“Agreed,” Isaac called out from behind the counter. He quickly ran through his knowledge on Zou Mei.
She can point her fist at metal and propel herself towards it…she can manipulate iron bars…it must be a metal-based power. Or rather, she can attract metal. What’s that word? Magnetism. She can magnetically attract herself to metal. That’s how she can move through the air.
Using his remaining good hand, Isaac cocked the shotgun. He could sense Zou Mei and her Zhanghai corporate samurai slowly closing the distance to the counter and took a deep breath. He would only have one shot at this.
In the same manner as before, he aimed the shotgun backwards and fired the remaining slug at Zou Mei. Almost lazily, she swiped her hand - iron claws still attached - and the slug slowed down, repelled by her magnetism. By the time it reached her, a casual swipe knocked the slug into the floor.
At the same time, there was a blur of motion heading back the way Isaac entered. The samurai immediately opened fire on it; dozens of their bullets struck home and utterly tore Isaac’s cloak to shreds. Isaac, of course, had tossed his cloak in that direction as a decoy, and now moved in the other direction.
With everyone distracted by the shotgun blast or the cloak, Isaac was free to make his move. He couldn’t activate the charm with one arm, so instead, he brought his left wrist to his face. As Zou Mei’s eyes darkened in anger, Isaac activated the Knyzosis Art right as he wiped his eye. Red lights flickered through the socket; the charm caught fire and activated right as Isaac punched a hole in the floor.
The explosion sent shards of wood and glass in all directions. A cloud of dust and smoke kicked up throughout the bar, disorientating the samurai while the sudden blast of light disabled them further. Isaac felt the growing heat at his back and the growing flames whispering to him in angry hisses. He hit the ground right where he had been tossing alcohol bottles earlier. The superpowered punch set the spilled alcohol on fire, and considering all the shooting that the dual-wielding samurai did earlier, a trail of liquor led right back to the counter and all those shelves filled with all those bottles.
Isaac lunged and punched a hole straight through the wooden wall right as the entire bar exploded. The cold air slapped at his face while he stumbled forward across sheet metal, but then the blast nipped at his heels before knocking him over entirely. His head slammed into metal while the wind howled and crackled with fury and energy. Since the roofs were slick with rainwater, Isaac slid down a slope; a dark gap down to street level awaited him. He tried to plant his feet or grab onto anything, but his ears rang and every weather vane and utility pole appeared to him in triples. He reached out for one, but his hand went right through the hallucination and Isaac found himself tumbling downwards into the black.
Electric bolts sparked and zapped at his skin when Isaac fell right through a jumble of power lines. He grabbed hold of one; his hand felt like it had been set on fire from the electric burns. The swinging line brought him down another story or so until sending him right through another wooden wall. He let go after the collision and slid across a grimy floor. Chickens shrieked and squawked at him as they hopped and flew around their rusted cages in surprise and fear. Feathers drifted toward Isaac; they reminded him of the freedom of flight, but the cages put a damper on all of that. Four Eagles was the cage, and Isaac needed to get out of here before his own injuries and the Zhanghai pursuit kept him here forever.
Ignoring the bird cries, Isaac stumbled out another door, bringing him to another rooftop. He held his good hand over his eyes; up above, the bar burned brightly in a sharp contrast to the general darkness and misery of the ghetto.
ZHANGHAI, THE BEST FOR YOU AND I.
The blimp plodded over the burning bar and, even as its corporate jingles continued to jangle, got to work on putting out the blaze. When the doors to the gondola opened, workers aimed hoses down at the building and started spraying water. At the same time, more goggled samurai glided out of the gondola, forming small teams that prowled the sky for Isaac’s location. Zou Mei herself emerged from the blaze looking royally pissed off; perhaps it was because she had been set on fire. As the hoses sprayed her down, Isaac took his leave.
Metal squeaked as Isaac jumped from rooftop to rooftop. He hadn’t bothered to use the map of the ghetto Stockham gave him prior to the mission, and for good reason - it was seriously out of date. It still displayed the original street names in its neat grid before the shantytown towers had been built over them. But Four Eagles didn’t go on for infinity; as long as he kept moving in a single direction - and as long as that direction wasn’t towards the local Zhanghai headquarters - he would make it out of here.
