcher would use their power to protect you, not themselves?”

“I don’t, I”—Edward rested his fists on his thighs—“I just know that the government is not the one who will do it,” he spoke with absolute certainty.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “You see, Steve?” she uttered while crossing her legs. “This is why I don’t discuss politics with suburban fools. Especially when they wear Skulls merchandise,” she said, glancing at a ring in his right hand.

Steve & Steven scowled at the boy. “Skulls’ merchandise?” they asked.

“T-This is not merchandise!” He faltered, hiding his ring. “This is my dad’s paratrooper ring. I drew some skulls on it, that is all.”

The girl giggled. “Sure…”

“It’s true!”

She smirked. “So he was foolish enough to fight in Pakistan?” asked Sophie.

Edward surprised her with a quick answer.“Karachi,” he replied in a serious tone.

The silence made a long speech in the vehicle as Sophie and Edward stared at each other. She had done a feat: robbing Edward of his tranquil self.

The vehicle stopped. Kimura, the limousine’s driver, rose his voice, “We are here. Tell the Glitcher-lover to come out.”

Edward complied. He left his seat before Steve & Steven could show him the way out. The door opened automatically and he left the limousine.

Sophie Marchesi spoke her last words to the boy, “And if you ever get in trouble again, Eddy”—she smirked—“call the Batman. He’ll come help you before any Glitcher, I’m sure of it.”

Steve & Steven laughed like a chorus. “Bye, kid,” said one of them (both were indistinguishable) as the limousine’s doors closed.

The vehicle sped away. A trail of thick grey smoke was the once trace that the limousine was ever there.

“T-This is a school zone, people!” protested Edward. “Don’t go so fast—” He coughed as if he had a frog in his throat.

The school’s bells rang. There was no time to complain.

“Oh, crap!” groaned the boy as he turned around and ran to school. Yet something bothered him. “I almost forgot”—he stopped and paid his respects to a stone memorial that stood by the building’s entrance—“now I can go!”

Words marked the monument:

“For the 72 Lives of St. Michael. You are gone, but not forgotten.”

Thief Queen, who was still trapped in the boy’s head, kept her thoughts to herself as she watched him pray for the victims of a massacre. “The blood of that girl’s brain probably went elsewhere,” she said, “but this Edward kid seems odd. I first took him for a gutless wack wimp, but I think there is some paratrooper in him”—she corrected herself—“some.”

Edward looked away from the monument and ran to his classroom. The hallways were empty, denouncing that the students had already gone to their classes. His steps were the only ones that he heard in the corridors.“Come, come on! Open!” said the boy as he wrestled with his rusty locker. The locks refused to open. “There is no way,” he resigned, “I’ll have to ask for a pen once I get there.”

His locker won the fight. Edward turned around and hurried to his class. “Two minutes, two minutes,” he rustled as he climbed the stairs with empty hands. Yet a thought shackled his legs. “Wait,” he faltered, “Adela will be there. She might want to talk about the heist from yesterday”—he swallowed dry—“I can’t just go inside while looking like I came from the sewer.”

He rose his frown to face the school’s clock. He still had four minutes. “A mirror won’t hurt,” said the boy as he rushed into the nearest bathroom and faced his reflection. He was wet, hurt and cashless. “B-But maybe I’ll look okay if I sit by her right…” Bargained Edward as he assessed the left side of his face in the mirror. “Never mind, it still looks horrible,” he gripped. “What if I—”

He heard Macro’s voice from inside a bathroom stall. “Listen, Brandon,” the punk spoke on his cell phone, “I’ll get your money, okay? Give me one day! Just let my brother be—”

The phone buzzed as Brandon spoke. Although Edward could not hear what the man said, Macro wept. The sound of the punk sobbing was terrifying enough to disgruntle the boy. He thought that he would live a hundred years without ever hearing him cry.

Macro screamed at the phone, “This is my problem, I owe you guys money! I suffer the consequences, not Joey. I joined the Cubs! I messed up! Leave him alone, you hear? If you touch that kid”—Macro sobbed—“i-if any of you slimes touch that kid…” He growled, maddened. “You’ll have to kill me because I’ll be coming for you!”

Thief Queen spoke to Edward in his head, “He’s only making things worse.”

Brandon spoke and the phone buzzed loud. Yet Macro’s rage was even louder:

“Listen, Brandon; I’m going there, you want it or not!” he yelled at the phone. “But if you touch Joey, dude,” he snorted, “if any of you touch Joey, you are all screwed.”

The punk stormed out of the bathroom stall. His body trembled. Tears reddened his eyes and blurred his sights on what was around him. “Damn it—” He stumbled upon a puddle and fell to the ground. His phone slid off his jacket’s pocket.

Edward hurried to help the punk. “Macro, here,” said the boy, offering his hand to help the punk get back on his feet. “Let me help.”

Macro ignored the offer. He stood up by himself and walked to the exit of the bathroom, nonchalantly.

Edward insisted, “Please wait, Macro!” You don’t have to do this by yourself!”

The punk stopped. He glanced at Edward, who insisted for him to stop:

“You don’t have to do this by yourself! I can help you,” continued Edward, yanking Macro’s phone from the ground. “You are not alone,” finished Edward. He stretched both hands towards Macro. The device laid upon the boy’s palms. Its screen shinned beneath the phone’s shattered glass.

“Yeah?” replied Macro, embittered. He ignored the offer and turned around. “You speak like you know @&*% about my life,” he remarked with disdain as he left the bathroom.

Edward hesitated. The boy frowned upon his scrawny reflection on Macro’s damaged cell phone. The mark of the punk’s fist on his face was but one of the many arguments that he had for ignoring Macro’s problems.

“I need that grade,” faltered Edward. He fought a battle inside his head. “If I fluke again, mom will certainly—” He swallowed his fears. He felt ashamed for hesitating.“No! I gotta take this fear off my head. I’m the only one who can stop Macro. I must do this,” asserted the boy, determined to do something. How could he judge the world for having given up when he let an opportunity to do what is right pass him by?

Edward ran out of the bathroom. “Macro, wait!” he shouted.

Thief Queen watched the scene from inside his head, amused. “I’m curious, toothpick,” she spoke to him. “What are you going to do? Serve as a company for him in the grave?”

“I will do what it takes,” affirmed Edward, unsure if he had gone mad because he answered a voice in his head, or because he was about to take a beating for someone who would never do the same for him.

Tables for the Table Gods:

Spoiler: Spoiler

Edward's Stat Cards:

??? (Coming soon)