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“Jefferson has beliefs, Burr has none!” The words of Alexander Hamilton reverberated through the hall, igniting the already intense rivalry between the two lawyers and former friends.
Those word had hit him like a cannonball. Throughout all these years, did Hamilton fail to recognize that he was merely emulating him? It was from witnessing Alexander's ascent that his own political aspirations took root.
Burr watched Alexander’s retreating form with rage burning through his veins. Why would he not see that he wanted to be in the room where it all happens? He had good political instincts after all. He had patiently bided his time, carefully observing the shifting winds of public opinion in order to secure the coveted votes. But to his utter dismay, his longtime friend had turned on him, accusing him of being a dangerous and amoral individual. The nerve! Hamilton was an arrogant man that didn’t deserve the recognition, let alone having the influence to shape the nation. The man’s pride has caused his fall. Not only his own, but Burr’s as well. That man had ruined his political ambition for the last time. He was tired of Hamilton getting in his way and resolved that he’d never do so again. A duel would be too honorable. No, he would rid the world of this immigrant bastard orphan in his own way….
~*~
Alexander Hamilton knew he was being followed from the moment he stepped away from his doorstep of his law office. His eyebrows furrowed when he looked about and found only the bustling of the people who were going about their daily routines. But something felt off, a presence that felt was not supposed to be there. Turning, glanced at the street at the many unfamiliar faces that passed by him.
Alexander sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was just tired and overwrought by the election’s results and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He couldn’t wait to get back home to Eliza and the children. Going to the side of the building, Alexander unhitched his horse and mounted it, beginning the long journey through the city streets back home.
His horse’s cantor was at a leisurely pace as they both enjoyed the cooling air of that hot July day. He huffed as two men seemed to race ahead in the street on their own horses, forcing some to seek shelter on the sidewalks to prevent being trampled. Hamilton shook his head at the gentlemen’s recklessness and continued on his journey.
He was only slightly unnerved when the two men seemed to have stopped in front of a hat shop and glance over their shoulders at him. They both dismounted and went inside, and Hamilton released a quiet breath. He wasn’t being followed after all.
Hamilton went on, slower this time as to make sure that his earlier feeling of unease would not return. Halfway between his journey to Harlem though a sudden cry for help by a male voice pierced the air, jolting him from his thoughts. Intrigued and concerned, Alexander's eyes darted towards the source of the sound, only to witness a sinewy arm emerging from the murky depths of an alleyway. His instincts screamed at him, warning of potential danger, urging him to turn away. Without hesitation, he stepped towards the shadowy figure, his resolve unwavering. For he understood that in times of distress, it fell upon the shoulders of good citizens to lend a helping hand.
Dismounting his horse and tying it to a post, Alexander ventured cautiously into the back street, his nose wrinkling at the smell of refuse. In the dim light of the setting sun, he could indeed see an old man, withered and emaciated in the last remnants of proper clothes. His eyes were sunken and looked tired.
“What is wrong, sir?” Alexander asked a politely, aware that this situation still did not seem right. “Would you come out into the light more so that I may see you?”
The old man’s scraggly hair shook his head. “I am too weak sir. I used the last bit of strength I had to call for help. I thank you for stopping; surely no one else would have done so.”
He must have some strength in him to call with a powerful yell enough for someone to stop to assist him Alexander thought.
"How may I be of service to you, kind sir?" Alexander inquired, his voice filled with genuine concern. The man's tears flowed freely as he pleaded, "Oh, please, sir. I have been robbed of my last penny and have gone without a meal for days." Desperation etched across his face, he reached out, grasping at Alexander's sleeve, seeking solace and aid.
Alexander, who had experienced the pangs of hunger during the war, empathized with the man's plight. He believed that no one should have to suffer from hunger, especially among the civilian population. Hamilton reached into his coat and handed over some money to the man.
“How is that, good sir?”
Puzzled by the stranger's toothy grin and the sudden glint in his eyes. The man's response was unexpected, as he said, “Thank you, Mr. Hamilton.” with a sinister undertone.
"Pray tell, good sir, how do you know my name?" Alexander inquired. Before he could make sense of the situation, two looming shadows materialized behind him. In a split second, a heavy object collided with his head, sending him crashing to the ground.
~*~
As Alexander slowly regained consciousness, he found himself in a chair, his vision shrouded by a mysterious softness. A blindfold. No wonder his surroundings were veiled in darkness. His arms strained as they were tied behind him on the chair. He tried to make sense of where he was. It was cold, a distant dripping told him it was somewhere underground perhaps. Not a cave, he could still hear a few passersby talking, and the smell of the brackish water, which meant he was still in the city, near the docks.
Suddenly, a screech pierced through the air, jolting his senses. It was as a long-forgotten door, creaking with age and neglect being forcefully swung open. The feeble light from a solitary candle managed to penetrate the confines of his blindfold
"Ah, Alexander," a voice, once familiar but now shrouded in darkness, echoed through the stillness, sending shivers down his spine. “You’ve kept me from the room where it happens for the last time.”
Startled, Alexander's head snapped up, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Aaron Burr, sir?!"