Chapter 8: Homecoming

"And exactly how are we going to do that?" I asked, too dumbfounded to be angry at what Leolio was saying.

"I'm the descendant of one of the pillars, Quetza the truth-seeker, to be precise. He had done many researches, and, in the end of the legacy he would let behind, he took all of his attention toward magic."

'You may be saying this and that, but how the hell is it supposed to help us find where the gods live?" I asked, now irritated.

"Because how we enter the land of gods is a magical way, and you're the key. I know much more about you than you think. Son of a poor couple, your mother left you when you were only a kid, as for your father, he was a drug addict, and left you one year after your mother, his last gift the money he had amassed to give you proper schooling at Montezio's Institute." He stopped to take in his breath. "But even that did not last, for people discovered the secret behind your left eye, attribute you, from my personal theory, gained after your little escapade." He then looked at the void god, not missing a beat. "As for you, I take you weren't here to prevent us from being abducted because you were too busy reuniting with the siblings, right? It was reckless of you." His tone was harsh, so much so it almost felt personal. "You shouldn't have done that, and you perfectly know why, no matter the past you three share, now there is no barrier shielding us from the gods. On the bright side of things, it also means we can cross past Netema without dying."

"Wait, what do you mean a barrier shielding us?" I interrupted Leolio as the god looked down, stewing in his own anger. "I went outside the city when I was a kid, I know it wasn't a dream, I remember it very clearly. You can't be right about the legends surrounding Netema," I said, preferring to ignore his admission to stalking me.

At that the god came out of his trance, looking at me with wander, and Leolio answered, "you're a special case. I still don't know how it's possible, nor why, but it is, so we might as well do the best out of it. We're leaving in a day, that lets time for each of us to say our goodbyes to the city." The god seemed to want to ask me something, but gave up the idea midway through.

As I left, I decided to go back to the mercenary group I was a part of. Although I was considered with respect as one of the best there, all who wished to renounce to this way of life had to perform one last mission, and that did not exclude me.

Arkanoth was an immense city. Each District worth days of march in length alone. In this sense, I was lucky to be so close to District S. Although it wasn't my destination, it was, from my knowledge, the smallest of them all, and connected to a great many districts, including District K, where the headquarters of my mercenary group stood.

This mercenary group was what I had closest to a family. I may not like it, but I knew the people there, and they knew me, at least that's what I like to think. In a way, my dream is coming true, I won't have to do this job anymore, since I'm leaving, but I'll still have to fight. I'm so tired, of everything, sometimes I wonder why I chose to do this. I say it's because I had no choice, that it was the only way for me to survive, to have a roof over my head, and that once you start, there's no coming back. But that's all a convenient lie. I could've stopped that life once I escaped El Cerro De Oro, nobody would have recognized the mark thanks to master's gift. I could have started a job, one I could have proudly told to passersby, and they wouldn't be horrified, simply happy for me. Instead I went back to the Sinless, I tried to climb ranks harder, to be even more powerful, to lose the last shred of humanity I still had, I wanted to forget everything: the pain, the sorrow, the disgust of what I had become that rested in my mouth, the memories of my friends from when I still was innocent. Did I respect master's last request? I don't think so. As soon as he was gone, I regressed to my old self. Do I like that? This way of life that's eating me up each day, that's the only thing I know, maybe I like it because then I don't have to think about my life, only about the present, the cold hard press of metal against my hand, the mission I've been tasked with. And what will happen after I quit them? I'll have to do one last mission, hopefully I'll have time to accomplish it, then I will travel to another land, and after that? I'm not powerful enough to kill Tezcatlipoca, but even if I do, even if I survive it, will I truly stop this way of life? There is no meaning to my life, no goal I desperatly want to reach, no lifestyle I long for, only a job that withers me.

Before I can find an answer, the blinding lights characteristics of District S pull me out of my thoughts. I try to find my way amongst a crowd of feet, arms, heads, and suitcases, their eyes reflecting the glittering of fluorescent ads painted atop buildings dwarfing the simple houses of my childhood. Soon I see signs indicating which way to go, and after half an hour, I find myself in front of the headquarters of my group. It's an abandoned warehouse with a secret trap. In some way, it's similar to Leolio's hideout, although not as modern, I think as I climb down the ladder the secret trap led to.

I take a long look around, inhaling the strong scents of gunpowed mixed to heavy sweat as a crowd caused a ruckus, watching and gambling on two young men bawling at each other, right about to fight. Home sweet home. I advance forward, ignoring the man approching me, rubbing his hands as he tried to convince me, all teeth out in a big, great smile to bet on the fight. I stopped in front of a rubbish stand operated by a bored woman. "If you want to apply to a mission, you'll first have to take a request on the board and then present me your badge to prove me you're qualified for the mission" she said without leaving her eyes off the decrepit fasion magazine she held, her voice leaking the tiredness from constantly repeating what probably was the official line her supervisors had imposed her for newcomers. I guess it meant there were still as many clueless new guys joining their ranks, hoping to create a new life by the strength of their hands, and even more dying soon after.

