Chapter Four: Mayor's Ball
Mayor's Ball was every bit of the lavish extravaganza Lexa remembered. When the brunette arrived with Costia by her side, City Hall was already buzzing.
Wealth, fame, power, everyone came to the Mayor's Ball for a reason. The élite - businessmen and politicians wrapped up in their perfect bubble, cements its grip on Polis' establishment with each hand they shake. Millennials, unspoken aspirations and ambitions in their eyes as they step into the treacherous waters of Polis for the first time, hoping to impress someone with their résumé. Socialites, many of them young women from less than glamorous backgrounds, put on themselves the nicest dress they could find, hoping to elevate themselves from Polis' impoverished neighborhoods.
Lexa loathed it. Costia, on the other hand, was grinning. She wore a long, sleeveless rosy red dress that touched the floor. Her black hair was loose and down -something Lexa wished Costia would do more often. Her caramel eyes were shining as she took it all in, from the sumptuous chandeliers to the candles that were more decorative than luminous, and somehow looked just as luxurious as the glaring diamond necklace the woman clinging onto Councilman Jaha was wearing.
"I barely recognize this place," Costia said, looking very impressed, "and I work next door."
"I just don't see how throwing a ridiculously expensive ball when a quarter of the city is living in poverty will make the people hate the rich snobs even more." Lexa deadpanned.
"Because it's literally impossible for people to hate the rich snobs more than they already do," Costia rolled her eyes. "Play nice, remember? If we are going to clean up the streets, we need to bring down Nia. We can't do that without a bigger budget, and money comes from the rich snobs."
Lexa groaned.
"Don't worry," Costia grinned, "one day, I will be the DA, and you will be the Commissioner. When that happens, we won't have to attend ridiculous functions anymore. In the meantime, let's go shake a few hands."
Lexa let Costia lead her away. They weaved into and out of the crowd. Occasionally, they would stop and greet someone. Costia always wears a pleasant smile on her face as she shakes their hands and laughs at their jokes as if they've been best friends for years. Lexa, on the contrary, could only force herself to not yawn as she nodded along and pretended to find whatever they were saying interesting. When they stepped away for drinks, Lexa let out a sigh of relief.
"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Costia chuckled.
"You are so much better at this than I am," Lexa said as she handed her fiancée a glass of champagne.
"That's why Pike hired me," Costia grinned, "he needed someone to make people like him."
"Then all he had to do was to stop talking," Lexa snorted as she took a sip of her drink.
Costia giggled, "I think Kane is going to give his speech now."
True to her word, Councilman Sinclair was clicking his glass at the front of the ballroom.
"Everyone," Sinclair's voice boomed across the hall. "The Mayor of Polis, Marcus Kane!"
Thunderous applause and cheers exploded from Kane's most fervent supporters as the Mayor, dressed in an impeccable black tuxedo, came into view. He wore the bright, charismatic smile that got him elected as he waved at his supporters, many of them law enforcement, embraced Sinclair and shook hands with Congressman Vincent Vie. Then, he stepped into the spotlight.
"Look at him," someone snickered. Lexa almost dropped her glass when she recognized that it was Carl Emerson, "the boy wonder of Polis. Look at all the people loving him, revering him. How long is it going to take before they turn on this one too?"
A wave of nausea threatened to overcome Lexa. Forcing a smile on her lips, Lexa tore her eyes away from Emerson and turned her attention to Kane.
"Thank you for coming here tonight," Kane began. "When I left home for the Middle East ten years ago, I was an idealistic, if not naïve young man. I had many ambitions, and one of them was that I could finally end all the senseless killing in the region and forge lasting peace. I shook hands with young men and women in uniform. I stood face to face with terrorists and militants. And once, I was in a market in Baghdad went a car bomb went off. I survived, but many were not as fortunate. Yet despite all the obstacles, we persevered. We brought different factions separated by religion, ethnicity and a past of bloodshed together and built a strong central government in Baghdad. If we could do it in Iraq, then we can do it here in Polis!"
Loud cheers and applause interrupted Kane's speech. The Mayor paused, a smile stretched across his mouth as waved and nodded at his supporters. It took a while for the cheering to stop, and when it did, Kane resumed his speech.
"But it will not be easy to restore our city to its former glory, just as it was not easy to end the sectarian conflicts in Iraq. It will take an enormous amount of time and resources, and many obstacles await us along the way, but we will overcome them. We will take back our streets from the Azgeda, and make Polis safe again. To do this, we need a stronger PCPD which receives the funding it needs to effectively counter the threat the Azgeda poses, and I thank Griffin Enterprise for their generous donation that will bring us closer to that goal."
