The Fall

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Chapter Zero

Chapter One

"Freeze"

Nathan pulled his smartphone from the inside pocket of his sharkskin suit-jacket and opened up the bar's menu. After ordering another triple serving of bourbon, he watched his bitcoin balance drop a fraction. Interesting, he thought, calculating near-instantly the remainder's worth in drinks. Three hundred and thirty three million and three hundred and thirty three drinks. That's how many more his fortune could afford, and as his third drink of the night came sliding across the bar into his hand, he realised this was night number three on this particular bar stool.

The word three took the form of a mantra and began to dance around within his mind. Unexpected and highly improbable number sequences had been haunting him for some time now— and an uncanny array of coincidences too. He knew they must mean something, but Eldridge's great gift of intelligence seemed an inadequate resource to solve the puzzle. If only he could stomach the man's company for a mere moment to seek answers. There was no mystery in this world his father had ever seemed ignorant towards.

A vivid image of Eldridge, cloaked in a black hooded-robe and holding a blooded dagger, forced its away upon the theatre of Nathan's mind. The encouraging smile across his father's gaunt face vexed him, triggering his arm to raise the drink to his mouth. "No." He grumbled— just as he had on that day. Harrowed with guilt and anger, his arm came crashing back down onto the bar, shattering the empty glass in his hand upon the counter.

"Oi!" A threatening voice called out from behind the bar, complimented by the congratulatory cheering of idiots somewhere behind.

Nathan looked up and towards the forty-something barkeep, the anger directed at Eldrgide still decorating his face.

The burly bar tender ran his tattooed hand across his balding head and altered his tone. "Be careful will you, mate?"

It was difficult to discern what forced the barman to change his tune. The look of unalloyed rage upon Nathan's face could have been what convinced him. Perhaps it was Eldridge's secondary gift — that of great height — that dissuaded him. It might yet have been as simple as Nathan's hefty bank balance, and a reluctance to deter a customer who tips so well.

It mattered not, Nathan realised. "An accident." He confessed. "I will pay for it."

The bar tender nodded his head in gratitude, and eagerly turned his eyes away from Nathan's.

"That's quite the suit."

The words were clearly intended for Nathan, and emanated from the corner of the bar where the cheering and laughter had originated a moment ago.

"I didn't know the circus paid so well."

Nathan's jaw tightened as the clown's performance won over his audience. The air thickened with ridicule as an onslaught of sycophantic chuckles and snickers displaced the anger he was feeling towards his father. He looked over his shoulder to the group surrounding the pool table.

Two cowardly heads instantly averted their attention away from Nathan and towards the man holding a pool cue at the edge of the table, whom the others all stared at intently. He alone directed his gaze towards Nathan, and the casual smirk on his face suggested he had more to say.

"Exactly how tall are you?" The cocky showman looked slowly to his left and to his right, at the group of young men that surrounded him. Positive now that Nathan had caught sight of the gang tattoos that adorned the sides of his neck, he looked onward once more. "We have a bet, you see."

The younger gang members surrounding their leader glanced at Nathan, and then at each other. One looked barely sixteen, while the oldest of them appeared to be no more than twenty two.

"Six eleven?" He continued. "Seven foot?"

Nathan's jaw relaxed with his gaze as clarity on the current situation presented itself to him. This thirty year old hasn't-been was all too obviously putting on a show for his new recruits. This theatre was intended to convince them of his strength, and to cultivate fear of him in them. But it was clear this would go no further than words. Not only because an attempted assault upon Nathan would invite Keepers from Providence Heights into their district, but because to test another physically, and to be put to shame, would bring about the loss of the respect his performance had earned him thus far.

"Well? Tell us then?"

A pitiful smile was the only response offered by Nathan, before turning back around to order another drink.

The reaction left the actor little option. "Fuck you, then." He threatened. "Don't be coming around here again after tonight, you freak."

The thought crossed Nathan's mind to ruin the fool's charade by teaching him a lesson in front of his own students. But he knew there was little need. The other gangs in this district would solve the problem for him before long. He ordered another drink and laughed to himself quietly, observing the similarities between how the poorest, and the wealthiest, control their own.

