Chapter 483 - 225: The People of Pittsburgh
The roar of the armored car’s engine finally faded at the end of the street.
The square in front of the Pittsburgh Branch returned to a state of calm.
The helicopter was gone. Even the regular patrol officers maintaining order breathed a sigh of relief, taking their hands off their holsters.
The police cordon was still up, the yellow tape fluttering limply in the wind.
Luna stood at the very front of the crowd.
Her legs were starting to go numb.
The tension that had been holding her up suddenly vanished, and a wave of exhaustion crept up from the soles of her feet.
The crowd around her had not dispersed.
Thousands of workers, students, and citizens remained standing right where they were.
They stared at the empty intersection, at the spot where the car carrying Luigi Randall had disappeared.
No one spoke.
The oppressive silence was heavier than the deafening chants from moments before.
BUZZ.
Luna felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.
It was a notification for an account she followed.
She pulled out her phone and lit up the screen.
It was a news alert just pushed by the Voice of Rust.
There was no text, only a single photograph.
Luna tapped on the image.
The moment the photo loaded, her breath caught in her throat.
In the photo, Luigi Randall was standing on the steps of the police station.
A single beam of sunlight pierced through the clouds, illuminating his face.
He was dressed in a glaring orange prison uniform, with heavy iron shackles on his hands and feet.
His hair was messy. He looked so frail, so young, with an almost collegiate innocence about him.
But his head was held high, a faint smile gracing the corners of his lips.
That look of peace and acceptance made the uniform seem less like a symbol of shame and more like a sacrificial robe for some religious rite.
Luna stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over Luigi’s face, unable to bring herself to scroll.
’This young man... an elite who should have had a bright future, lived in a luxury apartment, and drank fine wine... is now a prisoner.’
’He killed a man.’
’The law calls him a murderer. The media calls him a terrorist.’
’But in my eyes, he isn’t.’
Luna’s mind flashed back to a year ago.
Back then, her husband, Jim, had been injured at the factory. The pain was so bad he would writhe in bed.
They went to the hospital. The doctor wrote a prescription recommending minimally invasive surgery.
The insurance company denied it.
The claims adjuster behind the counter had told her in a detached tone, "According to the policy, this level of injury is recommended for conservative treatment, which means taking painkillers."
Luna remembered how she had cried and begged the adjuster that day.
She remembered Jim biting down on the corner of the blanket late at night, stifling his pained cries so he wouldn’t wake the kids.
She remembered the despair.
The despair of watching a loved one suffer, helpless, barred from care by a cold, unfeeling system simply because they didn’t have enough money.
The CEO Luigi killed was the one who had created that system.
That CEO took home tens of millions a year and lived in a mansion, while her Jim had to take so many painkillers that his stomach started to bleed.
’Now, someone has fired that shot for us.’
’Someone has vented the rage we all held in our hearts.’
’And the price is that the person who pulled the trigger has to throw his entire life away.’
Luna’s vision blurred.
A teardrop hit the phone’s screen, smearing the light and shadows of the photograph.
Luna was a strong woman.
She hadn’t cried when she couldn’t afford formula for her baby, nor when life was crushing the breath out of her.
But now, looking at this photo, at this heart-wrenchingly young face, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.
’He put on that uniform for people like us.’
’He did this so people like Jim could afford surgery. So my children wouldn’t have to just wait to die someday because we’re poor. He walked to the altar willingly.’
"This goddamn world."
The voice came from Louis, who was standing nearby.
Louis’s chest was heaving, and ragged, suppressed breaths escaped his throat.
He was holding it in.
Holding in the grief and rage that made him want to scream at the sky.
"He did nothing wrong."
Louis bit out the words through clenched teeth.
"He just killed a Vampire."
"Why arrest a good man? Why do the bastards who ruin our families get to cruise around on their yachts, while this kid has to wear shackles?"
"It’s not fair!"
The workers around them had also taken out their phones.
The sound of sobbing began to spread through the crowd.
Some people squatted down, burying their faces in their knees.
Others tilted their heads back, staring at the overcast sky.
It was a shared resonance.
A collective cry of anguish born from long-term suppression, neglect, and humiliation.
In Luigi, they saw themselves.
They saw their insignificant selves, trampled on at will by the powerful.
And Luigi’s act of defiance was like a ray of light, illuminating the dignity buried deep in their hearts.
"Look at the Mayor."
Someone in the crowd whispered.
"The Mayor is behind him."
Luna looked back at the photo.
She noticed the dark figure standing behind Luigi.
Leo Wallace.
He wasn’t hiding far away like the other politicians.
He was right there.
At the edge of that beam of light, on the border between shadow and brilliance.
Just then, a breaking news alert from the official Pittsburgh Heart account popped up on Luna’s screen.
The bold, black headline stung her eyes: "Suspect transferred to Pennsylvania State Police, will proceed to Philadelphia to face state-level charges."
The moment Leo had made the decision to transfer the suspect inside the police station, he had instructed Sarah to have this press release edited and ready to go.