> 26 August 2220, 9:06 AM

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>  

“Droj, he ain’t coming back. Let’s just focus on my plan.” Schlatt turned his back to the blazing sun. He felt like it was mad at him today for not sending a prayer to its maker, but he was busy. The gods can wait, his panicked friend cannot.

“It ain’t a sensible plan when its only outcome is our deaths!” Schaltt gave a sideways look at the thralls who kept looking over their table.

It was a look of contempt, which was a new mask they wore. They liked to imitate their faceless altars, always thinking they looked menacing. They were just a bunch of bald, bipolar cultists. Not even the kids in the Roana slums cared for their shenanigans.

That aside, they’ve been really quiet the last few weeks, not seeking Droj for their candles and weeds. It seems like Schlatt isn’t the only one ignoring his gods.

“Dammit, I even pulled my back to contact Manon for the boosters and gloves, and the guy just got himself killed.”

Droj bit his fist to stop himself from yelling. He didn’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention even when he was losing his shit.

His voice took a drastic change of tone. He convinced himself he was only partially distressed.

“I just didn’t think they’ll actually come, you know? I thought that bitch brain-tweaker will take care of things, or at least retreat and pay for the guards’ silence. It just makes little sense.” Droj scratched his arms and glared at the table.

Jasmine did not work this way. She was cautious and smart. Her being here is neither.

Schlatt did what he did best; he sat quietly and waited for Droj to figure out a solution. The latter was always smarter than him, ever since they were kids, and he learned from experience that Droj never failed to find a solution—even if that solution was no solution at all.

“Let’s recap. Fanes are conducting experiments for something; something so wicked and dangerous that we’ve been shoveling the evidence away for a decade. But, it is also important enough that they’ve spent millions to keep everything a secret.

The warden, guards, cooks, janitors, and all the menial workers are in on it. Everyone who hasn’t been hired by Alka or is loyal to them. They started with animals, werewolves, and in the last couple of years humans; specifically regulars. They started with the worst of the worst, the rapists, kiddie lovers, and murderers that they could smuggle from high-security prisons, but then the tribesman was taken too. And now the rich, lanky guy. Why? What do those two have in common?”

Schlatt tapped his foot impatiently. He was bored with this sherlock nonsense.

He longed to walk up to the court and throw some balls, but the soldier boys use it for their weird drills. They were going hard on it, however, and pushing themselves like they never did before.

He did not like them at all. They always walked in a tight formation like a goddamned military force that you’d think rods were permanently stuck up their asses.

They liked to keep to themselves, and the Bastards never shied away from extra shoveling work. That’s how you know they really got too many screws loose.

Schaltt once asked Droj why they were here, or why they weren’t on the Fanes’ list. He laughed at him and walked away. Maybe now would be a good idea to ask, since Droj was too preoccupied with his new dilemma to think right.

“You never told me for what Danzel and his goons got caught for.”

“They did odd jobs for a wealthy guy who wanted to know the secrets of the new Soulsmiths’ association creations. You know how the Crows are an independent bunch of powerful Soulbounds. They obey no one’s rule and act as mercenaries. Danzel and his bunch are ravens, though. Tried to imitate their betters and–” Droj shot him a fierce glare and clamped his mouth shut.

“Real smart of ya, Schlatt. Finally, using that liquid brain of yours.”

“I never thought they were actually Crows’ initiates. What are they doing here? Alka never let a crow survive.” Schaltt was too perturbed by the news to acknowledge Droj’s disdained sneer.

“They ain’t Crow initiates. They’re regulars, just phonies who spent too much time reading comics as kids. They probably think that with the force of friendship and a buggy-eyed leader, they can become Soulbounds.”

Schlatt stifled a laugh, his eyes darting towards the big-eyed man. Danzel, holding a basketball, was already looking at them.

Schaltt hid a shiver and snapped his head back towards Droj. That buggy-eyed man gave him the creeps.

“No... I’m thinking about this from the wrong angle. Vols and the tribesman are small fish, it ain’t about them. Alka gives nobles freedom, but they hate each other. How could a decade pass by with none of them knowing about Fanes—” Droj halted, wearing a grave expression.

Schlatt frowned, all mirth evaporated, and said, “What is it?”

But Droj did not answer. His eyes lasered on the thralls, then the ravens, and he shook his head.

“We’ve been had, my friend. Can’t believe I just saw it. They’ve been working together all along.”

Schlatt frowned.

This was not about the corpses or Vols Chathier and his gloves anymore.

.......

> 26 August 2220, 7:03 PM

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>  

A week had passed since he first started going to Stevenson’s.

It had felt like a year, and the world had moved on, ignoring him when he begged it to stop.

It reminded him of the first time he picked up the whiskey bottle after Jaimie’s death.

He would watch his friends slowly walk away from his life, while he was stuck at the bottom of a bottle.

Everyone left him, even Louise.

Everyone but his mother and Chris.

Lothar chuckled. If you threw in his father to the mix, then those three were his least favorite humans on earth.

