Talon

Half-TitleFull-TitleContentsText InsertText InsertText InsertOne - Chapter OneTwo - Chapter TwoThree - Chapter ThreeFour - Chapter FourFive - Chapter FiveSix - Chapter SixSeven - Chapter SevenEight - Chapter EightNine - Chapter NineTen - Chapter TenEleven - Chapter ElevenTwelve - Chapter TwelveThirteen - Chapter ThirteenFourteen - Chapter FourteenFifteen - Chapter FifteenSixteen - Chapter SixteenSeventeen - Chapter SeventeenEighteen - Chapter EighteenNineteen - Chapter NineteenTwenty - AcknowledgementsTwenty-One - About The Author Guide Cover Table Of Contents Title Page 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Talon
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Talon
 
 Jayden Jelso
 
 
 
 Jayden Jelso
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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 One
 
 
 
 CHAPTER ONE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Two
 
 
 
 CHAPTER TWO
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Three
 
 
 
 CHAPTER THREE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Four
 
 
 
 CHAPTER FOUR
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Five
 
 
 
 CHAPTER FIVE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Six
 
 
 
 CHAPTER SIX
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Seven
 
 
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Eight
 
 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Nine
 
 
 
 CHAPTER NINE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Ten
 
 
 
 CHAPTER TEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Eleven
 
 
 
 CHAPTER ELEVEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Twelve
 
 
 
 CHAPTER TWELVE
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Thirteen
 
 
 
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Fourteen
 
 
 
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Fifteen
 
 
 
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Sixteen
 
 
 
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Seventeen
 
 
 
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Eighteen
 
 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Nineteen
 
 
 
 CHAPTER NINETEEN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Twenty
 
 
 
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Twenty-One
 
 
 
 ABOUT THE AUTHOR
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Talon
 By Jayden Jelso
 
 
 
 
 
 This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawnfrom the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblanceto actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 Copyright © 2023 by Jayden Jelso
 All rights reserved.
 No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever withoutpermission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles andreviews. 
 
 
 
 
 “During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.” ~ George Orwell 
 
 
 
 
 One
 
 CHAPTER ONE
 MAY 1ST, 2492
 The morning sun beat down on the cragged streets of Borough IV, and the sounds of a hovercar’s whirring engine filled Talon’s ears as he crouched behind the wall of the tavern. He blinked the stinging dust out of his eyes, sighed, and shoved a hand through his hair, the heat of the day making sweat appear on the back of his neck. He peeked around the corner, gazing at the drunken man standing at the tavern’s entrance.
 Len couldn’t see him, and Talon wanted to keep it that way. He couldn’t afford being extorted today. Not unless he wanted breakfast. Boredom flooded the fifteen-year-old’s mind as he leaned his back against the wall, straightening the collar of his black overcoat. 
 Alger stood close by on his four furry legs, his soft muzzle buried in an overgrown weed sprouting from a crevice in the dirty sidewalk. Talon’s dog trotted up to him, a scrap of greasy paper resting in his mouth. 
 “Where’d you get that?” Talon asked, wrenching the paper from Alger’s jaws and tossing it aside. “That’s gross… don’t eat things like that.” 
 Alger whined. 
 “Shh,” Talon whispered. “Len’s over there. I don’t want him to see me.”
 His dog ceased the noise immediately. Even Alger knew how annoying Len was. Talon peered around the wall once more, painfully bumping his reddish nose on the rough corner. Len cast his extinguished cigarette onto the street before clumsily stumbling off in the other direction. 
 “Okay, buddy,” Talon beckoned, “let’s go.” 
 He stood, brushing dust off his black pants, and Alger followed him into the tavern. The wood planks creaked underneath Talon’s boots and the large, cobweb covered windows let morning sunlight pour in. A few old tables stood here and there, accompanied by metal stools. 
 Josef, the bartender, stood behind the stomach-high counter, cleaning a misshapen glass with a towel. Despite having an unwarranted dislike of him, Talon thought he was rather welcoming, a rare quality in people these days. 
 “Hey, Talon,” he greeted with a smile when he saw the boy. “What can I get you?” 
 Talon shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Anything new?”
 “Not much… for you at least,” Josef replied. “Same old, same old. Coffee, water.” 
 “I’ll take the coffee,” Talon chose. Josef nodded, retrieving a white mug from the rack above the counter. 
 Talon sat on one of the metal stools at the bar