Shel Darint was giddy as he climbed the stairs into the 8th Doene District.
The Shroud was sparse and the birds were chirping.
There was so much color, so much life here, nothing like where he lived.
Of course, he was a bit biased, as this was the first time he’d ever left the 10th.
The boy took a deep breath of sweet morning air. He smiled.
The world felt fresh. Everything was new. Everything was different. Everything was better.
Because today, Shel started his new job. The one he'd been dreaming of his whole life.
Today, he began his life as an Overseer.
The young man pulled out a handkerchief, polishing the gold sigil pinned to his breast. The five branched stalwart tree, a symbol of the Apostles Chosen, group separate from any one Family, administered by all, untainted by politics. The unseen foundation that kept the Noveriat afloat. The Overseers.
Ever since he’d spotted his first one, a man dressed in purest white driving their wheat crop to the city center on a riverboat, Shel had started seeing them everywhere. Driving the Tube, navigating the city's riverways, cleaning the streets in the early morning, and on and on. Overseer’s were everywhere in Kaden City, but most people never gave them a second glance.
For one such as Shel, a man who wanted to be of use, to have his hands calloused by humble labor, it was the perfect job.
The only problem was, Shel had no idea what that job was.
Once he’d been accepted, his pin had arrived by courier with a short note.
Be at the 8th Doene District, House 8C, Merchant’s Quarter, by 5am tomorrow. Don’t be late.
There was no preamble, no congratulations. Just the note.
While concerning, the mystery was also exciting. Shel had always wanted one of the secret jobs, with consequential tasks. The ones not talked about in public places. He’d always imagined that the Overseer’s with those positions were the ones making the greatest difference in the world. The ones of most use.
Shel strode with confidence across foreign stones, knowing that he was about to become one of those most effective men.
His smile widened.
The sky was a light gray, the sun on its way to break the horizon. The streets were empty, but for a thin veil of mist.
Shel turned a corner, finally spotting his destination.
A shadowy horse and carriage stood in front of a row of white brick apartments. Three people loitered beside it. A park filled with lush green grass sprawled on the opposite side.
Shel approached, eyeing the three Overseer’s curiously. Two men and a woman.
They wore one piece suits made of a slick black material that covered their bodies.
The woman stepped forward.
"You Shel?" She asked.
She had auburn hair and looked about ten years his senior.
"Yes, Ma'am." Shel replied, straightening his shoulders.
"You're late Shel." She said, flatly.
She shoved a black suit into his gut.
"Put this on."
Shel let out an 'oof' of surprise as the dark material hit his gut.
He wanted to ask a question, but the woman had returned to her colleagues.
The trio stared at him, waiting, cigarettes glowing in the drifting Shroud.
Shel examined the smooth material of the suit. He flipped it over, feeling buttons on the back.
He shrugged, putting his legs inside, then his arms.
The stern woman approached and began buttoning the back.
"You've been assigned to the 14th Erasure Crew." She stated.
Shel felt his fingers slide neatly into the gloved ends of his sleeves as the Overseer pulled the suit tight.
"I'm Karson." She continued, "That's Lovitt and Feen."
She pointed at the two men.
Their stone faces dampened Shel's mood.
"Erasure Crews..."
Karson buttoned the top button.
"Are an important part of enforcing the Prophet's Fifth Tenet."
"Fifth Tenet..." Shel whispered, confused.
Karson turned him by the shoulders to face her.
"Yes..." She continued. "The Dowsers, like Keen over there,"
The woman pointed to the carriage.
"Identify the Rotten."
Shel couldn't see who she was pointing to, but didn’t have time to ask.
"Their partners, The Enforcers, 'Enforce' the Prophet's final wish.”
She took a pull from her cigarette.
“and we, 'The Erasers', clean up the mess before anyone knows it was there."
Karson moved to the carriage, pulling out three bags made of the same dark material as the suits.
She handed them to her partners.
"Just three today." She muttered.
The two men nodded, grabbing the bags and heading into the apartment.
"Since it’s your first day, we're not gonna have you on bag duty." She assured him, reaching into the back of the carriage again. "But you are gonna scrub."
She held out a large bucket filled with brown washcloths, and a box of white powder.
"Come on." She said, making her way to the apartment door.
