June 23, 2024
8:00 PM
Agnos Ghetto, outskirts of Roddington, Merconia
At the very least, it was much quicker to go about on foot here than in Roddington proper.
The distinction between open roads and alleyways was hazier than the industrial smog looming over the vast array of aged corrugated steel rooftops. Birds adjusted to stingy air had an additional obstacle for their commutes in the form of clotheslines so ubiquitous that when at full capacity, they doubled as an informal tarp casting irregular shadows over the astir streets. However, nobody wished for their own suspended laundry to serve that purpose when the downpours did come. An Abenzian accustomed to the egregiously atomized city blocks that defined the urban spaces off-limits to these ghettos would be faced with utter culture shock at the sheer proximity of parallel tenements - a snail can cross a "street" in Agnos in the same timeframe an Ouroboros B-supplanted athlete could sprint over one in Karis.
Certainly packing 100,000 people of one ethnicity into a few square kilometers of third-rate concrete heaps posing as multi-purpose flats came with all the gimmicks such congestion of people would bring. One would be either blind or a liar if they hadn't noticed the tattered hobos trying to find solace on the shallow patios. Or the rats serving as their companions. At least enough trash was lying unattended to elevate the destitute a level over the Bumudis in nutriment. How well the day was going could be told by whether the stench of rot or the aroma of authentic Ziconean street food was more overpowering. Whenever not-rotten meat did find its way past the electric fence perimeter, the middle-aged men with no hair on their heads bar bushy mustaches always somehow managed to prepare Gyros unlike any of their type elsewhere in Avaris.
Human desire to form social relations thus, naturally, generated a wave of indiscernible chatter flowing through the alleys as if they were rivers. Rivers of bodies shuffling their day-to-day lives. It was pungent. Fast-paced. Claustrophobic. Vibrant. Ravenous. Bustling. Asphyxiating. Home.
"Hey hey hey, get yo ass back here!", a not-so-thrilled man donning a grimy white button-up under a visibly worn leather jacket, a beanie over his head, pistol firmly clasped, coughed out as he ran as fast as his tired calves could carry him, "I swear on Axon, Imma make you wish you were in Ridnez under that-that madman when I get my hands on you - b*tch ass zeak."
Dumpsters, litter that should have been in said dumpsters, random tires, animal carcasses, and of course, people, made for the type of parkour obstacle course a video game expert may enjoy maneuvering through on a digital medium. Not so much for the frantic gangb*nger who, while no more than his late 20s, had a whole load of further burdens on top of not getting pilfered. Didn't help that the runt he was after was a boy no more than 14.
Would Alexis have preferred to be spending the evening stuffing his face into a plate of falafels in a cramped dining room-kitchen-living room that occupied half the apartment chamber? If that was possible, certainly. What the hell, now's not the time to fantasize. Alex's mind raced as fast as his body leaped and swerved and pushed through everything the alleyway had to offer.
Even compared to other Ziconeans his age, he definitely fit the bill of a scrawny runt - a head shorter, a few kilograms lighter, lankier limbs, a medium-long curly mess of hair that was disheveled even by ghetto-dweller standards, the nocturnal deprivation signified by how sunken and dark his eyes were. But he'd have a solid shot in gymnastics, flexible enough to mold his way into inhuman crevices like a feline assuming liquid form. A light frame did not mean atrophied legs, years of scurrying about every outdoor corridor Agnos had to offer certainly paid off in how Alex could gallop almost cleanly over a street vendor from just a nearby porch. Almost. Indeed an ankle sprain would briefly jolt up his leg, a couple-second pause that made all the difference. Dammit!...
"Urgh. Who the hell you think you are!?", the hoodlum managed to catch up to the adolescent, who was now backed into a corner along a dead-end alley. But as the man loaded a fresh mag, Alexis eyed a particularly capacious chasm in the cracked concrete that comprised the sidewall of whatever downtrodden establishment inhabited edifice was casting its shadow.
Before any knees could get capped, the gangster looked up to find no brat in sight, "Where's that f*cker..."
Alex let out a muffled "Ow," as he scraped his knee against a pile of metalware in the effectual void that was whatever this storage room was. Would be great if that was rusty... can't tell. Oh well. There was no time to let a small gash hold him back, so he pushed through the piles of metallic pottery, plates, and utensils straight to the nearest indoor source of luminance - a sliver of white gleaming from an ajar door.
The clamor of silverware echoed out the fissure with enough audibility to catch the attention of the confused crook, only for said opening to be not ample enough to fit his frame. "You ain't getting off with this!".
On the opposite side of the wall, Alexis swung open the agape aperture and darted across the still-open diner - much to the discontent of the proprietor he shoved to the side as he dashed out the entrance.
"Where do you think you're going!", the aged owner croaked before losing balance and falling face-flat into a steaming bowl of soup. No time to apologize. Only a couple more blocks... Alex mused as the evening breeze once again brushed against his body. Like a solute precipitating at the bottom of a container, the further he dashed along the narrow sidewalk, the more dense the congregation of people became.
Perfect! Alex immersed into the sea of denizens, much to the distress of his pursuer who had realized too late that the kid was already long gone from the eatery he thrashed. The man began losing control of his own ventilation, desperately eyeing for that unkempt dark brown thatch of hair.
"Nik, you look like sh*t!", the now-recognized thug felt an arm grip his collar with the force of a gorilla, putting an abrupt halt to the futile chase like a sudden brake to a race car.
