Amethyst and Frank stand before the museum, to Frank, its visage seems a lot bigger than he remembered, perhaps it has undergone some renovations.
At least, it definitely has additional décor and grandeur added on. The flight of stone stairs is now pure white, instead of the gray stone as before, the same for the columns that held up the stone pavilion.
Most notably, the previous gaudy plastic neon sign is replaced with stylish iron or perhaps copper letters: “Museum of the Mysteries of Past and Present.” written in four indenting rows, clearly highlighting the first letter of each: M, M, P, and P.
Many posters and informative tapestries hang around the entrance, detailing the newest exhibits and points of interest.
Amethyst, however, doesn’t much care to note the museum’s appearance. She looks at her sheathed hands, and taps her elbow blades together, producing only a soft thud.
She’s covered up, with... would these be counted as clothes?
If this is what it was like to wear them... I don’t like it.
She didn’t mind her elbow blades being covered, in a crowded environment such as this, it is hard to keep track of them at times, but her hands…
They feel strange.
It wasn’t possible for them to be tight enough to hurt her through her armor, and she shouldn’t even be able to feel them, but somehow, they still feel suffocating.
Their mere existence—a constant reminder of what led to her having to wear them, carrying nothing but negative associations with them.
No, that wasn’t true...
Orange... field of flowers... warmth on my cheeks...
Their coloration reminds her of that day, which Frank undoubtedly remembers too.
Suddenly, something moves her left arm slightly, and she flinches.
“Shall we go inside?”
Frank holds Amethyst’s hand for the first time, no longer having to settle for her wrist, the sheathed blade now in his gentle grip.
“Yes...”
If only I could hold him back…
They ascend the stairs and walk below the decorative bridge-like stone carving embedded above the automatic glass doors.
Inside, the roof is high like a palace, with banners, and navigation guidance hanging around the stone walls, it’s spacious although a fair bit of customers are present.
The museum is roughly divided into two parts: the left side dedicated to showcasing the Past, while the other is for the Present.
Frank pays for their entry, and they decide to start at the Past section. Hand in hand, they start browsing the museum.
Finding exhibitions detailing things about Earth’s multiple languages, nations, and literature.
Even having one ancient book from that era, with a damaged illegible cover and yellowed pages that are a lot fewer than one would expect.
A restoration of what its cover would have likely looked like is pictured before the square glass display, revealing its title to be: ‘The Farmhand Knight’.
It’s a book about chivalry, the origin of many expressions and concepts still in use to this day. Despite the work having been deemed as entirely fiction, with no basis on Earth’s real past. However, this novel’s cultural significance was enough to start a whole creed around this thought of Chivalry. A quite commendable oath to follow, but that just makes it that much easier to know it has no basis in reality.
Although, some few versed in the subject still insist that it details a real period, and further records of it have just not been discovered yet or survived the test of time.
Flora and fauna of Earth are extensively showcased, as are the many mysterious relations and similarities that can be drawn from animals discovered on other planets, or at Metropolis.
As they browse, some fans approach them, to take pictures or talk, though equally as many showed apprehension or despise to their presence. Amethyst and Frank keep to themselves unless approached, to not provoke or cause further conflicts with anyone, even if some seem to yearn for conflict with them.
Fortunately, it’s nothing they can’t talk, or ignore, their way out of.
They arrive at a familiar-looking statue, albeit much smaller, with many plaques and display cases around it forming a sort of circular themed area.
“The Red Goddess?”
“Are you interested?”
“Yeah.”
Amethyst begins to read the inscriptions and information set up around a small replica of the Goddess Plaza’s statue.
“The Red Goddess, originates from a fictional story, about a female person who may have lived some time in the past. It details her journey through a life wrought with disaster and hardship.
The story as it is known today is missing large chunks, especially from the middle, but the ending has survived mostly complete, which details her burial in a highly allegorical way, sending her into her final ‘Sanctum’.
Her resting place has been deducted to be the red giant sun Metropolis orbits around. Due to this, the bright red sun is central to this faith’s practice.