"Wait..." Shel muttered, confused.
Erasure Crew? Scrub duty? He’d never heard of these jobs.
"Can’t.” She replied, opening the door. “We’re behind already.”
Shel moved to the door, anxiety spiking.
The Fifth Tenet? What was going on here? Erasure Crews? What was this?
As he reached the door, the smell of sulfur hit his nostrils.
He froze, fear lancing through him.
That smell…
It couldn’t be anything good…
Karson turned to look at him, eyes expectant.
“Are you coming, Overseer?”
The words were full of meaning. An indictment, a challenge.
This is what he’d worked for. This is what he’d wanted.
Was Shel Darint going to give up on his first day?
The boy gritted his teeth, fists clenching.
He pushed through the fear and into the apartment.
It was dark. No light coming from inside or out. The walls were lined with art, expensive furniture in every corner.
The stench grew thicker as they moved.
The Overseers turned down a dark hall, boots echoing.
Shel heard muffled laughter from a room at the end.
Fear stiffened his legs, every step was an effort. His skin was slick with sweat, blood pumping in his ears.
This was it.
Karson stopped in front of the door.
"Stop laughing." She ordered.
The room grew quiet.
"Come on, Kars." A man whispered.
"No buts." She chided.
The woman turned to Shel, gesturing him inside.
The young Overseer swallowed.
Stepping forward, he turned the corner.
Two men knelt in the center of the room, long bags were unfurled on the floor before them. Behind them was a bed with lavender sheets.
Shel took a shuddering breath.
Blood was flecked across white walls, smoke stains spread across the ceiling.
He clinched his shaking hands. Drawing his eyes back to what he’d been ignoring.
Three dark shapes were affixed in the center of the room. The men were pulling them apart. Charred skin crackled as they tore the bodies from each other's arms.
Two tall decimated bodies… with a little on in between.
Sulfur, death, rotting flesh… The sensations hit him like a ton of bricks.
He felt sick. Blood drained from his face.
"He's gonna spew." One of the men grinned.
“What?” The other asked, tearing a parent from its child.
The body finally came free, but lost an arm in the process.
Congealed blood spattered to the floor.
“God’s blasted…”
Shel didn’t hear the rest of the curse.
He was out the door, sprinting down the hall, dodging through the sitting room, stumbling over chairs.
He made it outside, but did not stop, running past the dark carriage.
The boy reached a wooden fence, leaning over it.
He spewed.
His hands gripped the rail as chunks of last night's stew escaped his stomach, landing in the bright green grass.
He sucked in air, spewing again.
It took several minutes for his stomach and nerves to calm. Blood pressure falling, breath coming easier.
What was that?
How could they do that?
The child…
“Prophet help me…” He whispered.
His mind raced.
He felt tears welling in his eyes.
Was this the Fifth?
Was this the Prophet’s wish? Truly?
Was this the life of an Overseer?
"First day?"
A deep voice cut through the hurricane in his mind.
Shel’s eyes shifted, surprised.
A tall man with short cropped black hair, and a sharp face sat on the fence beside him.
He stared at Shel, eyes filled with a deep intensity.
The man wore a well pressed suit and tie, shoes shined like mirrors. He cut a striking figure in the morning fog.
"Here." The man said, holding out his pipe. "It helps with the smell."
Shel took the pipe, staring at it.
The memory of sulfur made him want to spew again.
He quickly stuffed the pipe in his mouth, taking a heavy pull.
Harsh smoke hit his lungs, forcing him to cough.
The older man was unfazed.
Shel grimaced. But, he couldn’t argue with the results.
The taste of the leaf had nullified that awful smell.
He handed the pipe back, still coughing.
Wiping his mouth, the boy’s cheeks reddened as he realized he’d taken a puff from the pipe with a mouth full of last night's dinner.
The stern man didn’t seem to care, however, as he took a large puff of his own.
A tense silence fell over the two men as the fog drifted across the bright green lawn before them.
"It's a terrible thing, the Fifth…” The smoker said.
He turned, eyes meeting Shel’s own.
"No man should have to stand in a room like that… See those types of things." He looked at Shell with sympathy. "But men are needed all the same... No way around it..."
"I..." Shel hesitated, still unsure of his own thoughts. "There’s no other way?"