More cheers and applause, a few people shook hands with Abby Griffin.
"But if there is one thing I learned in the Middle East, is that the world is not black and white, and people are not always what they appear on the surface. Many people joined the Azgeda because they had no other choice. Because they would have starved, their family would have starved. They are not bad people who mean to inflict pain upon others. Rather, they joined the gangs for food on the table, for a roof over their heads, and for their family who would otherwise have been stuck in the most dangerous neighborhoods of the city. They were forced to join the gangs because the city would not support them, because the people who were supposed to fight for them serve special interests instead. I say to you, you have a friend in City Hall now. Come forward, lay down your arms, help us make our city safe again. I am willing to issue a blanket pardon to any member of the Azgeda who does so."
Shocked gasps and hushed murmurs broke out across the hall, but this time, the Mayor chose to ignore it.
"The only way to prevent such tragedies from happening again in the future is to tackle the source of the problem. Polis is rotten at its core. The élite, the corporations that control Polis' political and economic establishment have forgotten that their wealth and power came from the people, and must be returned to the people. No longer will Polis be a tax haven for the wealthy, Polis will be a place where all, regardless of their gender, race, and class, can prosper. People need affordable healthcare, people need higher education, people need a decent job, and I have sent City Council legislative proposals to deliver them. You supported me, it is my turn to support you now."
Without another word, Kane turned and walked out of the hall. Cameras were flashing like crazy, and people weren't even trying to hide their shocked reactions anymore. It was chaos.
"What the fuck?" Costia said, shocked, "he just declared war on the most powerful people in Polis. People who can do him in with a snap of their fingers. Doesn't he remember what happened to Sydney?"
"Our new Mayor is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid," Lexa replied, "either way, I like him even more now."
"Unbelievable."
Up ahead stood a weary Abby Griffin. She was nursing a drink of her own as Lexa approached. The older Griffin woman looked as if she was experiencing a terrible headache after a night filled with cheap shots. There were wrinkles in her forehead. Once Lexa got closer, she realized that she could see heavy, dark bags under her eyes as well, despite the makeup applied to her face. Even though she was well into her forties, Abby retained the fieriness and beauty of her youth. Tonight, however, it seemed as if age was finally catching up to her.
"Give me a sec," Lexa said to her fiancée, before making her way across the hall.
Abby Griffin had long mastered the often outright dangerous art of politics in Polis. And like any other survivor, she looked strong and proud in front of the cameras, but Lexa saw right through her façade. Maybe it was because she was trained to see behind the mask, or maybe it was because she knew exactly what one looked like.
"Missus Griffin," Lexa extended a hand, "Lexa Woods, PCPD. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine."
"I want to thank you for your generous donation," Lexa said, "we are very grateful for your support, Griffin Enterprise has been a reliable partner for years."
"Thank you for keeping our city safe," Abby smiled. "But if you really want to, you ought to be thanking someone else."
"Oh?" Lexa raised an eyebrow.
"It was all Clarke," Abby explained. "It's not every day that my daughter marches into a board meeting and demands something. The board has learned to not say no to her when she does. But you are right, we Griffins have always supported our law enforcement, and that's not going to change anytime soon."
Lexa gave her a polite smile and muttered a quick thanks again before spinning her heels around in search for Costia. It didn't take the brunette long to locate her fiancée. Costia was talking to someone, which no longer surprised Lexa. What did surprise her, however, was who she was talking to. It was Clarke Griffin herself. Blinking away her surprise, Lexa made her way to the pair.
"-and when Pike came to the office next morning, he just lost it!"
"I see you've met," said Lexa.
"Lexa!" Costia beamed, "I was just telling Clarke about that time everyone in the office pranked Pike."
"That was a good one," Lexa smiled at Costia before turning to Clarke.
"I hear that I have you to thank for the donation."
"Keep doing your job, and we can call it even," Clarke waved her off. She wore a strapless dark blue dress that ended just above her ankle, showing off an ample amount of good earth cleavage and paired with matching blue silk gloves covering almost all of her arms. Lexa thought that the color really brought out Clarke's eyes. It was a flowy dress made from a soft material that was shining under the lighting, and Lexa briefly wondered what the texture would feel like between her fingers. The dress was stunning, so was Clarke.
