Breachers – Path of Steel
26
I
Mana Drain
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Day 22
“Thanks,” Marcus said with a smile before sinking back into the chair with a sense of gratitude as a nurse handed him a cup of tea and a sandwich. He carefully sipped his drink, his gaze fixed on the large cylindrical machine in front of him that was occupying the room's center. Numerous chairs, identical to his own, formed a ring around the device, with cables attached to it. His eyes followed the pulsating cables extending from the machine, one of which snaked to his right arm. As he flexed his fingers within the wide cable, he couldn’t shake the strange rubbery texture. ‘It’s my third time here, but it still feels weird.’. Returning his focus to the machine, he observed something glowing in the center, slowly expanding and pulsating.
Grasping his sandwich, he took a hearty bite, only to watch a cascade of crumbs tumble onto his t-shirt and jeans. “Crap,” he mumbled, swiftly picking up and eating the larger bits before dusting off the rest. Glancing around the room, he observed the other ‘Mana donors’. Many of them were young, with marks aligned in intricate patterns on their skin, a clear indication that they were Forged individuals. Marcus understood that these were people who had signed up for a dangerous surgical procedure to become Marked and potentially become actual Breachers. Although he had read up on the topic, it still baffled him that people actually wanted to risk their lives in such a way.
Glancing to his right, Marcus spotted the aged, balding man, Steve, working on a crossword puzzle. The absence of the man’s lower limbs revealed severe scarring. Like Marcus, this man was a true Marked, or an Original. A complex network of blue marks covered the man’s left side in a chaotic pattern, ending near his legs. Caught in the act of staring, the man promptly spoke up, “What the hell are you looking at?”
“Old leather, I guess?” Marcus casually commented, punctuating his words with a shrug before brushing a few of his stray hairs back into his makeshift bun. The remark earned a mildly irritated snort from Steve. Despite the man’s reputation for unfriendliness, he thought the man seemed to be gradually warming up to him. ‘Probably because I’m not one of the Forged,’ Marcus mused as he refocused his attention on his drink.
As he sipped his tea, he occasionally wiggled his right hand within the strange, rubbery material that encased it, lost in thought. He could feel it occasionally throb around him. He recalled Steve’s explanation about the machine and the cables attached to it, how it was a mixture of Monster-Glass dust, Resin, and various ingredients. ‘The old fart had said the cables attached to our bodies functioned like jumper cables, pulling Mana from us and converging it in the machine’s center. They are not exactly the same,’ he pondered as he stared at the cable, ‘but they look strangely similar to the veins inside the robot, albeit thicker and pulsating instead of just glowing constantly.’
Turning towards Marcus, the old man gave his shoulder a swat with the crossword puzzle in hand. “How about you make yourself useful? Six-letter word for a strong, sudden gust of wind?”
“Err... Squall?” Marcus offered, only to see the man shake his head.
“That ain’t a real word,” the man grumbled before returning to his crossword puzzle.
A partially suppressed grin tugged at Marcus’s lips as he settled back in his chair. As he picked at the last crumbs of his sandwich, he could feel his Mana slowly ebbing away. Ever since yesterday, he had fragmented a part of his mind to track his remaining Mana, which was 12 in total. His measurements lacked precision, but, like his evolving time-tracking skills, he aimed to refine them over time. The grumpy man next to him had enough Mana to last a full two hours, while Marcus usually reached his limit after a mere twenty minutes or so. Marcus turned his attention to the left, where a woman forcefully yanked the pulsating cable from her hand, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, and her eyes rolling back slightly. ‘Mana drain,’ Marcus thought, his gaze fixed on the unfolding scene. As the woman’s affliction ceased, two nurses sprang into action. One handed her a glass of sweet lemonade, while the other helped her in her seat before monitoring her condition. Slowly, the woman’s strength returned, along with her complexion.
It wasn’t long after that when Marcus himself began to feel the effects of his own Mana get depleted, while the drain continued. His body trembled, and dizziness crept in. He acted quickly, disconnecting the pulsating cable as he concentrated on breathing slowly. A nurse promptly grabbed his cable, storing it away before offering Marcus a handful of sweet candies. “Here, this helps,” the nurse said reassuringly as he handed him one. “You did great today. Thank you for your service.” Marcus just nodded before he began to chew on his candy as the nurse recorded the donation on his data pad. A soft beep from Marcus’s phone indicated that he had received his credits for today’s Mana contribution.