Unfortunately, the texts were damaged before they were documented in digital form, so the Goddess’ name is unknown.
All in all, it is considered a beautiful poetic piece, a descriptive ode for the Goddess, that remains relevant to this day, being the basis of all old-style poetry, leaving its indelible mark in Metropolitan customs, especially the rites and proceedings involved in a funeral.
To the surprise of many, the faith is still actively practiced today, albeit in small circles, a fact made more surprising, as religion as a whole has been outlawed in the Founding Texts for thousands of years.
In the past, when Red Goddess worship was at its all-time high, it was raised into contention that the Goddess Worshippers were breaking the law.
However, upon further perusal of the Founding Texts, a new small print was found in the original parchment, that allowed only this specific faith to be practiced.
After a public uproar that the radical faithful had defiled the texts in secret, it was proven to be false, as the ink was tested to be as old as the paper itself, which confirmed it to have always been there, unnoticed.
The particular reason for this specific inclusion, or who devised its addition, is unknown.
However, due to the very nature of the naming scheme of the areas of the city of Metropolis taking clear inspiration from the story of the Red Goddess, the legitimacy of this surprise wasn't a hard sell for the populace after the initial shock had worn off.”
Next to her, there’s an authentic replica of the original book confined in glass with an added description:
“You can read the modern interpretation of the book on our Gweb pages, with the middle part of the story carefully crafted to match the rest of the story with the collaboration of authors and historians, in this address...”
So, is the Red Goddess real, or is she made up...?
Amethyst moves on to the next bit Frank pointed out, which focuses on the details and practice of the Red Goddess faith:
“The faith focuses on appreciating every day we have left, that we have lived so far. Giving thanks to the Red Goddess for it, and praying to her for many good days still ahead for all.
The faith's practice apart from these thankful sermons is quite unconventional, as it mostly consists of helping each other through tough times, offering free psychological help and consultation free of charge and judgment to all citizens who need it.
In fact, many of their high priests are trained therapists, and along with their holy book, their reading consists of reciting verses from books consisting of psychological theory and practical application to patients.
The person who came up with this modern and broad application of religion is unknown, but it is safe to say that this approach was inspired by the many traumatic events of the story of the Red Goddess.
Many of their members have actually said as much, that they don’t believe that the Red Goddess is some higher power, just that she and her companion’s story inspires them to give back to the community, quickly pointing out it’s the story’s sentiment and the thought that draws them to help others, not some misplaced blind faith or delusion of its veracity.
The faith has formed into a non-profit organization, and apart from the required expenses to keep their services running, donates all of their money to other charitable organizations.”
Frank speaks, now at Amethyst’s side. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How the founders of Metropolis seemed to share the belief that all religion is bad.
And yet, they still allowed Red Goddess-related worship and proceedings as the only religion in some enigmatic offhanded comment.
Doesn’t get much more mysterious than that, doesn’t it?”
As Amethyst turns to Frank, a camera flash goes off. They both look in its direction and see a man between the age of a teenager and a young adult who waves at them and mouths: “Sorry!”
The photographer turns to his friends and grins strangely, Amethyst focuses her hearing.
“You dunce, now you made them see us.”
“What does it matter? What are they gonna do? I still got the picture.”
“It’s like I told you, despite her murdering that man, they didn’t even cut off her blades.”
“I can’t believe you spoke the truth, just how much favoritism can there be?”
“Just call it what it is, corruption, plain old corruption!”
“Maybe the blades are actually cut off, and the protectors are just for show, serving as a decoy?”
“They’re looking this way, act natural.”
“Man, what’s wrong with Metropolis? It’s like I always tell you, it all went to shit after Galactic Police and ISSA appeared.”
“Come on now, corruption I’ll believe, but you’ll have to try harder than that to make me a believer in your father’s conspiracies.”
“Yeah, while we’re at it, let’s just ignore the whole Spire Disaster and its long-term effects, shall we?”
“Stop yapping, we got the picture, let’s just get out of here.”
“Yes sir...”
Frank recognizes what Amethyst is doing and asks: “Trouble?”