Another pause.
The older man observed him, eyes narrowing.
"You a believer?"
Shel nodded.
"'Sin must be cleansed or ruin will follow.'” The man recited. “The Prophet's words are clear."
"I know... I just..." Shel paused, nausea returning.
He collected himself.
"Does it have to be this way?"
The older man grimaced, taking another long puff.
"This way, that way..." He grumbled. "Killing is never clean, son. But it is necessary."
"But how..." Shel asked, drifting off.
He didn’t know exactly what his question was. It just felt wrong. All of it.
"What could they have done? What could they have possibly done to deserve… that?” He pointed toward the apartment door.
He looked back at the smoking man, and frowned. There was an unexpected anger in his eyes.
"Does it matter?"
The man’s voice was cold, hard.
Shel flinched at the intensity of it.
He felt like a child under those eyes.
"Shouldn't it?" He asked, voice cracking under the pressure.
The man’s frown deepened, annoyed.
"No."
Shel opened his mouth to respond, but no words would come.
"The rot is real, son..." The man continued. "I've seen it... I've seen it work in ways that would stretch your soul to imagine."
The smoker's gaze burrowed into him. Searing him with its heat.
"I don't know that every death is deserved. I don't know if all the Rotten were sinners to the core."
His words were slow, etched in stone.
"But, I know that we live in the most peaceful, and prosperous society in history. A society designed by a Prophet blessed with divine providence. A society upheld by his chosen Apostles, and watched over by Gods.”
The man paused, turning to stare out over the misty park, toward the Stalwart Tree beyond.
"If dark deeds must be done beneath the Shroud, for society to persist...Then I will do these things, and have faith that they are just."
He paused again, gazing into Shel's soul.
"That’s what it is to be an Overseer."
Silence settled over the two men.
Shel could hear his breath through his chest in the stillness.
The words had been cold, and hard, and necessary.
The boy nodded.
This man… his words made sense.
Shel had asked for this. He’d wanted to be relied upon to do the things that others couldn’t, the things that kept the Noveriet running. This was one of those things. One of the most important.
His first experience had shaken him to be sure. But this is what he’d asked for. What he’d been chosen for. He wasn’t going to run away from it.
He was an Overseer.
The boy hardened his heart.
"Come on, Shel." Karson called from behind him. "We don't have time for you to find your sea legs."
He took a deep breath.
The statuesque Dowser, still stared out over the last vestiges of the fog.
"Thank you for the smoke... and the words.”
He held out a hand.
“I'm Shel. You're... Keen. Right?"
The older man gave a smile that was almost warm.
He took the hand.
"Call me Kint."
Shel smiled.
"It was nice to meet you Kint. Maybe I'll see you around."
"You will." He replied.
The Overseer turned to go, but Kint grabbed his arm.
“Find a place to put the guilt, son.” The Dowser advised. “The Prophet, the Gods… give it to somebody else. No man can take all that.”
The boy frowned. Kint’s final words souring the exchange.
Doubts began to itch at him again.
He gritted his teeth.
Shel would do his job.
He was an Overseer now.
----------------------------------------
Shel followed Karson back into the bedroom.
The bodies were gone.
The other Overseer’s had already moved them to the carriage and left the scene.
Karson drew his attention to the buckets they’d carried in earlier, now filled with water.
“We’re on scrubbing duty.” She explained. “Our job is to remove the skin and the smell.”
She pointed to the boxes of powder on the floor.
“Start spreading that powder over the remains. It’ll help with the smell, and get the sticky things loosened up.”
She gestured to the black and crimson flakes of hardened skin on the floor.
“Then we’ll get to scrubbin’”
Shel grimaced, stealing himself.
They began spreading the powder, starting with the walls, then moving to the charred flesh on the floor.
After that, the scrubbing began.
Again they started on the walls.
It was a simple task, but a strenuous one.
“Now the tough part.” Karson quipped.
Shel stared at the charred flesh stuck to the floor. It wasn’t completely covered in powder, a bit of red and pink showing beneath the black and white.
The young overseer dropped to his knees abruptly, putting his head into a bucket.
He spewed.
Karson moved casually, grabbing another bucket.
She sighed.
“Steel yourself boy.” She said. “There’s just no easy way to scrape skin off a floor.”