“Bah... done already?” the man barked as Marcus rubbed his arms, waiting for his Mana to return slowly.
The machine’s ability to pull Mana felt distinct, completely different from when his robot drained all of his Mana. It was as if the machine had just yanked out everything he had and then some, while recharging the robot had felt more organic and natural in its approach, preventing Marcus from exhausting himself. “Yeah, I’m out for today. I take it you’ll stay for a while longer?”
”Someone has to. You youngsters lack conviction.”
“Well, Steve, at least we youngsters still have spring in our step,” Marcus responded, noting a brief crack of a smile on the grumpy old man’s face before his bitter expression returned, along with a sling of curse words.
The room filled suddenly with the sound of several pings, signaling the nurses to remove the other cables and stow them away. A security staff member, sporting yellow Marks in straight patterns around his neck, entered the room wearing thick gloves. Marcus couldn’t help but think, ‘Another Forged... they really outnumber us Originals, huh?’ as he watched the man plunge his hands into the rubbery membrane of the central machine while placing several metal squares around the pulsating light. The metal squares methodically converged, clicking together and encapsulating the pulsating light within. Marcus noticed the pulsating glow now contained within the metal cube as the staff member retrieved the object, afterwards securing it in a sturdy looking safe. “Mana cell,” Marcus murmured.
“It’s a Mana battery, not a cell, you moron,” the man corrected him while rolling his eyes impatiently. Nearby, nurses reconnected the pulsating cables to the arms of those who still had Mana left, including Steve. In the machine itself, a faint glimmer of Mana reappeared, signaling the cycle’s restart. “Mana batteries are made from our Mana, and from altered Resin and Glass. They’re relatively simple to make but are single use only. Cells are crafted from real Orbs. Way more powerful. They recharge on their own, and they cost more than you’ll ever make.” Marcus felt his phone vibrate, and he quickly retrieved it, seeing a new text message. The old man beside him couldn’t help but take another shot at him. “That your boyfriend?”
“It’s from your wife, actually,” Marcus said as he read the message and smiled before being honest. “Just a text about another job.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was your job?” he asked, then mumbled a quick thank you as a nurse refilled his coffee.
“Steve, not all of us have more Mana than brain cells like you have,” Marcus quipped, stashing his phone away before rising from the chair, acutely aware of the lack of Mana in his system. It almost felt... unnatural. He reached for his hoodie and put it on, then released his hair from its bun, allowing it to partially conceal the marks on his face. “See you tomorrow?” Marcus asked, catching the old man’s snort in response before Marcus made his exit.
He walked down the hallway, the strain in his muscles reminding him of the brutal exercises Erwin, his trainer, had pushed him through as of late. Marcus was well aware that tomorrow would bring even more discomfort, but he couldn’t argue with the results he had gotten thus far. Along the way, he passed several rooms similar to the one he’d just left, where some individuals donated Mana, while others had their blood drawn. He had learned that certain things harvested from the blood of people with Marks could prevent Mana sickness in regular people when they were inside a Sphere, if only for a few hours. ‘It might pay better than just donating Mana, but I’ve had enough of needles for the next few lifetimes,’ Marcus mused as he continued his stroll.
He merged with the crowd as he navigated through the bustling main lobby of the hospital. As he did so, he couldn't help but feel grateful for his longer hair and hoodie, which concealed most of the black marks that marred his body. Reaching the staircase, he took a small leap down the last few steps, teetering on the brink of a clumsy landing, but managing to stay on his feet. ‘Didn’t land on my ass this time. Seems like the Endurance increase is really speeding up my recovery,’ he mused before making his way into the underground hospital parking lot. The sensation of being there alone in his physical form rather than his robotic one felt strange, but pleasant. He waited a few more moments before he reread the text message.
┏ ┓
“Booked a new work gig. You can tag along.
I’ll pick you up near the stairs. ETA 10 min.”
- Felix
┗ ┛
Marcus stood there, observing the steady flow of cars coming and going. Then, a sleek luxury car glided to a stop near him, its tinted windows hiding its occupants. He couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. ‘Wow, Felix wasn’t kidding about doing well. Is this really his ride?’
The car door swung open, and a woman stepped out, shooting him an annoyed glance because he was staring at her. Quickly, Marcus shifted to the side, not wanting to come across as a creep. Just then, a massive food truck roared toward him, screeching to a halt with his best friend hanging out of the window while slapping the side of the door. “Get that pale ass of yours inside, I’m burning fuel here.”