But as he traveled, the concussion thundered around his head while his right arm remained useless. He panted and wheezed from all the vertical movement and though he needed to keep going, he couldn’t help but stop and rest. The rain continued to pound down; every so often, a samurai flew overhead, forcing Isaac to retreat into the shadows.
Just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, a familiar voice called out to him.
“Hey, look who it is.”
Isaac whipped his head in the direction of the voice. The triad from before, the one with the aviator shades, leaned against a metal pipe with his arms crossed. Isaac tensed up, deciding that maybe he should just shoot him this time, but the man raised his hands.
“Easy there. Word travels fast around here. You caused a big scene at the Dedericks’ hideout. You fighting Zhanghai? Because anyone who fights Zhanghai is a friend of mine.”
Raindrops slid down the man’s shades. Isaac caught his breath. “Don’t the triads work for them through Zou Mei?”
“You think it was our choice? Zou Mei and Zhanghai have power. They can force us to do things for them because they’d beat the hell out of us otherwise. But just ‘cuz they own the land, that don’t mean they own the people, dig?” The man extended his arm. “Lysandros.”
Though he couldn’t fully trust him, Isaac decided to believe in his sincerity. Reluctantly, he revealed his weakness by shaking with his left hand, though he also made sure Lysandros had a full view of the gun on Isaac’s hip.
“Man, you spared me and more importantly, my shades,” Lysandros said. “Zhanghai wouldn’t. Let’s get you out of here.”
Lysandros started walking down a nearby staircase. Knowing full well it could be a trap, but deciding to take a chance on human kindness, Isaac followed him.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The staircase led them down another story. The sound of water picked up intensity; dozens of gutters coalesced into a large elevated chute that ran horizontally along this level of the buildings. When Lysandros stepped inside, Isaac followed. His boots protected him from the worst of the rainwater, though he still felt the chill. A minute later, the chute brought them to a giant pipe. Once inside, Lysandros revealed an old lantern from his jacket and lit it. The glow revealed the pipe went on for a while longer. Isaac frowned; Lysandros was leading him into darkness, though his guide carried a genuine smile on his face.
“Don’t be afraid of the unknown, my friend. When I came here from Atalanta, I stepped into the darkness of your country, yet it showed me kindness.”
Isaac looked around the miserable ghetto. “You call this kindness?”
“Bombs don’t fall upon my head anymore. As long as I’m alive, I can live another day.”
“...uh-huh.”
Readying himself for another Rddhi activation, Isaac followed Lysandros into the pipe. The swaying lantern in his guide’s hand created a slight shield of light from the ever-present shroud of darkness.
“Ships take us from Atalanta to Arcadia,” Lysandros explained. “But Arcadia limits how many Atalantans it will accept. So some of us resort to illegal methods.”
Isaac thought of Squad 1’s mission. “Smuggled in ship containers?”
The lantern bobbed as Lysandros nodded. “Many of Four Eagle’s inhabitants came here that way, myself included.”
Isaac realized he had a good source of information right in front of him. “Have you heard about any deaths resulting from that method?”
“Of course. Containers can get lost at sea. Containers can get left at port with no food, water, or even air for the refugees they carry. And…” Lysandros’s voice drifted off. He had more to say, so Isaac offered up his knowledge.
“I’ve…come into contact with Atalantans in shipping containers. I know it’s a dangerous journey. My comrades have seen containers filled with corpses.”
“Then do you know about the containers that end up beneath Four Eagles?”
Isaac’s ears perked up. He gestured for Lysandros to continue.
“There’s work below ground. Arcadians are paid, meager as it may be, but Atalantans are held as slaves. They are held separately and from what I’ve heard, they’re worked to the bone. But never allowed to die. Zhanghai ensures they remain alive.”
“How’d you hear?”
The lantern light revealed the grim expression on Lysandros’s face. “Some manage to flee through the pipes. They lead all the way out-”
“All the way out to the harbor?” Isaac finished. Lysandros’s nod confirmed it.
So the dead Atalantan refugee in the water I found with Dan and Demetrius…she worked as a slave for Zhanghai below ground, perhaps on that weapon. She was worked to near-death - that explains why she was so ragged when we found her. She managed to flee through the pipe, but perhaps she was so weak she couldn’t survive the escape.
Isaac shook his head at the poor sight of the malnourished corpse bobbing in the water. “What do they work on down there?”