Shel spewed again.
Karson snorted a laugh, moving to fill another bucket.
They went through three more buckets before they were done. Shel only spewed in one more.
They left the room smelling of lime. The ring of char was the only evidence of Rot.
Apparently the Restoration Crews would get the rest.
The two Overseers placed their tools in the carriage, removing the soiled suits.
He needed Karson's help to get his off. It was covered in ash, blood, and powdered Lime.
Shel kicked the fabric away once it was peeled free.
Closing his eyes, he took a breath, taking stock.
He’d expected to feel cleaner, and he did. But…
The boy searched, examining his body for any remnants of ash, any specks of sin.
There was none.
The young Overseer grimaced.
His skin felt different. Tainted. Like there was something that he couldn’t wash away.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder.
"Come on." Karson said, gesturing to the two seats at the head of the carriage. "Let's take this back to The Overwatch."
“What's The Overwatch?" He asked.
The Overseer smiled, red hair falling gently across her face.
"You'll see."
----------------------------------------
Their horse guided them with sure steps to the nearest riverway, where a boat met them.
The carriage trundled onto the vessel, which carried them deeper into Kaden City.
Karson didn’t speak on the journey, allowing him to decompress.
After an hour, the morning sun was extinguished as they entered The Shade.
The boat slowed to a stop at the end of an empty alleyway.
The overseers exited with their carriage, rolling onto the main thoroughfare.
Loud music and revelry greeted them as they traveled the main roads of The Shade. Shel paid it no mind, lost in the nightmare of the morning.
Karson steered them deftly onto side streets, mapping a complicated path through the District.
The boy’s brow furrowed as they made another turn.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The road was a dead end.
A towering gray wall stood before them, rising several stories into the air. As they drew nearer, a large section of the facade began to slide upward, revealing dark space behind.
They moved through the dark doorway.
The young Overseer’s eyes widened.
Karson grinned at his bafflement.
"Here we are."
The space was enormous. Over a mile long and five stories high.
They parked the carriage in a row of dozens of others. Entrances to the massive lot surrounded them on all sides, presumably leading to similar alleys to the one they’d used. There was even a riverway for boats to enter.
They hopped from their seats and a young man moved to take the reins.
Karson led them down a cobbled walkway.
A massive stone wall rose before them. It covered the whole mile width of the building, and all of five stories. Vast tapestries depicting the lives of Overseers covered the facade. In the center, was a golden pentagon with the Five Branched Stalwart tree. Below it, in giant letters, the word ‘Overwatch’ glowed.
They moved down the walkway passing sport fields, and sparring circles, even a full sized running track. Men and women in athletic uniforms fought and competed at every station.
"What is this place?" Shel muttered.
Karson smiled, gesturing to a wooden door set into the massive wall.
"Wait till you see the inside." She said, opening them wide.
They entered into a large sitting area, where Overseers sat smoking, reading, or enjoying a cup of coffee. On the other side of the room was a receptionist, hundreds of keys hanging on the wall behind him.
The neatly dressed man moved to greet them, an Overseer’s sigil on his breast.
"Good morning, Ms. Welst.” He started, in an upper class accent. “I trust your work was not too draining?"
"Nothing too bad." Karson nodded.
Shel frowned, remembering the work.
"I was just breaking in our Rookie here." She commented, gesturing to him.
"Ahhh, Mr. Darint. Welcome The Order.” He bowed. “It's good to have you on board."
Shel tried to muster a smile, but it was half-hearted.
The receptionist didn’t take offense.
"Will you be staying with us this evening?" He asked.
“No. I’m sorry…” The boy muttered, uncertain. “I have to get home.”
“Ahh.” The man nodded, understanding. “Of course. Are you married?”
“Engaged…” Shel choked out.
He’d forgotten about Heela.
How could he tell her…
Right… He couldn’t…
“Well, congratulations.” The Overseer bowed again. "What a wonderful thing."
There was an odd tone to the man's voice.
It made Shel uncomfortable.
"I'm going to show him The Hall, Heret." Karson said, grabbing Shel by the arm.
“Of course.” The Overseer nodded, “Please, enjoy yourselves.”
Karson pulled her young rookie toward a small circular platform at the back of the room. An Overseer stood at its center, hand over a small console.