"I'm here for Lucas," I said, not fazed by her assumption.

Opposite to her previous uncaring expression, she looked me in the eyes, her own surprise showing in the slight waves in her irises. She quickly scrambled to her feet, saying she'd be right back. I chuckled in amusement, I guess she was still a little new to this job. Lucas was the clerk taking care of the contractors, as for her, she was there for the sinless's. This place is one of the many bases of the Sinless, and although it is indeed the headquarters for this District in particular, there is one for each District, so we could consider them like affiliates. As for the true heaquarters, only the chiefs of each affiliates know where it is located, there is no need for anyone else to be aware of its location because they're mainly doing paperwork and managing their operations from the shadows. Even I don't know where they're located.

Soon after, the clerk came back, looking more relaxed, as if she just had had a rundown by her supervisor. She escorted me past a door barely visible. After walking past the door she simply showed me the way to Lucas' stand and excused herself.

I approached Lucas and greeted him with a toothy smile. He looked at me, surprised to see me back in one piece, and rushed over to hug me with one of his characteristic bear hug. He was two heads taller than me, meaning he was pretty tall, considering I was on the high-end of height, and had a body prone to muscle, making him a hulking beast who could tear you apart with his arms. Thankfully he preferred hugs to murders.

"I thought you were dead!" he cried with glee as he hugged me, a little too strongly in my opinion, but it still made me happy. "What the hell happened? You have to tell me!" After explaining him everything that happened, minus the part concerning Tezcatlipoca, I told him I wanted to quit and that I would be in distant Districts for quite a time, so that he doesn't worry if my travel takes up more time than I expect it to do. "You want to do a departure mission again? I know you kind of failed the last one, but it really wasn't your fault, no one could have predicted that, not even the Bureau." The Bureau was the nickname we gave to the true heaquarters of the Sinless. From the perspective of newbies, it might seem childish, but that's because most of them think of it as a legend, whereas only experienced contractors and high ranking clerks know it's more than a silly tale.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

"I know but that's the rules, just give me another one and I'll be done, also, if you could just make it a solo one, that'd be great." Few people left the Sinless and that's because you'd be chased after and killed were you to try to leave. The only safe way to stop this "job" is by taking a departure mission, however they're known to be extremely dangerous with a failure rate of over 75 percent, and in those kinds of missions, failure means death.

"You know what, since you've already done one and you're still alive and fresh, I'll give something a little easier. There is some skank who owes us money, too much for her to pay, you'll just have to kiss her goodnight and that'll be it."

"How much does she owe? It's not often we kill the ones owing us money, even if they don't pay everything by the end of their lives, it's still better than to off them."

"Two point five millions." He slowly said, rubbing his front in annoyance. "She's a drug addict, touching the bad stuff, the real bad stuff, believe me. Anyway, she couldn't pay for her next dose so she thought FUCKING STEALING US WOULD BE EASIER! Damn it! She just stole us in plain daylight like we're some stupid bitches!"

"Oh... I see." I said, slowly retreating back, although Lucas was a great guy, when he was angry, you'd better not be around. "Then I'll just go take care of it."

"Wait, what about your gun?"

"Already got one, was handpicked by some thoughtful dude, don't worry." I said to him, looking at the board for the request, and after finding it, I simply took it, deciding on looking more into the informations on my way to the 'skank'. It seemed Lucas didn't give ma a random mission for my parting, the house the thief lived at wasn't too far away, and from what I'd read, the execution was more so a question of reputation to uphold because of the news escaping than anything else.

Arriving at the house, a flow of memories assailed me; the neighborhood was decrepit just like the one I grew up in, and muddied soil replaced solid ground, making it impossible for street lamps to be put there, making the place dangerous at night. Looking at the house, I saw thousands of distorted reflections of reality through shattered glass, puddles of feces invading the front door, and balls of hair akin to what cats would spit out piled up in a corner of the porch. Opening the door, I was saddened by the sight: a tidal of empty syringes, some still leaking a strange, ever-moving, light-red liquid created a path where the wrong footing could lead you to cutting yourself on one of the needles were you to walk barefoot; piles of trash thrived in their own ecosystem, letting oblivious insects crawl to them as hidden needles led them to their demise, only adding to the forest of waste; spoiled food in the full sinker slowly rotted away, leaving to the world only the fetid aroma of poison; some parts of the walls were darkened, a direct result of bad plumping, sealing the fate of this house to one day crumble from the water leaks.

I lightly treaded the stairs, careful not to step on any shard or needle camouflaged under trash. After minutes of climbing, the stairs ended, letting me in front of a short hallway leading to a single door. There were still syringes and trash on the ground, although less than downstairs, making my way to the door easier. As I entered the room, the strong stench of feces and urine punched me in the face, fazing me for a few seconds.

A long, sick, pained groan answered the creaking of the door. Looking where the noise came from, I saw an old, shriveled, deathly pale lady. It was easy to tell she used to be tall, even when she was rolled up on her bed, her eyes locked in a distant place only she could see. "Did they really got robbed by that?" I asked to myself in disbelief. I knew I had gotten the right address: I always double-check. And if that wasn't enough, then all the emptied syringes downstairs were proof enough she was guilty.

