Avaros City stands as a testament to the unyielding march of time, its towering skyline a modern mosaic of steel and glass. The air buzzes with the energy of a metropolis that never truly rests—streets alive with a wailing sounds of distant sirens, muffled voices, and the rhythmic hum of countless engines. Beneath the surface of its polished exterior, however, lies an undercurrent of unease. Its inhabitants, though industrious and forward-facing, have long learned to avert their eyes from a single unanswerable truth.
Dominating the horizon like an eternal sentinel, the monolithic wall known only as Nurikabe stretches outward in both directions, disappearing into the haze of distance. Its sheer, impenetrable surface is without flaw—unyielding to the elements. None who have been successful in scaling it, tunnel beneath it, or bypass it.
Questions whispered in the dim corners of Avaros’s alleys are met with silence, for those who dared to voice their curiosity too loudly have vanished, leaving nothing but uneasy murmurs in their wake.
And yet, the wall draws them. Immigrants, scholars, and dreamers flock to Avaros from beyond the city to stand in its looming shadow, compelled by an indescribable allure. They come to marvel at its presence, seek answers to its mystery, or perhaps simply feel the weight of something so ancient and unknowable. Civilization, however, has learned not to linger too close. The city, separated from the wall by a mile or so, like an eager child to its mother, has long since crept backward, sprawling into the vast plains and jagged hills adorned with smaller cities beyond it. What lies beyond those remains vague, a patchwork of forgotten landscapes and shadowy recollections, as if the further one travels from Nurikabe, the less certain they become of where they’ve been...
And so, Avaros endures—a place of progress and mystery, where the wall remains both an attraction and an omen. It looms not just over the skyline but over the hearts of those who live in its shadow, an indomitable reminder of questions best left unasked.
In the deep embrace of night, the city of Avaros pulses subtly under the cover of darkness. A kid, his hair in natural locs, sits slouched on a weathered bench in a deserted park, one leg bouncing idly as if to an unheard rhythm. Beneath the flickering glow of a nearby streetlamp, he brings a joint to his lips, his fingers tapping it lightly as though to steady his thoughts. He inhales deeply, the ember flaring bright for a moment before dimming. His shoulders relax as he leans back, tilting his head slightly to watch the smoke curl from his lips, twisting upward to merge with the murky city haze.
Looking up, his gaze meets the sky, where stars twinkle against the vast, dark canvas. These celestial bodies flicker with a rhythm of their own, some shining steadily while others appear to shimmer as if winking in and out of existence.
Around him, the city is a scene of quiet activity. The distant hum of traffic is a constant backdrop. Occasionally, the sharp honk of a car or the distant clatter of a late-night train punctuates the night, slices of sound that momentarily rise above the urban drone. Neon signs buzz softly at the periphery of his vision, painting patches of the night with sudden swaths of color—reds, blues, and greens that flicker and fade.
The cool breeze carries with it the faint, mixed scents of city life—exhaust mingled with the distant echo of ocean air and the occasional waft of fast food from a nearby all-night diner.
As he looks at the stars, the park around him is bathed in shadows and soft light. Trees line the walkways, their leaves whispering among themselves as the wind sifts through them, a natural symphony for any who take the time to listen...
The kid hears footsteps approaching, slow and deliberate, crunching faintly against the gravel. He doesn’t bother looking up, already recognizing the familiar rhythm.
"Hey, Obinai, you good?" Darren’s voice is smooth, casual, cutting through the stillness. He steps into the flickering light of the streetlamp, dressed in a faded hoodie and his usual worn jeans, a backward baseball cap perched atop his head.
Obinai takes another slow drag from his joint, exhaling before glancing sideways. "Yeah, I’m fine," he mutters, his gaze drifting back to the stars. The words are automatic, hollow, like they’ve been rehearsed a thousand times. Inwardly, he sighs. Here we go again... Darren and his questions. Always prying, never letting anything go.
Darren plops down beside him, the bench creaking slightly under the weight. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes darting around the empty park before landing back on Obinai. "Stuff, huh?" He smirks knowingly. "You’re not still thinking about the test, are you?"
Obinai shifts uncomfortably, the mention of the test like an itch he can’t scratch. He flicks the ash from the joint with practiced ease, letting the silence stretch for a beat too long.
Darren nudges him lightly with his elbow, his grin widening. "Come on, man. You’ve got to stop letting that get in your head. It’s done."
Obinai finally meets Darren’s gaze, his expression unreadable, but his thoughts churn beneath the surface. He always does this. Like he’s got everything figured out. Like saying it out loud makes it less heavy. But Darren’s grin is infectious, disarming. Against his better judgment, Obinai lets out a faint chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah... I know. It’s whatever."
