Ira Invidia (VI): A Start To Many Things

--- Booker H. Freeman, Present ---

He shot awake, a cold sweat soaking his skin as his heart pounded away in a desperate bid to escape his rib cage.

A reaction in complete contrast to the dream -(No, the memory)- he’d awoken from.

He… he could remember his mother…

The memories were filled with massive gaps, and aside from that one memory everything else was caked in static and darkness so thick that it might as well be a part of the blackest abyss.

“Why can’t I remember?” He growled through a smile full of fangs.

It had been one thing when he had no memories to recall whatsoever, but to only have that one core memory? It made the absence of the rest far too prominent to ignore. Especially given how he could feel the whispering recollection of other memories, things that he both did and did not know, memories just barely out of his reach.

(Envy: After what was done to you? The fact that you’ve regained any memories is a miracle in itself.)

“What was done to me?” He asked with a tense grin, the closest to a frown he could manage without triggering that terrible flood of insanity.

(Pride: Something extraordinary!)

(Envy: The worst thing possible…)

(Wrath: What we deserved.)

(Greed: What we were owed.)

(Lust: A story deserving of song!)

(Gluttony: The end and the beginning.)

(Sloth: None of us actually know.)

He couldn’t help but let loose a derisive huff at that last thought.

“What do you know?” He scoffed, his thoughts drifting to his only memory of his mother, one strong enough that he knew he’d never forg- (...)

(Pride: That was a core memory. The foundation of an individual’s personality. An anchor to the very essence of their being.)

(Envy: It was a part of me of you… You dug it up from where I buried it…)

“Why would you bury it? Bury her.” He wondered in disgust, his eyes drifting towards the glass box on the wall where his faint reflection refused to meet his eyes.

(Envy: I… I don’t remember…)

There was a shame to the voice’s words that made it impossible to tell whether this was truth or lie, merely that it was all he was going to be given on the matter.

“Do the rest of you have my memories buried as well?” He growled at his reflection.

(Pride: Knowledge should be shared!)

(Gluttony: …)

(Lust: I would never!)

(Wrath: Those thoughts hurt…)

(Greed: They’re ours!)

(Sloth: Probably.)

With a snarl he slammed his fist into the glass box, shattering his shifting reflection in a dense webs of cracks as his knuckles were ripped open by the broken glass.

He stood there for a moment with his fist still embedded in the glass huffing to himself, as he tried to process what he’d learned about his memories being buried within himself.

Eventually, he removed his hand from the glass and proceeded to straighten out his clothes, because (my memories are there, I just need to figure out how to reclaim them…)

All in all, it wasn’t something worth getting so worked up over. (Not when I now have some direction going forward.)

(Lust: Feeling better now?)

“Quite.” He nodded to himself, before considering the shattered glass next to him and faintly remembering one of the first ‘lessons’ his dearest mother had given him.

Pulling on something within him, he snapped his fingers and directed that something towards the broken glass.

After a moment the web of fractures began to slowly shrink as the glass sealed itself good as new. With not a single crack to be felt as he ran his finger over the newly smoothened surface.

He couldn’t help but smirk at this new tool provided to him by his mother, one that would inevitably make things significantly easier for him in this place.

(Envy: Even if I can only recall the basics right now…)

As he stepped into the hallway he started making his way towards Lydia’s room, sure that the young lady was bound to be up and about by now. (I mean the sun is nearly risen after all!)

(Sloth: Ugh, let her and you sleep. Please?)

“And waste the whole day? I think not!” He scoffed.

(Lust: Ooh, how about we make her breakfast in bed then!)

“Oh, now that is a splendid idea!”

---

The hotel’s kitchen, while perhaps not the most splendidly stocked with the freshest ingredients, was however stocked with enough that he was able to put something together using the memories that his dearest mother had left him given the power hidden within ‘the magic of cooking’. Something he quite enjoyed as he hummed the tune that followed his mother everywhere.

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(Gluttony: You’re not alone.)

His ear twitched, before he caught sight of young Lydia cautiously making her way into the kitchen.

“Ah, you’re just in time for breakfast my dear!” He smiled, setting another plate loaded down with food on the counter. “I’m unaware of your preferences so I’ve just made a little bit of everything.”

Lydia licked her lips with a clear hunger as she looked at the food on the counter, before repeating. “A little bit of everything?”

“Well, everything they have here at least. Feel free to help yourself.” Before the last word left his mouth, Lydia had already begun doing just that, tearing into her food as if it were the dust bowl.

(Sloth: Heh, street rat’s hungry.)

(Gluttony: Hunger is one of the great motivators.)

He shrugged and simply wrapped up what he’d left cooking before joining her, if with a touch less enthusiasm while always leaving the last bites for the hungering child.

After a moment, when Lydia’s eating had finally begun to slow he noticed her eyes flickering towards him with an unspoken curiosity.

(Pride: And curiosity is always a good thing.)

“Yes, my dear?” He prodded, when she didn’t voice her questions of her own free will.

“Oh, um,” Lydia seemingly winced to herself at having been caught staring. “We, uh, we’re going to start working on getting out of here today… right?”

“Yes.” He confirmed. “That said, I would enjoy having a little more information to work with about our situation.”

Lydia blinked. “Uh, what kind of information?”

“For one, how much Sin will a ticket out of this place cost us?” He wondered. “I’m aware mine will be more than yours, but that doesn’t do us much without hard numbers to work towards.”

“I… don’t know for sure.” Lydia confessed with a rather ugly grimace. “The most annoying part about Sin is how it weighs differently for different people doing different things.”

