Rowdy Dead Productions

By David C. Daoust

Alfred’s investigation into the enigmatic Corridor Crews had come to a head, figuratively. His search for ‘who’- had led him to those at the very top; to find their leaders, their ‘bosses’. Often those in charge of these ‘Corridor Crews’ were operating from within the ‘Stockades’. This brought him low, literally, into the very bowels of the City-station, New Donaghy.

The Stockades were the prisons of the Onion. Each City-station, throughout the Solar System, had a small portion given to this prison complex. These were corridors closed off to the rest of the population; rules were tighter and they existed with restrictions. Human guards marched the corridors; ensuring the prisoners were within their cells at night, or escorted out to the shared holo-park, the ‘yard’, during the day.

From the inside the connection was evident— the restrictions in the prison did not allow them to wear much more than generic jumpsuits. Thus, the color combinations were plain to see. Alfred’s initial impression, was that these locked up criminals were continuing their game, within the prisons, the same way they did on the outside.

All of which told him nothing, and not even very much of nothing.

He abandoned the fieldtrip; he knew he needed a better take. He simply did not have a criminal mind… he knew someone that did…

Alfred Zhou had been setting aside rules and laws since he found himself in ‘power’. Though of this, most agreed, ‘Sweet Honey Zhou’ could not be held as a common prisoner– not being Alfred’s sister, not being a Royal. Sweet Honey Zhou had, instead, been quartered within a tower, high above all the fracas, away from the common Stockades… a captured Queen preening in her ivory tower.

Whoever had decorated the small apartment, had done so with comfort and beauty in mind. Silk draped the walls, and a stark white light, that mimicked the sun coming from behind curtains filled the room. Splashes of color appeared- impressive paintings and richly designed vases, overflowing with flowers, could be found throughout. His sister, a seemingly spitting image of his mother in her youth, was found seated on the edge of a chair hunched over a small table– clearly bored. It was not hard to fathom where she got the ‘Sweet’ nickname, she was cutesy to a degree that turned his stomach. She turned away as he appeared in the chamber, crossed her legs, and studied the faux-window behind the nearest silk curtain.

“I’d say our grandfather would spin in his grave, if he knew you’d seized control of Titanholm again,” Sweet Honey Zhou, the locked-up Pirate Queen, accused. Haughty in her derision- she aimed to cut, to test his mettle, to see if Alfred would whimper and bleed, “That is if I thought you knew who he was.”

“I can’t say that ever met the man…” Alfred confirmed grimly, unfazed, though trying to recall an image, some random photo, that may trigger who she was speaking of.

“Grandpa Zhou did everything he could to ensure that Titanholm was a force to be reckoned with– Self-sustainable,” Honey continued without a care for his response. She expressed, “A force for the people, ruled by the people, to feed the people,” before explaining, “He sunk so much coin into Titanholm, being sunk into that Gas Giant, Iopa, that our dearly departed mother nary had much choice but throw in with the Trade Consortium…” Honey snarled, which was strange to see cut through such a sweet visage, as she said, “you can see how that turned out!”

Alfred Zhou never knew anything about his grandfather. He was the youngest of the Zhou siblings, his part had started long after the fall of their house. He never knew anything about what she’d just spouted, nor did he care. Not about what had come before.

Yet, Alfred could see how ‘that turned out’, indeed.

It had put him in power.

The view was different from her side, and he knew it. What his sister was seeing was a dead mother, and the inside of a prison. A prison fit for a queen- yet, a prison none the less.

From what he’d seen of the Onion, everything was a mess. Everything needed to be cleaned-up. And as far as he could tell, he was the best man for the job.

Rather than allowing her to control the conversation, he waited for her to fall silent; to catch on that she was not going to dissuade him from anything he deemed necessary. She was not going to make him doubt himself.

Alfred studied the small living area, found himself a seat, and waited…

Eventually a real conversation started; as he expected, as he knew it would. From there they found enough similarities between them, that they could recognize each other’s intelligence. Soon after that, Alfred Zhou found himself sharing his current interest, his investigation into the Corridor Crews.

Finally, he trailed off, looking to her expectantly, having traced each thread he had uncovered aloud for his sister…

“You’re overcomplicating it, little brother,” Honey chuckled, “You were right the first time… The Crews want to add notoriety to their culture. They want to be trendsetters; they want to be able to say what is okay and what is not. That way they can come around saying, ‘Hey, remember how you liked our clothes? You know what else we like? HEROIN!’ Bam, insta-costumer!”

Alfred sat back as he took in the simplicity of it. He had failed to recognize it as a business strategy- seemed like children playing dress-up games.

“They’re drug dealers…” Honey delved in deeper, “It’s a business… They want to know who’s selling, where. They keep track of it, by knowing who is who. If you are dressed like one of them, in their little gang costume, that means you are selling drugs. They want to make sure you are actually one of them.”

After a beat, she laid it out plain and simple, “If you are selling drugs in their territory, and you’re not one of them, that means you are stealing their profits. If your dressed like one of their rivals, in their territory, then you must be trying to sell drugs on their turf– which tells them you’re stealing their profits.”

“All of which leads to violent reprisals,” Alfred clicked it in place.

“Oh yeah,” Honey nodded, “Either way, they’ll smoke ya.”

Alfred was equally unhappy with this as he was with what he’d found in the Stockade. This told him nothing; a tiny sliver of nothing.

Alfred Zhou believed the world was full of Monsters and Demons. Not the kinds from myths and stories, the real ones… Where demons are bad ideas, that effect the mind. Monsters are a mass of misdeeds, effecting the entire population; It’s a real-world situation that benefits so many people that the damage is simply ignored. Alfred Zhou was convinced that this was such a monster- far more than simply a ring of drug-dealers.