Darren leans back, stretching his arms along the top of the bench like he owns the place. "Good. 'Cause I’d hate to see my boy losing sleep over something dumb."
Obinai rolls his eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Darren... never drops anything. But maybe that’s not so bad.
Darren, with his short, curly hair barely visible beneath his ever-present backward baseball cap, leans in with that same mischievous grin he always wears, like he’s constantly on the verge of saying something that'll make you laugh—or groan. "Yo, got a spare one?" he asks, gesturing lazily to Obinai’s joint.
Obinai wordlessly reaches into his jacket pocket, fingers brushing against the crumpled packet before fishing out a slightly bent joint. He hands it to Darren with a flick of his wrist. Darren waits expectantly, leaning forward, the joint pinched loosely between his lips.
Obinai pulls out his lighter, the metal glinting briefly under the wavering streetlight. With a soft click, a tiny flame bursts to life. He cups his hand around it, shielding it from the faint breeze as he brings it close to Darren’s face. Darren tilts his head slightly, his grin never fading, as the ember catches and begins to glow. Obinai lingers for a second longer than necessary, watching the flame flicker in Darren’s eyes before snapping the lighter shut and leaning back, his fingers absently spinning it in his hand.
"Even so... I get it, man," Darren starts, exhaling a lazy plume of smoke that drifts upward, twisting into the night sky. "Ms. Patterson really has it out for me, I swear. Every time I even breathe too loud in class, it’s like I’ve summoned her wrath."
Obinai huffs a quiet laugh but doesn’t respond right away. He notices the uneven scuff of approaching footsteps, the sound unmistakable. Angel. "Could be worse," he says, his voice light. "You could be failing math like me. I just can’t get those formulas to stick, man."
Darren snorts at this, the streetlamp casting faint shadows across his face. "Dude, you’re killing me. I’m surprised you didn’t flunk it outright."
By now, Angel has stepped fully into the lamplight, his lanky frame slightly hunched as he brushes his long black hair out of his face with the back of his hand. There’s a quiet awkwardness to the way he moves, like he’s always trying to make himself smaller, less noticeable. His voice is softer than Darren’s, hesitant but still carrying a sharp edge of frustration. "Hey, I’m trying my best, okay? It’s just... math, man. It’s like trying to solve a puzzle with the pieces all mixed up."
Obinai leans back, taking another puff from the joint before passing it to Angel. He watches him for a moment, the way Angel avoids making eye contact for too long, his hands fidgeting slightly as if they’re searching for something to hold onto. He always gets like this when he talks about what he’s struggling with. Like admitting it might crack something he’s trying to hold together.
"I think I get it, Angel," Obinai says evenly, his voice calm but laced with a rare note of encouragement. "You just haven’t figured it out yet."
Angel glances at him, his expression shifting briefly from frustration to something more vulnerable. "What? No, I’m good at it. Just… not great yet, you know?" His voice wavers at the end, but he quickly masks it with an exaggerated shrug, trying to play it cool.
Darren lets out a low chuckle, taking the joint back from Angel with a playful flick of his wrist. "Yeah, yeah, future math wizard, we get it."
Obinai watches them both in silence, his face a practiced mask of calm. But inside, his thoughts churn. Darren’s all charm, never serious. Angel... he’s different. Always trying too hard, always carrying more than he should. I wonder if he even knows how much weight he puts on himself.
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The conversation shifts, and Angel casually passes the joint over. "So, how’s it going with Jenna? Still giving you the silent treatment?"
Darren lets out a dramatic sigh, leaning back. "Silent treatment? More like a full-on freeze-out. Tried talking to her earlier, but it’s like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall. I’m way out of my depth."
Angel chuckles as he sits on the other side of Obinai, his long hair falling across his face. He brushes it aside lazily. "Dude, you're such a romantic. Maybe you should just give up and move on."
Darren scoffs, sitting up straighter and shooting him a mock-angry glare. "Hey, I’m not giving up. I’m just… taking a strategic break, okay? To regroup and recharge my romantic energies."
Obinai snorts, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint grin. "Yeah, sure. Call it whatever you want, but it sounds like quitting to me."
Darren narrows his eyes at him, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Careful, Obi. You’re talking to a master of persistence here."
He always does this, Obinai thinks, watching Darren with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. Turns every loss into some kind of joke, like it’s all part of his grand plan. Must be nice, not taking life so damn seriously.
