The Downside of Exception
Xion Sable’s soul burned with a vehement dislike for five things he found to be the epitome of rat-bag-fokkery: the pretence of arrogance, the act of thievery, the profanity of excessive boasting, the vice of falsehood, and the cruelty of harming the innocent.
This drive for justice often led him to the streets of Eden II on stag duty.
His fellow Edenites tagged him, nodding in respect, and the crowds parted as he strode by. Along with his imposing presence, the Rider’s Sable Group credentials made him a kickass, badass, scary mofo feared by thugs, civvies, and Kings alike.
However, as the security honcho on one of Pegasi’s bustling city planets, Xion was not just a figurehead.
He was a firm believer in leading by example and walking the talk to stay connected to the real needs on the rock.
The beat got him in the thick of it, and he lived for the adrenaline rush of boots on the ground where he kept a watchful eye and made a direct difference to those in need of it.
He’d had a freakin’ mad day, though. It had started with chasing a band of lootin’ bootleggers across the city, followed by hunting down a new synth-koko supplier in the underground tunnels. Just an hour earlier, he’d engaged in an all-out kapo rumble with a pair of drunk pair of drunk thugs. Compared to all that madness, his patrol felt like a walk in the park.
His tall, strapping figure strode through a boulevard teeming with travellers and locals drawn to Eden II’s sights and closeness to the stars and nebulas.
Many years ago, when he’d been an Eden Guard recruit, he’d patrolled these same backroads and boulevards.
Back then, they’d been overrun by unruly Pikani gangsters, bootleggers, buccaneers, and ghost wraiths of Old Eden.
He’d also worked Eden II’s subterranean tunnels. Back then, they’d been riddled with gambling dens, gaming arcades, whore houses and seedy hotels that catered to every vice and, therefore, most criminals on the rock.
After a string of successful busts, he’d been promoted to Sergeant.
He ascended through the ranks, taking on more challenging roles in the underground hoods until the Elder Council appointed him the Commanding Officer of the Eden Guard.
Now, he oversaw the entire organisation, from emergency services, spaceports, and air traffic patrol to counter-terrorism, criminal intelligence, organised crime, narcotics, public transportation, and communal housing units.
The sound of harmony from a pulsing disco-lit drone caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes to a group of juveniles hanging in one corner and made a quick assessment.
They weren’t causing trouble, just sitting around on plex boxes, playing music, tossing down cans of sweet pop and shooting the shit.
When they spotted him, they waved and yelled out.
Recognising them from his free weekly kapo class, he sauntered over.
‘You kids behaving?’ he murmured.
One of the young men, a wiry kinai with a shock of neon green hair, grinned at Xion. ‘Always, Commander,’ he drawled, his tone laced with mischief.
The Rider cocked an eyebrow. ‘Cut the fokkin’ crap, Jakim. I haven’t seen you at the centre in recent weeks.’
Jakim served the Rider with a nonchalant shrug, but a glint in his eye told Xion something was up. ‘Got a new work gig. I’ll be by in a few days.’
Xion didn’t buy it for a second. These kids were always up to something, pushing the boundaries of what they could get away with.
Today, he decided to play along. ‘You do that. Meanwhile, keep this corner tidy. Don’t want any call-outs with your kina on them, and don’t need more paperwork on my desk.’
‘Just chilling, man. No trouble here.’
‘Lower your drone-box volume and help out any elders or needy you see, a’ight?’
He loped off with a wave and a chin jerk to the young men.
Being an Eden Guard wasn’t just about enforcing the law for Xion.
An orphan himself, he had a soft spot for the children growing up alone in any chaotic environment. Whenever he encountered a group of abandoned kids, he took them under his wing and ensured they were cared for.