Why today?

Zeph stared at the broken body on the ground, the person’s face turning paler and paler. Blood slowly spilled from his guts. He was dumbfounded and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was no one in sight, and the alley was dead silent. In the light of day, Zeph was staring at a body bleeding out. The shock quickly left his body thanks to helping his mother with her nursing since he was a child. He ran to the man, kneeling in front of him. First, he checked the vitals, a soft hum. He was alive, but it wouldn’t be for long. He would be dead if an ordinary civilian had found him; he would probably still be finished with his help. He would have never found him if he hadn’t gotten so accustomed to the smell of blood; no one would have until it was too late. Who would try to kill a man with the sun still in the sky? He calmed his mind; it was not his place to question. He had to save.

He carefully peeled the man’s clothes off, making sure not to worsen the wound.

Fuck!

What could have made that? Zeph thought. It was nothing like he had ever seen, a wide range, and the cuts too random. Like he had been cut with a new with a thousand small edges. No weapon he knew could make such a wound. It was bad. He steeled his mind, death was nothing new to him, but he could never honestly blame himself. He hadn’t been the one in control—only assisting. This would be his fault. This man wasn’t going to die. This man needed extensive care, and he needed it now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all fixed up,” Zeph said, even though he knew the man was unconscious.

With a single motion, he ripped his newly bought collar shirt and applied it to the wounds.

Thankfully all of the wounds weren’t tremendously deep, but there was a deep wound near his kidney. All his training kept him from panicking, and he applied the cloth around his abdomen and pressure to the injury. He needed to get someone to call for help, but he would lose too much blood if he ran after someone. Zeph was stuck. No matter how much knowledge you have, you couldn’t do it without the right tools—the right equipment. He started applying more pressure, but blood started filling his hands more and more.

“FUCK FUCK FUCK” Zeph said.

He ripped off his entire shirt and tried to apply the pressure. The man’s aorta had been pierced by one of the cuts. Zeph increased his pressure; this man was going to die.

He was about to scream for help when he heard footsteps down the alleyway.

“Over here!” Zeph cried.

Four officers turned the corner. A sigh of relief flooded Zeph, but he quickly continued to apply pressure to the wound. He was still far from safe. “HURRY” he screamed at three men and one woman. Their uniforms differed from where he was from, but he could still make them out from the emblem on the top of their hat—the golden shield.

The woman was about to run to help, but a large man put a hand in front of her. They weren’t looking at him but at the body lying on the floor. It wasn’t eyes that were desperate to help, those he had seen all his life. The visible shock was on their faces until it turned into something else. Their eyebrows lowered, and their posture hunched. Like a hunt. Anger.

“The tattoos,” he heard one of the officers say. Zeph glanced at the arm but saw nothing unusual, just a large tattoo running down that man’s arm. Had that been there before? He must have missed it because he needed to be preoccupied with trying to save his life.

This still didn’t make any sense.

“THE HELL ARE YOU DOING” Zeph screamed again. He was going to die at this pace, but he could tell something was wrong. Very wrong. He didn’t know why. The officers slowly started walking toward them.

“You think we will help your heathen friend?” The officer said. Two of the officers looked to be visibly shaking from anger. “You are coming with us,” the officers said, now within distance. Zeph was hyperventilating. What the hell was happening?

Stolen story; please report.

Suddenly Zeph felt a giant shove from one of the officers, sending him flying. Zeph was tall but didn’t have a single ounce of fat or muscle on his frame. He slides along the asphalt as the officers begin kicking the man. Zeph could only stare in shock.

“Finally, we have our hands on one again,” the shortest of the officers said, “it been too long.”

His brain was being flipped on his head; was he dreaming? But the blood jumping from the man’s body knocked him back to reality. “Think we have instruction to save your kind.” One of the other officers said, kicking the body. “You vermin!”

The man was going to die, and Zeph’s body moved on instinct. His mother’s words beaten into him. “Fight to your last breath to save every single patient. No matter how futile it seems”. He jumped in front of the body, trying to shield it. It didn’t end well.

