Opus Veda

Kendi Estate heaved with residents, who pinpricked the plaza with phone screens. Sermon had pulled himself onto the central plinth, standing where the old statue once fell, to command the crowd. After much effort, Jason lifted his heavy frame up too, and raised an angry fist at his rival male.

"This is supposed to be what you're good at, ain't it bruv? Why don't you get the Reds on it like last time?"

The crowd backed Jason with a chorus of praise. Sermon stomped his boot.

"You muppets don't understand the world at all, do ya!? You don't just call up the Reds up and get soldiers delivered to your door. They're not a fuckin' pizzeria!"

"Well why else are they 'ere!? Ain't they supposed to be helpin' us citizens?"

"With what, your rent!? They already risked their lives to help us and still none of you bothered to join up! Now shit hits the fan again and you suddenly remember who they are!? Bollocks! You lazy fuckin' gypos, look after yourselves for once!"

"What about your mates in the Panthers then?!" a voice called from the audience. Sermon clutched at his heart and howled with defeat.

Kasia dipped into the crowd, found Imany, and asked what was going on. Imany tutted.

"Some shit about the landlord puttin' our service charge up. Apparently what we already pay won't cover the damage those vagrants did, and there's a deficit."

Kasia tensed, "do I wanna know how much it is?"

"Three thousand."

"For the period?"

"Per month, for the period."

There it was. The next upper class punch to the stomach. News Kasia always anticipated but could never prepare for. Her every financial burden struck at once, as another parasitic cash grab forced its way in from above. Another unfair and unavoidable truth of inequality.

How would she manage? The things she could give up had gone; the things she could take on, taken. Riese paid her £25000 per month - minimum wage, earning her envious scorn from the majority working zero hours. But once debts and bills hacked at her bank balance no freedom remained.

She had nothing more to give. All she could think to do was shake her head and deny it.

"They can't do that. They won't be able to justify it."

"They already have," Imany crossed her arms and frowned, "they said because we fought back, we provoked the vagrants to do more damage than they otherwise would have, and liability's on us. To be reviewed in January, with all due considerations made."

"I can't… I'm living on a razor's edge Imany… most of these guys are on less… we can't even afford heating…" she continued muttering, trying to form a workable excuse. Imany tugged Kasia's bicep.

"I know luvvie. We'll find a way to fight back. We need to get all the info together in one place," she thumbed the two men arguing pointlessly on the plinth above, "after these prats tire themselves out."

One of the residents pointed up at Jason.

"It was you and Sermon what riled them vagrants up in the first place, why we 'avin to pay for it!? You should cover it!"

"How dare you!" Jason shoved in front of Sermon and boomed over everyone, "we were fightin' off a hundred pikeys to defend your homes! Where were you!?"

"Someone should share it online and do a petition!" another voice called out, meeting approval from the crowd but no volunteers.

"We should all refuse as one!" a second voice cried, "together! The landlord can't do us all! We need to come together and show solidarity, now more than ever!"

With solidarity mentioned, the crowd groaned, immune to the platitude after a lifetime of hearing it. Imany rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"We can't refuse anyway. They don't need our permission to charge our bank accounts."

The chatter died. Everyone dived online to confirm if Imany was right. Phones crinkled with furious typing. A single shy voice rose, testing itself.

"Whatever you lot do I'm not paying it..."

A few locals grumbled once before returning to their phones. Kasia carried on.

"We fought and defeated the biggest vagrant gang in London; twice! And in return we get a bill for something we already pay a bill for? I'm not paying it, I can't, and you shouldn't. And I know it will work, because if it didn't, it wouldn't be illegal."

"We're all upset darlin'," Chanel offered Kasia a sympathetic nod, "Ah dunno 'ow ahm gonna afford it naiva, but we can't kick off wiv' service charge, they'll 'ave you on the streets! Think of your daughter!"

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The crowd agreed, brushing aside the naive girl's resistance. Kasia would have stopped, if she hadn't seen Jason and Sermon watching from above, expecting more.

"We keep trying to do things the proper way and it never works! Isn't there a point where we have to say we're not obeying the rules any more!? As if the people up top don't!? You reckon Ali Hogarth respects the law!? How many politicians have you seen getting away with a hundred times worse than what any of us have done!?"

Someone raised their phone with an excited cry. The solidarity advocate had started a petition challenging the uplift, and had received their first a pledge of support - a name and an email opting in for future updates. The crowd abandoned Kasia. She stepped outside of it, humiliated.

Sermon hopped off the plinth, flagged her down, and beckoned her away.

The top floor flats were bigger and pricier than those underneath. Sermon's had a separate bedroom with a caravan mattress along the floor. Next to it, a slatted and padlocked crate, full of cigarettes and vapes, baggies of weed, and knock-off electronic components.

Unlike Kasia's partitioned wash corner, he had an actual bathroom, complete with a shower cubicle running hot water. His lounge was flanked with a faux-leather sofa and a wall-length TV. Pan-Africana merchandise adorned every wall. A lone hook by the door hung whichever hat he wasn't wearing - currently his beret.