Drink number four came sliding down the bar and landed in Nathan's hand. He offered a nod of appreciation to the barkeep, noticing the look of relief upon his face. There'd be no need to mop up blood. Not tonight. And with numerous dark stains throughout the textured flooring in the bar, and the last two nights yielding scrimmages for entertainment, that might just be a first for him.

While the bartender may have been glad to see no violence in his place of business tonight, the recent prospect of a bloody brawl had left Nathan feeling restless. His temperature had been fired and a mild dose of adrenaline had invaded his system. He loved the feeling of it. It was the same rush that would overcome him when hunting in the family's private forest. Eldridge had always been a major rifle enthusiast, but Nathan's allegiance forever resided with the bow.

Back then, the feeling currently dancing around his body would be met with the sweet sound of an arrow whistling through the air and the satisfaction of a fresh kill. He glanced back over his shoulder for a second. No. There'd be no such answer to that itch tonight. Even if he did decide to force a fight from the gang leader, he'd likely have to go through a few of the younger ones to get to him. That fool may have been deserving of a serious beating. But they were surely not. They'd probably only joined this gang to acquire a level of protection against all the others which had started to form since the fall.

Nathan's eyes fell into the drink in his hand. He began to wonder, that same thing he had wondered every night for as long as he could remember — What point is there in all of this? For all his blessings, ungodly though they may be, he couldn't find a good enough reason why he should be glad of them. If he'd been born a commoner he might still be in this same bar, probably standing beside the imbecile in the corner and pretending to be entertained by his jokes. But what significance to that difference would there be, he questioned. Safe or at risk. Wealthy or starving. Strong or feeble. Intelligent or otherwise. They're all just conditions. Conditions that harbour no intrinsic meaning within them. He could find no value in being at such an advantage, without a purpose beyond seeking further advantage to pursuit.

Tired of staring at his drink, he threw it down his throat and withdrew his phone to order another. The cost of a triple was 4750 Satoshis, and before the balance had even corrected, his brain had already shown him the sequence of threes that was about to present itself. Five of them in a row this time. He didn't know what it meant. But he was sure that the meaning in his life he was looking for was hidden within the mystery of these numbers. That— or he was losing his mind.

The next drink slid down the bar, passing his open hand. He'd fallen into a meditation, replaying the word three in his mind on repeat again. It was getting him nowhere. He closed his eyes hopefully, quietening his thoughts, and began to listen. Whatever force was manufacturing these coincidences — a seemingly impossible task — was surely just as capable of communicating a message directly to him.

Tell me what you're trying to say. Unsurprisingly, there was no response. Tell me. Again, nothing could be heard bar the sound of pool balls clunking together. Please. He humbled himself before a power he knew to be mightier than he. Show me what you want from me.

A moment passed with nothing at all occurring. Only silence. Nathan opened his defeated eyes and began to question again if he was drifting into insanity. As he reached out to grab his drink, three loud thumps fell upon the door behind him.

Whipping his head over his shoulder to investigate, he caught sight of a young gang member on the far side of the room, standing outside of the disabled bathroom with his arm resting against the door.

"Hour's up." The lad shouted, before pressing a distrusting ear to the door.

It wasn't difficult to discern what was going on in that bathroom, and Nathan couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Was this the divine plan offered to him through the magic of threes— to desist with the miserable bastard act and go get himself laid? He turned around smiling, taking a sip of his final drink of the night and accepting that the triple knock on the door was more likely another coincidence than an answer from above.

Nathan was not the least bit surprised to learn of the scumbag gang leader's involvement in the trafficking of sex. But it was even less of a shock for him to observe the punter who stepped out of the bathroom amidst a loud creak, adjusting his belt and wiping a patch of sweat from his wrinkled forehead. It was the foul- breathed fat man who had sat at the opposite end of the bar from him two nights ago. For far too much of the night, he had spouted nonsense through a set of rotten teeth, and plagued the room with an infernal laugh that was never once warranted. Nathan could distinctly remember thinking that this man will never have sex without paying for it, and with evidence now suggesting he was correct, he found himself smiling more emphatically.

The joy of self-satisfaction was short lived. A malodorous cocktail of sweat and cheap tobacco wiped the smile from Nathan's face as the fat old man slumped onto the adjacent bar stool.

"What were you doing in there, Gary?" The bartender asked, not looking too pleased.