"The Hall." Karson stated.
The Overseer nodded, closing his eyes in concentration. A moment later the Vine was lifting up into darkness.
They passed through two floors on their way, a mess hall and a smoke-filled game room, both full of Overseers.
Yellow light from crystal chandeliers washed over them as they rose into The Hall.
Before Shel's eyes could adjust, the lift attendant placed his hand on the glass enclosure, causing the barrier to slide away.
The sounds of drink and dance washed over them, followed by the savory smell of tobacco. Karson pulled Shel out the door, dragging him into a cacophony of movement and laughter.
The drinking hall extended as far as he could see.
Around them were hundreds of sturdy wooden tables and chairs, some long and others circular. The room was half full, even at this hour.
Every Overseer present was full of energy. Partying with abandon.
Karson led Shel through the maze of tables, to a round one next to a thick pillar.
Lovitt and Feen were already seated.
"Hello boys." Karson said, joining them.
She gestured for Shel to do the same.
"How many deep are we?" She asked, smiling.
The two men shared a look.
"We've only ordered one." Lovitt started, "But, you see, we ordered a round for the crew... and you weren't here... so we ended up drinking two ."
"That means they’ve been here about five minutes." Karson grinned.
"Three!" Feen joked, drawing laughs around the table.
"Don't worry though, Sheila's on her way with another." Lovitt assured them.
"Shiela?"
Karson gave him a knowing look.
"She gets off in an hour..." Lovitt winked.
"I'm sure she does." Karson chuckled.
Shel didn't laugh, or even smile.
He was put off by this place, the atmosphere, the people. Desperation was thick in the air.
It was three hours till noon, and people were drinking like the world was ending.
"What about you, rookie?" Lovitt asked.
Shel looked up, dazed.
"Ya got love in your life?" He asked.
"I-- "
"He's engaged." Karson cut in.
There was an odd tone to her voice.
The three Overseer's shared a look.
Before Shel could ask about it, a dark haired waitress arrived with a tray of four glass pints.
"allo, Karry." The young woman greeted, placing a glass in front of each of them. "You doin' ok? Keepin' these louts in orda?"
She knocked a large hip into Lovitt's shoulder as she spoke.
"Who? These two?" Karson chirped. "They're sweethearts, you know that."
The two women shared a knowing look.
"Oh, I'm ok. Thank you." Shel said, trying to return the glass that had been placed in front of him.
"Just leave it, Sheila.” Lovitt soothed, “We'll take care of it."
"I'm sure you will." The waitress grinned, turning to leave.
"Alright Gents." Karson said, raising a glass.
The others did the same, clinking their glasses together and drinking deep. With a few seconds of hearty gulps, their drinks were half done.
Karson reached into her pocket, pulling out a silver cigarette tin. She opened it, placing it on the table. Each Overseer plucked a cigarette for themselves.
The Redheaded Overseer offered one to Shel.
"No." He hesitated, "I don't smoke."
The three Erasers shared another look.
"He doesn't drink, he doesn't smoke." Lovitt muttered.
"He's got a Fiance." Feen added, skeptical.
"Are you sure he's an Overseer, Karry?" Lovitt asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Just ‘cause he doesn't live like a mongrel, doesn't mean he's any less an Overseer." She chided.
The woman placed a comforting hand on Shel's shoulder.
"Besides, I seem to remember you had a wife when I first met you, Feen." Karson poked.
The sickly man leaned back, raising his hands in acquiescence.
"I didn't say nothin'." He muttered. "What did I say?"
"Well..." Shel broke in. "I did have a bit of a smoke this morning."
There was a silence.
Then a slow smile crawled across Lovitt's face. The man wagged a knowing finger in Shel's direction.
"There's hope for you yet." He chuckled, taking another swig.
"See." Feen muttered, "What did I say? I knew the boy was alright."
"It wasn't too bad." Shel continued, trying to fit in. "That Dowser, Kint, gave me a few puffs. He seems like a good guy."
At the mention of the Dowser's name, the mood soured.
"Keen..." Lovitt spat. "The holy one."
"The holiest." Feen muttered, bile on his lips.
Shel frowned.
"I don't understand." He questioned. "Do we not like him?"