“I’m not sure. Probably not, all they seemed to be after was a picture.”
“Hmm, maybe they’ll sell it to the press or start some drama in G-social media.”
Frank’s hand holds her sheathed blade again.
“Either way, it doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah...” Amethyst curves her hand toward Frank’s.
It’s fine… we can just ignore them…
I stood out even before… these… I shouldn’t feel any more out of place…
There are all sorts of strange and unique Sapients around, I’m just one of them.
Though… I haven’t seen anyone else wearing anything like mine.
They continue on the Past section, the rest of it is dedicated to Metropolis’ history, with a vast section on the Spire Disaster.
There’s a timeline of events, details about the Spires, a map of where they used to be around the world, tales of survivors, first-hand accounts, and information about the war that followed.
A section of questions that still remain unanswered is near the end, which are surprisingly many, despite the event’s recency in comparison to the rest of the Past exhibits.
They arrive back to the main lobby area, to their left, the start of Present, and the gift shop ahead.
“Should we check what’s at the shop?” Amethyst asks.
“We could, but usually, it’s best to get souvenirs once you’re leaving. Otherwise, you’ll have to carry them around the place while you’re still there.”
“Oh, I see.”
Next to the open-space gift shop, is a quieter area with next to no visitors, in front of a “staff only” door, stands two figures.
“Hey, isn’t that the Sinel that asked for your autograph earlier today?”
“Oh? Yeah, it’s her.”
“Want to go say hi?”
“Why?”
“You said before how you were curious about the war, and I don’t think she’d mind answering any questions you’d have.”
“Huh? What makes you say that? And why would she know anything not at display here already?”
“It’s just a hunch and a strong one at that.” Frank grins.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Huhh? But I don’t know what to ask?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”
As they approach them, they hear a snippet of their conversation:
“What do you think about the Mun’aakas evening feather dance? Would that be suitable? Personally, I’m a fan of what it represents-”
“Oh, but-”
They both turn to face the approaching Amethyst and Frank. The human woman who wears a cap of the museum on her blond hair that goes up to her shoulders addresses them.
“Oh? Aren’t you Amethyst and Frank?” Her big blue eyes light up.
“What a coincidence to meet here,” Frank says to the Sinel.
“Right, a coincidence.” She scoffs back.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, don’t misunderstand. It may very well be a coincidence, but since my sister here owns this Museum, it’s rather likely you’d find me here.”
She crosses her blue arms engulfed in the pink puffy jacket.
“That is if you knew where to look...”
“Ohh…” Amethyst nods slowly.
“You own the Museum?”
“That’s correct, or my name is not Virava Wastlund, the first of the daughters of the great hero of the Spire Disaster, Sanna Wastlund.”
“The great hero?” Amethyst asks astonished.
“That’s right!” Virava holds a hand to her chest. “Sanna’s contribution to end the War was insurmountable. Didn't you read about her in the section about the Spire Disaster?”
“Oh… right....”
“If you’re her daughter, let me guess,” Frank gestures at the Sinel, “Are you Menalaie, the Sinel Princess who worked with Sanna?”
The Sinel laughs, bringing a blue hand before her mouth. “No, that was our mother. I’m Menelalaile, just call me ‘Lalai’.
Though, I suppose I could still be considered a Princess.”
“Oh... I see, I’m sorry, I didn’t know she had...”
“Not many know... news related to the Sinel aren’t exactly touted in the media,” Virava says.
“Though, that’s mostly for the best… there’s enough negativity going around even without them getting on our case more than they already are.”
“That’s the long and short of it...” Lalai says. “Anyway... did you two come to just say hi to us two, who you didn’t even know before this meeting, or...?”
“Something like that, though we were wondering if you could tell us something about the war, there’s still many mysteries surrounding it. And considering your position…”
“What are you implying?”
“Is it true, were you manipulated to start the war?” Amethyst asks. “Not even the exhibitions here could answer it or prove it one way or the other.”
“...” Lalai looks around and then speaks.
“You know, I’m glad we could meet again. I had something I wanted to discuss with you too, Amethyst.”
