Foreigner was exhausted. He sparred with Itzhak and even with the handicap offered to him by the Heaven Piercer, he was still struggling to keep up with the bundle of muscle, let alone repel his blows and get his own in. The man was battle hardened and whatever instinct was pulling Foreigners strings were having a tough time taking advantage of an opening in Itzhak’s defenses. He was quick for his size as well as physically dense and imposing in a way that made him feel more like an animal or a force of nature than any human.
He was smiling too. His smile was wide and his eyes wide and hungering, enjoying the combat much more than Foreigner was. The flow of their spar would be interrupted now and again by Oliver, reprimanding Foreigner for his current form and suggesting alternatives to his style and positioning as well as yelling at Itzhak for being sloppy with his approaches and defenses.
“You think that because you’re built like a bear, you can take on any amount of abuse. Get your head in the game and take this seriously. At least he is!” Oliver pointed at Foreigner and that was enough for Itzhak to apologize and spar with an even-keeled gusto.
The second half of the spar hurt much more. Whereas before Foreigner was leaning on the Heaven Piercer for attack sequences and reflexive defensive movements, he was outright abusing it to the point that each moment disconnected from the metal bit of the weapon left him nauseated and foggy. Itzhak was relentless, every punch crackling with electrical energy, grunts let loose with every jab and swing.
The two laid on the floor mat after sparring for an hour. It was all Foreigner could do to keep his mind cogent enough for interactions with the others in the store. If it was his condition or the delirious nature of his mind, they left him alone.
And he allowed his mind to drift. At first the drifting was aimless and concerned with the immediate; saving Peepers and the Meister for Jin, discovering information on how to save his family, gaining insight on his past life, and managing to do all of those things without dying along the way. But even these worries were subsumed into the void of his mind.
“Do you think he’ll hold up?” An image of a facility, its walls feel familiar to the touch, the air stale and dry and dusty. “He’s the one that offered himself up for the tests. Honestly didn’t surprise me.” The ceiling extends upward infinitely, checkered spaces shifting around. A false image. He would not succumb. “The fact that he’s alive? With what he’s seen? I’m surprised he comes back human. This suits him.” He looks down at his fingers, marbled stone wrapped around his fingers in the same shifting pattern. “How long have you been here?” How long have I been here. I have been here since I have been-
“Oi,” Itzhak shook Foreigner from his stupor, “Are you okay there, friend? Did I go too hard on the spar? I felt bad I did not take it as seriously and I am sorry.” Itzhak gave him an apologetic smile. Foreigner accepted the apology and stood up. His head was about to burst and the world was spinning but he feigned feeling well to his friend and his hosts.
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“Well just make sure he doesn’t vomit on the mat. It takes forever to get the smell out of there.” Oliver eyed Itzhak and went back to his work no longer concerned with his friend and their plight. He’d done enough and Foreigner was grateful for even this much.
“Itzhak, let’s go,” Foreigner turned to Oliver, “Thank you and Felda for your hospitality. I hope we can repay the favor in the future and avoid any trouble coming your way.”
“I’m going to milk you for all your worth.” Oliver gave Foreigner a firm handshake and clapped his back. “Now get out of my shop. It’s bad for business to keep my damn doors closed.”
Just like that, the two were ushered out onto the streets, the foot traffic on the sidewalk as amorphous and aimless as ever. Foreigner could depend on this to be a constant, it seemed.
“I’m glad you were able to meet one of my friends, Foreigner.” Itzhak stated as he walked defiantly against the flow of the foot traffic.
“I’m glad to see that you still have connections to speak of. I figured that the state of things out here left citizens yearning for connections with others.” Foreigner replied, eyes glazing over while maintaining focus on Itzhak’s general form.
“That’s a poignant observation, friend. It is true that our current lives suffer from a rot that will not go away. It is a rot that festers within the body of the lost and the lonely. It is good to have others, at least to avoid losing oneself.” Itzhak replied.
“And yet it’s a struggle to maintain connections with others here because we’ve been stratified by the City and its rules. By the need to overcome our circumstances at the cost of others. At the cost of our own humanity.” Foreigner couldn’t tell if these words were his or not.
Oh but the City will not be denied its monsters. You know better than I that it is through division and fear that the Heads maintain their hold on the world below. And while people escape through rationalizations of their inhumanity, through entertainment and violence, through devolvement into the insane and psychotic, you escape not once but twice.
Foreigner kept moving but his vision was forcibly sunk into the abyss.
“You disgust me!” A woman yelled at him whenever he made an approach, her arms wrapped tightly around a bundle of cloth in her arms. “No consideration! You never think, only do the first things that come to mind and avoid suffering consequences later. I thought you’d grow out of it, that your work would take you out of it but this work that you’re doing…” She paused, looking at him with a gaze that filled him with discomfort.
“But you didn’t care about them. Not enough anyway. You wanted to, you needed to, but they were something of a distraction. Like everything else.” A familiar voice whispered into his ears with an insidious glee. “I can’t say that you don’t care enough. Or maybe I can and assume that like everything else, you used them as a justification for the ambition you sought. Even if I like that other guess, I know that isn’t true.” Foreigner turned around and found a door that wasn’t there. He frantically opened the door and fell upwards, body distorting and stretching to fill in spaces left cramped and bare, trying to hold the structure in place. The structure of what?
“I will not be denied my time in the light. I’m tired of watching this puppy bit with no third act.” Foreigner couldn’t turn around to find the source of the noise but the voice was familiar and surrounded him with an ever expanding sense of dread.
“You’re a monster. It’s about time I help you realize that.“