Xander ripped a part of his cloak off and placed it on the ground just next to the broken Jade. Carefully, he picked up the green opaque shards off the floor and collected them in the the bag in which he tied up into an quaint little parcel. He had already told River about going to sell the fragments as soon as possible; right now she was hunched over the throne with a textbook and a notepad. Her head was switching between the two in a satisfying rhythm.
"Anyways, I'm off. Watch over the place while I'm gone. It'll be a couple of hours until I come back." Xander grabbed his jacket and cloak from off the floor and dusted them off.
"You better be back with some lunch" grumbled River who turned another page of her book. A pot of coffee was brewing over by the stove, producing a nice, natural smell that Xander would be waiting for.
Opening the door, he left the apartment and descended the stairs before taking a leisurely pace to the staircase. It was about midday right now by how the artificial sky looked from below. The roofs of each layer were adorned with powerful lights that had the same effects as the real sun, installed thirty years prior, as according to the Fire Safety Act. A good samaritan had noticed how over ninety percent of fires in the past were a result of the old oil lamps. Kind King Steinhart was then adamant on extending the Versprechen power network to the Zones and graced the denizens with an adaptive day and night system after extensive work on the fifty meter high roofs of the Layers.
Of course, most residents still had to stick to using oil and gas based architecture because of the expenses of affording electricity in their own home. In fact the help seemed to have disrupted a lot of the lives in the Layers, causing it to be unpopular during its implementation. Ultimately though, the amount of fires did decrease as a result, meaning the King could ignore the Zones once again, aside from the ever-expanding walls of each layer which made its presence known with the sound of drilling and arguing if one wandered too far from the center.
Xander passed by the unique architecture of the Layers as he strolled through the lively streets. Children encased in layers of fluff darted in and out of trees holding various toys as they ran across the imported dirt roads of an empty lot which were between pink and gray homes. Some kids wrote in the soft soil with their hands as they planned out how to defeat the enemy group across the dangerous brown river, drawing circles and arrows just as their fathers have done. Xander spotted some children climbing up trees, trying to avoid the ground while a different conglomeration chased each other through the streets of B4.
Leaning on the railings of apartment buildings were older siblings who were chatting and conversing on their way out while their parents were out working. Wearing plain dress shirts underneath a comfortable blazer, they discussed about the cool fall weather and whispered about their classmates on their day off from school, making plans to go up to the Zones in the evening.
Taking in the familiar sight, Xander breathed in the stale, cool, air of the level as he came across the brick exterior of the Ring which pierced through the ground all the way into the lowest layers of brimstone. Its pristine white walls marked a clear division with the gray and brown undertones of the layers.
"How're you doing old man?" Xander asked coming up to a hunched over figure with a black cane. In the daylight, the gray slick hair looked like an evening's fog on top of an ashen battle ground. His scars on his face were well pronounced as usual, running across his brow ridge making a clean 'X'.
"I'm feeling great. Feel like I could live another eighty years!" Grant beamed at the direction Xander was at. It really was impressive he could hear with all the foot traffic during this time of day as parents came back with groceries, and night workers returned from their excavation down the layers.
"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm not trusting the words of someone who's only skin and bones", responded Xander. He could happily stay and chat for a bit. After all, the Jade still hasn't reverted back yet surprisingly.
"Why, you've got such a sharp tongue on you. Could've made a sword out of a boulder with your diction. You would've made a great scientist you know. They love feisty people in the Zones."
"I would get kicked out of there in no time. They don't like people like me."
"Your red eyes? Your smile? Who cares about that", Grant guffawed as he took a drink off a canteen in his pocket. "Knowledge is the only thing that'll do you any good. Who cares about where you come from, who you are, or what you look like. You could be the most hated criminal and still be recruited by Rhodes if you got a good brain in you."
"If only everyone was blind like you. Then maybe we could stop arguing and start doing something with our lives."
"That's quite an awful thing to say Xander", the old man commented, "The world couldn't go on without people who could see beyond themselves."
Xander shrugged and began to converse with Grant for an hour or two about whatever caught their fancy. There was something about Grant which inspired a new set of conversational branches to appear. He always knew what to talk about and was famous for his easy-going attitude in the Layer. Children and parents approached him from time to time when they had problems or just needed to vent something. Xander was about to leave the table until he heard Grant speak.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
"Xander, hold on for a moment." Grant beckoned suddenly, as he stood up straight from his table. Not a lot of people were around, but if they were, Xander thought they would've had a shocked expression on their face.
Xander turned around and saw the guard with a serious expression in his face. His tall form was revealed as his brows were furrowed and his body completely still, a soldier's aura, that of depressing authority surrounded him.
"What is it." Xander said seriously.
Grant sighed and took out something from his pocket. "Open your hand up and place it next to mine."
Xander obeyed quickly. He's only seen Grant like this one time one horrible night about ten years ago when he was still a child when he had a nightmare.