(Greed: That’s the difference between classes speaking. Money is worth less to the rich because they’ve got more than enough to buy and sell a soul.)

“Some people can gather it so easily, but when I do the same things I… I get nothing from it.” Lydia grumbled, playing with her food before her expression brightened as she looked his way. “Maybe… Have you figured out why it works differently for different people?”

(Pride: The observer effect?)

(Greed: Financing skills?)

(Sloth: The law is rigged?)

He got the distinct feeling none of those were the answers the child was looking for so instead said, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll be able to sort that out easily enough should we take that route. I simply wish to know if your way is the only means of securing our passage out of the city?”

“As far as I know, yeah.” Lydia shrugged.

“Yes, well, you’ll find my dear that I have few more means at my disposal than you.” He reminded her, while using his magic to move the leftover food from their plates and into containers to take with them.

(Gluttony: Need to eat whatever you can whenever you can…)

Despite being a mere parlor trick compared to the secrets that he knew were out there, Lydia stared in awe as if it were some fantastical feat.

“Right… You’ve got magic…” Lydia remembered. “That song wasn’t just you being…” She trailed off with a wince.

“Crazy?” He finished, before leaning forward as he pinched two fingers together. “I should probably warn you that I am in fact just a little crazy.”

(Envy: Just a little?)

(Pride: We’re an eccentric genius is all.)

Unaware of this little aside, Lydia gave him a beautiful little smile as she accepted one of the leftover containers.

“Well… If you want to see what you’re working against, then I guess you should probably see this side of the Wall.” Lydia told him as she packed the food away in her backpack.

“The Wall?” He repeated curiously.

“Well, I mean, I guess it’s ‘The Wall-s’.” Lydia corrected herself.

---

“Ah, the walls.” He acknowledged looking up at the two large structures that went off as far as the eye could see in either direction, seemingly encircling this entire city.

One wall was a massive concrete structure far larger than any of the nearby buildings, and possibly larger than any building within Ira Invidia with a handful of metal windows, firearms, and spotlights.

All of which was aimed down towards a much smaller and less intimidating wooden wall and fence that looked like it could be blown over by whatever wind the larger wall wasn’t shielding it from.

“Yeah, the walls.” Lydia nodded in agreement. “Everyone can see the big one but I guess it makes sense that people on the outside don’t know about the smaller one.”

“And… what is the point of the smaller one?” He found himself asking with no small amount of curiosity.

“From what I’ve heard on the streets? The smaller wall was made because a bunch of racist idiots thought they could keep out the ‘immigrants’ or some garbage like that. They won’t admit it but I think this is as good as it ever got.” Lydia explained before lightly kicking one of the smaller wall’s supports and causing it to collapse alongside a small section of this lesser wall.

They were both silent for a moment before he gestured towards the much more impressive wall. “I don’t suppose you know how the larger wall came to be?”

“Uh, those ‘immigrants’ -which, ya know, were everyone outside of Ira Invidia- saw the wall meant to keep them out and decided to build a better wall to keep everyone in Ira Invidia.” Lydia shrugged with a shake of her head. “Which basically turned Ira Invidia into its own prison while reminding the nazi’s that they were the minority down here.”

“How delightfully petty.” He smiled.

“Yeah, I’d be laughing about it if it wasn’t screwing me over.” Lydia agreed, “So any ideas?”

“Hmm, give me a moment to think.” He requested as he began looking the wall over. (The larger one of course. (Not the sad pathetic one made by clearly inferior nazi engineering.))

(Pride: I… can not see any integrities from here.)

(Envy: Yeah, and I can definitely feel a barrier or something.)

(Lust: That means it’s technically three walls! That’s like fifty percent more wall! Oh, Lydia is going to be so discouraged!)

(Sloth: We could just, not tell her.)

(None of that matters at the moment.) What did matter was the fact that Lydia was looking at him expectantly, if with a tint of worry. (We need to figure out how to get past this.)

(Greed: Much as I hate to admit it. We might need to just buy the tickets and get out.)

(You’re suggesting we give something up?)

(Greed: We’re not giving anything up. Like any smart capitalist we’re simply trading something of lesser value for something of greater value. Namely our money for our freedom.)

(Sloth: If we weren’t broke, that would be the easiest method.)

(A valid point on both counts.) He had to admit.

(Wrath: We could simply fight your way out?)

(Sloth: Better yet, make these ‘nazis’ Lydia despises do it for us. That way we don’t have to work at all.)

(I’m sure Lydia is street smart enough to know someone we can send to their deaths in our place… Barring her of course.)

(Pride: Alternatively, we could try side-stepping conflict altogether by taking a more thorough look at this wall. If we walk it we might find something we’re missing.)

(Envy: While we’re at it we might as well inspect the barrier for any weaknesses as well.)

That did sound like the least dangerous method, though it felt like the one that would have the least… wiggle room for him to take advantage of as well.

(Lust: Ooh, ooh! Can’t we simply talk to the guards? Explain that us being here is a mistake? That Lydia is just an innocent child? I’m sure they’ll let us out if we’re polite enough.)

(All: …)

(Greed: You’re an idiot and you’re going to get us killed.)

(Lust: You don’t know that. I mean strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet!)

He was pulled from his thoughts by Lydia tugging on his shirt. “Uh, Booker, I should probably warn you that if we’re this close to the wall when they do their security check, they’re probably going to shoot at us.” The young maiden warned him.

“Ah, in that case we should..."