Sins Loom: The Unwilling Weaver

The room was cluttered with cleaning equipment. Brooms and mops leant against the walls. Shelves lined the already small walls, littered with harsh chemicals. The room was cramped, with barely any space to stand, but he could make it work.

Sliding the cover off, he tensed at the sound it made as it scraped across the ground. It wasn’t loud by any means, but it sounded deafening in the silence. He froze in place, ready to jump off the ladder and run at a moments notice.

But nobody came to the door to check. Nobody heard him.

Sighing in relief, he pulled himself out of the sewer and breathed in the stuffy air of the storage closet. It was glorious. He looked down at the hole in the floor and was tempted to cover it so that the stench of the sewer didn’t taint the area. But he kept it open so that he could escape if he needed to. It’s risky, but the easy escape is too important. let’s hope no one notices the smell.

Light hit his face and for a moment, he froze. He paled, unable to move. Fuck fuck. Fear filled his mind. Someone found him. They would get him. There was no escape. He was dead. Stupid stupid stupid! Why did I do this?

But then the light left, and the door didn’t open. He was safe. It was just a bit of light. His entire body was slick with sweat. And he almost wanted to slump onto the ground, but then he would fall back into the sewers. And they would definitely find him then.

His curiosity was palpable. Bubbling in his chest like a volcano waiting to boil over. It pushed him towards the door, in spite of the dangers it could bring. he lifted one of the shutters slightly, and looked out into the warehouse.

He had a clear view of the room he was in just moments before. And just like then, the well dressed man was standing in the light. Alone. Like a god that had descended on the mortal world. He was surrounded by the darkness and slop of the factory warehouse. The rows and rows of cluttered shelves. The scattered boxes. The all encompassing darkness. But none of it touched him. The light isolated him from the cruelties of the lower world.

The rest of the warehouse wasn’t so lucky. Blood splattered across the floors, walls, and shelves. People dressed in simple clothes littered the ground between the door and the table. Their bodies turned into sieves by the police officers that swarmed every corner of the building. Their guns were still attached to their backs and hips. They didn’t have the time to fight back.

One of them had fallen just outside of the light, close enough to have a conversation with the man. Did the attack start immediately? Or did they have a conversation before they were gunned down?

An officer stepped forward to talk with the man. He wasn’t wearing mechanical armour like the others. His outfit was ceremonial in nature, more suited for a parade than for a battle. Every detail was placed to pinpoint perfection. From the hat atop his head, to the medals on his chest. Even down to his perfectly tied shoes.

He was dressed to impress. As if anything below perfection would get him killed.

“Excuse me sir, are you doing okay? Is there anything you need us to do?” the officer asked, an overly pleasant smile on his face that was clearly forced. His body bent so far over that he could practically kiss the man’s shoes.

“I’m fine! If you did your job we wouldn’t be having this problem,” the man said, making sure to keep everyone else at a distance. He looked at everyone, even the police captain, with visible disgust and distain. To him, everyone in the lower city was the same, no matter if they were homeless, or if they worked for the government. They were all beneath him.

And he made sure they knew it. “I think it's about time you lazy pigs did your job. See to it that these gangs are eradicated.”

The police captain hesitated. The gangs were important to maintaining some semblance of control and order. The government didn’t want to deal with the lower city, so why not put other people to work instead and save yourself money?

This would bring a lot of work to the police force. Not just the immediate task of removing the gangs from power, but also having to put actual effort into policing the lower city. This captain, like most police in the lower city, was more than used to just lazing about in his office, watching movies.

But he couldn’t defy an order given by someone from the middle city. Even if they didn’t work for the government. Straining to keep the smile on his face. “Of course sir. We’ll see to it right away.”

“Good. I can’t believe you let this filth run around for so long. Now get out of my sight.” He ordered the officer to scram, treating him much the same as he did Ed.

The officer walked away, dropping his smile when he got far enough. He held back his tongue, knowing he would die if he mentioned that the man was making deals with this so called “filth.” Dealing with these kinds of people always gave him a few grey hairs, but it was just part of the job.

He stepped out to talk with some of the officers who were moving the bodies when he noticed something odd out of the corner of his eye. Near the door, there was an open air duct that he had somehow missed. “Did somebody leave that open?” he asked.

“I don’t know, probably,” one of the officers responded, chalking it up to somebody forgetting to fix it up. There were so many of them after all. So it was possible someone was checking the air ducts and just hadn’t mentioned it.

The captain felt that something was strange, so he pulled out his flashlight and flicked it over to the vent. As he started walking over, he called on a few of the armoured officers to join him.