Gary looked at Nathan with an exaggerated expression, mockingly implying he'd been caught red handed. "Nothing illegal.." He teased, returning his eyes back to the barkeep. "Then again. " He continued. "Nothing's illegal here anymore, is it?

His words were followed by a familiar and wretched laugh, and the barkeepers disapproval. "This ain't a brothel, Gary." He warned. "Get your rocks off somewhere else."

"Sorry." Once again, the sweaty old man looked at Nathan, this time with raised eyebrows. "It's not me he has tell that to though, is it?" He nodded his head in the direction of the pool table.

The creep was correct. The bar tender should have been directing his warning elsewhere, but his quick decision to turn around and walk away without responding suggested to Nathan that he was too afraid. Looking back over his shoulder, mostly to escape Gary's breath, he studied the gang's leader. He was at most six feet tall, and skinnier than most. The barkeep was of about the same height but far more robust. If it were one on one, Nathan's money would be on the bartender. But of course, the acolytes would get involved too, and the bartender probably understood this.

About to turn back around, Nathan's attention was captured by the creaking door to the disabled toilets opening once again. A young girl in a short black dress and thigh-high leather boots, limped her way out of the bathroom with an expressionless face. Her lengthy hair had been dyed a perfect white— an ironic symbol of the virtue that had so clearly been stolen from her. Dragging behind her an air of profound sadness, she made her way slowly towards the pool table.

"There she is." The gang's leader observed, turning around to face the approaching girl.

Heavily adorned with make up, and sporting lengthy fake eye lashes, she looked to be about seventeen. But as she grew closer, the observation of her pointed chin and rounded cheeks began to tell a different story. Nathan became overwhelmed with pity as he stared into the girl's eyes - eyes that seemed to be looking at nothing, and through everything.

The swell of emotion in his heart dragged Nathan unwillingly into his memory. A drop of blood fell from the blade of a dagger and splatted upon a marble floor. Eldridge's obnoxious laugh bellowed throughout his mind, prompting him to turn back around and down the rest of his drink. It was time to leave.

He stood abruptly, still afflicted by the sound of his father's laughter, and pulled out his phone to pay the barkeep a tip.

"That's ten." A soft, hopeful voice dispelled all thought from Nathan's haunted mind. "Am I three now?"

Three? He froze, paying close attention to the familiar laugh behind him that was quickly accompanied by many others.

"None of you told her?" The gang leader's irritating voice was followed by a louder, degrading laugh. "Your deadbeat dad lost another bet, sweet heart." His voice quietened. "Twenty more. Then you'll be three."

Nathan's eyebrows drew closer together in his confusion - and closer still as clarity on what he'd just heard invited a profound curiosity. Was this it? Was the mathematically improbable recurrence of the number three, leading him to assist in seeing this girl freed? Eager to seize the meaning in his life that had eluded him for too long, he allowed the tenuous visual similarity between the number three and a set of opened handcuffs to convince him it was.

He turned around purposefully, placing his smartphone back in his trouser pocket and beginning to button up his suit jacket. "Name your price."

The pimp removed his hands from the girl's cheeks and turned towards Nathan smiling. "Ellie's the best there is, aren't you, doll?" He looked at her unresponsive face and then back at Nathan. "25K for an hour of whatever you rich fuckers are into." He looked at his disciples. "We all know you're kinky bastards up in the heights."

They began to laugh, but their amusement soon dissolved into an awkward silence upon the observation of Nathan's unimpressed face.

"So five hundred thousand and she can leave?"

The gang leader appeared momentarily bemused. "You want to buy her for yourself?" The smile that proceeded his inquiry seemed to convey a sense of approval. "I knew you weren't as boring as you looked. But if you want to buy her to keep, it's gonna be five million."

As Nathan took a step forward, Ellie took a step back and fear presented itself on her face. "You said twenty more to the girl. At twenty five thousand each, that would make the total half a million."

"You shouldn't have been listening to my conversation." The leader complained. "But I don't give two fucks what you heard. It's five million if you want her for yourself."

It was now evident to Nathan that the talk of twenty more had been a lie. This man had no intention of setting the girl free, but he would be happy to sell her now for a worthy enough price. "I do not want to buy her." He explained. "Only her freedom." He took another step forward, evoking a sense of unease in several of the younger gang members.