Darren shifts his weight on the bench, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and grinding it under his heel with exaggerated flair. He leans back, stretching his arms across the top of the bench like he owns the world. “Speaking of persistence…” His eyes gleam as he turns toward Obinai, his smirk widening. “How about the mystery of Obinai busting his ass studying for that chem test, only to walk out with a C? Now that’s a real unexplained phenomenon.”
Obinai groans, letting his head fall back dramatically as he covers his face with both hands. “Oh, come on. You’re never letting this go, are you?” His voice is muffled, but the frustration is clear—though not entirely serious.
Angel perks up, straightening in his seat as he grins. “Nah, man. Darren’s got a point. It’s like some Bermuda Triangle-level shit. Where does all that effort even go?”
Obinai lowers his hands, giving both of them a half-hearted glare. His chest tightens slightly, though he masks it with a smirk. Of course, they’d turn this into a joke. God forbid they’d actually get how much I was trying. “It goes into keeping my sanity intact while dealing with Ms. Patterson’s seven-page study guides,” he shoots back. “You try memorizing all that crap, then tell me how easy it is.”
Darren raises his hands in mock surrender, his grin unwavering. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just saying, maybe the Nurikabe isn’t the only unsolvable mystery we’ve got around here.”
Angel laughs, nudging Obinai with his elbow. “Don’t worry, dude. One day, science will crack the code of why you can’t get above a C. Until then, we’ll just add it to the list of strange phenomena.”
Obinai shakes his head, muttering under his breath as a reluctant smile pulls at his lips. “I hate you guys,” he grumbles, but his tone is softer now, less annoyed.
Finally, Obinai snatches the joint back from Angel, taking a slow, deliberate drag. He holds the smoke for a moment, letting it curl in his chest as he glances between his friends. Exhaling a thin stream upward, he smirks. “So, I got a C. Big deal,” he says with a shrug. “At least I didn’t flunk it like some people.” His gaze lands pointedly on Darren, then slides to Angel, one eyebrow raised in mock accusation. “Seems like you guys couldn’t even find the classroom, let alone pass the test.”
Darren barks out a laugh, slapping his knee as his grin widens. “Touché, man. Touché. You got us.”
Angel laughs along. “Alright, alright! You win. The one time a C gets to be a badge of honor.” He grins and stretches out, resting his hands behind his head. “Yeah, you’re the king tonight, Obinai. The King of Cs!”
The laughter dwindles, leaving a veil of smoke and a momentary silence. Angel's face turns serious.
They all laugh, the sound echoing slightly in the open air of the park.
Finally, the conversation turns to something they've all been quietly pondering...
"Hey, have you guys heard the stuff about the wall?" Obinai asks, trailing off as he looks at his friends.
Darren stretches out on the bench, leaning back lazily as he flicks some ash. "You mean that Nurikabe… whatchamacallit?" He snaps his fingers a few times, squinting as though trying to dredge up the memory. "Yeah, I saw something about it online. Some LiveLeak video or something. I think they tried to shut down a news station covering it. Crazy shit." He shakes his head, exhaling smoke into the evening air. "Can’t believe that’s not getting more attention. You believe that? Weird stuff happening over there. Sounds like some real X-Files shit."
Angel sits cross-legged. "It talked about disappearances and tremors, right?" He nods to himself, eyes half-lidded. "Creepy as hell. Makes you wonder..." He lets the sentence hang, his gaze drifting toward the stars peeking out from behind the clouds.
Obinai picks up the thread, sitting forward and gesturing with his hands as he talks. "And no one knows why it’s there. Or what it’s even made of. Imagine in ancient times something that massive just... poof – shows up outta nowhere." He spreads his arms wide for emphasis, his voice tinged with equal parts fascination and disbelief. "What do you think it’s for?"
Darren shrugs, his eyes fixed on the glowing tip of his cigarette as he rolls it between his fingers. "Secret government project? Alien landing strip? Who the hell knows, man." He chuckles, a dry, humorless sound. "Maybe it’s just one of those things we’ll never figure out." He glances sideways at Obinai with a sly grin. "Or maybe Obinai knows and he’s just not telling us."
Obinai snorts, rolling his eyes as he nudges Darren with his elbow. "Very funny. Like I’d be in on some top-secret government conspiracy." He shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "If I knew, I’d be using that knowledge to ace Ms. Patterson’s tests. Not nearly failing like some schmuck."
Angel laughs, leaning back on his hands as he flicks his finished joint into the dirt. "Fair point. Though, honestly, with the way things are going, that wall could be anything. Hell, maybe it’s a portal to another dimension." He shivers theatrically, his shoulders hunched. "Or… a giant alien ant farm."