"A-Andrei, haha... *huff* You-you uh, doing 'aight?", Nikitos reluctantly turned to face the burly man in a biker helmet and much more well-maintained leather jacket. In the background was yet another shrouded alleyway, a couple of other goons flanking the unamused Caporegime.
Andrei pulled the hoodlum to face level, "Y'know these streets crawling with Tripoulis mofos. The f*ck you trying to compromise us for? You better have sold good."
"About... that...", Nik opened his jacket, divulging what he's sold - or the lack thereof.
"The money, Nik.", Andrei's tone harshened before the realization dawned, "Hold up, you let yourself get ripped off? Zeak, y'know what we gotta do to you when you come back the end of the day dry."
"I know, I know! I was, ugh, I was this close to getting that punk! Deadass!", Nik pinched his finger to emphasize the point, still partly suspended over the air firmly in the grasp of an increasingly impatient superior.
"Punk, huh?"
"Yeah, a boy about yay tall... Scrawny as those hobos, dunno how he got good legs. Brown scruffy hair, bet he has lice. Listen, Andrei, I'll get the dope back. I'll make it up - double!"
Andrei unclenched his grip, leaving the half-petrified ruffian to the hands of gravity, "Swear on the Lord and Axon. Oh, and get the boy. If he's... like what you describe... We could put him to good use. He'll know soon enough what the Ataville Boys are about."
------
8:30 PM
Did-did I lose him? Alexis, now engulfed in an organic sea on all sides, forced his gaze to every direction. Upon confirming no jet-black weared-down leather coats in sight, he let out a suppressed sigh of relief, and pushed his way to the other side of the crowd - trudging towards a rather unassuming empty dead-end alley, given a marginal breath of life by decrepit graffiti of the obscure mythological Corpus Maris artwork. "Okay, *huff*. You got this far."
Alex gently knelt behind the cover of an old dumpster, unzipped his pockets - forever grateful to have found a pair of shorts that happened to have this feature in a dumpster - and retrieved the buried contents. Plastic bag after plastic bag of pure, crystalline, translucent, pristine, glimmering, pearly-white with a faint tint of azure, diamond-like, methamphetamine.
As he was counting the ounces of crank, Alexis couldn't help but notice the fairly loud assortment of television screens in the newspaper shop right across the street, which had seemed to encapsulate everyone else in the herd of passersby, "Good Evening, Green White and Blue patriots! I am your host Stefan Phillips, bringing you the latest for tonight's report forrrrr One Merconia News Network!"
An enthusiastic jingle echoed from the blaring speakers, as the titular colors of the national flag gleamed on the faces of the upright audience. The flashy broadcast seamlessly transitioned to footage of what appeared little more than an inferno - burning cars, broken windows, bodies laying, a hubbub of rioters and police exchanging fire.
"Chaos in Soltierra! The bloodthirsty communist regime has MURDERED yet another innocent in its savage war against its own kind.", a photograph of the executed Jimeno Afeitado emerged on one side of the screen over the video as Stefan continued, "This CARNAGE started out as but a peaceful protest, demanding JUSTICE for the martyr of communist tyranny."
The television once more flashed as the video dissipated into an image of what appeared to be the courtroom that the so-called Afeitado Loco was sentenced in while a portrait of the Soltierran President Antonio Castille faded in the top-left corner of the screens, "Fearful of their own docile lackeys becoming human, the SATANIC, godless dictatorship of Antonio Castille ordered their crooks to OPEN FIRE on their own blood. This MASSACRE unfolded into full-blown ANARCHY all over the streets surrounding this courthouse, as the Soltierrans devolved into APES."
Simian screeches were played in the background, while more aerial footage of the unrest unfolding in the Solmaran peninsula was displayed. Oh what the hell... They penning us up and still get a huge audience. Alex reflected, albeit himself being no less intrigued with the extravagant visuals and unhinged oration narrated by Philips. Eh, it'll take a few minutes for the others to get here anyway.
Soon enough, amidst the transitions between video, still frames, and an overzealous Stefan, an audio recording in full Estredenan took the acoustic spotlight. Though after the first words, "Señor Castille..." the transmission was subsumed by an Abenzian dub.
"...Mr Castille, it's a total bloodbath. Forty-two hundred dead and fifty-one hundred injured. This doesn't look good for us."
"Yeah right...", Alex never took too much attention to the shadow Merconia cast over Solmara, but he couldn't help but roll his eyes and mutter to himself. Some among the captivated crowd began looking at each other, their faces an assortment ranging from mouths agape at such savagery, to inquisitive eyes emitting signs of skepticism. Not that it mattered, Ziconeans were street-sweepers, coal miners, warehouse workers, hookers - this jeery news host was speaking to the people with real lives in the actual cities.
"From the words of the communist BLIGHT themselves.", Stefan Phillips' high-cheeked long-nosed partly-wrinkled face crunched up as he flared his nostrils and furrowed his thin, silvery eyebrows, "This is just the beginning... they won't stop when they turn Soltierra back to the stone age. They stand against the very values of XAVIET CIVILIZATION! When one country falls, the rest will follow. Like DOMINOES!"
A visual graphic of a bordered map of the far east of Avaris - Solmara and Kanten - overtook the screens. Everything was unlabeled, bar Merconia, and grey - bar the Soltierra, Cierrida, Maroneda, and Diara, highlighted in a blood red. Promptly, the unmarked territories one by one morphed into the same crimson - until the boundaries of Merconia were surrounded by a sea of carmine.