Hearing my voice, she turned her face, exposing her hair that once must have been resplendant but now was nothing more than a grave to time. "It's you, Jacques?" She weakly quivered, so faintly I almost did not catch it.

"What? Do I know you?"

"It's me, Jacques. Don't you remember, I helped you escape when they learned about your eye, Jacques, and I also was there when you were sent to prison, but you escaped, and I never saw you again. Do you not recognize me, Jacques?" She said, despair in her voice.

"What? No, that...no, that didn't happen. I don't know you. that's not true, you... you can't be her - you can't be Teresa! You're just an old lady, you're crazy! Tell me how you know me, who are you!"

"So you don't recognize me... nobody recognizes me." She wailed in pain, but then suddenly stopped, only to start shrieking, "it's because of that damn drug, it killed me! Killed me! I was beautiful, I was young, now look at me! I need more, please, it hurts too much, Jacques, I need you... please help me." She started crying, each crying waking a painful cough snapping for short seconds her back in half.

"Wait... did that drug do that to you? You're so old, it's - is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me. It's me!" she cried to me, still coughing.

"How is it possible, it can't be real, you can't have aged so much. You were only one year older than me - you're only twenty-two!"

"It's the drugs, they did that to me, it's all because of the drugs, it's all their fault! I helped you so much, Jacques, I was there with you when you were with the Sinless, I was there when you were deported to El Cerro De Oro - I never let you down, so please, help me!"

"What? No, you... you betrayed me, you wanted to call the police, I had to run away! You're lying to me, why!" and yet, conflicting memories flooded back even as I denied her truth. I can't tell anymore, what's real and what isn't. Why is it so hard to remember the past. I want to remember, but I can't. I crouched down, eyes shut and hands on my head, preventing my memories from escaping: I have to know.

"What are you saying, Jacques? We all helped you escape, Jim and I, when the others learned about your eye. We knew you, of course we wouldn't have done such a thing. I'm still so sorry we couldn't stay together, but we still managed to find you, help you when you needed us. We never betrayed you, how could you say such things?" It took long for her to finish what she had to say; she was often interrupted by her coughings, and the words seemed to be reluctant to leave her throat, as if it meant death to them.

Her words were like a tidal breaking the dam in my mind. The charm was finally broken. I remembered everything: how I met them, their acceptance, the jokes we made. I remember when I showed them my eye, their understanding, the secret that would tie together our three lives for the rest of time. I remember the day the other kids saw the true form of my eye, being scared of it, and my friends, once again, helping me. But above all, I remember when Tezca raised his left hand at me, sending me back to the past - a distorted version of it, one where everything seems worse than it really is - than it really was.

"I remember." I said weakly, tears flowing out. "I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't mean it. I love you guys."

Teresa seemed surprised for an instant, but soon smiled. "It's alright. We'll always be friends, to the end. But tell me, how did you find me?"

I hesitated for a moment, then chose for the truth. "You got yourself on real trouble. You stole from the Sinless. I was sent there to kill you. I can't believe you stole so much money, and not from anybody! Why would you do that for drugs? It's not like you."

She looked at the floor in regret, unable to change the past."Jim is dead. It has been five years now, I couldn't live with that pain, but I didn't want to kill myself, I didn't want to leave you alone...I'm sorry." She paused for a long, suffocating minute, trying to regain her bearings. "Before you kill me, I'd like to give you something back. Help me get up, will you?" she said as she tried to hide the pain away.

I helped her walk to the other side of the room, where she opened a drawer. Looking down, I saw her bare feet, full of small cuts, some of her nails coated in blood. It made me feel guilty. If I had been there for her, none of that would have happened, she wouldn't have touched any drugs, no matter the reason, and she wouldn't have to die today. Because of me she won't be able to ever be happy again.

"Here." She handed me a carved case as big as a hand. "I never truly understood why you gave so much importance to that. Everytime I asked you, you said it was what was inside that's important, but there's nothing. Maybe it was just a prank you pulled all those years ago, but who knows - maybe it truly is important to you." Her tone had regained some vigor, although the work of age still made her voice quiver.

I took the case with respect, and slowly, I opened it, revealing what secret lay hidden inside. That's when I remembered, something precious I had found outside of Arkanoth, in the house of a mutilated skeleton: a pocket watch, old, beautiful, broken. "Still nothing," Teresa muttered in frustration and disappointment.

"Thanks, Teresa. It does mean a lot to me. I'm really thankful you did not forget." I said, not trying to find out why she couldn't see it. At that, her frustation eased a little, and she smiled.

"Now that it's done," she said as she trotted back to her bed, "will you do it, my bones are killing me. Oh, and make that painless, I don't want to suffer even in death, thanks."

"Sure," A single tear flowed down as I pulled my pistol out, aiming it at the face of Teresa, her eyes closed, "and thanks for everything. I won't forget you, I promise."