"So how are you finding the ball?" The blonde asked.
"It's actually not as awful as I imagined," came Lexa's reply, "Kane certainly put up one hell of a show for the press."
"Nobody was certainly expecting it," Clarke nodded. "Then again, that man has been in a war zone for ten years. He's cleaned up bigger messes than a North American city with a population of eight million."
"Which is by far the largest city in New England," Costia replied with clear agitation in her voice. "We don't have the Army maintaining security on the streets, and Kane has to actually govern this time instead of simply mediating."
"He didn't have Wanheda before," Clarke countered, "he does now."
"Look, I'm probably Wanheda's biggest supporter in the DA's office, but at the end of the day, she is only one woman. Nia can essentially mobilize unlimited resources in Polis."
"And what makes you think Wanheda can't?" One of Clarke's eyebrows shot up, but not in a challenging manner. In fact, the Griffin woman channeled so much confidence in her voice that it puzzled Lexa.
Shaking her head, Lexa decided it was enough talk about vigilantes for one night.
"Does anyone want a cocktail? I heard they are serving margarita tonight," Lexa intervened timely, and smartly as it turned out, because Clarke's face brightened like it was Christmas.
"Oh yes," she exclaimed so happily and huskily that it almost came out as a moan. In the corner of her eyes, Lexa saw Costia stifling a laughter at the eagerness in Clarke's voice, "God knows I need a little liquor if I'm gonna survive this thing."
Finding a grin stretching across her face, Lexa made a quick trip to the bar and returned with a glass of margarita in each hand.
By the time Lexa returned, Clarke's expression had changed. The light-heartedness in her eyes had vanished, and there was a deep scowl on her face that would have impressed Anya. The blonde woman scrunched her nose distastefully, while something akin to dismay flashed in Costia's eyes. Lexa turned around, only to find Cage Wallace approaching them with his usual smug smirk that most people in Polis would love to wipe off with a mean hook.
"I have to deal with this," Clarke led out what could only be described as a growl before returning her attention to Lexa and Costia. "Why don't you guys go dance? There's no need for Cage Wallace to ruin your night as well."
"That was interesting," Costia remarked as Clarke strode to Cage with a combination of annoyance and determination. "Do you trust her?"
"I do," Lexa nodded, "there aren't a lot of good people in Polis, so when you spot one, they stand out."
"I like her," Costia's eyes were fixed on Clarke, "I can tell that she's compassionate, but I do hope she knows what she's doing. I hope Kane knows what he's doing as well."
"Let's dance," Lexa offered Costia a hand, and her fiancée took it gladly. They walked to the dance floor, fingers intertwined, their figures pressed against each other as they moved gracefully. They spun effortlessly, their bodies twirling across the crammed floor, with Costia's hand cupping the back of Lexa's neck and Lexa's hand resting on Costia's waist. They danced, they talked, they laughed, like they had so many times before. It was natural to them.
A few serene songs later, Lexa noticed Clarke sitting by the makeshift bar across them, sipping on a glass of colorless liquid that the brunette wasn't naïve enough to take for water. Although the blonde was too far away for Lexa to get a clear look at her face, Lexa could tell from her rigid body language that whatever transpired between her and Cage must have put the blonde in a foul mood.
"Wanna take a break?" Lexa suggested, tugging at Costia and tilting her head behind her, where Clarke was sitting.
"Sure," Costia replied, and the couple made their way off the dance floor, their hands still joint and they approached a sulking Clarke.
"I take it didn't go well?"
"What gave that away?"
"Not a fan of Cage?"
Clarke snorted, "If I ever find one, you'll be the first to know."
"What did he say?" Costia asked.
"You don't want to know," Clarke had a dark look on her face, and so Costia dropped it.
"Whiskey, neat," Lexa told the bartender, who returned momentarily with her order.
"Sometimes I have trouble believing how an asshole like Cage can be related to someone as kind as Dante," Clarke sighed, "If only I could punch that stupid smirk off his face."
"I heard you guys are friends?" Lexa asked out of curiosity, "You and Dante?"
"I'd say Dante is my mentor, in a weird way," Clarke replied. "My dad was always my biggest fan. After he died, I went to boarding school, and I just stopped painting. I couldn't bring myself to continue, not with him gone. Dante was the first person who appreciated my art the way my dad did. He told me that I would be honoring my dad because he would want me to succeed as an artist. I don't know where I would be without him."