“With... me?”
“Yes. If you recall what I said to you when you signed my shirt... I meant it.”
“I see...”
“Let me tell you a little secret. What we Sinel are right now, what we are becoming, or have already become, is a disgrace.”
Lalai scowls.
“Not a disgrace to the old ways, or what we used to be, nothing trite like that. Ever since our gravest error, we have devolved, and become something that isn’t a human, or a Sinel. A submissive yes-man race, one could even call us second-class slaves, and it wouldn't be far off.”
“Lalai! Should you really be-?” Virava is interrupted.
“Let me finish.” Lalai continues:
“We have become something… something that even I cannot define. And, there lies the problem. We are nothing, we don’t have a culture or an identity anymore.
Day after day we carry this burden and crime that we will be paying off until the heat death of the universe at this rate.
As the Princess of the Sinels, as the last surviving member of Syrida Sel Silea, only I carry the power to rule my people.”
Lalai slides a hand across her tiara’s side, caressing its silver surface, a blue gem embedded in the middle. A tiara, that appears identical to one that all Sinel seemed to be wearing.
She adjusts it, pulling it down slightly, but the blue oval gem that adorns it, doesn’t move, it is actually a part of her forehead.
“From your eyes, I see you know what I mean. Thus, we get to the end of my longwinded exposition, this is my proposal for you, Amethyst.”
“Y-yes?”
“Once your people become a part of the United Galaxy, I would request your help in developing our own culture, a new identity for us Sinels.
What I saw in Pioneer’s broadcast impressed me, so I wish to work with you. Your culture seems new, but so full of potential.
And after... after I can make us, something, again, I would additionally ask you to help us relocate to a new planet that we could call our own.
I fear if we do that first, we would just be domesticated animals dying from cold and hunger, unable to survive on our own.
But, we will do it, once we are ready. This travesty has gone on long enough, and I’m the only one who can do something about it.”
“That’s... that’s a lot of responsibility. I don’t know if I can really meet your expectations...”
“I believe you can, though admittedly, we will only truly see that later. I firmly believe there is a lot of potential in working together to build up both of our nations and cultures from the ground up.”
Franks speaks up: “That’s a nice sentiment, and I truly hope you succeed in lifting your people up.
However, do not take offense when I say this, but I’m hearing a lot of requests for us, and not a lot of reasons to go through with it, apart from the goodness of our hearts.
What you are asking us to participate in is no small feat.”
“I understand completely, no offense taken. Earlier, as a show of trust, I revealed my identity and position to you, and should you work with me, in return, I shall tell you the truth.”
“The truth?”
“Lalai!? A-are you sure? I don’t think-”
“Virava, my dear sister, do not worry. Should they endeavor to help me, I will tell them the truth of the Spire Disaster, of the war, and of us Sinel.
It would only be fitting for our two cultures to know the truth of each other’s, wouldn’t you agree, Amethyst?” She levels a rather piercing gaze at her.
“Yes...”
“Of course, I will confide in you only after we have formed more close and amicable relations and started our cooperation in full.
And I speak of this deal in full confidentiality to you, which I expect to continue after you have learned the truth. Since, at this point in time, only three individuals know the full story.”
“Three? That’s obviously you, your sister... who is the last one?” Frank asks.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“He is a friend to my kind, among the biggest supporters of our Museum, and the number one philanthropist of the Galaxy. You are very familiar with him already.”
“Uhh... who?” Frank looks over the sisters and then at Amethyst.
“Pioneer!”
“That’s correct.”
“Oh...”
“If you have no more questions, I believe we are done here, I will not keep you any longer from enjoying our Museum.
I wish you luck for tomorrow, but I don’t believe you will need it, I expect you to successfully join the United Galaxy and be endorsed in ISSA court in full.
After that, seek me out, or if you take too long to hear from, I will instead find you.” Menelalaile says with a strict tone of business.
Her sister chimes in.