Darren barks out a laugh, pointing at Angel. "Yeah, and those ants are probably smarter than half the people we know. Watch, they’re just waiting for the right moment to take over."
"Great," Obinai mutters, shaking his head with mock seriousness. "First ants, then Patterson’s next pop quiz. My life keeps getting better."
Darren snorts, shaking his head. “But seriously, an ant farm? What made you come up with that, Angel?”
Angel shrugs lazily he shoulder slumping a bit. “Hey, stranger things have happened. You’ve seen those documentaries about weird animal experiments, right? Why not a giant alien ant farm? Makes about as much sense as a wall stretching to infinity.”
The group chuckles, the sound fading into a comfortable silence. The distant hum of crickets fills the pause, mingling with the faint buzz of a nearby streetlamp...
Angel shifts uncomfortably on the bench, his fingers twitching slightly as he stares at the ground. Finally, he breaks the momentary silence. "Actually… speaking of strange things happening… have you guys seen Jasmine around?" His voice is quieter than usual, barely carrying over the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Obinai and Darren instantly sober up, their earlier laughter evaporating. Obinai leans forward, narrowing his eyes. "Jasmine?" he echoes, his stomach tightening as the image of Angel’s little sister flashes in his mind. She was a small, wiry girl with dark, wavy hair that always seemed to be a little untamed, curling stubbornly around her face no matter how much she tried to brush it back. Her almond-shaped eyes were a warm, deep brown, always alight with curiosity, even though she rarely spoke. She had a quiet energy about her, the kind of presence that made you notice her more when she was gone than when she was there—an odd mix of shy hesitance and a spark of brightness that felt like it was just waiting to shine. Always trailing behind Angel, her slight frame seemed almost lost in oversized sweaters she favored, the sleeves often bunched at her wrists as she tugged nervously at the hem. She had a way of observing everything around her...
Darren stiffens beside him, his grin completely gone. "Yeah, Jasmine," he says quickly, his voice tinged with a rare seriousness. "No, I haven’t seen her. Why? What’s going on?"
Angel exhales shakily, his hand fumbling with the edge of his jacket as though he’s trying to keep himself steady. His voice drops, barely above a whisper. "She’s… she’s one of the people who disappeared after that last quake. The one on Tuesday."
The air around them seems to freeze. Obinai sits bolt upright, his heart thudding in his chest. "What?" he blurts out, his voice a mix of disbelief and alarm. "Jasmine disappeared? Angel, what the hell are you talking about? How did you find out?"
Darren’s eyes widen, and he practically jumps to his feet, pacing in front of the bench. "Hold up, hold up," he says, his words spilling out faster now. "You’re saying she’s gone? Like, just… gone? What do you mean, man? What the hell happened?"
Angel rubs the back of his neck, his fingers digging into the skin. His gaze stays locked on the ground, avoiding their wide-eyed stares. "It was late that night," he begins, his voice uneven, like he’s still trying to make sense of it himself. "Right after the quake, these… these guys showed up at our place. Black suits, sunglasses, the whole Men in Black vibe, you know?"
Obinai’s mind races. This can’t be real. His pulse pounds in his ears as he struggles to process it. "Guys in suits? At your house? Angel, who the hell were they? What did they want?" His voice rises.
Darren stops pacing and whirls back toward Angel, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Like, out of nowhere? Did they say anything? What the hell is going on?"
Angel finally looks up, his eyes glassy and full of something that makes Obinai’s chest tighten—fear. "They didn’t say much," Angel mutters, his voice barely steady. "Just that it was classified. That Jasmine will be found and they just needed time."
Obinai and Darren exchange a quick glance, their faces pale. Obinai’s mind is a storm of thoughts, none of them making any sense. Missing? Why would men show up to tell them this? What the fuck is going on?
Darren breaks the silence, his tone clipped and urgent. "Angel, did they take anything? Say anything else? Did they leave anything?"
Angel shakes his head, his hand still gripping his jacket. "No… they just left. Like nothing happened. And the weird thing is—" his voice falters, his eyes darting nervously between them, "—it’s like after they talked privately with my parents they are acting like she never existed. Like they’ve just moved on. Like they don’t even remember her."
Obinai frowns, forcing himself to speak. "That’s insane, dude. Do they think it has something to do with the wall? Or the quakes?" His voice is low...cautious.
Angel shakes his head, his fingers curling tighter around the worn fabric of his jacket. "Maybe," he mutters, his voice strained. "They didn’t get into details. Just kept saying they’re on it and that we need to stay out of it for our own safety." He scoffs bitterly, glancing away. "It’s like something out of a weird conspiracy film..."