Sun walked down the alien city streets, so different than anything he could have imagined before he’d left the sect. Now that he was wandering the city alone with only a hand drawn map to guide him, the wonder and spectacle had begun to wear off, replaced with the mounting anxiety towards the unfamiliar environment.

He had never thought himself claustrophobic, but now the towering buildings around him felt too close, pressing against his senses and making it hard to breathe. And when he did breathe, it felt like his mouth, nose, and lungs burned slightly, as the noxious fumes in the air invaded his airways.

The city was loud, and bright, and suffocating, but he could push through that. What might have been more unsettling was the people.

As he passed groups of people in their weird and improper clothing, most worked to avoid looking at him, as if ignoring him would make him less real. The rest looked at him with a mix of confusion and disgust, as if his existence was an unforgivable sin. The familiarity of those expressions, at least, gave him an anchor of “normalcy” in this strange land. And yet, it felt like all his running had been for nothing if he would still be treated like this.

He buried those thoughts. What’s done is done. He could only move forward now.

He needed to know more about this new world he found himself in if he was going to make it anywhere. He looked down at himself and the ragged and messy robes he wore. People were probably looking at him weird because they thought he was some kind of vagrant, so new clothes should be high on the priority list. He had to assume it would be easier to get information out of someone if they didn’t think he was begging for money.

Speaking of which he pulled out one of the slips of paper that Mack had given him, examining it. The bill was made of strange paper, as well as some other strong but flexible material he found as he bent and twisted it. The image of an unfamiliar man was rendered in deep red ink at the center of the bill and each corner had the number ‘10’ for the denomination.

He’d read about paper currencies before, used by the wealthiest classes instead of gold or silver to pay large sums. It is easier to move a piece of paper than chests of precious metals, not to mention easier to hide from bandits. But this seemed to be something meant for the common people, small amounts of money to carry for convenience.

Many books and scrolls in the archives had argued against such things, because what’s to stop someone from printing as much money as they want, making it meaningless. But, Sun guessed they’d figured out how to deal with that problem if what he was holding was real.

Sun put the cash away next to his pouch of silver in his bag and looked again at his map. He matched the directions and notes against the street signs at the intersections and knew he was heading in the right direction.

He was finding the city to be a labyrinth in its own way, with each new street corner identical to the one before it. It reminded him of the stories told of mythical realms where spirits sought to lead one astray and trap you forever. But instead of magical wards confusing him, it was bright neon signs mixed with holographic displays, and working women instead of fairies calling him into the shadows.

Finally, he saw a sign projected on the side of a somewhat rundown building that matched the description on his map. The motel, despite having the promise of a warm bed and maybe some food, it still managed to feel like a step down from sleeping in the forest.

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Before he could cross the street - something that had seemed a harrowing challenge before a bewildered passerby had kindly explained the crosswalks to him - he heard the echoes of a most familiar sound.

A fist meeting flesh. Bones creaking. A whine of pain.

On instinct, he pressed himself against the walls of a nearby alleyway and peaked around a corner, where he could make out figures clustered around a slump on the ground. Those standing were talking amongst themselves, almost jovially, as the person on the ground curled in on themselves, nursing a fresh injury.

Sun looked around the street, but it was mostly empty except for the occasional passing car and a man smoking at the far corner.

He dipped into the alley, hugging the wall and keeping himself out of sight as much as was possible in the mostly clear alleyway. Luckily, the group seemed focused on their victim, who had managed to get back onto his feet only for one of the figures to hit him in the gut, dropping him back down. Sun crouched behind a dumpster, only about twenty feet from the group, close enough to make out more detail.

There were three men standing over a struggling fourth who made no moves to fight back or resist his tormentors. The man was wearing worn out clothes, thin and patchy, he had a light stubble and dark circles under his eyes.

One of the men crouched down to his level, balancing on his toes, and Sun heard them speak.

“Hah. What are we doing here, Ryan?” He asked. “You see, because I thought we had an understanding, you and me. We give you money, you pay it back with interest. That seems like a fair deal to me, how ‘bout you?” He looked up to one of his companions, who sneered and nodded, before turning back.

“And yet, it seems like you don’t understand that very simple arrangement. So, I’ll dumb it down even further for you.” As he said this, he pulled out some kind of small metal pipe that fit in his hand from behind his back and placed it against the man’s temple. “Give us the fucking money.”

Sun felt as the thug’s hostility flipped to something more as killing intent drifted down the alley. His muscles tensed and he went to stand and intercept the thugs. But he stopped himself.

What was he doing here? He was trying to get away from fighting, from the constant struggle for dominance and supremacy, wasn’t he? And yet his first instinct when he had sensed conflict here in the city had been to head towards it! He should just head back to the road and go to the motel, he’d figure the rest out in the morning.

And yet, again, he didn’t move. His body refused to even turn away from the assailants, despite every mote of logic in his head telling him it would be the best thing to do. And he looked down at the man on the ground, and understood why. The man’s eyes had changed from tired and apathetic to being filled with mounting terror. He sat there, eyes locked on the metal tube, his mouth opening and closing but with no sound coming out.

It reminded Sun of himself. Of all the times he’d been driven against a wall by those with more power than him, taking what little he had just because they could.

His trepidation was quickly replaced by a righteous anger filling his chest, and he stood from his hiding spot and approached the group.

“I think that’s enough, don’t you think?” He called down the alley, everyone in the group turned his way, startled by his sudden appearance.

The thug that had been crouching stood and turned to face Sun and it was Sun’s turn to be startled. The man’s eyes were missing, and in their place were two chrome orbs without pupils or humanity.

“What you see here is none of your business.” He said, a cold edge in his voice. He tapped the metal tube against his thigh. “No need to be a hero tonight, friend.”

Based on how the man was holding it and his confidence at this range, it was probably a ranged weapon.

“Are you deaf? Fuck off!”

One of the thugs on the side moved over to Sun, puffing his chest out and baring his arms. Sun knew he didn’t strike the most intimidating figure at the moment, but the complete disregard of the threat he posed from the thug strutting up to him caught him off guard.

And so when the man shoved him, he let himself be pushed back a foot. His confusion turned to anger.

“Don’t do that again.” Sun said.

The thug looked at him and sneered.

“What? You mean this?” He made to shove again, but was interrupted as a knee struck his abdomen and knocked the air from his lungs. He hit the ground as he fought to breathe.

Sun looked back up to the two still standing. Chrome-eyes looked annoyed but otherwise unbothered while the other man, who’d looked so relaxed before, now looked much more tense and had pulled out a knife.

Chrome-eyes sighed. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” He said as he raised his gun, leveled it at Sun’s chest, and pulled the trigger.