"They will turn this PROSPEROUS civilization that we have built with our own bare hands over Kanten into a SH*THOLE of gangsters and animals!"
From the corner of his eye, Alex noticed in the alley adjacent to the newspaper store an emaciated and sore-covered junkie viciously beating another hoodlum within an inch of his life with a crowbar - before snatching a teenth of crack from his cadaver and jolting off.
"May we stamp out the SCOURGE, so to thrive for eternity.", if there was one thing Alex could commend, it was the ostentatious manner in which the newsreel transitioned between clips; the rubricated map of Kanten and Solmara zoomed into the unchanged grey outline of Merconia, before phasing into footage of the similarly ashen pavement of an airfield. The camera panned out, revealing arrays of state-of-the-art Apaches, drones, and stealth bombers - the technological terrors diagonally rested, their soulless desire for the carnal smell of burnt flesh discernable through the silver screen, "A fateful ARBITRATION awaits the land of red mayhem. May God, and his apostle Axon, bless Merconia!"
A subsequent patriotic jingle blasted through the televised speakers amidst another gleam of the Merconian vexillological colors, hammering down the conclusive proclamation for the millions tuned in nationwide. Abruptly, a slight warmth conducted into Alex's shoulder, "You got the stuff?"
The boy turned and looked up, his face parallel to that of a tall but youthful, shaven man donning a light grey trenchcoat and a matching fedora. On his breast pocket, one could observe a metallic painted pin of a cross puncturing a rose - the insignia of the Tripoulis gang. Alexis instinctively clumped together all the zip locks he had lying around until then. He reached his loaded hands up to the mafioso, avoiding eye contact, "Um, that was all that he had."
"And that's all we need from you. Not bad!", the man patted the scruffy tuft atop Alex's scalp before stopping to count, "Five... Six... Seven... Seven ounces. How on Avaris you fit that much in your pockets?"
A shrug was all the mobster got as a response. I ask myself that too. Not that it mattered, the real deal - the casus belli for all of this - surfaced as the Tripoulis racketeer reached for one of his back pockets, before tossing the modest bundle of dough that the boy jumped in miserly fashion to claim.
"Help yourself for the night, kid...", the man looking down but away from Alex's gaze amidst a brief pause before retorting, "Meet up here tomorrow morning, I'll let you know who to go after next."
"Thank you... Mr. Varkáris."
Before Alex looked back up, the enigmatic grey-clad envoy had dissipated without a trace.
----
9:00 PM
Whether or not the sun loomed over the horizon and distributed its gleam throughout the orange haze, the narrow walkways that served the ghetto's capillaries were congested with human flocks going about their business. Indeed, just as the only real difference between back alleys and nominal streets was the likelihood of dead-ends, that between night and day in Agnos was whether one could clearly hear the chopping of helicopter and drone blades. Past twilight, the surveillance aircraft that kept the Merconian state's watchful eye over the sardine cans they packed in the bottom feeders hovered close enough to the terra firma to manifest as a constant background noise. Hearing the rhythm emanating from the heavens almost every night rendered its overarching presence vapid. To the airborne wardens, this entire urban amalgamation amounted to little more than a rathole.
Alex seldom let his gaze drift away from the hard cash clenched firmly in his paws as he strolled along the furthest edge of the hectic nighttime walkways, careful not to be ensnared in eye contact with any would-be thugs amongst the rabble. His march was continual, maintaining the constant peripheral visibility of the premises to his side. Just a little further.
Minutes of trekking passed until the wall of properties and apartment blocks that grazed his shoulder dissipated, their presence supplanted by a faint breeze. Alexis turned his view to the vacuum between the line of buildings - it was no alleyway, for it spanned the width of a medium-sized apartment building. Inhabiting the space was an open perimeter outlined by pikes of embedded scaffold prodding out the ground and charred brick ruinations. The buildings flanking the area had severe scorch marks and exposed scaffolding frames. Indeed, a tenement used to stand there - until six years ago, when the ghetto watchmen enforced zoning laws on the allegedly unapproved property via means of haphazard aerial bombardment.
Nevertheless, the ruins were an anomaly of open space in the condensed borough - a welcome one, suitable for recreation. A handful of spirited youth were entrenched in a game of kickball, makeshift scrap heaps serving as the goalposts.
Alex tacitly halted adjacent to a standing segment of derelict masonry in the corner of the perimeter, observing the group of broadly familiar faces as he pocketed the wad of credits. The match seemed to have been wrapping up, as one of the boys' faces lit up as he noticed the passerby. The two locked eyes in recognition of one another, before bridging their distance.
"Alexis!", the acquaintance converged with open, sleeveless, arms. His face was beaded with perspiration, the olive skin tone amalgamated with a reddish hue.
"Hey, Theo.", the stone-cold aura exuded from Alex's form was enveloped by the warmth of Theo's embrace, thawing within the hearth of cordiality, "How you doing?"
"Agh, you shoulda been here just a lil' earlier... man. Tyrus over there...", the fruitless attempt at constraining a boisterous guffaw merely generated a kettle-like squeak, "He, God, he-", Theo turned to point at one of the hovering specters, indicatively surveillance drones by the four vaguely visible rotors, "I can't... hah, he was this close to knocking one of those down."
