A shadow at the 'T' window inclined its head slightly, indicating that it was listening.
"We've captured a sense offender who demanded to see you," said the guard dressed in black leather wearing, upon his head, a modified motorcycle helmet.
The shadow at the window turned, streams of light hitting an immaculate young man. "What is the name?" Vice-Counsel DuPont asked.
"She did not disclose it to us, sir."
"Find it, before you bring her to me."
The guard nodded. "Yes, sir." Then he turned quickly, a well-executed about face, and exited the office. Must be new, thought DuPont. He turned his head back around to face out the window once again. Buildings were erected high and when the sun hit their sides, they seemed to cast foreboding shadows on the city of Libria. This placed a ghost of a smile on the Vice-Counsel's lips. Vice-Counsel. He sighed wearily. Only if everyone knew he was not "Vice-Counsel", but instead, Father. The leader of it all. Even though the real Father had passed long ago, the Council of Libria had decided to keep him as a figurehead. There was no objection to this notion, therefore, it was kept.
DuPont took two measured steps backward and marveled at his city. "It is mine. My word is law. Mine." He loved the feeling of that word upon his tongue. It felt light and crisp, but at the same it was possessive and sharp. Subconsciously, his hand smoothed an invisible wrinkle out of his finely pressed, black, suit jacket. Beautiful.
Looking at his city was like an accomplishment, a feat of mankind. For it was the hands of man that birthed the war-free, disease-free, cement and steel beast. DuPont took one last glance before walking to his desk. An enormous slate of black marble that rested on sturdy legs. Another beast, but a different, inanimate kind. As soon as his body settled down into the semi-comforting chair, the door to his "office" opened. DuPont inclined his head slightly at the sight of the struggling woman held by the arms. The guard's grasp was secure; she was not going anywhere, no matter how much flailing she did.
Her form was lean and there was a good hint of muscle, a dancer skilled in martial arts perhaps. DuPont could not see her face, for it was covered by a black bag. But it seemed as if her hair color was a mix of dark brown and black.
Dupont's examination of the fugitive was cut short as the guard spoke. "This is the sense offender, Ellen Droiress, sir."
"Leave me. I will handle this."
"Leave us, Captain."
Captain Rail released his grip on the young woman's arms, and the other guard followed. They left DuPont with the offender, closing the door with an audible, thump. DuPont watched them leave before resting his gaze on the being cuffed before him. She was not wearing the normal attire of Libria, but rather a black, tank top dress that fit her form just right. Hugging her curves, but leaving parts comfortable and loose. Her hands were in handcuffs, resting below her stomach.
DuPont removed a key from his pocket and approached the woman. Speaking to her in a calm, yet commanding tone, he unlocked her restraints. "Miss Droiress, please behave and do not run. Is that agreed?" A nod of the black bag was enough. After unlocking the cuffs, DuPont lifted the bag. Hair clung to the inside due to the static, but as soon as the bond was broken, each hair fell back into its place. Seeing Ellen Droiress's face, DuPont froze, hand in the air, holding the black bag. "You..." The Vice-Counsel could not say anything, for he was lost for words. A blink, and no longer was DuPont's grand office in view, with its impossibly high ceiling and stone columns. No, it was all gone. DuPont was revisiting a memory. A memory of his teenage years.
A/N: Thanks for reading chapter one. This is actually the first fanfic that I've decided to post on the internet. ) So I hoped you enjoyed it, and umm...look for chapter two soon.