Marcus approached the truck, his eyes tracing every detail of its graffiti-covered exterior. It gave it an artsy vibe, if not spoiled by Felix’s own caricature plastered on the sides. He caught a whiff of the distinct scent inside, a blend of spices he couldn’t quite place. He then climbed into the vehicle and exchanged the usual fist-bump that connected twice. He was about to crack a joke when the truck’s engine roared to life, prompting Marcus to urgently grab and secure his seatbelt. Without warning, the vehicle accelerated and bolted away from the underground parking lot in a whirlwind of spices and loud music.
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Wobbling left and right into the passenger seat of the food truck, Marcus clung to his seat. The forest road’s twists and turns made him feel like a rag-doll in a wild carnival ride. Inside the truck, Felix had cranked the music up to near maximum volume. The deafening beats and melodies coursed through the vehicle’s makeshift interior. Marcus felt like his friend was trying to compensate for the loss of 13 years of music by sheer volume alone. He himself had his feet firmly planted on the dashboard, his eyes locked on his pair of bright red sneakers that had once belonged to Oscar, triggering memories of the past. He glanced past his sneakers, taking in the endless rows of trees that flanked the forest road. In the distance, a red Sphere came into view. Surrounding it were thick walls encircled by layers of barbed wire. ‘A red Sphere,’ Marcus thought as they neared their destination.
As they approached, the landscape unfolded before their eyes, bearing the scars of human activity. Dirt and gravel roads now crisscrossed the area, and a small fleet of trucks and cars were neatly parked up front. A lone helicopter stood a short distance away, its rotors idle, but it was enough to draw Marcus’s attention. “Looks busy,” he observed, nodding toward the bustling group of people near the Sphere.
“Money flows around Spheres,” Felix remarked as he grabbed some things. As the food truck pulled up near the outer gate, they met the security team near the checkpoint. Felix handed over his ID and license, afterwards showing something on his phone that seemed to convince the men. Seconds later, the gate whisked open, allowing the food truck deeper into the site.
Marcus’s eyes narrowed when he spotted the guild badges worn by the security personnel. It suddenly dawned on him that a guild maintained the site, rather than government personnel. “Gold claws?” he muttered, vaguely recognizing the five golden claw strikes against a black backdrop. A sweeping glance revealed the same emblem on trucks, cars, and the clothing of countless workers. “You brought me to a guild site?”
“A guild? Try the number one Breacher guild in bloody Europe!” Felix teased with a grin, turning off the car and yanking the keys from the ignition. “The Gold Claws is a massive guild, running dozens, if not hundreds, of Spheres. They practically own a third of the industry regarding monsters and Sphere resources in the country, not to mention have the fastest response rating for newly formed Spheres. So, yeah, catering for them is a big deal. Plus, a big guild’s got deep pockets. So, don’t act like you’re not impressed.” Felix’s grin stretched even wider, and he punctuated his excitement with a little shoulder wiggle.
Felix then led his friend into the rear of the truck, swinging open one of the side panels to welcome a breath of fresh air. He then gestured toward the various equipment, pointing out the freezer, fridge, bins and other things they would use. “The grill’s electric, so I doubt you’ll set us on fire today,” Felix remarked, gently nudging Marcus toward the coffee machine. He offered a quick crash-course before handing him a sack filled with coffee beans. “Step one: appease the security guys. Landing a job near prime spots is a fierce competition, but keeping the guards happy will often get me a tip-off in advance to secure those spots. So what do we do?” He paused, awaiting Marcus’s response.
“Be nice and bribe them with caffeine,” Marcus answered, keeping it simple.
Felix nodded to Marcus, then swiftly scooped up several cups and poured coffee into them. Afterward, he pointed toward the door. “Go make the grunts happy. Then help me with the chairs and tables,” he instructed. Marcus grabbed the coffee-laden tray and left the food truck, delivering the cups to the staff members as he used the opportunity to look around the place.
After a quick detour through the area, he returned to Felix and his truck, even though his friend had insisted on calling the vehicle ‘Bianca’. Together, they arranged dozens of foldable chairs and tables, then placed napkins and strategically set up two garbage bins. “So, how did your family take the news of you leaving the hospital? And don’t give me that ‘fine’ crap that you texted me yesterday.” Felix inquired as they wrapped up their tasks and headed back to Bianca, preparing to man the kitchen. “You did tell them, right?” he asked as his expression turned serious for a moment.
