Chapter 15

A full moon shone clear in the sky over the Trotting Pony as a gentle wind sent trash scuttling through the street in front of the great music hall. A man passed into the light of the building and, as abruptly as he had appeared, turned into the shadow around the corner. He walked with a slow purpose down the dark alleyway running alongside the building.
His figure cut out against the light of the street from behind, drawing specific attention to the bright red handkerchief poking prominently out of the breast pocket of his tuxedo. His black hair had fallen mildly disheveled and his bowtie hung undone around an open shirt collar. In his left hand he carried a lit cigarette and in his right he gripped an unsheathed katana. The man approached the end of the alleyway and stopped to lean in a shadow next to a door stamped with the words 'BACK ENTRANCE'. He balanced himself against the sword and took a long drag on his cigarette before flicking it across the open alleyway. The wind rushed between the buildings, blowing debris swiftly past the man’s feet. He looked up into the clear night sky and released an extended sigh.
Suddenly, the back door slammed open and a small man in a blue pinstripe suit flew out of the door and into the brick wall adjacent.
“Don’t need none of your preachy bullshit here, motherfucker! Go back underground!” shouted a deep voice from within the building.
The man recently thrown into the brick wall quickly picked himself up and hobbled as fast he could down the alleyway, away from the threatening voice and, presumably, from the body attached to it.
The voice’s body proceeded to step out of the doorway to follow the trail of his prey. He appeared as a large Samoan man donning black pants and a plaid vest covering a finely pressed white dress shirt. He stood nearly seven feet tall and he wore very small wiry glasses which rested lightly against his pudgy nose. He shook his head as he watched the small man limp out of the alleyway. He turned to go back inside when he noticed the man in the tuxedo leaning in the shadow next to the open door. The Samoan quickly stepped back in surprise.
“And just who are you?” snapped the Samoan angrily.
The man in the tuxedo shifted himself so his katana remained out of sight of the giant. He squinted towards the beast of a man and quickly sized him up.
“Well, if you must know I’m…”































~ FLASH ~







































Edward St. Cavalier was born on October 9th, 2181 to Miranda Goethe in the reconstructed district of Chicago. He was abandoned shortly after his birth and was found on the first floor of the former Methodist Temple by Brother Ricard, a member of the Brotherhood of the Broken Sword. Edward was taken to the Sanctuary of the Brotherhood and was trained there for the next nineteen years. On January 13th, 2200 Edward left the brotherhood to fight in the War of the Golden Sheet. On February 22nd, 2203 Edward was given, as a reward for valor in battle, the prestigious title of librarian in the New York Public Library. In 2208 Edward was fired as professor and summarily dismissed from the Library. Within the same year he went back to Chicago and in 2209 he took over ownership of the Trotting Pony Music Hall. In March of 2210 Edward formed a partnership with Terrence Girondo with the intent of reviving the failing establishment. Edward and Terrence created an entertainment venue for the community over the next two years. In May of 2212 Edward found Terrence Girondo dead, executed, in the lobby of the Trotting Pony.








































~ FLASH ~

























“…Edward St. Cavalier,” said the man in the tuxedo.
The Samoan straightened himself up, managing to seem even taller than before.
“Haven’t heard ‘bout any St. Cavalier’s comin’ round,” said the Samoan, daintily emphasizing Edwards’ last name. “How ‘bout you leave. I got enough ta deal with tonight.”
The Samoan turned away from Edward and began to walk back into the Trotting Pony. Edward pushed himself from the wall and turned towards the door with his katana fully exposed. He took a step towards the door, approaching the guard.
“I’m not here to cause trouble. Surely Mr. Girondo mentioned my name to you when you were hired.”
The Samoan stopped in the doorway, leaving his back to Edward.
“Mr. G didn’t tell me shit ‘sides, ‘don’t let nobody through tha door who ain’t with tha show’,” he turned towards Edward, “You with tha show?”
As the Samoan turned he spotted the sword and lunged towards Edward. Edward moved and the guard skidded across the pavement, his glasses knocked from their resting place. The Samoan looked up to find a blade placed neatly across his throat.
“What’s your name?” asked Edward as he stood over the colossal mass.
“Max and you betta get that shit off my neck.”
“Okay, Max,” said Edward calmly, “you’re not in a position to negotiate. I’m not here to disrupt the concert. I just wanted to drop this off.”
Edward pulled a letter from his coat pocket and dropped it on Max’s chest.
“There is a card for every employee of the Trotting Pony in that envelope. Each one contains the amount of money each person was promised upon being hired. I trust that you’ll distribute them responsibly.”
Max nodded and Edward slowly moved the katana from his throat as he took a step back. He pulled a carton of cigarettes from his coat pocket, shook one out, and stuck it in his mouth.
“Thank you for doing your job, Max, but next time don’t throw yourself at your target. Just pull out your gun and open his sinuses.”
Edward cupped his hands to the cigarette, coordinating his inhalation with the timing of the flame. Max grabbed his glasses and stood to face Edward.
“I’ll be in the lobby during the performance,” said Edward, pointing towards the front of the building, “Make sure that no one enters back here after the concert starts.”
Max nodded and Edward began walking down the alleyway towards the front of the building. Max picked up the envelope from the ground and began to inspect its contents.
“Max, remember” shouted Edward as he reached the end of the alleyway, “don’t let anyone in and, once the concert is over, get out. Your services won’t be necessary after tonight.”
Max cast a large shadow down the alleyway as Edward turned the corner towards the lobby. The wind picked up and a few raindrops fell from the sky, messengers sent ahead to warn of the coming storm. Max reentered the Trotting Pony and shut the door firmly as the trash skittered in circles in the alleyway. The concert was about to begin.