Pra’avsk was most definitely bigger than what it seemed to be from the grand height of the temple; the buildings towered so high it would make one think they scraped the stratosphere itself, dwarfing anyone and anything found inhabiting the busy streets. Hundreds, maybe even thousands of people filled the wide main street of the city, stretching all the way from the centre of the city towards the outer mixed dockyard found beyond the city watch. High speed taxis cut the crowds into organised columns, running across rails inbuilt into the still damp paving of the streets, similar webs of monorails hung above at multiple levels, each carrying their own hanging train throughout their own routes around the city. In areas with less rails stood giant electronic billboards attached to commercial and business skyscrapers.
Advertisements gave colour to the grey and glass jungle, each dragging the consumers eyes into new worlds of temptation. Strange, central-like clothing seemed to have made it to this mainly industrial nation, intricacies of the traditional cloth and robe replaced with the simplicity and scarcity of clothing mimicking human fashion. It may be a new sense of fashion, yet it was one quickly adopted as to fit in with the preferences of the much richer and higher-class peoples of the commonwealth. Another advertisement called out, detailing these mediocre health advantages of this asteroid derived water; a pure, refreshing beverage bottled within the cleanest of plastic. Expensive.
Finally, a third portrait floated over the main street, it was much easier to look at as it contained a single image. A man dressed in traditional grey robes wrapped over one shoulder stood with such grandeur, smiling down on the crowds below. Words wrapped around his image: “Allow me to command your sector, it’s O-Kay to vote Kay!”
Yanyak chuckled at the play of words, it was such an annoying phrase, something that gave a chill down the spine when thought of, yet it stuck. It would stick for Yanyak at least. Maybe he will vote for him. Suddenly, the O-Kay smile was removed from sight as an announcement took over. This candidate had already agreed to give a talk about the foreign happenings of the coronation, taking place tonight live on this controversial news channel. Ah, yes, the Payemyndii. Yanyak remembered what he had seen live, the sudden murder of a man for what reason? It sickened him, angered him. In fact, he had come to the decision to have a stern talking to the next Payemyndii he would see, perhaps even a strong word.
He thudded against someone’s back, a person who had suddenly stopped walking in the middle of the busy flow of people, already wrapping around the two like a river around a stone. The man looked over his shoulder towards Yanyak, “Sorry, mate,” he spoke raising his voice to be heard over the crowds. This accent wasn’t local, nor was the look of this man, it looked more like a Payemyndii. Pale white skin contrasting against flat black hair, a dark blue kimono alongside a green hakama covered his body as an assault rifle hung from one shoulder. Upon further observation, the stock of this weapon bore an engravement of a fist; a religious symbol of binding, found only among Payemyndii people. Of course, he was one of them.
“Um…” Yanyak hastily called out just as the man was about to continue walking, causing him to leer over his shoulder once more.
“I apologised, ok? I thought I saw someone…” The man assured, hoping to avoid conflict within this foreign land,
“No! I-I mean, um, I have a question!” Yanyak stuttered, his mind slowly fogging at the idea of conversing with outsiders. “What do you think of your new queen?” he asked, speaking faster than usual, looking down at his own feet the whole time.
A strong laugh came back as reply, pulling the boy’s curious eyes out of his anxious fidgeting. The man had turned to face him, a giddy grin taking over his face as he leaned forward to force eye contact.
“We love her.” The man gave his answer following up with another grin before pivoting on his heels and disappearing into the crowd. Leaving behind the bewildered Yanyak, frozen on the spot as those three words echoed through his mind. Who is we? Once he had broken out from his thoughts, the man was gone. No, he can’t let that man go. There so many questions to ask, so many answers to receive, why in Lemascu’s name was a Payemyndii walking through the streets of Pra’avsk?
Yanyak stormed forth, the details of the man ingrained in his short-term memory; an assault rifle, pale skin, kimono and hakama… Right there. As if he was an advanced targeting A.I., Yanyak had found the man in question aimlessly wondering around, his head rotating around and around as he took in every sight, soon heading directly into an alleyway with purpose.
Bingo.
