Elmer put down the pen he had bought as he finished filling the form, then quickly rose to his feet, relieving his knees of the hard surface of the floor and the pain that had come with it.

He leaned over on the bedside table of his room, flanking the paper with his palms while he glanced through what he had written, the dark ink used to scribble causing his handwriting to look even more italicized than it usually was.

“Full name: Elmer Hills,” he muttered, tracing through each box with the questions he had been asked and the answers he had given under the ‘personal information’ subheading. “Date of birth: First of July, fifteen-twenty-five. Place of birth: Meadbray.” He was not sure of this, but there was nothing else he could have filled in there.

Through all the years he had been at the orphanage—ever since he could remember—he had not once seen a child being delivered there. They had come in from different villages or towns, all except for two who came in from cities. He suspected he too had been the same—he and Mabel. Abandoned and forsaken by the people who had brought them into this world without their consent.

If it had been five years ago, his stomach would have been twirling and his heart would no doubt be aching as soon as the thought had wandered into his head. But at the moment he could not afford to worry about parents who didn’t give a care in the world for him or his sister, all he could spare was a sigh before he continued reading through the form again.

“Current residence: Apartment ten, Tooth and Nails street.” That spelled the end of the personal information questionnaire, and his eyes went ahead to the next one which was the ‘background and family’ subheading.

His breathing paced slightly just like the initial time he had seen the first question beneath this subheading, the previous claim that he no longer had any care for the ones who had abandoned him and Mabel waning at once.

Parent/Family: Nil… Elmer’s mode of speech caught in his throat, so he voiced it in his head instead, as his hands curled into a fist for a moment. As for not including his little sister in his answer, there had been no specific reason as to that exclusion, he had just felt like that would be the best.

Elmer let out a breath and continued the confirmation of his written answers. “Educational experience: Ragged school. Current societal status: Low class.”

He went ahead to the next subheading: ‘Skills and physical experience’.

“Talents: Nil.” He could cook. He could run. But he had little to no belief that any of those would have been fitting enough to be put in a data form for Ascenders. His last tousle with a Lost was enough evidence of that. “Physical abilities/Expertise: Nil.”

Under the subheading ‘Motives’, Elmer had written his reason for becoming an Ascender as: money issues and aiming to become a bounty hunter. He almost smacked his lips as his eyes swept through those words. If only it was that simple.

The next one which was headed as ‘Religious affiliation’ had two boxes for a yes and no. Elmer had ticked the one for ‘no’, granting him the leeway to skip the field tagged for mentioning what religion he was under. He had a question stumble into his head then.

He wondered what would happen if one was a devout believer of a God but ended up in the pathway of another. Would the person relinquish their beliefs and begin to worship the God of their pathway, or would they worship both? The answer to that question was no where close to him, so he didn’t bother to dwell on it for long.

Elmer shrugged with downturned lips as his eyes scrolled down to the next subheading worded as: Previous experience. There, he had filled in ‘nil’ as well, and without hesitation to boot. Putting in his encounter with the Lost would only shed light on the falsehood of his pathway and become a detriment to his existence in this city. He could not have that.

He rubbed a palm across his chest as his gaze fell upon the end of the form, bringing into his sight his signature. It had all been filled to his satisfaction.

Elmer let out a huge breath as a sudden lightness came over his body, causing him to sit on the floor, while his back flopped to rest upon the frame of the bed bunk.

“I should have gotten something for Mabel and I to eat.” Elmer yawned as he pressed his fingers to his eyes as soon as he had taken off his glasses.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

After a while, he freed them from his fingers, and they came to be narrow and tired, and red with traces of tears. Though, that did not stop him from noticing that the sun had vanished and the sky had taken on a darker tone. Saturday was nearing its end. But that only presented Elmer with one more thing to worry about.

His eyebrows drew together as he unbuttoned his shirt halfway down and placed his eyes upon the crest that was smoothly rendered on his chest. There was a bitterness both in taste and emotion that filled him at the sight of the intricately crafted goblet turned upside down in the midst of a jagged circle, but he quickly brushed his repulse away and stretched his hand to take hold of his waist bag that was beneath the table.

