The two arrived at Coral Cobble around noon. The rectangular airport glittered under the hot sun. R.O.S. shoved a big and a small suitcase into the trunk of a taxi.
"You can punch through bones, but you can't lift your own luggage," R.O.S. complained, wearing a huge coat over his leather jacket to conceal his identity.
Watching the sweating man close the trunk, Loter replied, not as zestful as before, "Yeah, I guess the ability is only activated when I'm fighting. I think it's similar to my super speed that only activates when I run." He finished the sentence before following into the yellow taxi behind R.O.S.
Loter leaned toward the window as the taxi began to move. It was Loter's first time in Coral Cobble. It was his first time out of Cavium.
Despite being in the same state, Coral Cobble was drastically different from Cavium. Although the area around the airport was mostly open field, the rest of the city was surrounded by subtropical trees. Where trees had no presence, streets were wide and meandered haphazardly. Meanwhile, buildings were barely a dozen meters tall with a lack of decorated and cleaned exteriors.
Vendors' stalls, not mats, stood on the edges of asphalt and before some buildings. They were mostly sparse yet crammed in certain sections of certain streets. Those areas were also crowded with people of light brown skin buying all kinds of stuff, mostly food.
The taxi was stuck in one of these sections. The angry, dark-skinned driver honked the horn repeatedly, smashing his hand against the center of his steering wheel.
Loter leaned his face close to the window, watching the brown-skinned locals waiting in lines or eating while walking. R.O.S., beside him, sat leisurely with his back against the soft seat. Suddenly, he asked Loter, "What do you feel about this place?"
Turning away from the street view, Loter took a few seconds to arrange his thoughts and answered with mild enthusiasm but not excitement, "It is a hot place with trees and people on the street."
"I mean, how do you feel about this place." He emphasized on the word "feel."
"It is different from Cavium. There aren't any stalls in Cavium." Loter turned back to the window as he replied.
"Right," R.O.S. grinned, glancing at the stalls and people surrounding it. Some were holding skewers. Others had paper or plastic bags and boxes.
Letting out a puff of air, R.O.S. said, "I used to live here when I was a kid."
Loter turned toward him as he went on.
"The place is a bit dirtier than general and a bit un-urban, but people here are quite good. Those stall owners aren't capitalists or brand owners. They are just your neighbors selling things. They would remember your names if you visited them often. They would sometimes give you a treat as you walk home from school." The dark-skinned hero ended the story there with some hesitation.
"Sorry, but my neighbors don't sell anything," Loter apologized, unable to share anything in return. It was a promise they made in Cavium: if one shared a story, the other had to reciprocate. The practice was "good for mental health," according to R.O.S.
"Right, my bad."
Afterward, the cabin fell into an awkward silence until the dark-skinned driver asked over his shoulder, "So, you lived 'ere?" He pronounced "here" with the "H" sound blurred. Loter figured it was probably the local accent.
R.O.S. nodded. "Yes."
"Which part?"
"Across the mountain, the coral part."
"My mother was from that part, though she 'adn't been there for years."
"How come?"
"You know, old age. Can't take long trips."
While the two locals were chatting about their city, Loter looked out and farther away at the viridescent mountain, Vault. It was massive even when viewed from afar. Back in Cavium, R.O.S. described it as a wall separating the coral and cobble part of Coral Cobble. Only now, seeing it with his own eyes, did Loter truly feel the metaphor. Even at a far distance, Vault was at least three times taller than the buildings around Loter. The somewhat straight ridge line resembled the top of a wall.
The magnificence of the mountain had Loter subconsciously making a "wow" sound. Suddenly, a sharp, political commentary dragged Loter back into the car.
"Oh, come on. At least KLP is trying. DIP never does anything," the driver complained in a slightly peeved tone.
"Tunneling the mountain is just not going to work," R.O.S. responded with an equal amount of frustration.
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"'Ow do you know if you don't try?"
"It's just wasting money." The lukewarm debate went on for the rest of the ride.
The taxi eventually exited the crowd and later arrived.
The destination was a small, rectangular house with two floors. The walls were dimly red and covered with dirt, like every other building. The patio between the door stoop and the road was just big enough for a car to park horizontally on each side of the door.
The wooden door chirped as R.O.S. unlocked it and pushed it open.
"Is this your house?" Loter asked, holding their suitcases by their long handles.