Without an ounce of consideration, without any prior thought, Yanyak pushed forward and slipped into the alleyway. His curiosity had completely overridden his usual careful, investigatory demeanour. And it had completely backfired. Within a matter of seconds Yanyak had found the world around him turn to a blur; the texture of concrete on the back of his head followed by a thumping pain from impact. A taste of metal entered Yanyak’s mouth, burnt metal. Once another second had passed, the blur had faded and curiosity had become panic. His target of knowledge held an expression of anger, or was it perhaps confusion? No, it was protocol. The barrel of the man’s bound weapon pushed into Yanyak’s mouth while a foot held him against the alleyway wall.
“Oi…” The man growled, squinting his deep blue eyes, “Who sent ya?” Yanyak mumbled intelligibly through a stuffed mouth, forcing further frustration as the pressure on his abdomen increased.
“I said who sent ya!?” He raised his voice louder, his eyes darting left to right to ensure he was outside of any unwanted gaze. “I’ll fuckin’ blow yer brains out, right? I ain’t dealin’ with this shit, who-“ He paused, realising the person he had thrown against a wall and held a gun to was the same awkward boy from the street. Eyes as wide as they could get, tears forming in the corners, and mumbling panicked apologies. The man pulled the gun out and stepped back, allowing Yanyak to fall to his knees in shock.
“Oi. Don’t think I’m lettin’ you go, kid.” He crouched down to meet Yanyak’s eyes, gun still pointed at him. “I won’t be surprised if these fuckers are forcin’ kids to do they work. Who sent ya?” His voice seemed to calm down, his expression returned to a neutral look as he looked the boy up and down, trying to figure out what he could possibly do.
Yanyak choked back his tears, wiping his nose clean as he spat the taste of metal from his mouth. “Lemascu, I guess?” He had no idea how to reply to such a demand, he didn’t really work for anyone. Mentioning Master Irr’ra would only make things worse, and he sure as hell didn’t work for his brother. Lemascu it is. Yanyak mentally begged for forgiveness as he realised what he had done, dragging his god into this predicament, such a blasphemous act.
“For fuck’s sake.” The man stood up, returning his weapon to his shoulder as he rubbed the back of his head in annoyance. “Of course you’re a student of her,” He crossed his arms, nodding to himself as the truth pieced itself together in his head, “You’re lucky we follow the same god.”
Yanyak’s eyes widened once again, this time in intrigue rather than fear. The Payemyndii have the same gods? He also worships Lemascu? How does he worship? Does this mean he can use flow? What temple is he a member of? Who’s his master? Questions continued to form exponentially, as Yanyak was exposed to something he had never experienced before. His mouth moved with no voice as he attempted to make sense of his thoughts, ordering what questions to ask first. The man simply stood cross armed with an annoyed look.
“Um-“ Yanyak had finally found the first question to ask but was instantaneously cut off by the man raising a hand in a ‘stop’ motion.
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“Shut it,” the man demanded, “I ain’t trustin’ you, so you’re stayin’ with me, kid.”
Yanyak nodded, ready to speak his turn.
“But you gotta shut up, I ain’t answerin’ no question” He turned away from Yanyak, jerking his head a little as a sign to follow as he walked further into the alleyway. Leaving a knowledge hungry Yanyak to silently oblige, forced to think back on how he had got himself into this position. It was something to meditate on for sure.
The alleyway stretched on much further than it appeared, the sides littered with large metallic bins, some empty, others overflowing with rotting waste. The sun was entirely obscured by the massive buildings lining each side, forcing the two to rely on their nearly accustomed eyes and faintly glowing lamps to navigate around the debris and creatures which stood in their way. At some points the alleyway branched off into multiple directions, snaking its way through the myriad of businesses, housing, and storage units. It was like a completely different world here, hidden from the light of day.
The man continued forward, slyly peeping around every corner as if looking for something yet didn’t let himself get distracted with the multiple turns and weaves. Yanyak couldn’t help but grow more and more curious as their walk continued on, there was so much to learn here, there were even people around which knew life in these areas. He was still too scared to ask questions with that man nearby, it wasn’t worth risking his life for small pockets of knowledge.
Finally, the two had reached the other end of the alleyway. It seemed far longer than a five-minute walk time had told, were they perhaps walking through a different dimension? The midday sun was blinding, forcing wide pupils to shrink painfully fast as the central park came to view. What a strange name for a park, it wasn’t even near the city centre, even then that wasn’t even central either. People still flooded the streets around the park, a population density far greater than the slums closer to the real centre of the city. By reflex, the man held his arm out to stop Yanyak’s pondered wandering as a train cut through their path.