“And please, pop into the souvenir store after you’re done! And perhaps pick up a copy of Sanna’s biography that I have written myself! It tells her journey of surviving the collapse of Metropolis’ Spire, the surprise meeting of the Sinel princess in those ruins, and how they came together to climb out of the kilometers of rubble to end the war together. Spiced up with extra details to keep it interesting and exciting to those already intimately familiar with the history of the Spire Disaster, no less!”
“Right, we’ll keep that in mind... Thanks for the suggestion and for your interesting offer, Lalai.”
“Yeah, see you later!” Amethyst says.
“No problem. I look forward to our next meeting, Frank, and the most intelligent Tyrchid, Amethyst.”
“Bye now!” Virava waves after them with a smile.
Frank and Amethyst wave goodbye to the sisters and have a quiet conversation as they walk away.
“Do you think… Lalai knows? Of well, me, and my difference to my kin?”
“That’s probably a safe assumption... But if she does, I don’t get why she’d still want to work with us? Especially since we didn’t promise to share our truth with her.”
“I think it’s obvious Frank. You’ve made it clear many times yourself.”
“What?”
“Lalai wants to work with us because nobody else will work with them.”
“Well, that’s probably true... And... if she actually somehow knows our truth, or has just guessed... she can use that against us, as leverage, should we spill the beans about her, or if we refuse.”
“Lalai wouldn't do that.”
“I certainly hope so.”
Can we even trust them?
Sinel have behaved after the war, so far… but… what is the truth they hide?
It must be something big if they don’t want to share it with the world.
But then again, if it was something terrible... why would Lalai share it with us in the first place?
It certainly wouldn’t make us want to work with her people, now would it?
…
Amethyst and Frank continue their Museum tour, entering the “Present Mysteries” -section.
It starts off with a section focusing on Space Travel, theorizing that in the past, they must have had some fantastical lost technology, that allowed humanity to cross the Galaxy, to come from Earth to Divine Cradle, and then to Metropolis.
Compared to the distance traveled back then, it would be unsustainable to be made in this day and age, without the existence of space stations to stop and refuel. The current fuels in use aren’t efficient or light enough to make incredibly long journeys feasible if all the fuel had to be carried on board.
The next large section touches upon the people of the current Galaxy, and the many enigmatic pasts of its inhabitants. Showcasing Garanean people, providing hypotheses about the nature of their runic skin, and playing with the idea of a higher being, Araltera, being real in their past.
A few statues are dedicated to the unexplained existence of two sapient species, the color-changing slime people of Flibma and the tall and stick-figured octopus-headed Churlen, neither of their planets had any fauna that resembled either species, how did they come to be if evolution theory seemed to fail them both? Existing in the same solar system, no less.
Following that, there is also a whole section, that gives off the air of a great conspiracy board, drawing lines and connections between Mun’aakas and The Bomal to the animals of Earth.
How come, they had so many similarities, despite being from other far-off ends of the Galaxy?
Did evolution favor some forms so much, that it was quite possible to develop similar species, given a big enough sample size and some “luck”?
And this section barely even touches on the similarities that many non-sapient species shared with Earth’s or other planets animals too.
Then, they arrive at a section, that is about similar principles, but this time, pertaining to the human race:
Ashen and Radiant, the human sub-species.
Both Frank and Amethyst read through the section’s texts, illustrated with pictures and a few life-sized mannequin models.
“It is unknown how or when this genetic trait popped up in humanity’s DNA. It is possible it has always been there since records of its first appearance are loose.
This is further supported by the fact that nearly everyone carries either Ashen or Radiant genes, but it’s rare that they exist in such a capacity that they manifest in any way during the person’s life.
Ashen or Radiant are the monikers granted to people whose genetic potential has activated. Either from birth or manifesting in life, usually after powerful emotions or trauma.
Ashen’s are transformed by life or death situations, potent negative emotions, or despair.
While Radiant transformation is usually triggered by extremely strong positive emotions or great triumphs, like seeing one’s child being born, or after a long period of stress finally ends. Also by performing heroic deeds.
Due to the nature of the circumstances of change, recordings and public Radiant transformations are much more documented than Ashen.
Another thing to note is that the gender ratio of Radiant and Ashen is imbalanced.