Theo pinched his fingers to emphasize just how narrow the tightrope the aforementioned friend walked between humorous endeavor and becoming a statistic in Merconian police killing records. Alex displayed little more than a soft smile coupled with a gentle "Heh...", as his compatriot cackled on the ground in amusem*nt. Upon recovery, Theo cut straight to the chase, "Hey, you up for a round?"
Alex shook his head. The sudden response took Theo by surprise, "Nah, ain't no way an MVP says no... You got today's dough, right? What else you gotta do?"
"Well...", Alex nonchalantly tapped the side pocket wherein he stored his earnings in a zipped-up leather pouch. Its protective layering stashed far more than just those from today's errands. Without hesitation, Alexis drew out a few credits worth with his free hand, "Get yourself something to eat."
"Damn... was gonna ask you where we'd go out tonight but agh.", Theo cautiously plucked the bill, "So you gonna be out that late? Which means..."
"Yeah.", their eyes locked with profuse sharpness, the invisible daggers penetrating each other's skulls to quasi-telepathically convey what was to be implied. The black market? The black market.
"Yo Theo! We startin' a new round. You and Alexis playin'?", one of the kids in the scrap-heap football pitch called out. Theo broke their mutual astral link to gesture a "T" shape with his arms, "He just passing by, will be there in a sec!"
Bearing the few responsive groans, Theo turned back to Alex with his voice diluted to a murmur, "You... you ain't gonna like, ugh. Y'know the saying, 'dealers don't do', right?"
"Whoa whoa whoa...", Alex harmoniously swung his head and flailed his arms in crisscrossed. Theo's heart teetering on the margin of sinking had ascended back to relative normalcy for which he exhaled in relief, before resuming inquiry, "So... whatchu getting?"
Alexis promptly gestured his fingers to mimic the form of a handgun, "...Can't be too safe in Agnos."
A silence ensued between the duo as gravity dawned.
"Y-you serious? Like, deadass? For... for real? On Axo-?"
"-Yes.", Alex leaned forth in a hushed tone, "I- they... giving me riskier jobs. Yet I'm no footsoldier... no guns for errand boys. But still I gotta- I gotta have one."
Unease raced through the gears of Theo's mind as he panned Alexis dead in the eye. "I uhh... I don't got nothing tomorrow. Yeah... Imma wait for you to get back- to eat. Uh, some vendors still should be open. Just, just stay safe 'aight?"
"Promise.", Alex's gaze lowered.
"On Axon.", Theo reached out his hand at a lofty angle, "Don't leave me hanging."
Alex clasped the extended appendage, before being pulled up close by his confidant into a half-embrace. Without another word, Theo shifted his attention to the cluster of runts dying to kickstart a revamped game. Unmoven, all the momentum in Alex's cadaver had shifted to his mind, left asunder by the conflicting weights of his burdens. I- I'll be putting a bigger target on my back... Sh*t. But I- where else do I go? Who else? I need this. Just a Glock, shouldn't be hard to find... right? A few blocks down, I owe Tripoulis this much. I mean- I won't just be protecting myself... others... can be safer too.
A moderate interval passed before he vigorously shook his head to snap back his consciousness. A Glock and a few mags... A couple grand should do. Reinvigorated, Alex strode forward as if his earlier marching had only been momentarily interrupted. Psyche disconnected from the adjacent recreational ruins. From the adjoining street and its hustling denizens. From the towering edifices mushed together. From the abyss that encompassed the horizon, devoid of stars by the mercy of smog. From the unremitting whirring of rotary blades and the haunting eye that permeated their specter. Nothing in the corporeal plane existed - the only spatial-temporal dimension was forward.
The march persisted for a thorough three seconds before Alex's figure crashed with one that had been trekking in an antithetical direction.
"My fault!", the collapsed persons atoned in unison. Alex, halfway regaining his composure, attained a clearer glance at his counterpart. Her navy blue pleated overall skirt and white buttoned-up full-sleeve blouse stood out among the unkempt tatters one would be most accustomed to. She had light-brown hair that extended loosely far below her shoulders, while her eyes exhibited a dark blue hue. A quick glimpse was all Alexis needed for his brain to click.
"Sofia!", he candidly identified before shrouding his face with a palm, "Uhm... Yeah, that's on me. Didn't see you."
Unfazed, Sofia hoisted herself back into a vertical posture, brushing off any likely grime before chortling, "Eh, was gonna look for you anyway."
Alex's facial expression brightened up with the remark, "Uh, I- i-it, erm, it's unusual to see you out this early... Marinitis Seafood closes later, no?"
"Nah. Just me and some other folk laid off for the night. Dunno why.", Sofia registered she still had her nametag pinned on her attire, promptly detaching the article and rendering it clenched in her fist. At upright stance, she loomed a substantial five centimeters over the disheveled boy in front of her.
"That's... interesting.", Alex scratched his hair, "So uh, nothing... serious happen today? Anyone mess with you-"
Sofia cut him off, "Look, I'm fine. The food ain't fish guts, so nobody got no reason to be after a random ass waitress... Okay well... things did get a little rowdy. Though always 'cause the TVs play the news..."
Alexis jolted to sobriety, "You- you heard what they were saying?"
"I don't listen in on customer argume-"
"The news, Sofia."
"Oh right, yeah.", Sofia paused, "Stuff about... Sol-something. Solt... ugh. First time hearing that country."