He didn’t know how long it lasted; he tried fighting back. But four against one was difficult for even the best of fighters. Zeph was a far cry from a fighter. Their fist’s heavy with rage, and he could slowly feel his body crumple. Zeph started to get worried; maybe he would be lucky just to be arrested. Was this how he was going to die? Trying to save a dying man and accused of being a criminal. The shame his mother would feel.

“How dare you try and save that scum,” the female police officer screamed. “You’ll never have the opportunity to save anyone from the FORBIDDEN ever again.”

The woman’s eyes began tearing up, thinking about it as she looked ready to explode in rage. He had never seen emotion so raw. “You’ll never save anyone related to HIM!”

Zeph realized they were going to kill him. He didn’t know what the man had done or what his tattoo meant. But it was apparent he was some criminal, and they thought he must have been his friend. Zeph’s body thrashed, trying to break free. His body and mind are screaming for a way to survive. He wanted to live. HE NEEDED TO LIVE. He wanted to show his mother that he would fulfill her dream, not die on the first day of achieving their dream.

He closed his eyes and steeled himself from a punch that never came. He slowly opened his eyes and saw the large police officer who was about to punch him with a dark purple spear through his chest. The purple spear looked inhuman, wrong. But as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared from the man’s chest. The man fell emotionless to the ground. Zeph had seen death; the man was dead before he hit the ground. He heard the female officer scream, and Zeph turned his head. The three officers were standing around a girl, no woman, much smaller than them. She stood before the man Zeph had tried to save, a purple liquid flowing through her arms. Zeph’s eyes found her tattoo. It was the form style as the man’s lying on the ground, but with a different pattern. The tattoo shone brightly. Before any of the officers could think as much as move a muscle, the smaller woman was running at them. They all tried to draw their weapons, but the more petite woman was too fast. The weird liquid still flowed around her arm, and as soon as she got close to one of the officers, she touched him with her palm. The strange liquid form around her arm touched him, and like a paralyzer had hit his body— He went limp. He could see the other officers stare in silence. They were just as shell-shocked as he was.

“YOU DARE HURT CARLO,” the small woman hissed.

Her voice was surprisingly deep for someone of her stature. The officers slowly started backing away, knowing that they were outmatched. But the woman didn’t let them try and run for backup, the weird liquid spurring from her tattoo—slicing both officers clean in half.

Zeph couldn’t believe his eyes; it looked so surreal. he had never seen something so vile. So disgusting. He had seen wounds people wouldn’t believe, but nothing close to this. Even on the brink of consciousness, his body wanted to throw up. He had never seen so much blood, with their expression lifeless. But as quickly as the bodies fell to the floor, the woman was by her friend’s side. She immediately picked up the body over her shoulder, something that she definitely shouldn’t be able to do for someone her size. She didn’t even spare Zeph a glance, even though he knew she had seen him. He had been right below the person she punctured with a spear. She ran down the alley at speed far too abnormal with a person on their back until they left his line of sight.

It all came crashing down.

The mental image wouldn’t leave his mind; what had he gotten himself into? His body lay flat and broken on the concrete of the abandoned alley, with nothing but dismembered bodies as companions. He should have never moved from the north, where he and his mother lived. But he had to leave home; it had far too few people and too little money to be made. Of course, they made universities in the south, where all the people were. Not the south, only in VIel. The land of the people. VIel, he had heard legends of the horror of the mafia clans— Everyone had, but that was just a legend from long ago. But he had a feeling he had just seen it firsthand, and there seemed to be weird tattoos involved, and an HIM, the female officer, was referring to. He would never walk down an alley again, no matter who called for help. He couldn’t help but feel bitter that his goodwill had resulted only in death. For something he didn’t even know what it was about. His thoughts were painful, and his body weak. He tried to stand. He couldn’t stay here any longer; he needed to get treatment. He didn’t need to be experienced in medicine to know he had a broken hand and rib. A miracle he was only left with that. As he tried to stand, his body gave out, far too weak to go anywhere. He felt hopeless— Sorry, mother. Even with bodies lying around him, the thing on his mind was his mother and her hard work to allow him to attend school. He could only pray he wouldn’t get kicked out for his attendance. His tired body slowly grew limp, and his eyes closed.

Why today?