"Well if you want to be a good Samaritan, that's your choice." He looked back at the girl and placed an arm over her shoulder. "But the price is the same. Five million Satoshis and she walks out of here with you."

0.05 Bitcoin was practically nothing to Nathan. He knew he could simply pay it and be done with this. But his distaste for the gang leader, and the understanding that to him, it was a lot, made the decision to pay the asking price an impossible one to make. He examined the group in front of him, measuring their might against his own.

"Here are your options." He declared, taking another step forward and provoking two of the gang members to rise to their feet. "I can pay you five hundred thousand, and she will go free." He took another step forward, prompting the gang leader to step backwards and signal the remaining seated followers to stand up. "Or, I can pay you nothing, and she will go free."

The barkeep's voice interrupted. "Take this outside will you, lads?" His voice carried the understanding that he'd likely be mopping up blood again tonight after all.

Ignoring the bartender, the gang leader responded from a step further away than his younger protectors. "You might be big, but there's seven of us." He explained. "Don't be stupid enough to think this is going to go your way."

The cockiness of his words was betrayed by the tone of his voice. He was afraid, and Nathan knew it. Even if it was more the threat of later repercussions than what was about to occur that had him shaken, Nathan intended to use the fear to his advantage. He turned his attention away from the frightened expression adorning the leader's once confident face, and directed it towards his underlings. "You can step aside." He offered. "Or I can go through you."

The youngest of them, looking as petrified as he was scrawny, stepped to the side and backwards to allow Nathan to pass. His cowardice was rewarded in kind by a pool cue to the back of his skull, knocking him to the floor unconscious.

"Anyone else wanna break their oath?" Their leader was no leader at all. The panic on his face and in his voice spread quickly to his acolytes. But afraid to receive the same treatment as their youngest, the others drew weapons and took a protective formation around their headman.

"Seriously, guys. Not tonight, please." The barkeep's plea was futile.

Nathan grinned. "So be it." He said, as a welcome dose of adrenaline filled his blood.

He stretched out his lengthy arm to the pool table, taking a ball in his grasp. One of the gang darted forward and slashed a knife towards his wrist. Nathan withdrew his hand swiftly and directly towards the head of his attacker, knocking him to the floor as his blade scuffed the edge of the table. The next fool to step forward was instantly greeted on the forehead by the same pool ball thrown at high speed. He collapsed backwards onto the gang leader's feet, stirring a response.

"Fucking kill him!" He barked, while grabbing Ellie by the forearm and stepping backwards, further away from Nathan.

Two more of his protectors rushed forward, one holding a lengthy make-shift blade and the other wielding a pool cue. Nathan stepped closer to the one on the right, inviting a swing of his cue and catching it easily between both hands. A powerful tug freed the cue from his opponent's grasp, and a familiar whistle filled Nathan's ears as he whipped it through the air and towards the head of the other.

Barely a few seconds had transpired and now four bodies lay on the floor - three unconscious and one whimpering in pain. The remaining two disciples shared a glance and then backed away from Nathan to allow him to pass.

"Cowards!" Their leader snapped, dropping his cue to the floor and withdrawing a knife from his jeans. "You're both fucking dead." He pointed the knife to each of his mutineers and then placed it to Ellie's throat, taking a position of defence behind her.

Nathan chuckled. "They're cowards, are they?"

"Yes they fucking are." He reiterated, too unnerved to observe the irony of his accusation. "Now stay back." He threatened, pressing the blade closer to Ellie's throat.

The realisation that this was the most enjoyable night he'd had in some time, landed upon Nathan. But looking at the terror on the young girl's face he was reminded of his purpose. "Free her." He urged. "Now."

"I don't think I will.." The leader replied, beginning to inch his way towards the exit. "Come any closer and she dies."

Nathan responded, taking another step forward. "If she dies, you die."

"I mean it." He replied loudly, side strafing hurriedly towards the door.

"I don't think you do." Said Nathan, taking yet another step towards them.

The head honcho stopped and pushed the blade tighter to the girl's neck, piercing the skin this time. "I will fucking kill this bitch if you take one more step!" He yelled, his voice heavy with desperation.

Nathan was excited by the notion of calling his bluff, but was saved from the need to by the bartender, who was creeping up behind the gang leader with a baseball bat in hand. "Look behind you." He warned.