"Mmhm", Alexis looked up to gaze upon the five-story shoddy tenements that loomed over the open space, "...I-I think we may be going to war."
"Pfft...", Sofia nonchalantly shrugged, "Like anything's gonna change?"
A hesitation to converse lingered for several moments as Alex unlatched a lock embedded deep in his recesses of recollection, "I don't remember her... Ma... that much. But- I do remember that story. One she always repeated. About her... uhh... grandpa. Yeah, looong ago... They came for him, and... th-they took him away. Far away. ...Lan-gosta, that-that's where he went. That's where so many went. An-and so few came back..."
"Damn...", Sofia's eyes radiated an amalgamate of intrigue, pity, and bewilderment.
"Dunno how I remember that... I, don't want to remember... but I also do."
"Was gonna ask how'd you remember... given how long-... nevermind. Sorry...", Sofia inhaled acutely to ease up tension, before resting her hand on Alex's shoulder, "Look, they ain't gonna snatch some random ass boy off the streets over this. I mean if they do... Imma give 'em some problems."
"I guess... Still tho- fairly sure L-Langosta is somewhere around that place they attacking now. Is it?..", Alexis realized the blank glance Sofia was giving, "...Huh, thought they'd teachsometh-"
Immediately he felt obligated to retract such a ludicrous assertion the microinstant Sofia's composure keeled over in a hysterical convulsion that neared asphyxiation, "Say *huff* say that again? School *huff* ...teaching anything? Might as well jump the crack dealing bandwagon...", she allowed her respiratory system to recuperate, "...Heh, I really can't tell which crap that they saying is cap. Really expect us to believe the asshats who threw us here did so with flowers and picnics? Not that it matters, you can get full hundos every test- but if you don't got no job experience... have fun cleaning sewers. Y'know what I mean- kinda?"
Amidst the quotidian tirade that was inevitable in every interaction they had, Alex provided his constructive input by silently nodding each successive sentence. Sofia continued, regardless of any verbal reaction, "Like seriously, why 6 in the morning? Why 12 hours of dogwater? Can't a zeak enjoy some sleep? Argh, I wanna do what you do man..."
"You don't mean?"
"I'm tired of these uniforms. Tired of momma thinking going through more hell will make this hell any less, y'know, hellish."
Oh things can get worse... so much worse. Alex was incapable of stomaching the vision of her sleek outfit reduced to lice-infested rags, her pristine face caked in grime and blood, "I... maybe you shouldn-"
An eccentric buzzing sound began vibrating out of the purse Alex had just noticed had been suspended from Sofia's shoulder, "One sec... Oh, hey momma... No no, I'm fine... Wait... Wait what..."
Eavesdropping on a clearly personal phone call was a margin beyond the realm of comfort Alexis sustained, more so than violent racketeering for a Dellogolu-allied syndicate.
"Now? Just a few more minutes, please... Hmph...", whatever conflict Sofia was engulfed in, it was apparent her defiance was but a futility against the impending penumbra of tiger parenting. A few stammers and grunts amidst an increasingly recoiled facial contortion passed before she hung up and murmured in defeat, "Sorry about that-"
"No, if you have to go, then well... yeah."
Following a mutual embrace that trodded the temporal tightrope of brief and extensive, Sofia gave a send-off "See you tomorrow." before sprinting into the immutable sea of pedestrians against which their own grievances were negligible drops.
More offputting than the despairing inescapability of existence was the fact that the others already concluded another matchup, Theo sitting comfortably crisscrossed on a remnant brick ledge with intent eyes, "Bro, you already that close... why don't you go full measure?"
"Theo, do you mind?", Alex discontinued his acquaintance's remark, "I already got a big enough target on my ass as is. Don't need to add someone else to it."
"Ataville boy zeaks don't give a sh*t if you just homies or h*e-mes, if they onto you they gonna cap everyone you know... no matter what.", Theo shrugged before grasping a stray brick, "Seems to me she up to all that. Y'know what I'm saying?"
"I- She doesn't know know the gutter.", Alex contemplated when, if ever, to disclose the wider picture, "I'll... get there. Some time. When I can make sure her... everyone's... safety."
Theo was reminded of the just-then interrupted objective his cohort was in the midst of pursuing, '"You right... Well, don't just stand there with all those racks hanging. Y'know where off to, right?"
------
10:00 PM
The concentration of city dwellers seemingly diminished upon each street Alex had elapsed. The audial dominance of reverberating chatter diluting upon every turn, superseded by the ominous backdrop of aerial engine humming. The more each streetlight flickered the deeper he trudged forth.
A good sign for one headed to the underground arms market.
Alex descended further into the underbelly within an underbelly, keen to take notice of - and consciously avoiding - the overarching hymn the drones sung from the heavens. As he navigated the downtrodden maze of alleys, his person had stumbled across a peculiar venue - one devoid of illumination bar a singular flaring lamp post, devoid of fauna and flora bar a couple of shadowy pedestrians making their way to the less desolate walkways.
Even without a clear view of whatever company may skulk in the darkness, Alex felt unease in the vicinity of such void yet simultaneously felt a tug of intrigue - like a celestial object in the presence of a singularity. He scurried to the cover of a dumpster present along the opposite corner of the street convergence, examining the shadows from his perceived safety. This place hella off...