"He sounds like a great man," Lexa commented.
"He is," Clarke nodded, "I wouldn't mind these events so much if there were more people like him."
"You too, huh?" Costia chuckled, "I had to physically drag Lexa here."
"I hate social gatherings," Lexa supplied, "especially when everything is so fake."
"So do I," Said Clarke, before a grin stretched across her face, "Why don't we get out of here? We can go to my place and have a party of our own, just the three of us."
"Sounds like a plan," Clarke's expression was mirrored on Costia's face.
"Wait for me a bit up front," said Clarke, "I just need to talk to Octavia about something."
The gallery was empty when they arrived. Clarke explained that she had closed down the exhibition for the evening while she was at Mayor's Ball as her sports sedan pulled up in front of the penthouse. The blonde led them up the stairs to her attic, while Costia drank in the sight of Clarke's artworks in front of her with wide eyes.
"They are marvelous," Costia breathed.
Clarke thanked her with a smile.
"Have you always wanted to be an artist?" Costia asked.
"I guess," Clarke smiled, a nostalgic look in her eyes. "Growing up, I always loved painting, and it was my dream to have my own gallery one day. But my mom was a doctor and she wanted me to follow her footsteps into medicine. I loved helping people, so a career as a doctor was always on the table. After I came back to Polis, I realized that I could do whatever I wanted, and I wanted this, so here we are."
"What about the company?"
"The family business was never my thing," Clarke replied, "my mom wants me to take it over one day, of course, but I figure when the time comes I'll just leave it to people who's heads are in the business."
"You already have wealth, power, and fame," Costia observed Clarke with interest in her eyes, "you might be the only person in Polis' upper class who's not after any of them. What is it that you want, Clarke Griffin?"
"I just want to be happy, I guess," Clarke shrugged.
"Are you happy now?"
"I will be," There was steel in Clarke's voice, "when we beat Nia. I'll get us some drinks."
"I'll help," said Lexa suddenly, following Clarke into the kitchen.
The blonde shot her an expectant look as she opened the cupboard and took out a bottle of red wine that Lexa thought she probably couldn't afford even with a full year of her salary.
"I want to commission a paint," Lexa whispered so that her fiancé wouldn't hear her, "Costia's birthday is in a few weeks, and I know she's fascinated by your work."
"That's a great idea," Clarke smiled. "Consider it done."
"Thank you," The brunette returned her smile.
"She's lucky to have you," Clarke remarked, turning and picking up three glasses.
"No," Lexa shook her head, a soft expression crossed her face as she looked at Costia, "I'm the one who's lucky to have her."
"Why is that?" Clarke asked, and Lexa was too caught up in looking at her fiancée that she missed how flat the blonde's tone had become.
"After my parents died, I was devastated," Lexa explained. "For a while, I was consumed by anger. Finding Nia and avenging my parent was all I thought about every waking moment. Revenge drove me, and I became dark, bitter. Treated people around me in a way that I'm not proud of. She found me at my worst and helped me get back on my feet. Even now, when the job becomes too much, she's always there to remind me what I'm fighting for. She's my anchor. Without her, I would be lost."
Clarke nodded.
"What about you?" Lexa turned to the blonde. "Got anyone special?"
Clarke shook her head.
"Really?" Lexa arched an eyebrow, "people must throw themselves at you."
"I jus-" Clarke shook her head again, her voice was strained, and Lexa could see pain surfacing in her eyes for a brief moment. "No. Not since a long time ago."
"Alright," Lexa, having sensed that Clarke was not ready to open up to her, chose to flash her a smile with a nod.
"What kind of painting do you want?" Clarke asked with a steady, cool voice and a neutral expression. It reminded Lexa of how Clarke was when she greeted Cage, "For Costia?"
"I know you don't do portraits, but I was hoping that you could paint the two of us together."
"Anything for my friends," Clarke smiled, it didn't reach her eyes. The blonde waved the bottle of wine she was holding, "shall we?"
They drank, they laughed, they talked. At some point, Clarke learned that Lexa's parents used to bring her camping as a way to "embrace the nature" in the forest just north of Polis once every two weeks; Costia still had scars from all the fights she got into to protect younger kids in the orphanage; and they met at work during what Lexa has dubbed the dark days.
In return, Clarke told them about meeting the Blakes at boarding school; how she and Raven became fast friends after a game of beer pong at a frat party that either of them was too stubborn to back down from; and how she and Maya hit it off instantly because of their mutual desire to use their families' considerable prestige to help the underprivileged.