While both men and women can be Ashen, only women can be Radiant. Men simply lack the ability to receive the gene of Radiant, the reasons for this are unknown.
When a person transforms into an Ashen, their skin color can change wildly.
Common variants, in various shades, are pink, red, gray, and black. Their commonness also follows the same order, though, born Ashen are always either pink or red.
The person that transforms will have horns sprout from their skull, in various shapes and sizes. Their color usually closely matches their skin color, but are made out of bone.
Wing stubs can also extend from one’s shoulder blade bones, but there have only been a handful of documented cases of the person developing full-length wings.
Appearance-wise, these wings closely resemble those of bats; veiny and made of skin, with a clear skeletal structure inside. Only one of these cases could actually fly with them.
She went on to become the infamous Demoness of the Night, a female outlaw whose legend lives on in the sparse underworld of Metropolis.
She was caught after only a few months, but the legacy of her crime spree is forever imprinted in the public memory.”
There is a mannequin of Demoness of the Night, a rather tall and imposing figure.
She wears a hat that her horns sprout through, a red bandanna across her face, all in black, with large grey wings extending behind her.
Even this model of her extrudes an aura of recklessness and sinister intentions.
So some humans can fly, too...?
Amethyst continues reading.
“The rest of the Ashen transformation varies by gender.
When a female transforms, their thighs and hips get more shapely as does their posterior.
They may also sprout a full-length tail with or without a sharp end in addition to their muscles and arms getting a boost in size and performance, as does their chest area.
Meanwhile, if men transform into Ashen, their limbs become longer and they get taller.
However, this extra length is not compensated with extra strength or mass, making them look very skinny.
This usually leads to the individuals struggling with their balance and control of their body, until they get used to their new proportions.
If a person is malnourished, this transformation may also be life-threatening.
No documented cases of tails or wings have been recorded, but three individuals' legs have become deformed, the reason or even the intended shape of them was unknown, until the third one got full goat-like hooves in the place of their legs, made from their bone.”
Watching over the next text section is a figure wearing a light blue toga, and sprouting feathered colorful wings.
“The Radiant transformation has similar properties to female Ashen transformation, that their bodies gain extra curves, but to a lesser extent.
They can also gain a ghostly halo-like light phenomenon above their heads which exists in such an unclear visible spectrum, that not everyone can see them and scientific instruments also have trouble detecting their existence.
Radiant’s skin color does not change, but their hair can become many shades lighter or darker, and start to emit faint light or glow in the dark.
They can also have wing stubs, or full-length wings of feathers colorful and glowing, resembling those of birds, or angels of myth. This is more common than Ashen wings manifesting, but still exceedingly rare.
After transforming into a Radiant, it is common for the person to suffer from sudden bursts of crying and extreme empathy, becoming incredibly sensitive to the feelings of others and especially their own.
Tests have shown that Radiants are 80% more likely to be able to correctly read the feelings and mood of people, even from pictures.
They are also 90% more susceptible to mental breakdowns from experiencing trauma, however, the definition of trauma for them varies wildly.
Ranging from totally understandable, witnessing a loved one be murdered before their eyes, to as mild as seeing a kid drop their ice cream.
In that vein, Radiants become uniquely proficient in some jobs and areas, like providing therapy, and taking care of children and the elderly, while becoming entirely unsuitable to other professions, like: being a butcher, a graveyard keeper, being in the army... the list goes on.
However, despite this, in rare cases Radiant’s traits are so powerful, that they become unsuitable for any work, as even when working as nannies, their extreme empathy may make them cry with the child that they are supposed to be taking care of, rendering them unable to do their job effectively. Even if these individuals are put into jobs where their empathy shouldn’t trigger, like a lonely office job of pushing papers, they will instead be in great emotional distress from loneliness or from any minor setback even this job can cause.
In conclusion, it is possible that Ashen and Radiant genetic potential has always existed, but in time it has been diluted to what it is now, as it is hard to deny the similarities between these extraordinary people and the “Demons” and “Angels” described in the old records of “Armstrong’s Guide to the Afterlife”.
