The sun had long since gone, and the night had finally settled in. Although it was still the early hours of the night since the streets weren’t completely deserted.

Galis took a deep breath of the frigid and sharp air. Scorch had a way of acting and behaving exactly like a desert despite most of its sand just being imported and not being anywhere near a desert region geographically. For whatever reason, the nights were always freezing and the afternoons always sweltering hot. It was one of the many puzzling things about the bazaar town that he had never quite figured out.

He broke out into an even jog, making his way through the winding back-alley streets of the residential sector of the town. If all went well, he would be out of the town before anything happened and could finally lay low. As for what he would do after he went into hiding…well, he would come to terms with that once he was safe.

Galis didn’t see many inhabitants on his journey, only passing by a few running children and a young couple as he followed a rather straight path through Scorch. Most people would have already gone home for the night, but there was always some sort of late-night crowd in these sorts of places. Not that he ever really was out at this time. Galis was more of an early riser, so he tended not to stay up late.

‘I hope I don’t get robbed.’ He thought to himself idly as the road kept winding ahead of him. The Watchmen were a real threat that he was concerned about, but so were the knives in the dark, which were known to operate at this time of the day.

He was immediately proven right.

At this point, Galis had almost broken into a dead sprint, speeding towards the merchant sector as fast as his legs could carry him. All in an attempt to leave as quickly as possible.

But he was stopped dead in his tracks as the powerful stench of alcohol hit his nose, and he caught the briefest glint of a metal knife in a dark corner on his right. Whipping his head around, he saw a large group of hooded figures pushing around another young man who couldn’t have been any older than he was. Thankfully, he was a good distance from the scene, only even aware of its existence due to the occasional reflection of light that came off the weapons these men held.

‘Help him.’ His mind urged. It wouldn’t take but a minute. While he wasn’t the most confident fighter, Galis knew how to throw a punch, combined with the element of surprise would be enough to help the victim escape.

Yet every footfall away from the exit hurt him mentally, tearing apart his insides. He teetered on the brink of decision before giving in to the voice telling him to help.

But just as Galis felt himself turn; he heard it. The cruel whistle of a wind chime that tinkled through the night air, low, quiet but at the same time crystal clear. And this time he wasn’t just imagining it.

Instantly, he felt his body split in two different directions, the much louder one screaming at him to forget some random stranger who wouldn’t even remember his kindness the next morning. The other whispered in insidious tones that he had already compromised his values enough, and that was why he was being hunted in the first place. That if this person died and he could have prevented it, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

A brewing headache reared its ugly maw as panic started to set in, causing old memories to rise to the forefront of his mind.

Dad?

Yes, son?

People die all the time, but the adults on TV don’t ever say anything…Why?

Because they are afraid.

Why are they scared? You said it was a tragedy whenever somebody dies, but nobody else cares…Not the rich folk who read the news, or even normal people on the streets! Everybody always just ignores it.

Galis, they do care. It's just that most folks are too frightened to step out and help.

I don’t get it, Dad, why would you let yourself get hurt if nobody even cares in the first place? What if something bad happens to you?

Then, I would live with that burden. Son, living isn’t only about keeping yourself safe, it's about leading a life that you can hold without regret. If we never do anything to stop injustice, then we’re no worse than mindless beasts, only living for our own sakes. The choices we make are who we are.

His headache grew stronger.

‘I’m doing my best.’ Galis thought scathingly. He already knew what his father would say in this situation. That he shouldn’t complain just because he was witness to another wrongdoing, that these situations were simple facts of life.

‘It’s not fair; he can’t expect me to jump to the rescue of every person I meet.’ But Galis knew he would. After all, that’s the kind of son his father raised.

The world moved at a cripplingly slow speed as Galis looked up to see one of the muggers throw their victim against the wall, pressing a blade to his throat. Almost simultaneously, a figure appeared in his peripheral vision, growing larger and closer with every step. Tall, silent, and inexorable, it was a mountain of muscle and power, constrained by a crisp, all-black uniform. Every inch of the humanoid giant was covered, from thick leather gloves to a full-face helmet. The only hint of colour was the blood-red hue of two large, circular goggles, watching him from what seemed like miles away.