Prying the bag open, he snaffled the revolver within it and laid it bare before his eyes. It was blurry at first, until he stretched it away from the close proximity of his face.

The golden symbols about its body tingled his curiosity. It was fairly similar to the doors at the bureau, the ones he had wanted to ask Miss Edna about. But it seemed to have skipped his mind during all their talk.

Elmer sighed and dropped the revolver to put on his glasses. He needed that pair of lenses for what he was about to do.

From his bag he took out six bullets of the twelve he had bought and laid them on the floor. Then—following the steps as he had been taught by the merchant the bullets had been bought from—he picked up the revolver, gripping it firmly as he pointed it toward the window, his finger well off the trigger, and took his eyes to the cylinder release latch which was on the left side of the frame.

There, he unlocked the cylinder by depressing its release latch using his forefinger, then he swung the cylinder to the side, granting him access to the chambers.

Elmer exhaled, releasing his tensed muscles as he found his actions without mistake.

He picked up the bullet cartridges and slid them carefully into each chamber hole, until all six were perfectly situated in their respective places. After which he swung the cylinder back into its original position, and with a click it stuck in place.

Elmer quickly dropped the revolver to avoid misfiring as the reality that he was without training to handle such things wandered into his mind. He puffed his cheeks and blew out air, then he recalled the pair of gloves he had bought as well and brought them out of his bag.

They were of brown leather, and they seemed to help with his grip a great deal when he had tested them at the merchant’s stall. The Foreign District sure had fed him with a great deal of knowledge. He had even learnt that it was his mishap which had caused his revolver not to fire against the Lost on the yester. He had to have pulled down the hammer first.

If he had been told that he had some sort of luck, he would have never thought it to be true, that was until the night past. Somehow, he had clicked the hammer and managed to fire. He did not even want to ponder what would have happened if he hadn’t.

He turned his eyes from the revolver to the window. “I hope the illusionary potion or whatever it’s called works.” Elmer put on his gloves. His heart told him it would, but a tad skepticism lingered somewhere in his mind.

He had previously planned to go into the woods for the night, just like he had done before, but his legs had led him here—his body had led him here. His need to rest was what had spurred that action, the woods would have only denied him of that.

Elmer threw his head sideways, glancing over his shoulder to glimpse Mabel’s pale face. He knew she would be in danger if a Lost attacked, and that was why he decided to stay awake all through the night, attentively listening for even the faintest sound of a screech. If that came, he would scurry off immediately, revolver in hand.

He had pieced together the way of acting of the Losts. There was always a screech first, then a delay before it attacked. He guessed the screech only came when they had caught a sniff of an Ascender, and their lack of eyes to pinpoint the location to be the reason for the delay that followed after.

Even though the speculation had a little fault, due to the fact that there had been no Ascender on the night he had first come across one, he still clung on to it. It was better to have something to refer to than nothing at all.

With a deep but silent exhale, Elmer peeled his eyes from his sister’s face and rose to his feet. He lit what remained of the candle on the table—which wasn’t very much—then picked up his revolver and crossed over the room to place himself beneath the windowsill.

He shut his eyes and fell his head backward to the wall, relaxing himself while his ears opened up to a keen depth as he placed the revolver on his lap.

He heard the hushed whooshes of the wind and the flapping wings of birds. He heard his own breaths, as silent as they were. He heard the trodding hooves of carriages return. The splash of water from people stepping into puddles. The silent and indistinct chitters of the residents of Tooth and Nails.

He could hear… everything.

It was as though he had been enveloped in multiple thick veils prior to this moment, and suddenly they had all been lifted, granting him access to the once distant heartbeat of this street.

It was a new feeling for him—a new sensation—one brimming with nuanced clarity.

Then suddenly, they all faded away in an instant, and as though they had never been there, he and the newfound silence was all that remained in the bleak darkness beneath his eyelids.