Alas, they had work tomorrow, so Lexa and Costia bid their goodbye and left the gallery. But Clarke's night was far from over. She made her way to the Ark after receiving a text from Octavia, still reasonably sober from the incredible alcohol tolerance she developed from her wild college years.
"Please tell me you have good news," said the blonde as the elevator slid open.
"Well, you were right," Octavia responded, "Abby was not keen to share. Lucky for us, I'm a terrific actor and I told her if she didn't tell me what that ship was carrying, I would come back with a warrant, SWAT trucks and a lot of bad press. She didn't believe my bullshit, of course, so I told her I would leak the story to Jasper at Daily Polis. It would be a PR nightmare if the media started speculating that GE was engaged in illegal activities, so Abby caved."
"And?"
"Apparently, after Congress banned torture, the CIA started looking for new interrogation techniques, and they came up with the idea of a truth serum."
"A truth serum?" Clarke repeated, disbelief evident in her voice. "Like Veritaserum?"
"It involves some very complicated biochemistry and no wandwork," Octavia rolled her eyes at her friend, "but yes, except it's much more powerful, practically impossible to resist. It puts the recipient in a euphoric state, where their mind completely loses its desire to resist interrogation."
"If Nia has it then she could acquire some very sensitive information," Monty said, his voice grave, "she could destroy her opponents, blackmail government officials or make billions of dollars in financial markets. She would be unstoppable."
"Is there an antidote?" Clarke asked.
"Wouldn't be failproof if there was," Octavia shook her head, "it could take up to 36 hours for the effect to wear off completely."
"Can we develop one then?" Clarke turned to Raven.
"The supercomputer is analyzing the substance as we speak," Raven replied, "it's only chemistry, every reaction can be reversed. But there's more. I've analyzed the chemical you retrieved from the truck, and it turns out to a psycho-nerve agent, designed to make people volatile and act on their very primordial impulses by blocking certain signals in the human brain. The chemical itself, however, is highly unstable and only lasts a few minutes, but that's where the good news ends. The timing of the two incidents was too close to be a coincidence, so I combined the molecular structures of the two compounds, and I found something else entirely."
The Latina tapped a few keys, and a large diagram of the strangest shape of molecule Clarke had ever seen flashed on the screen.
"When you combine the chemicals, they stabilize, and a chemical bond that is virtually unbreakable is formed. The addition of the GE chemical to the psycho-nerve agent multiplies its effect exponentially, so much that whoever is injected doesn't just becomes agitated, they become violent to the point of crazy," Raven continued. "What I'm saying is, the effect on the brain chemistry appears to be permanent. Once injected, there is no return."
"But there has to be a way to reverse the effect, right? You said it yourself, it's only chemistry."
"Not this time," Raven shook her head, "the molecules latch onto the cerebrum. Even if we find a way to remove it, there would be permanent damage done to the brain. Lucky for us, this model is only theoretically possible. Not even GE has the technology to synthesize it, and even if someone does find a way to produce it, given the volatile nature of the chemicals themselves, they won't be able to do it with technology that's even state of the art. They are going to need technology that's literally the art. Even then, it's doubtful if they can produce enough quantity without burning through the entire pile taken from the GE vessel."
"I got news about the merc too," the Latina continued, "I traced a rifle part to a firm called Cerberus Inc., and guess who owns it? Dr. Lorelei Tsing, a member of the Mt. Weather Corp executive board, and a close ally of Cage Wallace. We still can't tie this to Cage since, you know, we got the evidence illegally."
"What about Mt. Weather?" Clarke hummed thoughtfully, "Does Mt. Weather have the technology to synthesize the chemical compounds?"
"Maybe?" Raven shrugged, "the psycho-nerve agent is completely untraceable, but I can confirm that it's not made by Griffin Chemicals, which Mt. Weather as the only company with the technology to create a compound that complex. Anyhow, we have to assume that they can do it just to be safe."
"Sounds like as good a time as any to cash in that favor Kane owes me."
Next time on The Ice Queen
"Clarke!" Monty's voice was urgent, "someone's in the elevator. Hide!"
Clarke quickly darted to the other end of the corridor, where she turned and took cover behind the wall just as the elevator opened again. Tsing stopped out of the lift with two guards in tail.
"It's Tsing," Clarke whispered. "What's she doing here? She's supposed to be in the meeting."