A string snapped in his mind, and Galis turned and ran. He had taken too long yet again, and the Watchmen had already arrived.

He darted into a dark, winding pathway leading off from the main one. The hanging orange lights couldn’t quite make it in these corners, but he didn’t care. His mind flew at a million miles a minute, cobbling together any scrap of a plan he could use to get himself out. The Watchmen would have come from the southern gate, seeing as it was the closest entry point to Scorch. This meant that they had to travel rightward through the market to get to where he was in the residential sector, as such, leaving from that point was a no-go. Galis would have to beat the Watchmen to the opposite end of the town before their operatives surrounded the place and cut him off.

Galis leapt over a small fence, cutting through a small backyard. He could barely see two feet in front of himself, but it didn’t stop him from throwing himself forward with reckless abandon. Adrenaline fuelled every step he took as all the nervous energy he had been subconsciously building up was released in his desperate movement.

He just kept running until he felt an object collide with his left leg, sending him tumbling to the ground in the darkness.

“Roma’s-…mfph!” Galis bit down on his tongue to stop himself from cursing. The coarse sand scratched his skin as he fell to the floor, leaving him clutching his leg in silent fury. Looking up, he saw a small metal barrel, which had been filled to the brim with fish splattered on the ground next to him.

It would seem that he had made it back to the edge of the market, which was good, all things considered. It meant he was closer to the exit. With some difficulty, he pushed himself back up, tentatively putting some weight on the leg that had been hit. It flared up with a horrible throbbing pain which caused him to lean on his right.

‘Oh, for crying out loud.’ Galis looked down at his leg with a miserable expression. He almost screamed right there in that moment, but somehow restrained himself.

There was no time for him to be standing around and complaining, he had business to take care of. He leaned against the barrel for a few moments to catch his breath and then started limping as fast as he could through the winding mess of cloth tents and various crates which had been packed away for the night.

His heart was still hammering away at the inside of his chest, but upon seeing no sign of the Watchmen, he took a steadying breath. The pressure in his head very slowly receding away.

Through stalls of perfumes and alcohols and various other exotic goods, he finally emerged onto the main path which wound through the merchant sector, breathing a sigh of relief. His escape was in sight.

As he kept pressing slowly forward, he began to hear noises. At first, he thought he had been imagining things, but upon focusing he began to make out snippets of conversation. It was muffled due to the distance, but he could almost make out the sound of somebody complaining. Both tired and weary he almost ground to a halt, trying his best not to make much noise.

The voice that echoed through the quiet night was as irritating as it was nasally.

“This is ridiculous!” It said with same the kind of prideful arrogance that Galis would expect from a noble.

“Compliance is not optional.” A much deeper, almost synthetic voice threatened in reply. “Should you continue to resist an adequate retaliation will be employed.”

As he drew nearer, he could barely make out a shadow arguing over a dimly lit lantern which rested on one of many different stacked crates.

“You're telling me to open SEALED GOODS! Do you understand the meaning of SEALED!?” The shadow waved its arms angrily, “It is quite literally IMPOSSIBLE for somebody to be hiding in here!”

“This is your final warning. Open the crate.”

Galis shuffled slightly closer to the commotion, crouched behind an especially large piece of tarp which hung over one of the corner booths. As he approached, he could make out the face of the first voice. It was the portly man he had seen earlier that day around the market when he had saved the dying scrap hound. His face was flushed red, and spittle had formed on the corner of his lips, which flew forward for every insult he hurled.

Despite being able to see him, Galis could not find a trace of who he was screaming at. He rubbed his eyes a few times and leaned in, but it truly did look like the portly man was arguing with thin air.

“YOU think you can just push me around!? You PATHETIC excuse of a law-keeping officer. YOU DON’T SCARE ME. I HAVE CONNECTIONS WITH PEOPLE MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU. You…you…” The portly man paused to heave a deep breath, “You genocidal MANIACS…I hope you all burn in almighty–”

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Galis froze in shock as the angry merchant was cut off and lifted into the air by some unseen force. He watched him grasp and claw at his throat, coughing and choking loudly.