“Alright, I’ll tell ya,” The man sighed, realising he should somewhat alleviate this kid’s curiosity, “I’m lookin’ for someone,”
Yanyak’s eyes brightened, snapping himself out of his trance as he stared eagerly at the man for his story, “Who?” he asked, struggling to hold back the quadruple ‘W’ questionnaire.
“A traitor,” The man continued, “disappeared seven years ago, we thought he was dead but suddenly...” he thought for a second, “I’m here on her majesty’s orders, gotta find this traitor,”
“Wow,” Yanyak blinked a few times, “your queen works fast,”
The man scoffed, shaking his head a little as the train had passed, allowing entry to the central park. “Name’s Leikasz, yours?” He turned slightly, expecting the wide-eyed kid to gladly release his name. But where did he go? Instinctively, Leikasz reached for his weapon, turning 180 degrees as his eyes scanned the park. This kid better not have disappeared into the crowd, he won’t allow the risk of someone giving up his presence.
“You fuckin’...” Leikasz sighed, lowering his guard once more as he saw the kid gawping at a statue. “Yep, it’s a dude.” He commented, looking up and down at such a triumphant pose of a man dressed in full armour. In fact, there was no facial detail at all, just a helmet attached to the rest of the suit of armour, designed perfectly to fit the person exactly as if it was just clothing.
“It’s the Irreguslayer! He’s a hero of the Metrii!” Yanyak corrected Leikasz like an angry teacher, “I want to be a hero just like this man,”
“A hero...” Leikasz muttered, “You really are ignorant,” he kept his words silent, avoiding the risk of pushing more questions to form in this kid's head. “I ain’t caring about some dead guy, we gotta go.” He returned to his usual demeanour, tapping the back of Yanyak’s head as means to goad him forward, “There’s a traitor to find.”
Once again, the two continued their wander, Yanyak enjoyed the sights of the multiple sources of greenery filling the park with a diversity of life. Birds made their songs as the sounds of the busy streets were just a faint background noise, a grey paved pathway slithered through the grass, branching to the many entrances, benches, and large clearings for public events. However, there were still excuses to throw holographic advertisements accompanying forks in the pathway, floating above the treeline, or obviously pasted on the sides of the small sheds and toilets dotted around the park. There was no escape.
Leikasz ignored everything of Yanyak’s interest, he focused on the pathway and the potential pathing that could take place. Silently putting himself in his target’s shoes, looking for a familiar symbol, a subtle sign, anything that could give some sort of a lead. “Nothing here, get goin’” He stated, moving directly towards a wooden weaved archway giving access to the ever-busy consumer promoted streets they were once a part of. Hesitantly, Yanyak followed, giving a final glance towards the statue of his role model.
“This is more like it!” Leikasz put his hands on his hips, proud of finally finding what looked to be a driveway into the dark recesses of the inter-building space,
“But this is just another alleyway,” Yanyak confirmed, peering into the darkness, “How could it be what you’re looking for?”
Leikasz laughed a bold, exaggerated laugh as he pointed to a small scratch chipped into the concrete, taking a very vague shape of a claw. “That’s the symbol of some group or whatever, they’ll know.”
“You want to ask a shady group for directions?” Yanyak questioned, obviously against this idea.
“You can always bugger off and let me deal with it,” Leikasz shrugged, already aware of how little a threat Yanyak can be; gladly giving a small wave as he began walking into the driveway, fading into the darkness.
Yanyak stood restlessly, he looked around the area, trains cutting through the crowds and whirring overhead. He stood on his toes to look over the sea of bobbing heads, more holographic screens, flashy images and catchphrases, a skyline consisting of glass and white concrete reflecting the sun and clouds to mimic a clear viewable sky.
“Lemascu protect me.” He muttered towards the sky’s reflection before spinning around and running into the darkness, chasing his temporary companion down while keeping a silent presence. He had to tread lightly and carefully; his rushed movements slowed to highly judged footfalls, lightly pressing his toes forward, feeling for any rubble or obstruction before committing to the step. He had to take his time while his eyes adjusted to the darkness, relying solely on touch and hearing to move forward. If this was some group’s hangout, how did they go in and out of the light without struggling like this? Surely, there must be some sort of light or something that would help them traverse in this darkness.