A fictional piece, which truthfulness is still under contention to this day, describing a whopping seven types of Angels and Demons, in factual, documentary fashion.”
“Oh, I didn’t know about this document, I wonder if I could read that Armstrong guy’s book anywhere,” Frank says after Amethyst appears to have finished reading.
“This is all very strange... but it would be cool if you could fly with me. Oh, wait, Male Ashen have never grown wings...”
“Well, so far. Who knows if it will be possible in the future? Maybe it just hasn’t happened yet.”
“Yeah.”
They go through the rest of the Present section, but it doesn’t have anything that interesting remaining.
It has a small section focusing on Dust Sentence, but Amethyst nor Frank feel a great drive to dive into the topic, on a surface-level glance, it seemed to not be a very extensive look, either way.
As they are walking through the lobby, a wave of new customers comes in, forming a bit of a crowd. They give them a rather generous berth and don’t impede their movement.
However, from behind them, a voice calls out to them.
“Hey! Amethyst, Frank, wait!”
They turn around, and see wading through the crowd, waving his arms like a sailor about to go under, a person... they haven’t actually seen before.
He carries the camera in his hand above his head, “Metropolitan Times, please, an interview!”
Frank looks at Amethyst.
“Do you want to be interviewed?”
“No…”
“Me neither.”
Frank grins.
“Let’s make a run for it.”
Amethyst smirks back.
They start running for the exit.
“H-hey where are you going!?”
As they near the doors, to the side, they notice another person with a camera running toward them. “Sapient Press, a word if you will?” They shout.
“No thanks!” They slip out of the doors, race down the narrow stairs, and break into the streets.
“Make way!”
“Sorry!”
“My bad!”
“Frank, where are we going?” Amethyst asks after yet another turn they take.
“I don’t know. Away? Actually, I think I saw a bus stop this way.”
“Or was it on the other side?”
They finally stop, and Frank looks down an alleyway between tall buildings.
“Anyhow… I think we lost ‘em, let’s take a moment to catch our- catch my breath.”
“Alright.
They enter the alley and lean against the stone wall.
“Oh, time really flew by, it’s getting dark already.”
“Already?” Amethyst looks up to the horizon, the dark reds and oranges reflected on the clouds are already fading. “It’s beautiful...”
“Right? Metropolis’ sun really makes all the sunrises and sets the most gorgeous ones I’ve seen on any planet.”
“How many different planets have you been on?”
“Well, not that many, to be honest. I think... about five?”
Frank points to the sky.
“Oh, look the lights are coming out.”
Across the sky, like a great flock of birds flying in formation, soars many small globes. They take up positions and stop above the streets at regular intervals.
In a rhythm, they light up one by one.
“Amazing…”
Even their dark alley is bathed in a gentle light from the street, though it hardly lit up the whole thing.
However, suddenly the light stops shining, they can still see it above, but it doesn’t shine on them.
“What is this?” Amethyst looks at her armor, which no longer reflects any light. Somehow, she’s in complete darkness, in light.
“No way-” Frank says and pulls Amethyst away from the darkness, further into the alley.
They emerge into the light again.
“Nice of you to stop for me.” A voiceless voice of monotone notes plays like an echo, as the shadows coalesce before them, and then are pulled against the wall like a solid carpet.
Through the dark surface, a figure forms, who stretches it with their arrival, like a film of soap. Then, it pops off the wall and disappears like a burst bubble.
Left standing before them, is a creature that exudes darkness, its shape unclear, only the glowing red eyes, akin to small dots indicate its orientation.
“W-who are you?” Amethyst asks.
“You- you’re a shadowkin? A Varajou!”
“Correct, the shadow of the night, the nightmare under your bed, that’s me.”
From its darkness, a pencil and notepad emerge, that seem to float and dance in the air.
“Sorry, I can’t resist whenever I see these sorts of reactions… Nowadays, I’m just a terrific journalist, a terror only to those who wish to escape from my articles.
Quake not in your boots, I shan’t personally harm you, I leave that to the readers.” His sinister, monotone laugh, devoid of warmth echoes in the alley.