“Impossible,” Galis mumbled, unable to catch the words from tumbling out of his mouth. The scene was something straight from the heart of an action film, as seemingly nothing squeezed the life out of one of the residents of Scorch. He unconsciously backed away, turning around to try and carefully sneak past the scene. But just as he moved his head, he caught a flash of something in the corner of his vision.

It was the same black uniform he had seen, only this person wasn’t nearly as large as the one he had seen earlier. Galis whipped his head back around to stare, but no sooner had he focused his gaze did the Watchman disappear from view.

‘Was I imagining things?’ He thought to himself, turning his head back more slowly. Sure enough, the uniformed figure reappeared just as soon as they were out of his direct line of sight. Only visible in his peripheral.

Galis’ blood ran cold, just evading the Watchmen when he knew that they were coming was hard enough. But now they were invisible too? They could be standing in front of him, and he wouldn’t know unless he got lucky. It was terrifying.

Now he wasn’t even confident in leaving. If any of them spotted him, they could potentially follow him home and he would have no hope of stopping them since he wouldn’t even know if he was being tailed. Hell, they could be following him right now!

‘No, wait, calm down Galis that’s not likely.’

If there was one thing he knew it was that the Watchmen operated directly and brutally, had one of them spotted him he had no doubts that he would have been dealt with already.

‘Which means they haven’t found me yet.’ Galis thought gravely. He was close enough to the edge of the town at this point to potentially slip out undetected. He just had to hope nobody caught sight of him after the fact, but there was no real way to mitigate that risk.

His mind made up, Galis took a brave step forward. The portly man would most likely be fine as, despite their terrifying modus operandi, the Watchmen didn’t kill innocents. He pushed his way forward through different stores, patiently crawling through the merchant's sector and moving further away from the scene he had just witnessed.

Galis felt almost giddy upon seeing the last few remaining tents disappear ahead of him, giving way to vast empty land. The end of Scorch Mark was shown by the gradual disappearance of the red sand near its edges.

He gained the confidence to get up from his position on all fours, gaining more ground as the exit was almost within sight. But in his desperation, he had forgotten about his leg pain, causing him to stumble the moment he tried to stand up. Galis fell sideways, grabbing at a wooden table to steady himself. It fell over causing several ceramics to shatter on the ground, not stopping his fall in the slightest.

Now panicking Galis tried to grab a wooden pole nearby to steady himself but ended up accidentally pulling down the entire tent he was under.

Fear immediately sucker-punched him as he floundered under the thick cloth, quickly scrambling out and diving behind the first crate he saw.

Not a moment later, the Watchman had appeared directly on top of the spot where he once stood. In the distance, Galis could see the slumped body of the portly man draped over several crates which had been pried open, their contents spilling to the floor. His would-be assailant was now surveying the fallen-down stand, without saying a word.

It was tough to pick up any defining features other than the fact that this uniformed officer wore a small golden badge on their lapel, it bore a striking resemblance to the medals of honour he saw given to war heroes growing up as a child. Galis was too scared to try and catch more than a passing glance, given how close the officer was to his position.

“Reveal yourself now and leniency will be shown.” The Watchman said in a bored tone. “There will be no second chances.”

Alright, time for plan B. Galis reached into the bag he had been carrying and pulled out a glassfruit. As much as he needed them for food, he was also very attached to his head not being removed from his body in the inevitable public execution he would endure if he got caught. With a small wind-up and a dash of prayer, he threw the homegrown produce as hard as he could manage without being seen, far into the darkness ahead of him. The sound of shattering glass ensued as the fruit collided with a hard surface, most likely one of the many baskets of goods that had been locked up and put away for the day.

He barely caught a glimpse of the officer walking toward the noise before they disappeared from his view. Taking full advantage of the momentary distraction, he hobbled as fast as he could in the opposite direction, hoping to gain some distance and make it out of Scorch before the Watchman realised what had happened.