"I just bought it while you were in the hospital. I'll stay here while you are in school. If anything happens, you can always come to me." R.O.S. strode into the house, appraising the empty first floor, which contained only a staircase behind a thin wall and dust all over the place.
After a sigh, R.O.S. said, "The first step is cleaning. Loter, time."
Loter drew the phone out of his pocket and read, "2:26."
By 3:17, they had returned from the houseware store.
By 3:32, Loter was sent to a nearby pharmacy to buy face masks since he could not stop coughing in the house, probably because of how dusty it was
By 3:54, Loter ceased cleaning and played his phone outside the house.
By 4:15, R.O.S. got irritated. He dragged Loter back in, forcing him to wipe the windows.
By 4:36, a neighbor passed by, so R.O.S. had to drop the work. Meanwhile, Loter played games on his phone despite being told to continue scrubbing the floor.
By 4:47, R.O.S. came back into the house and forced Loter off his games.
By 5:02, they finished and went to eat dinner in a fast-food restaurant, which was almost identical to those in Cavium.
By 5:14, they finally opened R.O.S.'s big luggage in the house.
Taking a bottle of shampoo out of the suitcase, R.O.S. told Loter, "I will go get the furniture part done tomorrow. You can go around the town yourself. If you are lost—"
"I have your number. I know how to make phone calls," Loter interjected while lifting three leather jackets, identical to the one R.O.S. was wearing, out of the suitcase. "Why don't you just wear normal clothes?"
"I wear my costume to honor the old HueCam League." R.O.S. placed a pile of casual coats on the ground.
After a slight hesitation, Loter suddenly said, "I don't have anything to honor my father with."
"You brought that clock carpet with you, don't you?"
"You think that is enough?"
"I don't know. Ask yourself."
Is that carpet enough?
The suitcase was soon emptied. Loter went up to the second floor and spent the rest of the night on his phone. R.O.S. slept very early at around six p.m. It was understandable, considering the work he needed to get done tomorrow.
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There were four piles of puzzle pieces on the table. The two large ones were white, and the two smaller ones were black. Sitting next to the table, Loter Spawman quietly watched his father and himself trying each piece slot by slot.
The oldest Spawman murmured his moderate complaints nonstop. The youngest was too focused on the puzzle to care. The one watching was just enjoying the familiarity in his father's voice.
The rim of the clock was already done and was displayed on the ground between the youngest and oldest Spawman.
"Loter, Loter."
What?
Lying on the floor, Loter slowly opened his eyes. His dead phone was still held in his palm, and his white hooded T-shirt was still the same one he wore yesterday. Loter squinted as he looked toward the window. It was morning already.
"Did you shower last night?" R.O.S. crouched before Loter and lightly shook him by his shoulders.
"No… Well, at least I don't think I did."
"Anyway, I'm going to deal with the furniture thing. Here is a hundred." R.O.S. drew an a-hundred-dollar bill and put it down. "Things are cheaper here than in Cavium. It should be more than enough for a day."
"Thanks, Mr. Ros." Rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand, Loter sat up and picked up the bill.
"I told you before. Just Ros, don't add 'mister,'" R.O.S. said while walking down the staircase. As his footsteps faded away, Loter lay back on the floor, clearing his foggy mind for the day.
Since it was a Sunday, there were pedestrians almost everywhere Loter went. Young couples sauntered with their hands held, and cars competed in a treasure hunt for parking slots. The latter Loter had almost never seen in Cavium. To satisfy his curiosity, he followed behind a hatchback that could not find a slot. Normally, he would not be able to catch up with a car without using his power. However, the heavy traffic of the weekend made every vehicle move like turtles.
Eventually, an SUV parked alongside the road in front of the hatchback was about to leave. A sedan before the hatchback immediately attempted to take the slot. Hence, the hatchback honked as the sedan slowly moved backward.
The sedan paused momentarily and continued. Confronting it, the hatchback also started shifting closer to the yet-to-be-emptied slot. As an obvious result, the SUV was stuck with two cars blocking its way. Most reasonably, It honked the horn; the sedan honked back; the hatchback had been honking the whole time. Within ten seconds, all three of the cars were honking nonstop. After a dozen or so minutes, the police came and forced all three drivers out of their cars.
Watching the mess, a random passerby told Loter, "You don't get to see this shit every day. Ha, ha. These degenerates."
Surprised by the ridiculous case, Loter watched and listened with his eyes glowing with delight.