He let Kasia in and gave her a catty hiss in honour of her attitude. Kasia swatted him away with a childlike, giggly protest, and threw herself onto the sofa, spreading out over the rare luxury. She poked at the cracks in the fake leather and smiled.

"So if the banks won't let us refuse the charge, we gotta have a chat with the letting agent ourselves."

"Yea..." Sermon perched on the TV stand and rested his chin on his hands, "give 'em a little nudge towards waivin' the fee."

"Do you reckon Ali's pro-Red?"

"Doubt it. Landlords are prime Blue material. Wouldn't want any change, would they?" he produced his phone, "I'll give Luca a bell."

"I bet you would. But we can't do that."

"Why not?"

"It'll make us look bad, leaning on them to help with our personal lives. Imagine if we handled it on our own and then told him! It'd make us look well good."

Sermon faltered. Scenarios played in his head.

"And if it goes to shit?"

"I'm not saying I'm gonna stick a knife in her! We'll keep it clean," Kasia pulled herself up, "come on Panther-man, we saved Joey from two hundred pikeys!"

"Yea then he got stabbed to death in an attack we are payin' the bill for!"

"I know! But would he have done any better if we'd left him underground?"

"Alright alright!" Sermon pinched his brow, "let's look up Plasticky Hogarth and see what we find. We don't commit to anythin' unless the data says we got a chance yea?"

Kasia agreed. They pecked at their phones. Finding anything on the letting agent page was impossible, with one obscure FAQ leading them anywhere but a contact form. Sermon whined that the ordeal was 'Kafkask', which Kasia didn't understand, but she recalled a similar word being used to describe her employers.

They tried locating Ali directly, their advantage being a single-headed hydra. Even so, finding a profile on mainstream social media was futile.

Kasia puckered her lips. This was hard, but trawling the social clouds was home turf. She tried a final trick. Sermon, however, had run out of patience. He threw himself back and flipped his hands in the air.

"Nah nah it'll be impossible to get to her. All her goons will get in the way anyway. Nah."

His phone pinged. Kasia covered her grin with her hand. He swiped the message and looked up at her.

"It's from you…"

"I know mate, I sent it."

He showed her the phone screen.

"It's the landlords address Kash!"

"I know Sermon! I sent it!" she saw something else and jumped forward, "oh my god you've been messaging Luca show me!"

"Nah!" Sermon held his phone behind him and rolled away. Kasia glimpsed his last message: 'ye ye wicked' and two thumb-up emojis.

"Yea yea wicked?" she pulled a horrified face and held her thumbs up.

"Leave it out sista I was bare anxious!"

"You've swapped numbers with Luca then. You better not get promoted over me, I lost out to a dick-sucking coworker at my last job."

"I'm just a bit jealous of you and Varma izzit!"

Kasia tried to look ambivalent, shrugging and scratching the side of her face. Sermon saw through it and burst into laughs.

"Oh Matron would you look at the state of her! Will she keep her captain's helmet polished!? Will she fire his cannon on parade day!?"

"Oi piss off Sermon!" Kasia leapt to defend herself, "I'm only awkward 'cause you're staring me out!"

"I'd believe it if you weren't goin' so pink! Jesus Christ!" he pinned himself against the wall and threw his hand against his forehead, "Ohh barja dobja Cahpteen, cahver me een boot polish ahnd leeck eet off me curva maj Cahpteen!"

"Lucah bruv, ah know we gotta faight a war yea, but laihk, you make me feel bare wicked yea you get me yea iss sick bruv yea?" Kasia scowled and hid behind her phone, "anyway with all that boot polish on I'd still be less black than you. Ciotka! Help me find this bitch landlord then."

She fell back on the sofa and busied herself searching. Sermon loaded a street view of the address.

"She's in Islington, great. How we gonna get in?" he zoomed out to an overhead view. Islington was a gated zone, walled off and dotted with police towers daring the poor to look past them. Any good behaviour, let alone bad, would be archived online for all of time. He put a red pin on the house.

"We'll need to go in smart right? A couple of us in a believable ride. If we found a gig-driver..." he paced around, "if we get a car from a depot, and drop it off before morning, we won't need to order one from an app. Less evidence see?"

"Can you drive one?"

"Not well enough to risk it."

"We could try Zenia or Curtis?"

"Thought you wanted to keep this one Red-free?" Sermon sniffed, "I reckon Jason would do it."

"I dunno if I wanna trust a fat angry guy who could fix shit, but always finds a reason not to."

"What's the problem? All he'll need to do is drive a car no one's askin' him to turn it into wine. Besides once we get there he can stay at the wheel and leave the gaslightin' to us."

"And the car?"

"He's a mechanic ain't he? We'll go through his contacts."

"Yea but he does drones, and I'm not flying into Islington stood on one of them."

"But! He's an ex-union man. Proper fought back when that old Reform party banned them. I'll bet you he knows some old gig-drivers still in the game," Sermon pinched his lips, "I'm just wonderin' if we could do it the three of us, or…"

They thought it at the same time. Kasia held her thumbs up.

"Wicked."