"It's not that." Karson placated, pausing for a moment to think.
"It's just… it's hard to like someone you only see on your worst days."
"Oh... " The rookie replied. "So, he doesn't come here, then?"
"No." Karson shook her head. "Nobody knows where he lives or what he does on the outside."
"His partner comes in sometimes." Lovitt quipped, "Isn't that right, Boss?"
"True enough." She replied, a little color entering her cheeks.
"So..." Shel started, hesitant. "Is he always there? Are we assigned to him... or something."
"No, not always." She said, "Keen just… likes to linger. We rarely see the other Enforcer Crews."
"He's also the most... prolific." Lovitt added, "From what we hear."
The boy grimaced at the word.
"And... is it always...families?"
He glanced around the table to find everyone staring into their pints.
"Always families..." Karson answered, head bowed. "But you’ll never know them. They make sure of it.”
“But you could figure it out, right?” Shel commented. “I mean, it shouldn’t be that hard?”
She met his eyes with a hard stare.
“Why? Why would you want to do that? Are you sick or something?”
The boy shook his head vigorously.
“No, I just… Don’t you want to know what they did?”
“Fuckin’ God’s, Karry.” Lovitt muttered. “Can you shut ‘im up already.”
She raised a hand to placate the man.
“Shel… I will tell you what my first Executive told me.”
She met his gaze with a foreboding stare.
“If you search for Sin, you will find it, and when you do, you invite it in.”
The other Overseers at the table nodded.
Lovitt leaned forward.
“Now let me tell you what the old X told me. ‘Do the job, drink the ale, and never tell a soul.’"
“Never tell a soul.” The Others repeated.
The young Overseer looked around. A thousand thoughts racing through his mind.
It was all so surreal. The singing, the dancing, the drinking, the smiles, and the laughter.
How could everything seem so normal? So happy?
They all knew what was going on. What the undergirders of Noveriat looked like.
How could they just go on… live their lives… exist?
Shel reached out, frantically grabbing a glass from the table, taking down gulps after gulp, not even tasting it as it poured down his throat, until the vessel was empty.
The boy took great heaving breaths of air, and slowly, a smile bloomed on his face.
The spiraling thoughts, the rambling sorrows, the images of the day. They were gone. Shoved to the back of his mind and numbed like laudanum.
"Anybody up for another." The young Overseer asked, looking into the pensive eyes of his colleagues.
"One of us, indeed." Lovitt said, raising his glass and drinking it down.
----------------------------------------
Shel returned home late that night. Karson helping him to the door.
Saying a slurred goodbye, he moved inside, stumbling his way down the hall to the bedroom.
He felt numb, and he was glad of it. There were worse things to feel.
He stripped down clumsily, then moved to the bed.
There was a woman there. His fiancé, Heela. Her blonde hair glistened, under the moon's glow.
She was beautiful. Peaceful.
Any other night, the sight of her ethereal silhouette would bring him joy…
But not this time. This time, it brought pain.
The feeling followed him, as he crawled into bed. He turned away from her, screwing his eyes shut, willing himself to sleep.
The faster he could find the void of sleep, the faster he could escape these boiling anxieties.
Shel grimaced, feeling a rustle of sheets beside him
"How was your day?" Heela whispered, half asleep.
"Fine." He replied, cringing.
He’d never lied to her before.
"Was it everything you hoped for?" She asked, voice sweet.
"I..."
How could he answer that?
"I can't tell you."
"Hmm." She smiled.
She knew what kind of job he had wanted. The kind of job you couldn't talk about.
She was happy for him.
It tore at his heart.
She rolled up against his back.
“I'm so proud of you." She whispered, folding him in her arms. Her fingers pressed against his chest, pushing her love into his body.
He couldn’t feel it.
He rejected it.
He felt cold.
All he could see was charred corpses in his mind... and the smell... the sulfurous smell...
She held him tighter.
Shel flinched.
He slept poorly that night.
How could he ever sleep again?
----------------------------------------
The days passed like life times, his mind lingering on the vivid sensations of his first erasure.
Heela left him alone, giving him space.
She knew something was wrong, but she never asked. She knew he couldn’t say.
Shel could see that his mood was hurting her, though. He could see her frustration at not knowing how to help.
The tension had built to a crescendo when the young Overseer got a missive from the Order.