Lurking behind the fog of shade beneath the ledge of a dimly lit tenement two doors removed from the intersection, a trio of gangsters were slouched around a shaded table, immersed in some sort of hushed exchange. One amongst them, eying that recognizable thatch of hair, pronounced a raspy whisper, "Hey... you see that?"
"Yeah, Nik? What abo-", another constituent of the triad remarked. A grin contorted on the obscured face of the namedropped Nikitos, "Ditch running all over the west side... that fiend ain't as smart as I thought. Who'dve thought he'd waddle onto our turf?"
This feels like... not the right street. Before the silhouettes could unfurl their firearms, Alexis disappeared into the main road. The sudden nature of such departure took the gangb*ngers by surprise, their instantaneous paralysis disrupted by an aghast Nik snapping, "Hey, don't just stand there-tail his ass!"
Sensing being pursued but uncertain of the nature, Alex continued his hike along the thoroughfare where at the very minimum there persisted luminescence and the company of streetgoers. Despite trodding with caution, however, he had failed to notice the leather jacket-donning ruffians shallowly attempting to blend with the rabble of pedestrians by concealing their arms and maintaining proximity to the shaded storefronts as their eyes glued onto the target. The alternate thug, directly behind Nik, affirmed what had previously been established, "Short, scrawny, brown-lookin' messy hair... checks out."
A tingle began emanating down Alex's spine, as the further he trekked, the less alone he felt. Yeah, no... someone's out there. Who though? He inconspicuously panned with utmost utilization of peripheral perception, cautious to make it appear to be casual head turns apart of an unassuming late-night walk. The three silhouettes longingly sauntering their abyssal habitat activated an overwhelming red flag. Sh*t, that guy... is he back already?
Alex gradually accelerated his pace, keeping watch of plausible obstacles to seek sanctuary. The inconsistent visibility of the boy took its toll on the patience of one of the goons irritably divulged his possession of an M4 submachine gun and emptied out a round unto the terrain encircling Alexis.
*BANG BANG BANG*
"WHAT THE F*CK IOSIF.", Nik howled, before begrudgingly accepting their cover had been blown in an equivalently thunderous spectacle as the discharge of lead given, "Ugh... just get him. Aim for his legs, wouldya!"
The deafening screech gunpowder unleashed to the world as it foregone its pent-up resentment for life itself had rendered itself background nose for Alexis by now. To freeze, to cower in terror and tremble in fetal form - that was a means to convene with the grim reaper one's acceptance to its cold embrace. To survive was to recognize that irresolute cracking and leap directly into a jerked flight, carried in a nigh trancelike manner by the forces of the indomitable will to endure. Under the nocturnal gloom, the web of walkways along the Agnos underbelly morphed into a labyrinth for Alex to navigate subconsciously while simultaneously impeding on the desires of the armed assailants now trailing his every move.
Each consecutive moment, a bullet ricocheted onto the ground right where Alex had been just a second prior. Dim as the environment may have been, had he not been racing in a zig-zag motion, there'd have been no light whatsoever within the clasp of a pure void. At least the pedestrians knew to clear the way and roam as close to the parlor walls as possible, providing some range for such swiveling.
"Hold still for one damn moment you-", Iosif howled as he indiscriminately unloaded a whole magazine of his colt into the shadowy blot ahead of him in hopes of at minimum one slug landing a hit.
Just a little more. In the hope the pursuers were accustomed to running straight and aimlessly firing, Alex dedicated all his cards to an uncertain gamble, abruptly swerving right to a particularly shadowy back alley among the many that had already been elapsed. Back pressed against a brick wall, he carefully peered his gaze to the main street as the gunmen obtusely passed over. Phew.
Heart pulsating at a rate synonymous with the overwhelming ruckus of semi-automatic fire, Alex slid down with his back still glued to the masonry to license convalescence for his legs. Maybe... I can climb onto that. Alex gazed upon the rectangular tube of corroded iron duct that positioned itself a vein of the ramshackle store parallel to his perspective. Only for such ponderance to shatter like glass upon the auditory sensation of rebounding footsteps. Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t... Think fast. Alex's view shifted to the mound of litter across from him.
"Hmmm, I don't see no punk here, Nik.", the third wheel of the gunmen sighed, his voice edging nearer toward the corridor. Alex's heart raced ever so expeditiously as the gravelly remarks felt closer and closer. Please... listen to him. Just... leave.
"Coulda swore I heard somethin' here. Coulda sworn...", Iosif rested his palm on his shaven scalp, scratching away imaginary lice in a futile effort to reinvigorate a logical deduction within cranial cobwebs. Chest already against the concrete, Alex's heart effectively sunk below the world's surface as the vocals did not dampen.
"Hold on-", Nik extended his arms to block both goons from hopping to the next alleyway, "The 'copters kinda loud, you agree? They after him too?"
The other two palpably nodded, before cautiously wading to the rear of Nikitos, who furtively disclosed a wooden baton he stored on his person. Beneath burdensome layers of scrap, nutriment reduced to rot, animal carcasses, plastics of solid and amorphous variety - Alex was entrenched in an intangible weight, that of dread. H-how did they?...
He couldn't conclude his line of thought before a concussive blow pulverized his calves. The compact layer of assorted waste had absolutely zero cushioning effect against the blunt prodding, the agony jabbing across his body like an electric pulse. A subsequent pummel ravaged the knee, followed by one that befell his chest. Sealing his maw shut, Alex absorbed the excruciating sensation through severe facial contortion and mental expletives. Not that withholding a howl made the difference, the rod cutting an incomplete halfway into the litter pile had sufficed.