But he had underestimated his city’s police force severely.

“Did you think that would work?” A red blur whizzed past his face, leaving him frozen in shock. The entire left half of his face was illuminated in the dark by the same red lenses he had seen before while the burning gaze of the officer's helmet drilled a hole in the side of his skull.

Wordlessly, Galis swung a fist directly at his assailant which was caught mid-throw.

“How interesting,” The officer said in an amused tone, “To think the fly we were searching for would fall right into my lap.”

He almost cried out in pain as he felt the Watchman twist his arm violently, increasing the force of their grip until the creaking of bones could be heard. Galis pushed off their chest with his leg, just barely managing to slip out of the iron hold.

“What do you want from me,” Galis asked through gritted teeth, carefully treading backwards.

“You're very aware of what we want.” The Watchman replied, dusting off their pristine uniform where he had kicked them. “Although I must say, it was a bold move, leaving the city that fast. You had us scrambling like fools for the better part of two days.”

“You couldn’t have searched the city in such little time; it's too big.” He muttered, glancing at his surroundings for anything that could be used as a weapon.

“If you truly think that, then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought.” The officer took a quick step to the left and once again disappeared from his view.

‘How in the almighty hell am I supposed to deal with-’ His thoughts were cut off by a large, gloved fist colliding with his face. He flew much further than he thought possible, crashing into a locked cabinet filled with herbs and spices. They fell over his body, covering his already limited vision as he scrambled to stand up.

Unfortunately for him, the enemy wasn’t interested in letting him recover. A hand pulled him up by the collar of his jacket, and another sank deep into his gut, leaving him bent over and gasping for air. Every breath was filled with powerful chilli which burned the inside of his lungs.

“Do you know what kind of events require a whole-scale city lockdown?” The Watchman picked him up again just to throw him into another merchant booth further away, this one filled with medical equipment.

“What -cough*- are you talking about?” Galis croaked. Pain wracked his entire body, and the adrenaline which had been keeping him alert was slowly fading away as exhaustion set in.

“Three main things: an assault on the city walls, a terrorist attack…” The officer then grabbed him by his leg and raised him until he was at eye level. “…and a royal decree.”

Being upside down, Galis barely understood a word that was being spoken. His head rang viciously as if somebody were ringing alarm bells directly in his ear canal.

“To think somebody like you would garner the attention of a royal…Truly, if you ever had a clever thought, it died alone and afraid.”

Weren’t the royals extinct? He struggled to form coherent thoughts, still dangling loose in the air. With a half-formed fist, he weakly tried to bat away the arm that held him, but it held firm.

“Pathetic.” The Watchman dropped him to the floor, letting him flounder in the sand. “If you have the resolve to steal something that important, at least be competent enough to see it through.”

Galis felt anger bubble to the brim of his thoughts, filling his mind with nothing but rage. He wanted nothing more than to fight off the officer, but he didn’t have the strength to do so.

“What do you know about resolve? You are just a faceless puppet who doesn’t do anything except follow orders.” He whispered venomously, “You’re not protectors of the city, just tools used to instil fear.”

If his provocations did anything to the Watchman, they didn’t show it. Instead, the officer planted a boot on his face, glaring down at his beaten body. “I’ll make sure your death is swift.”

With a sharp kick to his temple, his vision faded to black.

* The Soldier POV -

Rigor arrived just in the nick of time. It was an hour after the first party had been sent out, and he had been sweeping through the small town of Scorch alongside his comrades. He had mixed feelings about the small town; his superiors called it a blight and a stain on the city they lived in, but he never understood why. Sure, it wasn’t exactly legal, but who could blame them, it was a necessity for those who couldn’t afford to stay within the walls.

They needed a place to live, and the upper ranks of Valtsomu had no choice but to begrudgingly accept the fact, lest they cause yet another mass purge, the last of which almost destroyed the city from the internal fighting it caused alone.

After interrogating a few shady business owners and saving an unfortunate, drunken man from a group of murderers, he found himself searching the city for his commanding officer. There hadn’t been many of them sent out in the initial sweep, and the bulk of the Watchmen had yet to arrive. Since his group were simply scouters, he was told to rendezvous in the main plaza as soon as he had neutralised his designated area of any potential threats. Not that there were any.