Marcus toyed with the idea of saying no for a moment to freak out his friend, but he opted for honesty instead. “Sis went ballistic, my brother clammed up, and my uncle tried to negotiate, hoping I’d delay my decision,” Marcus confessed. He observed his friend’s head shake briefly as the man opened a cabinet, unveiling a weird-looking machine. “What’s that?”
“Hmm?” Felix responded, following Marcus’s gaze. “That? It’s a 3D printer. It lets you print stuff, like forks, screws, fancy artwork, and more. Mine is a cheap one that uses plastic, but I only use it for minor temporary repairs in the field. But we were talking about your family and your stupid ideas. I mean, I’m totally with your family on this one. You should be in the hospital until they say you are fully healed, and even then, take a few extra days,” Felix suggested. A second later, the man fired up the grill, preparing it for service, and then handed Marcus some tomatoes and a knife. “Look, I get it. You want a normal life again, and you’re doing so much better in your recovery that it’s almost scary. But you’re my best friend... my only friend. I’d rather not wait another thirteen years before we can share a beer, you know? You owe me that.”
Marcus gave a nod, recalling how thirteen years ago his friend had carried him away from the tech expo, despite the monsters, fires and collapsing structures around them. “I owe you more than one,” he admitted softly, continuing to slice the tomatoes into fine pieces before receiving a friendly nudge to his shoulder.
Felix shot Marcus a reassuring smile. “Out of that head of yours. We’re right here, with good music and about to earn some credits. Look,” he said, pointing at the Sphere. They could see nearly fifty armored fighters emerge from it, their black and gold armor caked in blood and dirt. A crew of staff members on site quickly rushed towards them, helping them carry crates of equipment, machine guns and mortars, while others were using water hoses to rinse off the blood and dirt before helping the fighters take off bits of their gear. “Time to work, buddy.”
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Marcus did his best to ignore the loud salsa music that was blasting out the speakers next to him as he continued to flip a dozen more burgers while Felix wrapped up his part by liberally sprinkling cheese on a batch of empanadas and setting them on the counter. In just a matter of seconds, Felix’s phone vibrated, confirming the transfer of credits. “Thank you. The drinks will be on their way once our chef here is finished with the burgers.”
Marcus removed his apron and threw the spatula towards Felix before swiping the man’s phone to double-check the order. “On it,” he commented as he prepared the soft drinks and two coffees and set them on a tray. He held the tray for a moment, adjusting to the weight, and then made his way out of the food truck, determined not to drop anything on his way to the table filled with important Breachers. One by one, he handed the men and women their drinks, inquiring if they wanted anything else. Once done, he offered them a friendly smile before stepping back, only to collide with someone who felt as solid as a concrete pillar. “Sorry, dude. My bad,” Marcus quickly apologized, turning around to find himself face to face with a tall woman. Her green eyes focused on him, carrying a hint of concern. Her blonde hair was tightly wound into a bun, with the left side shaved. “You’re not a dude.”
Her lips broke into an amused smile, showcasing white teeth against her tanned complexion. "You really want to lead with that?" the woman questioned, one hand clutching a glove, her arms crossed.
“I didn’t know that I was supposed to lead,” Marcus remarked, taking a step back respectfully. He noticed her black armor adorned with gold elements, still bearing traces of dirt. There was a maturity about her, even though she only looked to be in her late twenties. “Had I had known...” he paused briefly, glancing at the food truck, where Felix vigorously shook his head. “I might’ve offered you a muffin?” His tone wavered with an awkward uncertainty, as if he were making it up on the spot.
“So, first you call me a dude, and then you apologize by offering me a muffin?” Her smile briefly widened until she heard a few chuckles and whispered conversations taking place behind her, causing her to turn her head in their direction.
Marcus observed the shift in her expression as it changed into one of annoyance, aimed at the other fighters. In that moment, he couldn’t help but notice that she was holding onto just one glove, prompting him to look down at the ground where he spotted the missing one. Bending down, he retrieved it and quickly got back up, pressing the glove into her hand just as she turned to face him again. “You dropped this,” Marcus said, stepping back slightly. He watched as her green eyes widened for a moment when he held her hand. “And for the record, I wasn’t apologizing. The muffin was a bribe.” He gave her an amused smile before he walked back to the food truck. Inside, Felix just stared at him, mouth agape as if he was about to say something, before quickly snapping it shut.