Opening his hand up, Grant dropped a ring in his hand. It was light, ornate. The thin ring was far too small for Xander to fit on any of his fingers. There were three gems on the ring which Xander could not identify. Green, red, and blue, they seemed as if they were hanging onto the ring precariously as they extended past the width of the circle. It was precious, Xander could tell.
"I don't care if you're dying sir. I'm not marrying you." Xander smiled but stood staring at the ring. It felt regretful if Xander commented. He didn't know what the ring went through, but it seemed like it passed owners more than once.
"I'm not dying." Grant smiled solemnly as he placed his hands on Xander's shoulder. He looked at the ring Xander was analyzing and gazed at it with a foggy look in his eyes. His demeanor didn't change, but merely soften in a way Xander hadn't seen before, "At least, I'm not planning to. It's my daughter's ring."
***
The ground was still wet from the previous nights rain, causing a great deal of trouble for a detective with a red mark on the back of his neck. The metallic scent of raindrops diffused through the air, and under the guise of the night, masked the blood. The varied spurts of rain from moment to moment also dispersed the scent of blood coming from the alleyway, disrupting the otherwise mundane afternoon.
A small audience had built up around the alleyway, each trying to pick up more than what was visible, the trail of bloody footprints walking into the alleyway. The detective walked through the crowd and stepped over the cordoned off perimeter which he himself made.
A few hours ago, he was on break, enjoying at a cafe he liked. They sold crepes like the ones his mom used to make. Crepes made him happy. So he waited for his order to come. However, a fainthearted lad came bursting into the cafe yelling, "The blood! Oh God, the blood!" His mood soured instantly. He contacted the nearby Zone 2 Headquarters and file in a request before anything could happen. That alone took his entire morning because of the amount of red tape between. And now the cafe was closed and he was still hungry.
To avenge himself, he simply gave way to the whims of bureaucracy and headed into the alleyway himself, following the bloody trail into the alleyway. Grumbling to himself, he clenched the ring hanging off his necklace and stepped in.
Suddenly, everything became veiled in a dark and liquid emptiness. The sun up above which was shining on the alleyway was now reduced to a dark blur in the sky. And his hands were reduced to shades of grey and darkness. The midnight sun shone fruitlessly as the detective quickly stepped back into reality.
The detective grimaced as he saw the monochromatic world and did a quick run over his body. Nothing broken, nothing damaged, and hopefully nothing altered. That was good enough. Taking out a lighter, he turned it on only to see that the orange flame was reduced to a nondescript white.
He rubbed his eyes and stepped out of the alleyway and the world turned back into its original polychromatic key. The audience watched him carefully, seeing that nothing had happened after the detective stepped into the alley and continued to whisper among themselves things that meant a variety of nothings.
The detective sighed and looked at his partner who was interrogating any possible witnesses. From the outside, the alleyway was normal, so the partner should be able to see him if necessary. They nodded at each other, and the detective stepped back into the alleyway and saw the world turn dark.
He walked forward as the black hole sun beat into his body endlessly. It felt as if the gaze of an extraordinary being was judging him, critiquing him. Like a devil had taken the place of the sun and was laughing maliciously into him. Shaking his head and bringing the lighter up, he combatted the darkness each time he took a step, with the white spots of colors in his hand, the back of his neck radiating red as he muttered to himself, "Increase serotonin levels. Increase endorphin levels. Decrease action potential threshold."
Reaching the end, his eyes began to itch again, and he rubbed them in order to see past the darkness in front of him. His head was aching, bursting with pumped blood. It felt like the black and white were melding into emptiness and the whites of his eyes were full of pulsating pus. Once his eyes adjusted, he shivered and threw up what little breakfast he had. He rubbed his eyes more frantically, both to avoid the sight in front of him and to get rid of the itch behind his eyes.
The detective analyzed the situation as best he could. There were three metal masks in front of him, animal ones--a wolf, a rat, and a bear--laying haphazardly thrown next to a wall. Stuck against the wall, slumped down, were three bodies impaled by the neck by a large knife. Their bodies were fresh, but the blood was drained out of them, leaving them grey to the detective's eyes. Their pockets were clearly searched, and some silver coins were spilled on the ground.
"...increase... endorphin... increase... increase... increase... increase."
On each man, one common feature remained clear and obvious even in the black-and-white world. Each man had their eyes taken out, leaving only a black emptiness inside of their eyes. Around their brow ridge were grey streaks of what had to be blood and tears.
The detective rubbed his eyes again. He threw up again.
He rubbed his eyes again. He stumbled back into the alleyway and was clutching his necklace, repeating his chant again.
"Increase... increase... increase..."
He rubbed his bulging eyes again frantically as he tried to get rid of the fluid behind them which felt like it was growing out of control.
A few minutes later, a medic was called to retrieve the detective who had emerged from the alleyway. The man was covered in blood from head to toe. He had somehow become a canvas without him noticing. His eyes were scraped out, left somewhere in the alleyway, and the medics had to restrain him from rubbing his eyelids.
"It's still there. Get it out. Please, it's still inside there... I need to... I..."