He scanned through the darkness with his Ned-Led, an optical accessory which was primarily for threatening others and just so happened to also help him see in the dark. Red light flooded his surroundings as he quickly surveyed the area around him, and it wasn’t long before he located signs of a scuffle. Namely, there was an almost straight line of destroyed cargo and flattened tents which trailed off some distance away from him.

Rigor broke into a light jog, hoping that he wouldn’t have to get into another fight. It would be the sixth one that day, and he was sick of using violence to solve his problems. Then again, sometimes criminals only ever learn their lesson the hard way.

Following the trail of destroyed merchandise, he spotted the familiar silhouette of his commander standing over the unconscious body of a young man. As he drew near, Rigor saw the familiar flash of cold steel as the Watchman in front of him pulled out a thin steel blade. He rushed forward without a second thought.

“Taya.” He said, tightly gripping the arm of his commander.

Rigor watched her head snap backwards at an astonishing speed. After a few seconds of tense silence, he felt her relax. “Oh, Rigor, it’s just you…Would you mind letting go of my arm?”

“No”

She sighed, removing the helmet she wore. The low, synthetic tone of her voice returned to its regular sternness. A familiar set of dead eyes bored into his visor, glaring at him with clear impatience. His commanding officer was an oddball even amongst Watchmen; her porcelain skin and lush blond hair were enough to have multiple nobles attempt to seduce her, but they were all put off by her relentless taste for blood. Then there were those black irises of hers, almost lifeless.

“I’m disposing of our target, Rigor, unhand me.” She continued to stare at him.

He ignored her, opting to look down at the body she stood over. It was a young man, possibly no older than twenty-five. Was this their target? The boy did look slightly familiar, but he hadn’t checked the briefing in a while. Gazing down at the figure under him, his face was pale, with faint signs of tension etched in the furrow of his brow and the tightness of his jaw, even in unconsciousness.

“Not necessary.” He grunted in reply.

“Are you disobeying a direct order?” his commanding officer ripped her hand out of his grip, turning to face him fully. “Why are you protecting this man? He’s a threat to our nation.”

Rigor looked at her, back down at the passed-out fugitive and then back up at her.

“He’s a threat?” he asked incredulously.

“Don’t toy with me, Rigor, as pitiful as he may look; we weren’t dispatched for the fun of it. The only thing waiting for him in the city is a public execution, I’m simply making his inevitable death painless.” She raised her blade above the man’s throat.

“Wait,” Rigor said.

“One more comment from you, and I’ll see it as a direct act of insubordination.”

The giant didn’t care, placing a large hand on the shoulder of his superior. “Tasked with retrieving Heximus.”

“He must have it on him, no sane person would leave behind an object that valuable.”

“Checked?”

“…”

“Check.”

Wordlessly Taya crouched down, rifling through the pockets of the man under her. As she searched Rigor watched her expression morph from boredom to disbelief and then finally to anger.

“Unbelievable.” She muttered, standing back up. “Is he a fool? no, he must be.”

“See, killing was bad,” Rigor said.

“Killing is necessary, and unlike you, I have no issue with making sacrifices for the greater good.” She remarked scathingly, “Now, it looks like we’ll have to torture the information out of him.”

“Better than death.”

“Spare me the heroics, Rigor; you’re a Watchman. Keep up this attitude, and you’ll find yourself dead sooner rather than later.”

“Mmm,” He didn’t agree with her but was wise enough not to say anything. In all his experience with many different superior officers, he learned that they didn’t appreciate constructive criticism.

“Alright, pick him up. I’ll report the mission as successful, and we can finally get out of this backwater hovel.”

He slung the body over his shoulder effortlessly and began walking in the direction of the exit. Taya trailing close behind him.

For a few moments, he felt her gaze on his back.

“…Good work back there.” She quietly said as they walked.

“You too.” He replied with a thumbs up.

Rigor loved his job.