Now, his list has gotten longer. It was filled with the names of every Fane he ever encountered. Unlike his time on earth, he will make sure to pay the favor.

Lothar had been kidnapped from Jasmine’s office again and sent to the doctor’s. The latter had continued practicing his skin transplant experiments.

It had left scars deeper than the ones on his skin.

This time, they healed him to the best of their subpar abilities. They even attempted to fix his vocal cords, but he was permanently disfigured. He could talk again, but with extreme difficulty.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Today, they told him the experiments were almost done and escorted him back to his cell for the first time in forever.

Lothar grinned as he laid on the cold metal floor, arms and legs spread, cackling as he breathed in the smell of familiar rust.

One last visit tomorrow and they kill me.

He was given the choice of choosing his meal for tonight. He did not like that they treated him like a death row inmate, but he couldn’t complain.

He asked for a cheeseburger and fries, a simple American delight, and he almost wept at how good it was. The cook’s talent was being wasted on the wastrels here.

He looked up at his status screen, displaying the only reason he was still taking a breath.

Constitution: 45 [Temporary]

The doctor had been injecting him with the highest quality boosters to keep him alive. They would last a few weeks before his constitution drops back to his meager 6, and he dies from everything they’ve done to him. He hoped he would go out before that because of the notorious side effects boosters have after their effects recede.

This experiment wasn’t like the first one; Stevenson was not trying to create something but merely observing if the power of the kai’shi symbols could be transferred to another through skin transplanting.

It is a throwaway curiosity that would leave Lothar dead.

< The kai’shi are born with those tattoos, each has a meaning in their language and power.>

And the worm was right because below his quest tab, was a new feature of the system.

Kai’shi runes: (Not active)

Ekira

Antora

Silika

And that was it. The worm did not know what those runes do or what they mean. He questioned how the system knew the names if the worm didn’t, and it reasoned with something he found quite endearing.

Lothar lulled his head and dozed off; he was tired and full. He laid his head on his pillow and yelped. Something had dug into his ear.

He rubbed it and took out Vols’ notebook.

He frowned when he remembered his first quest.

Are you sure that boosters can paralyze regulars for up to thirty minutes once injected?

Lothar had decided: when the guards come in to escort the prisoners tomorrow to their graveyard shift, he would follow. One last time.

.....

> 27 August 2220, 11:18 AM

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>  

Droj almost beamed when he saw Vols in the morning graveyard shift. His mouth opened and closed, shocked to see the state he was in.

“Shit. They really messed him up, huh?” Schlatt took the words out of his mouth.

Droj had already secured the Gloves and boosters. Manon, his old boss, took care of things as quickly as she could after he promised her the notebook.

You’ll have to do the sentence. I can’t come to get you out. You know that, right?

Droj’s mood soured as he recalled her last words to him.

Vols was here now, and he was alive—alive was a stretch.

He looked like he walked through a glass shards’ storm and was sewed back up by a puppet master. His eyepatch was still intact on his face, though.

They were both approached by the man, who rested his weight on the shovel more than he did any shoveling, and hacked at a growing infected scar tissue on his neck. Schlatt gagged as he saw the trickling puss coming out of Lothar’s neck, but Droj was eyeing the tattoos there.

“What the fuck have they been doing to you?” Schlatt murmured when Vols got close.

“What, this? It is just a new look I’m trying. Do you like it?” He grated out with a mechanical voice. Half his words were gurgles, and Droj had to piece together what he said.

“I have your book. Do you have my boosters?”

“Yeah, they’re on me right now. We can do the exchange in the shower room.” Droj always kept his goods on him. It would be stupid not to, even if the guards rarely visited his abode.

Vols nodded and asked, “When are the agents coming?”

Droj looked him over and debated whether he should ask if Vols knew anything.

“Today”

Vols nodded and turned to leave. Droj felt a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It took his tongue hostage and made it utter words that surprised his brain.

“There are two doors in Stevenson’s operation room. One is always guarded—avoid it, and other is an emergency exit. You go from there and take stairs down. You go down two stories before arriving at first outpost. Door will be locked and guarded. It is a close window, but if you can make it, then maybe you will see the sun before guards kill you.”

Vols halted, his shoulder stiffening “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know. Guess I ought to do some good before karma catches up.”

Vols stretched his mouth painfully slow, imitating a smile “Right. I will see you in the shower room.”

.....

When Droj walked away, Lothar turned to face Gus.

He smiled and winked, ignoring the stabbing pain that plagued his mouth, then got back to his work.

Gus paled.

It’s do or die.

.....

He was back in his cell when the realization of the finality of his days hit him.

He looked at the small needles wrapped in plastic bags. They all had a transparent liquid inside and were tagged with each spec. Their quality was not bad but not good either, Droj had said.

He looked at the 4 constitution boosters and hid them inside his overalls.

He injected himself with the strength first, dexterity, then agility. His body exploded in pain and he passed out shortly.

2 Quests completed:

[Another fish in the pond] ✓

[The one who defies authority] ✓

......