Chapter Two
Location: Outside the Chicago Cultural Center

Clarke smiled brightly taking his place in front of the crowd with an enthusiastic wave. Waiting patiently for the cheering to quiet I watched his eyes skim across the crowd. He was observing his audience.

"It's great to be here! I hope none of you are too uncomfortable, Mr. Chateau are there water supplies? You never know how long one of these things will last," Clarke chuckled. The audience responded with laughter of their own.

"Of course, Sir, water is offered at the nearest exits and entrances." Mr.Chateau gestured for emphasis.

"Thank you. It's been some time since I've spoken  in front of such an adoring crowd. As many of you know politics require travel; for that I apologize, but as always, I am here to answer your burning questions. " Clarke leaned forward pressing his palms to the edges of the podium. "There is a microphone at the end of the center walkway, if you have a question please calmly make your way forward, and I will answer."

From my elevated stance the crowd rippled like a wave, different colored heads of hair moving about and shifting like sea foam.  A few individuals broke away from the sea of people, heading towards the microphone with the same urgency as a ship spotting a light house.  A middle aged man with weathered clothes and hunched shoulders lead the procession. He paused in front of the microphone, hands fidgeting with lips pressed into a thin line. He was hesitant, nervous. At last a shaky start.

"See, I'm not that wealthy, and my kids are part of a minority around here. They ain't being offered a fair academic chance. Mister Lyndon, your campaign promises academic help. How can you help us?" The man straightened his oversized jacket as if he were trying to save some of his dignity. He didn't have to, it was a respectable concern.

"Thank you for the question. What is your name sir?" Clarke asked.

"Name's Roy."

"Roy, thank you for the question. In my campaign I promise fair academic chances to all students. Not only here, but all of America in the future, and I want you to know I meant every word of that promise." Clarke's jaw set into a hard line, his posture straightened and his voice grew firm.  "From a young age kids can be handed success while others can have theirs stolen. Ability and talent are often mistaken... and it comes down to experience. Academic cut offs are responsible for this short falling. A child born in January has more ability than a child born in November. They simply have that advantage because they've been alive longer. That doesn't mean they have more talent, more intelligence, or better potential than any other child in America. I believe the education system should be broken down; so that children are not competing as a whole, but with students of the same ability level. Where a child born in November will not be labeled stupid in comparison to a child born in January."

"That makes sense... but how are you gonna make it happen?" Roy questioned.

"I will start with a small school, a control group. I want to make sure this solution works before converting the entire education system, that could become chaotic. If it goes well I would try another school, in another area, with different demographics and faculty. From there, should everything go as hoped, congress would be the next step. A slow process would be mandatory, careful integration a necessity. While the plan isn't perfect all ideas have room to grow and develop. I will fight for this idea, it's too important to give up on."  Roy smiled seeming pleased with the answer and shuffled back to his original place.

Clarke broke eye contact with the crowd for a moment and glanced in my direction. He seemed to be asking for confirmation, to see if he'd phrased his thoughts in a respectable way. At my small nod he smiled and turned back to the crowd.

"Hello, my name is Jenna and I was wondering how you could help make the city nicer?" It was a young girl, maybe twelve by her thin frame and slimming face, accompanied by a proud looking father.

"Wonderful question Jenna," Clarke laughed warmly, "however I believe my wonderful partner could better answer that question."

There was a robust round of applause and cheers as Clarke beckoned me to take his place at the stand. I hadn't expected to be involved in today's politics, but it appeared I was to be kept on my toes.

Giving a small smile I bounded up the steps to the podium where Clarke stepped aside. He rested his hand on the small of my back, a tiny gesture of assurance. In some cases I could manage public settings, but in most cases my words wound up haunting me.

"Jenna was it?" The girl gave an excited nod. "Well I think that to help keep the city safe I continue to fund local self defense classes. It's a sad fact but Chicago is the crime capital of the United States."

There was a murmur of agreement, and the irony of my statement would have broken any scale that tried to measure it. However there was a difference between my crime and a petty robber's. My crime had a purpose. " It's important that young girls like yourself know how to defend themselves. It's important that all human beings know how to defend themselves. There's the saying that the strong pick on the weak. I plan to change that." Taking a deep breath I let my eyes close for a moment. I could see that damn politician shoving me aside, the rich man in a diner who refused to tip an employee, a senator who promised to aid charity but pocketed ten percent of the proceeds. The list was endless and my heart ached with anger. " The powerful are the weak ones."