“Oh... That’s good...” Frank seems relieved beyond measure.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure if you people even existed... I seriously thought you were just invented to scare the children of Metropolis into obeying rules.”
“Oh, but we do exist, as is evident. How does it make you feel? Perhaps all the stories you were taught, all of the warnings given, were true?”
Amethyst lifts her sheathed blades and brandishes them.
“Forgive my jest, let us get back to the topic at hand. I wish to interview you about the Cafe incident of today, as well as the results of the Galactic Police investigation, which clearly has concluded, given you both are out.”
“What if we refuse?” Amethyst asks.
“I shall haunt you, pursue you to the ends of Metropolis and beyond until you relent.
Nothing can stop me, no wall, no barrier, on this planet, in its endless sunshine and boiling shadow, I am unstoppable, invincible.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.” Amethyst lays down her arms.
“The Galaxy is not fair, even if many seem to want to make it so.
This is simply our recompense, the collateral life itself has paid to us for our suffering, of thousands of years in darkness, in the light of a flickering candle, surviving only via the dim warmth of the too-distant, faraway roiling magma.
This is what our planet made us to be, I care not of your opinion of fairness, all I care about is information.”
“It sounds like we better help you out then...”
Frank and Amethyst answer his questions to the best of their ability, leaving out some details of the investigation they probably weren’t allowed to tell.
Halfway through, Frank realizes, he can use this to tell that the incident wasn’t Amethyst’s fault, since the Galactic Police seemed to have dropped the ball, or at the very least, were taking their time with the statement.
“That is all from me, I thank you for your cooperation.”
“Since we were so helpful in answering all your questions, can I ask you one in return?” Frank asks.
“Shoot.”
“Is “The Absence” real? The Varajou assassin, who is said to have claimed countless lives, striking anywhere from the top floors of skyscrapers, to underground bunkers.
The number one name everyone, child or adult fears. Or, is that just a scapegoat the Galactic Police uses for cold cases?”
“Who knows?”
The Varajou sinks into the ground, disappearing. Seemingly leaving nothing behind, no indication if he still lurked around, or if he’s already miles away.
“What a rude... shadow.”
“Yeah... I don’t think I’ll sleep very well tonight... Just what I wanted out of my day, to find out the boogeyman is real.”
Frank shakes his head.
“Let’s just get out of this alley and go home.”
“Yes... and, well... if you’re scared, you can sleep next to me...” Amethyst holds her sheathed hands together.
Frank stops and looks at her.
Amethyst lays a gentle blade on his shoulder. “I’m safe to be around now... so... it should be possible now, shouldn’t it?”
Before Frank can answer, the sound of a hovercycle interrupts their moment, as one comes to a sudden halt, and blocks the exit before them from the alley.
“What now...!?” Frank shouts exasperated.
A man gets off the bike, taking off his helmet with his back turned, some sort of a huge lump could be seen on his back through his long black jacket, and that lump holds on to a massive sheathed sword on his back.
“So… it’s true, they didn’t cut them off.”
“What’s it to you? Who are you?” Amethyst asks with uncharacteristic hostility.
“Well, that’s more than fine by me...”
As he lays down the motorcycle helmet, his long black curls are visible for a moment before they are hidden by a wide-brimmed hat he plants firmly on his head.
Without saying anything, he turns around and starts walking towards them with heavy steps. He cracks the edge of his jacket, showing the sheath of a normal-sized sword, and holds a hand on its hilt. The shiny black boots tap against the stone, as he keeps on approaching.
“You better stop, turn around, and make yourself and your motorcycle scarce, or we’re going to have an issue.” Frank takes a step backward.
The man grins.
“I’m afraid, I can’t do that.”
With blinding speed and dexterous hands, he unseaths the smaller sword, a very sharp looking, but in all other aspects a normal katana-like, slightly curved, sword.
“F-Frank, get behind me!”
The blade gleams in the night’s lights as with extreme swiftness, the man closes the distance and swings his sword at the unarmed Frank.