“I can’t say for sure. I think the Arcadians work on tunnels and maintenance, while the Atalantans work on a particular project. That’s what I’ve heard from the Arcadian men in Four Eagles who go down there.”
It must be the weapon. And could that weapon use the atomic material?
Things were starting to come together, though Isaac didn’t like the picture they formed in his mind. “I see. Thank you.”
Lysandros kept quiet after that, and so did Isaac. As their footsteps sloshed through water, sending the sound echoing through the pipe, Isaac tried to attach what he learned to the greater conspiracy.
So Zhanghai, with the help of the Restorationists, is building some sort of superweapon. Atalantans are used as labor and perhaps the atomic material is used as fuel. How does the Heart play into all of this? It can’t be allowed to receive fuel. I’m starting to think that this Heart is a tangible object…is Zhanghai in possession of it?
Furthermore, how does this relate to the overall conspiracy? Zhanghai remains a wild card. I can’t tell for sure if they’re an active part of the conspiracy or not.
Though some clarity shifted through the murkiness, the overall conspiracy and its goals remained shrouded in fog. Isaac shifted gears, instead focusing on smaller aspects.
The Restorationists use Knyzosis. According to the book I read on it, Viola Reed invented the Art. But she died during the War of Independence. Even so, she was just one of the Three Hurricanes. Couldn’t she have taught it to Derek Domino or Theodore Greylock? If the Arcadian revolutionary army as a whole used it, then she must’ve.
I think the survivors of the Sect Hidden in the Mountains infiltrated the Arcadian government and became the conspiracy I’m fighting today. Before that, Theodore organized the remnants of the Sect Hidden in the Mountains into his Theodite Rebellion after the war. They were said to be destroyed by Domino, and Reed’s certain Domino couldn’t be responsible for the conspiracy. If Theodore taught his followers Knyzosis, and the Restorationists use Knyzosis to this day…could the Theodites be the predecessors of the Restorationists?
Everything still seemed circumstantial, but Isaac felt confident in one thing: he needed to investigate that Sect. Somehow, in some way, even five decades after their destruction, they were influencing the events of today in one way or another.
Lysandros took a left up some stairs and opened a manhole. Light flooded into the pipe, and Isaac followed his guide into the morning dawn. The moon hung low in the sky on one side, sending out a cascade of purple; the sun rose on the other side, its orange rays rising to meet it. From the normal brick buildings to the normal cracked streets, the two surfaced in a regular ghetto rather than Four Eagles; Isaac sighed in relief. Lysandros snuffed out the lantern and faced Isaac with a determined look on his face.
“I didn’t guide you free. I must ask you for something in return.”
Nothing in life was free, and it was the least Isaac could do. “What is it?”
“Please, you must spread word of Zhanghai’s abuses. They can’t be allowed to rule the downtrodden in Four Eagles or anywhere else with that iron fist of theirs. We must let Arcadia know of Zhanghai’s exploitation, both above and below ground. Once we throw out their influence, men like you can move in and fix Arcadia for the better."
Isaac gestured at himself in surprise. “Men like me?”
“I don’t know if you’re military, Restorationist, or what. But you have the ability to enter and leave Four Eagles freely. You must have power. And you must use that power responsibly. To create a better world for the little folk like me and everyone in that ghetto.”
When his brother died in Patuxet, Isaac simply wanted revenge. Then he realized he wanted to create a world where nobody’s brother had to die. But there was a greater world even beyond that. The Restoratonists had a clear idea of what they wanted to do with the world once they won - to make their utopia called Kallipolis. The conspiracy wanted to return man to Paradise.
But Isaac’s world was still very much a vague thing. However, it was slowly starting to take shape. He wanted a world where Connor didn’t need to kill good men to pay his daughter’s medical bills. He wanted a world where Lysandros could live among the golden fields and blue skies, rather than just seeing them as a mural on the wall within an overgrown ghetto.
On the Melusine, Jackson told him that an idealist like Isaac would have to fight his battles forever. Isaac couldn’t just defeat the conspiracy - he’d have to keep going and make a better world after his initial victory. But when he stared poverty and misery and death in the face, he knew he wouldn’t just allow himself to stop.
Isaac joined Lysandros in looking at the rising dawn.
“Zhanghai owns the mines in my town. I understand the struggle. I won't stop until I make things right.”