From the stillness and silence of the crowd it seemed my pause had been longer than intended.

"They manipulate because they can but when you strip away the money, the jewelry, the house, the clothes, the façade they are cowards." Still silence. "They would not survive in the world we know, they are not strong like we are."

The sea roared in response.

"So yes, I will work with Clarke and continue to keep this city safe. I will continue to provide us with a means of protection, I will make sure that no one will have to suffer like-"

"Mon amour, that is enough," Clarke whispered. The warmth of his breath on my ear and the gentle pressure of his hand on my back brought me back to reality.

The sea was raging. Colors swarmed and roared in enthusiasm, the people were alive in a way they had been lacking.

"They adore you, but you must learn to separate campaign from reality. I know it is hard. Your wounds are still fresh," Clarke smiled softly. "Now, let me wrap this up."

"Of course. I didn't mean to lose myself."

"I know, we will talk about it later." Clarke winked before turning back to the crowd and taking my place. He held his hands in the air asking for calmness to settle. "She is right in every way possible my friends. We will bring an era of prosperity that's been long overdue for this city and America. We will provide education worthy of our youth's time, protection from manipulators and criminals, and I assure you we will not neglect nor forget the voice of the people. You have voices, and therefore you have the right to speak."

Jenna, the young girl, gave Clarke a wide smile before her father gave a respectful nod and lead her away. Only two questions had been asked, and yet, nearly an hour had passed. The third member of the crowd took their position at the microphone.

"Hello Madame, what is your name?" Clarke questioned.

"You don't need to know my name. All that's important is that I know yours, and I know who you are."  Clarke's expression changed in an instant, from an endearing smile to one of worry and fear. The woman had spoken in fluent French, and she had made a threat.

It happened in slow motion, the flick of the wrists, the black barrels appearing from the sleeves. Bang, bang, bang. Clarke was down, his clothes were red, the sea was chaos. Charles who had been standing off to the side lurched forward in panic.

"Everyone, head to the exits in a calm fashion please!" Mr. Chateau smiled stepping over Clarke's wounded body. With a few uttered curse words I lunged tackling the idiot to the ground. A podium microphone exploded as bullets crashed into it. Mr. Chateau landed with a thud and a groan.

"Get out of here you idiot!" He didn't need to be told twice. The feeling of warmth seeping through the fabric of my shoe caused my heart to skip a beat. Bang!  "Fuck!"

My shoulder ignited in pain but I was only aware of it for a moment, my brain took over as did my adrenaline. Dropping to my knees my priority switched to Clarke. It was impossible to tell where exactly the blood was coming from but with as much as he was bleeding my nerves worsened. Fingers pressing into his neck a faint thrum signaled his soft pulse. "Clarke, can you talk?"

"Get...Charles."

Blowing a strand of hair from my eyes I scanned the sporadic scene. The sea was a withering storm and the claps of thunder had fled, no more lightning. No more gunshots. In the distance wailing harpies drew closer, flashing lights dancing in my peripheral. "Charles!"

"I'm here, I'm here." A hand settled on my shoulder. My instinct was to fight. Charles' large hands caught my wrists in a careful grip. "The woman is gone, everything's fine, ambulance's are on the way."

"We don't have time to wait! He's dying!"

"We can't do anything!' Charles insisted.

"Step aside!" The voice was loud and commanding. Rough hands gripped my shoulders jerking me away. A cry of pain tore from my throat.

"She's injured you asshole!" Clarke snarled but his anger quickly dissolved as color drained from his face.

"James take the girl back to the truck, the rest of you help me." The leading EMT glared at each of his colleagues until one by one they snapped into action. My brain seemed to shut down. I was ware that two men were escorting me to an ambulance. There were cops and all sorts of media trucks. My shoes were wet with blood, Clarke's blood. They forced me to sit down. My eyes scanned the chaos searching for any sign of Clarke, for the slightest indication that he was okay.

"Ma'am?" The voice was dull in my ear. "She's been shot elsewhere!"

"Her shoulder was the only thing tha- crap we're losing her!"

A wave of nausea swarmed my senses. One moment the world was ravaging my brain with information. The next it was darkness that replaced it.