In truth, he was relieved to get it.
After days of reliving his first job, Shel had concluded a new one might be good for him. It might dull the pain of the first, make it less horrific in relative terms, paper over the pain.
It was a dumb hope, but hope for a future less dark was better than the nightmare of now.
He could feel Heela's anxious eyes on his back as he left for the Tube.
He did not know how to deal with her. How to talk to her. They'd been in love since they were kids, inseparable for over a decade… Now the space between them grew with every hour.
The Tube door slid shut, and Shel was met with blessed silence.
The world seemed far away, and for the next hour, his life was bliss.
Eventually his exit came and the young Overseer was forced to step back into reality.
The fear returned. The dread returned.
He'd hoped to see Dowser Kint again as he approached the job site. But no such luck. Just the black carriage sitting on Shrouded gray streets.
Feen tossed him something as he arrived. He caught it, examining the slick fabric in his hands.
He was on bag duty…
“Best to do it early.” Karson advised. “Get it out of the way.”
"I'll give you a hint.” Lovitt grinned, “It's always rotten."
It was a family of five.
Messy.
The bodies strewn across three rooms. Blood coated the small apartment.
"Bodies is the easy job today." Feen commented.
It wasn't.
There were no easy jobs today.
It took half an hour to peel the corpses off the floor. They came apart like dried clay. Karson placed a bucket beside him to catch the spew.
Shel considered sleeping at the Overwatch that night, dreading Heela's touch.
He was ashamed.
She could not know what now she held in those innocent arms. He could not tell her.
At Karson's urging, he went home. He laid down with his fiance, and, at her insistence, he tried to love her…
He couldn't. The morning's bodies still fresh in his mind.
She held him close.
"It's okay." She soothed.
The shame was unbearable.
He lay there, eyes wide, afraid to blink.
That shame, it stayed with him, joining the pain as a barrier between them.
Heela knew something was wrong. She knew he was hurting, she felt his pain.
The morning after his fourth job, Heela made a decision. She would no longer watch quietly as he deteriorated. She would do something.
They were going out.
From that day, in between missives, Heela took him places. Restaurants, parks, meetings with family and friends.
It didn’t matter.
The distance was there. The barrier was there, growing with each awkward encounter, each uncomfortable exchange with the people he once knew.
He knew what she was doing, and he went along because he loved her still. But everything she tried only worked to heighten his shame.
He saw Kint the Dowser several times in those painful months. They would talk and Shel would seek his council, often coming away with words he hoped might buoy him through these dark times. But they never did.
Eventually, he grew to resent the stalwart man.
How could he stay so consistent, so strong. Surely a Dowser would have seen horrors far beyond what Shel had, and yet… He was unchanged, untainted by the work.
There must be something wrong with him.
That was the only explanation.
No normal man could stare into the dark for so long and not be poisoned.
After four months as an Overseer, Shel stopped indulging Heela's efforts.
He began spending more and more time at the Overwatch.
For some reason, he felt truly comfortable there, surrounded by the only people who could ever truly understand his pain.
With Heela he was always on guard, but at The Overwatch he could be unabashedly himself.
----------------------------------------
Karson placed a small box on their usual table at the Overwatch, sliding it over to him.
It was late in the night at this point, Lovitt and Feen had already found partners and gone to bed.
"What is it?" Shel asked, wiping the ale from his lips.
"Cigarette Tin." She replied.
He tore away the simple brown wrapping paper.
"Thought you might want to buy some of your own smokes, for a change." She grinned.
Shel smiled.
He'd been smoking a lot since joining the 14th. Heela didn't like it. But, it was part of the job.
Heela just didn’t understand.
She was too clean… Too naive.
----------------------------------------
"What is that?" Heela asked, removing dishes from the dinner table.
Shel let out a puff of smoke.
"Cigarette tin." He responded.
She frowned. Heela had asked him to stop smoking inside weeks ago.
He took another puff, wondering if her empathy would ever run out.
"I know what it is." She said, "Why do you have it?"
"For cigarettes." He replied.
He knew what she was really asking, but he couldn't help baiting her.
She bit her lip in frustration.
"You know what I mean." She sighed, "Where did you get it?"
"Can't tell you that."