"What the hell?" Complained the bartender, unable to comprehend Nathan's decision to expose his position.

The gang leader spun around hastily and pointed the blade towards the barkeep. "Step back!"

Nathan acted immediately, striding forward and grabbing the pimp's extended arm by the wrist. He tightened his grasp, feeling the bones fracture beneath his hand, and watching a loosened grip allow the knife to fall to the floor.

The thug cried out in pain, but tightened his arm around the girl's neck. "Let go of me, you fucking freak."

Nathan squeezed tighter, provoking louder screams of pain. "Let go of her." He said calmly.

Ellie, whose pale face had begun to turn blue, took matters into her own hands and stomped with the full force of her heels onto her attacker's foot. He wailed in agony and loosened his grip from her throat.

With one hand still clutching a shattered wrist tightly, Nathan grabbed hold of the man's neck with the other and pulled his face closer. "Where's that smug laugh of yours at now?" Nathan's words and his smile were intended for one reason only — to humiliate. He looked to the bartender's still confused face. "Forgive me." He explained. "But I couldn't allow you to take this pleasure from me."

He followed his words instantly with a powerful headbutt, landing directly on the nose of his prey. A tsunami of blood crashed against Nathan's jacket as the man's unconscious body fell backwards onto the hard floor.

Closing his eyes, Nathan took a moment to relish in the excitement of the night. The imagined sound of trees rustling in the wind and the pungent smell of blood in the air, led to him feel as much of a fool as the man laying on the floor ahead of him. Soon to be twenty four years old, he felt ashamed to have only now learned that one needn't be in a forest wielding their favourite bow, in order to experience the familiar thrill of a hunt.

With his heart rate beginning to normalise, he opened his eyes to find Ellie staring directly at him. She spoke not one word, but Nathan could sense the gratitude she was communicating to him. Peering deeper into the indebted stare of her large green eyes, an unfamiliar feeling set ablaze in his chest. He did not know how to label the emotion, but he knew that he felt powerful, admired, and more than that— needed. The excitement begotten through the night's violence was quickly overshadowed by a stronger sense of accomplishment. Within the appreciation on that young girl's face, he discovered the promise of purpose, and the potential to find a better use for the advantages bestowed upon him at birth by his father.

"You." Nathan called, looking at the last remaining gang member on their feet, the other having fled through the exit amidst the commotion. "Take the girl home to her father." He stepped closer to the frightened lad and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "If she doesn't make it there." He threatened. "I will know."

The youngster swallowed loudly, choking on a swell of anxiety. "I can't." He confessed. "Her father's dead."

Nathan looked at Ellie. Her facial expression did not change, but a tear took life under her eye and fell upon her cheek.

"He killed him a week ago." The boy continued, looking down at the unconscious body of his gang's leader.

Gary waddled over from the bar, accompanied by his stench. "Poor girl." He said. "I will look after her." He suggested. "If there's no one else to."

His dramatised compassion was believed by no one. But before any had the chance to tell him to sit back down, Ellie stepped forward and planted a boot between the fat man's legs. The scream that ensued filled the room with the foul smell of his breath. He dropped to his knees with his hands on his crotch. "Bitch." His complaint was barely audible, having too little air in his lungs to speak.

Nathan smiled in surprise at the girl, and in satisfaction to see Gary suffering in pain. But as Ellie stepped back in front of him and looked into his eyes once more, his amusement was replaced by fear. He was afraid of the responsibility that seemed to be calling to him. He had thought the numbers were leading him to set her free. Yet the red pool ball laying at her feet, the one he had used to take down two of her captors, and that of course had the number three written upon it, seemed now to be suggesting that her freedom was not all that was being asked of him.

Nathan was no role model. How could he ever be, having been raised himself by the likes of Eldridge? He tried to convince himself that the girl was strong enough to survive out there on her own, and that he had fulfilled the divine request put forth by the Master of Three's. But the silent request he interpreted through her sorrowful gaze left him little choice.

Removing his smartphone from his pocket, Nathan paid the bartender the half a million he had intended to pay for the girl's freedom, and then summoned a carrier to the district. He took a deep breath, wondering how long it would be before he was made to regret this decision. He looked up at Ellie. "Have you ever seen the Heights, girl?"

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Thanks for reading.

This chapter will be subject to change upon completion of the novel and ahead of publishing.