Immediately, Alex felt his whole torso tugged against the cradle of gravity, as an indecipherable swarm of arms descended onto his form. He struggled valiantly - pinching, scratching, biting, kicking wherever he had the ability. Had the scenario been a bit less lopsided, perhaps there would have been some way to conceive a path of liberation from the yoke of incapacitation. Iosif, who constrained Alexis in an unforgiving headlock, queried his benefactor, "We got him now, you positive this is the runt?"
"You were a bad shot away from killing him and only now wanna check?", Nik bashed his own head in vexation, "Yes, that's the runt. Now try not to knock him out yet... Elias, check him."
On cue, the instructed assailant patted down Alex's body, emptying his pockets and auditing whatever may have lurked beneath the tattered white tunic he sported. "No dope, but uhh...", Elias examined a zipper pouch discovered in the depths of Alex's shorts, unveiling the remarkable stack of cash to the outer world it had been concealed from, "...a whole lotta dough."
Why... Just, why right before I could protect myself from this very situation? Alex's conscience begged for something, anything, to provide a rationale - some closure. One minute he was walking, the next, left to the mercy of thugs. The same ones he messed with, ones he knew were as devoid of soul as the Merconian wardens, now having ample reason to disproportionately reciprocate the favor. But I wasn't walking alone... I've been in more suspicious places - why now? It was difficult to enter a more disorienting state. Well, before Iosif lifted Alex's poor body and swung him upside down, recklessly jerking him to empty what little remained on him, like a piggy bank.
Appearing but a blur that articulated vague muffles in a blizzard of ringing from Alex's viewpoint, Nik reluctantly accepted the confiscated stack of money, "That ain't worth half as much what he still owes... Y'know I clearly said I was gonna bring 'em the dope that'd been robbed- I don't see no crystal anywhere... sh*t."
Nik adjusted his direction of sight from the thugs to Alex himself, veering the bat behind his back, "Aight, you already know where we going with this. Just, make it easier for yourself and tell us where you took that dope."
Nothing resembling any sound wave escaped Alex's tightly sealed maw. The gangsters basked restlessly in the whirring of half-functional street lights, the footsteps of desensitized bystanders casually trodding past the unremarkable alleyway confrontation, the rattling of overhead motors seemingly ignorant of what was plainly in view.
"Not the talkative kind... aight.", an utterly disgruntled Nik swung his club square in the solar plexus. Finally, some noise emitted from Alex, albeit purely in the form of an agonized exhalation as the boy keeled forward. The increasingly impatient ruffian raised his bad once again, "Let's start off easy... Who put you up to this?"
A successive bash descended upon Alex's back, and yet the only language he engaged with was the universal expression of wincing, "Come on, I know you ain't alone. No street rat knows the game unless they in it. Who you working for? Tripoulis? Those Dellogolu-d*ckriders?"
Bludgeoning followed each sentence, Alex fully curled in fetal form atop the cold and unforgiving pavement, siphoning away the warmth of his carcass in tandem with the fleeting light of his soul. Figure it'd come to this... Really? The trash lying in plain sight? Why didn't I climb that drainage... A peculiar image manifested in the depths of his psyche. Not of cerebral recollections of winding alleyways, nor expletives howled by assailants. Not of the delicacies sold for cheap on street venues, nor thrusting a rubber kicking ball into a metal scrap goalpost. Nor even the peers who generated warmth in the ramshackle, not even her. Rather, he felt his spirit observing an empty apartment. A dining table lined up with supper, but devoid of mouths to consume such. On the other side of a doorless aperture, a bed tentatively blanketed with warm rags, but no soul to warm. A hazy filter brought on a yellowish-bluish tint, the mental tour almost liminal in nature.
Lasering on any particular detail rendered such psychological visualization increasingly indecipherable. But, whatever had been flowing through the subconscious of Alexis, it had wholly dissipated when the pulsating thrashes abruptly halted.
The cessation of interrogative lashing inadvertently snapped Alex out of the delirium, wherein he immediately noticed the uncomfortable shade of crimson his torturer's face had morphed to, "God-DAMMIT! What kinda game is going on here?"
Without hesitation, Nik dropped his truncheon and unsheathed his Beretta, pressing the cold nozzle against Alex's forehead, "We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. The choice of yours..."
"Blow that zeak's brains out!", Iosif cheered as he lifted the boy onto his knees.
Alex let forth an unambiguously defiant glare, having regained his alertness. All it took was a man's finger receding a centimeter for the infinitesimally thin tether that latched his being to the mortal plane to be severed in full. On the precipice of the eternity that ensued beyond the realm of life, worldly affairs hardly mattered at all. The burdens of confinement, hunger, sorrow - irrelevant. Despite being physically restrained from movement at that point, Alex felt less restrained in spirit than he had ever had when roaming the downtrodden cesspool of Agnos.
Nik's clenched hand began to tremor the longer the uncaring silent stare Alex held persisted, "Arrgghhh!", impatiently, he pulled away the pistol, leaving an indent of the barrel, "You-you gonna talk eventually."
"Why didn't... oh ye-", Elias chided, much to Nik's discontent, "So... we take him back?"