“I refuse to believe that, there has to be some link…” Alfred pressed, “some benefit that allows this monster to walk around unfettered…” then adamantly declared, “It’s a man-made monster.”

“Well, come on then,” Honey, clearly deciding just to play along, posed, “let’s start at the top- the Viceroys. What do Viceroys care about?” she asked, but then pounced with the answer, “Viceroys are easy! All they ever care about is their Royal Appointment! Without that, they are nothing! For the Viceroys, maintaining their own ‘party’ is more about… forcing out people they don’t like. Or Forcing down people they don’t like. Yet, we can assume the people that populate these ‘Crews’, already think the government does not work for them. I mean, how can they? It’s ruled over by an Appointed official. One selected by some distant Royal, supported only by their Cronies– an entire party whom they all hate. They do not feel like they have a say in anything. It is a completely one-sided system. There’s not really ‘representation for everyone’, not in such a system that continues the ‘Old Ways of the Royal Alliance’. And…” she speculated further, “even how the culture is split, the Viceroy Party, the seemingly popular party, may not even have the majority.”

“Ignoring these problems,” Alfred nodded in agreement as he considered what he knew of the law, “Would help to keep the current Viceroy in power. The more of those against the ruling party, that can be convicted of a crime, the more would lose their say in any possible reforms– the more would lose their say in any changes in the current Party. Or even have a chance to create a rival party… So, let’s just say it simple,” Alfred fed into the speculation, “the more of this counter-culture they can lock up, the less chance any rival party can get enough pull behind them to steal said Royal Appointment.”

“Allowing these criminals to run rampant removes them from contention,” Honey nodded.

Alfred tumbled it around in his brain, “It maintains the status quo, by eliminating any rival party. Stopping it from ever forming, in fact.”

“It makes a kind of sense, I suppose,” Honey admitted, seeming to come around to his side, “It’s a monster, like ya said.”

Honey’s agreement left them both in silence for a good long while.

“Yet, is that even the top? I can tell you, the best way for a Viceroy to get a Royal’s endorsement,” Honey tacked on, “Is to find a way to clear-out their own City-stations population. It’s just a fact.”

“You’re saying the Royals may benefit from this?” Alfred was somewhat confounded, though ready to listen to the next bit of speculation.

“You know, in the Trade Consortium, they use these criminal scare tactics to devalue property?” Honey posed with a bit of a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Right, destroying property value. Herding people to new areas,” Alfred was raised among the Trade Consortium, was a cop there before he moved to Titanholm, “buying and selling realty that would otherwise maintain its ownership to descendants, families that own them… And with the property value so low, the Bigwigs can snatch it up for a steal…”

Alfred took a moment to apply it to the Royal Alliance, “You’re saying the Royals want the criminal conflict?” Alfred thought aloud, “So this Rivalry can be used to force people out of their homes? With the hopes that they actually move out of the City-stations entirely…?”

“They do this, largely, by convincing the criminal element that they can take territory for themselves,” Honey explained. “Why not convince these Crews to spread like locusts? To try and force the hated Cronies, elsewhere?”

“These Crews think they are taking more and more for themselves, but in reality, they are not seeing what is going on behind them,” Alfred said.

“They are just lowering the value for others to come in and buy it cheap. The rich can fix it all up, then once the territories shift, sell it back to the fleeing population…” Honey put simply, “It’s more of a Consortium strategy, but Viceroys are adopting more of the Big-wigs tactics, everyday…”

“They are forcing the population to sell cheap, and buy high…” Alfred knew this would force people to consider new places to live.

“That is, if they are foolish enough to be herded to another district. What the Viceroys really want, or at least what they are selling to the Royals, is to shift the population unto one of those moons. To get them settled, long before the Royal Provinces are ready for new settlers,” Honey dropped, “Which, they really don’t want.”

It was all falling in place. Alfred had his finger not only on the Viceroys, but the Royals, that empowered them, themselves.

“You’re really gobbling this up!” Honey declared cuttingly, her sweet visage suddenly cracked, something wicked peered out.

Alfred could see she was making fun of him. Saw, now, that maybe she was not actually trying to help him at all. Only wanted to confuse him. Having passed the whimpering test, she now wanted to see if he would mindlessly follow the carrot she hung before him?

“Gee, I wonder why you want those Viceroy’s to be the guilty party?! Could it be because you overthrew them? Do you really need justification?” Honey taunted.

His chin went rigid as he rose from his chair, Offended.

“Oh well, I wouldn’t want to offend the standing Dictator,” Honey feigned fear, then practically spit, “My Grandfather would hate you…”

It cut deeper than Alfred Zhou would have guessed.

“Yet, I’ll still warn- you are overcomplicating this,” Honey kept talking as he marched to the door.

Alfred paused, hand hovering over the lock-pad.

“All this jazz about Royals and Viceroys…” she had turned back away, studying the silk again, “is way too diabolical to be real. What you really need to look at– is your own stake in it. Your own ‘institution’…”

Alfred glanced back at her.

Honey looked him straight in the eye as she revealed, “Your Constabulary,” as though she just laid down the winning hand, “You really think if someone was going to let these things run rampant, the Constables would not have had a say?”

Some part of Alfred already knew she was right. He grimaced as he left the apartment. The three armored constables, that were previously waiting behind the door, joined him as they all marched down the long stair, leading from his sweet sister’s ‘ivory’ tower.