By Irony Illuminator

Shouts and screaming echoed distantly. Down here, in this underground tunnel, the only sounds present were those of shoes clanking and scuffing against the metal floor underfoot.

That and the sound of heavy breathing.

He broke the relative silence first. “Are you sure everything will be alright? Someone might have gotten hurt up there.”

“The special forces will clear it all up. Someone might go home a little bruised; it’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He stared at her straight back, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. One of his legs seemed to go limp suddenly and he stifled a gasp, falling to one knee. The woman whirled around to face him and crouched down next to him. A knife slipped into her hand and she began cutting at his pant leg, silent and methodical.

“Remind me again why someone is trying to kill me?” he requested breathlessly. She grimaced as she worked and glanced up at him briefly before focusing on his leg.

“You’re an important person in the public, with an important position. There are any number of reasons, and you’re just encouraging them with your idiocy.” Her voice was mostly matter-of fact, but it held a hint of frustration as well.

His brow furrowed. “Excuse me?” he stammered incredulously.

“You sent a third of your assigned Protectors home the day before yesterday. You didn’t bother to mask their departure, nor the reason for it. You didn’t tell them when to come back specifically. And all this right before the day of your public speech.” She shook her head. “Like I said: idiocy.”

He shifted uncomfortably and she lifted her eyes to stare at him intently. He wilted slightly. “There are so many of them!” he protested, shrinking away from her a little. “Most of them have nothing to do half the time. I figured I didn’t need them. Why keep them away from their families and, and…” He waved his hand helplessly in the air. “…And whatnot, for no reason?”

“Because they’re your Protectors,” she said evenly, emphasizing the word. “They’re supposed to protect you, not go home to their families. And you’re not supposed to send them there. You should know better. What will it take to convince you that they’re a necessity?”

Defiance marred his countenance as he subsided, but she went on murmuring to herself, loud enough for him to catch every word.

“Maybe if they just keep working their way up. First the leg, next the abdomen, and then the chest, and then your head, if you survive all the rest. How about when you’re a dead man, Nicholas Benedictine? Would that convince you?” She growled at his dry expression and her mutterings transferred to under her breath where he couldn’t hear them well enough to understand.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice soft. She looked up at him quickly, almost startled, it seemed, as though she’d forgotten he was there. Then she sighed.

“You don’t have to apologize to me; it’s the people you owe for this, this considerable lapse in common sense. They need you, Nicholas, and if something happened to you, they’d be lost.”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Good grief, Jess. You talk like I’m the Council’s Head, or something like that. I’m just a member of the Council, remember?”

“Yeah, Benedictine, I know that, but to the public, you stand for the opinion of the people, and that’s something very rare in today’s world. They’re rooting for you because they know you have their best at heart. It’s as simple as that.” She frowned. “And yet, so difficult for you to get through your head, apparently. How many times have you asked me this since you were elected?”

“Never mind.” He favored her with a smile that was suddenly very tight. “Maybe I just like annoying you,” he suggested through clenched teeth.

She blew out of a breath. “You don’t have enough brains for that.” Blood splattered her hands and she grimaced again. “That’s the last time I’m leaving you alone for a week.” Her head tilted to one side as she eyes the wound critically, having successfully freed it from sticking to his pant leg. “It doesn’t look too bad. Once we get to the hiding house, I’ll have Tim fix it for you. Heaven knows he’s used to it by now.” She tied a piece of colorful cloth around the wound.

Nicholas gaped. “That’s, that’s-”

“Yes, yes, it’s a miniature flag. What else was I supposed to use? Do you think I carry bandages on my person at all times?”

He smirked. “Considering how much you go on about my idiocy, one would think…”

She glowered at him. “This is where you hastily assure me that what I provided, in spite of the circumstances, was more than sufficient,” she said menacingly.

A nervous swallow. “It’s fine, Jess. Promise. Can we…” His voice trailed off, his lips twisting in a grimace of pain.

“Hey,” she said in a much gentler voice than she’d used up to this point. “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It hurts like heck.”

She gave him a searching look before straightening on her feet and helping him stand up. “Come on; let’s go. The point of coming down here is so we can get you to safety, and you’re not safe if we sit here all afternoon.” He wavered slightly and she looped her arm around his waist, drawing his over her shoulder. An age old support system.