"Hey, are you okay?" A familiar voice jolted Marcus from his thoughts. He turned and found the same blonde woman, now on the other side of the service area, staring at him intently.
"Yeah, why do—" Marcus started, but he paused as she leaned over the counter and ran her fingers along his face, pushing his long black hair aside to reveal the black marks on the top right side of his face. She studied the marks for a moment before she pulled her hand back. Marcus raised an eyebrow at that. "Is that like, your thing, going around touching strangers faces?"
Blushing for a moment, the woman took a step back. "Sorry! I got curious. But you're an Original like me, huh? That might explain it," she remarked, her words trailing off in a thoughtful mutter. Her gaze briefly flicked to her own fingers before settling on Marcus again. "So, what brings an Original like yourself here?"
Marcus playfully rapped his knuckles against the side of the truck. “I’m covered in grease and standing in a food truck. Kinda obvious, right?”
Her lips curled into a soft grin before she glanced at Felix. "Is your buddy usually this way?"
“He... uh,” Felix stumbled over his words, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry about that. He’s still adjusting to things since he came back... Lynx... um, ma’am? Err, Sir? Ah, screw this! Marcus, jump on your own bloody grenades.” Felix then pivoted and made his way toward the driver’s seat to collect himself, occasionally muttering a curse.
Marcus stared at his friend for a few seconds before he turned his attention back to the woman. “So, Lynx, huh? What kind of name is that?” Marcus remarked in a direct manner.
“The nickname kind. Kinda obvious, right?” she countered, her smile reappearing. “How come I've never heard of you before, Marcus?”
“Well, I’ve also never heard of you before. But it’s like my shy friend here mentioned, I’ve only recently come back,” he said, seeing her on the verge of asking a question before he interrupted her, “Coma. I’ve been sleeping through the past few years.” He watched her stare at him for a few seconds before attempting to speak again, but he cut her off once more. “13 years. And no, I’m not a mind reader. I’m just familiar by now with what questions usual get asked.”
The woman’s expression immediately softened as she processed it all. Her eyes locked onto his, as if seeing him from a different perspective. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“Don’t be. I slept through it all,” Marcus lied as he just watched her. “No doubt you had it worse.”
“Still... 13 years,” she said softly, her eyes narrowing as if she felt the years pressing down on her. “And now, here you are, another Original that mankind so desperately needs. It almost feels like a fairytale, doesn’t it? Marcus the sleeping warrior.”
At the comment, Marcus let out an involuntary snort. His gaze shifted toward the distance where fighters started to gear up again, hinting at their return to the Sphere. “Not so sure about the ‘warrior’ part, seeing as I am literally flipping burgers here. Still, you nailed the sleeping portion,” he remarked, a playful smirk playing on his face. “But, Miss Lynx. Looks like your lunch break is over.”
“Hm? Yeah!” she said, stepping back and glancing at the other fighters briefly. “I’ve got to head out. You’re sure you’re okay?”
A confident smirk curved on Marcus’ lips as he offered a subtle nod. “I’m fine. I’ve bumped into cute women before and didn’t melt or anything. Although never one in full armor, so you’re my first in that category.”
The woman took a few step backs, allowing him a better look at her armor. “Cute?” she mused. “You really have no idea who I am, do you?" Marcus just shook his head in response. “Ask your friend,” she said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “And I’ll be counting on that muffin you owe me, warrior.” She held his gaze for another second before she turned around and joined her guild to get ready for the next conflict.
From where he was standing, Marcus just watched the woman gear up while the other fighters assembled in a line. “You’re an idiot,” Felix commented, joining him and fixing his gaze on the blonde in the distance until a helmet obscured her looks.
”What? She’s cute,” Marcus said defensively.
Felix snorted in disbelief, raising his hands as if questioning Marcus’ judgment. “Cute? That’s Fari ‘Lynx’ Suarez, the third highest-ranked member of the Gold Claws and one of the strongest Breachers in Europe!” He then gestured toward the tables outside. “Get out there and clean up. And stop gawking at dangerous women who could rip you apart.” With that, Felix turned his attention back to the grill, muttering to himself, “I swear, I thought Oscar was the bad one.”
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Copyright: OsiriumWrites