Shapes were finally recognisable in the darkness, broken wooden boxes, smashed bottles and lamps, abandoned home machinery. The place was definitely not used regularly, the remaining hanging lamps were completely empty of power, cobwebs took the place of the supposed light emission. There was no group in here, but by the way some of the rubble was pushed around, someone was present in here.
“He could be in trouble,” Yanyak said to himself, repeating the statement over and over as means of motivation. A method of triggering a flow state of mind, tapping into his real ability. His steps gradually grew heavier, an increasing strength pushed forward with each stride as his rate of advancement increased exponentially. Both arms lowered to either side of the body, hands clawed open as every muscle tensed into a stance of combat. A large, warehouse door awaited Yanyak’s approach within the darkness, propped open by an old, rusted pipe which appeared to have fused with the door through rusting alone. A voice echoed from within.
“Oi, oi, fucker.” Leikasz called out, vocally agitated through recognising a silhouette hiding in the darkness, hair folded upwards and clipped at the top of the head, a long trench coat, and boots resembling his own, “I knew you’re still kickin’ about, give up now an’ I won’t beat the shit into ya.” He paused, “Well, I will anyway but not as ‘ard. Come ‘ere.”
The figure stood completely still, not a single piece of the body moved, not even a natural sway through the shifting of weight, “Not now, I am busy,” a rusted voice replied, distorted by the countless slightly delayed echoes of the warehouse.
Yanyak had arrived just in time, a flow state achieved through his self-motivation. His green eyes glowed slightly in the darkness as his enhanced senses took every piece of sensory information in at once. He saw the glitter of thin threads sway slightly in the disturbed air, only to grow tight as soon as he arrived. The figure’s coat had definitely shrunk within the seconds that Yanyak had arrived, and now the strings had already surrounded Leikasz. He needed to act, now.
The best mode of action included a large surge of pain in his arms, lunging forward towards Leikasz as he activated his flow. The strings wrapped around a barrier encasing the foreigner and the student, as time passed the nature of the barrier became more visible as five hands connected to the kid’s back through thick arm-like tendrils. Simultaneously, blood spurted from Yanyak’s arms as his skin ruptured, as if a force located within his arms had attempted to burst out. All he could do was wince in pain, a small whimper escaped through his clenched teeth as the threads pulled tighter against his flow, Yanyak’s arms grew numb. The silhouette clicked its tongue in disappointment, disappearing further into the warehouse, bringing the threads with it.
A huge exhalation of relief and untensing echoed loudly through the building as Yanyak fell to his knees, surrounded by a small pool of his own blood.
“What the fuck was that, kid?” Leikasz asked, more concerned than shocked as he hurriedly ripped his sleeves off and reshaped them into makeshift bandages. “Ya could’a said ya can do flow, would’a really helped earlier,”
“It’s fine,” Yanyak sighed, “It hurts to use,”
“No fucking shit buddy, gimme your arms” Leikasz didn’t even wait for Yanyak to raise his trembling arms, wrapping them tightly with the makeshift bandages, preventing further blood loss and protecting them from any further damage. “Come on, kid, let’s get outta here,”
The two stood, witnessing the countless slices amongst the abandoned materials of the warehouse. Those threads were capable of slicing bodies like a hot knife through butter. It’d be best to get out fast in case that person returned, but both knew damn well they were already long gone.
“You sure you got it from here?” Leikasz asked, hesitant to let Yanyak stand unassisted.
“It’s okay, you have a traitor to hunt.” Yanyak panted, “I should get back to the temple,” He turned away from Leikasz, allowing his arms to droop with no control, both swinging side to side with his steps.
“Oi, kid,” Leikasz called out, waiting a moment for his ex-companion to look over his shoulder, “The coronation took place 3 weeks ago,” he stated, raising a hand with a slight good-bye wave, “I’ll see ya next time,”
Yanyak’s eyes and mouth both widened, hundreds of his questions were answered with one statement, while more questions formed far too unnecessary to the armed foreigner walking away into the crowds. They both valued knowledge, just as followers of Lemascu do, it was certainly impressive how Leikasz could give so many answers in one go. Another role model? Or a stepping stone in his self-discovery.