"Ooh, I be dying for another good ol' fashioned interrogation!", Iosif beamed, still constricting a motionless, expressionless Alexis.
"We went over this, you sh*theads! Yes...", Nik gripped Alex's chin and tugged him closer to get a clearer examination of his face. His demeanor shifted 180 degrees both angularly and temperature-wise, as the boiling rage chilled into cold evaluation, "If he don't tell us where the crystal at... it won't be the end of the world. This dog, I'm for real starting to see what the Boss meant. The, ah, uses."
The assistant thugs nodded blankly as Nik slowly grinned. New chains seemingly forged in reinforcement of the outstretched harness of life that Alex momentarily had hoped would have failed, a prospect for which realization dawned was off the table for the captors. The grills on Nik's teeth became uncomfortably discernible as he shifted to directly addressing the boy, "You got skills, lil' zeak. We don't pass up on big racks... ripping off our ops. Dontchu worry about running all day- we gonna help you earn some, ah, new... skills. Say, how good are you around cameras?"
Alex's face had effectively been siphoned of color, whether he lacked the desire to muster a response or the fundamental capability was irrelevant. The goons exchanged sneers as Nikitos let go of the boy's face and ran his fingers up to his hair, violently yanking it, "Ah, you gonna find out soon enough. You haven't lived yet... we giving you a purpose, a real one."
It happened so suddenly.
One moment, he was being hauled off to the unholiest gutters not even a demon would venture towards.
The next, there were three lifeless corpses surrounding his entirely petrified form. Splatters of crimson doused him head to toe, staining his rags for perpetuity. All audial sensation was drowned out by a resonant, acute, almost deafening ringing that drilled into his cerebrum each passing second. Not merely the vocal chord had been silenced, but the capacity to formulate mental comprehensions had been stifled in an overloaded sensory disposition.
"Sorry about, well, all of that.", a voice remarkably soft-spoken and soprano in pitch managed to flow through the dampening tinnitus that had subsumed the accompanying footsteps. Alexis, who was unmoven and on his knees like a marble religious statue, made no alterations to his tangible composure as she entered his field of vision. She was elevated in stature, donning what seemed to be a vanta-black flapper dress underneath a dark maroon trucker coat - still smoldering Glock firmly grasped by both hands.
The coupling of the nighttime penumbra and shell shock disorientation hindered Alex's perception of the pale ivory skin pigmentation, dirty blond hair that befell her shoulders, or the playful smile molded on her face. From his point of view, it appeared as if an armed silhouette was trudging towards his being. The figure subsequently reached out an extended hand right before his eyes.
"You're safe now...", her vocals flowed out like a hymn. Like water washing against a chunk of ice, thawing at the immobile disposition that entrapped Alex's senses. What had cascaded past the barrier subsuming everything else in protracted ringing was naught the voice of an unfamiliar savior.
Encased in his own subconscious, the voice of his mother echoed continually. "You're always with me, Alexis. I'm right here..." The recollections and the words reverberating from beyond the mind's outer walls, melded seamlessly into a boundless stream.
Just as quick as the hoodlums were wasted, the state of shock Alex was imbued in had disintegrated as the warm flow thrashed against sensory permafrost. Huh- what just... He jolted from his sedentary kneel, now comprehending the graphic scene encircling him. The welcoming palm in front of him. Who...
"Come on, my hand's starting to hurt.", the perceptive fog shrouding the woman's face dissipated, allowing Alexis a clearer glimpse. Something about her felt... warm. As if he could throw in all his cards of trust with her. As if he recognized her, in spite of there having been no precedented interaction. Safe...
His eyes darted all over the place, still running a fight-or-flight ethos. But the reluctance was ephemeral, he reached his paw to grasp that which this enigmatic figure was offering. Quickly, she reeled Alex's whole body in, physically standing him upright. Within the animated embrace, Alexis let out a shallow but decipherable murmur, "...H-hello."
"Hello to you... thought it would've taken a bit longer for those chops to work again.", she chuckled, before noting the still-present reluctance in the boy's demeanor, "Ohh, right. You don't have a clue who I am, and probably would like an introduction."
Alex felt his body unconsciously being carried further into the tenebrous depths of the alleyway; following the direction his rescuer, still grasping his hand, was trodding, "Just, Madeline. You?"
Do I trust her?... What about the others? Agh, the Ataville boys prolly onto me right now... Not like that's gonna change if I tell her... "A-Alexis... Alex."
"Glad we're getting to know each other, Alex. We may need to, ah, speed up a little. I know where to that's safe."
------
June 24, 2024
11:00 PM
???, Merconia
"Sir!", an envoy thrust the office entrance wide open in between bouts of hyperventilation.
Against the broad abyssal shade that encompassed the dimly illuminated den, very little could be made out of the silhouette inhabiting the desk at its centerpoint - even imbued by the beam of external light from the corridors.
Offput by the total lack of vocal responsiveness, the functionary continued, "Target 019284B has been retrieved! Now being escorted from Agnos as we speak."
The figure leaned forward with deliberation, his glasses gleaming a blinding white in reflection of the ray of extraneous luminescence, "His condition?"
"Sustained a few bruises... seemed to have been in a brawl right before apprehension."
The obscured man's brown hair entered the line of visibility as he slanted further, but his face was still shrouded - hidden beneath an interlaced finger tent over resting elbows, "Differ to the containment division... You are now dismissed."
"Affirmative, Director Eisen."