His reply was sharp, meant to cut.
"You can't tell me about a cigarette tin?"
Shel shook his head.
Why was he doing this? She didn’t deserve this.
"Really?" She folded her arms, glaring at him.
The Overseer squinted his eyes in suspicion. Was this the moment?
"Even if I did tell you, you’d never understand.”
"Really?" She repeated, heat in her voice. "There's nothing you can tell me? Not about the people you work with, or the cigarette tin, or why you come home so late, stinking of booze?"
"That's right, Heela, and you know that!" He spat. "You think I don't want to tell you things? I'd love to share this with you, but I can't!"
That was a lie. He'd never tell her, never taint her like that.
"Just tell me how you feel!" She pleaded.
“And what’s that gonna do?” He snapped, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t know.” She said, exasperated. “I don’t know, but I’d take anything at this point.”
“I can’t…” He growled.
“You can’t…” She sighed, shaking her head. “You can’t… You can’t do anything anymore, can you?”
She shook her head, irritated.
“Can’t stop smoking in the house, can’t come home early, can’t stop lying to my face…”
Her jaw flexed.
“You can’t even love me anymore.”
Shell shot up, chair flying back against the wall.
“Woman!” He stepped forward.
She backed away, fear in her eyes.
He froze at the sight of it.
Her beautiful face. The face of the woman he’d loved since he was a boy.
He took a breath, anger dissipating.
“I love you, Shel…” She whispered, eyes earnest.
"You don't know what you love." He sighed.
It was over…
He knew it was over.
He needed to end it here.
To free her from him.
"'You just need to get back out there, Shel. You just need to keep trying, Shel.'" He muttered, mockingly. "Do you know what you do to me, Woman?.”
Her brow furrowed, confused.
“Every hour at Kava and Barry’s, every second with my mother,. Every moment with you… It’s like poison in my heart. I can hardly look at you."
He looked away, grimacing.
“Just being with you right now…” He whispered. "It’s killing me, Heela… You’re killing me.”
He had to strain to keep his voice from shaking.
The silence stretched.
Heela’s face had grown stoic. She knew what he was doing, she knew him too well.
But, eventually, blessedly, she nodded.
"So, what do you want, Shel?" She asked. "Do you want me to go?"
He could feel this was wrong. A part of him screamed for him to stop. To apologize. To take it all back.
"Finally." He muttered, voice cracking
He gritted his teeth.
"If you want to help... Then please… let me go."
He met her eyes.
The eyes of the woman he’d grown up with. Who’d seen him grow. Who’d supported him all the way.
Something broke within him as he watched the dream of their life together die behind those eyes.
She left that night.
It was for the best.
That’s what he told himself.
She was the reason for his shame. She was too bright for him now. Her light only made his shadows darker.
It was her fault really… in a way.
The better part of him knew he’d pushed away his only chance of salvation.
----------------------------------------
"Heela left me." Shel muttered, as he and Karson leaned against their sinister carriage.
"Oh." She whispered, passing the cigarette back to him. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault." He replied, taking a drag. "She just… didn’t understand."
"Right." Karson nodded, solemn.
She understood completely.
"It's for the best really." He lied, passing the cigarette back. "For both of us."
Karson nodded again.
She heard all he could not say. She understood what he couldn't admit, and accepted it.
"I've got your first round tonight." She said, dropping her cigarette to the cobblestones, putting it out with her foot.
It was a Mother and son that day. Shel was on scrub duty.
That was the first job where he hadn’t once felt the urge to spew.
He was at home in his life now. With Heela gone, he was empty, hollow, but at least it was just him.
Shel was beginning to understand why the other Erasure crew members didn't like Keen. Something was off with a man who could be so steady in a sea of blood. A man who could step out of those waters and into the real world, clean.
There’s something wrong with him. Shel mused, as he scrubbed blood from powder blue walls.
----------------------------------------
That night, after many drinks. Karson took Shel's hand, pulling him gently to her room at the Overwatch. They laid together, and to Shel's surprise, for the first time in half a year, he felt like a man. Not a person, but a man at least.
Shel's relationship with Karson began that night.
They spent their days in the bliss of drink, and each other's embrace.
The shame was not gone. The man he had once been still existed, watching him, judging him. But, the pleasure of sex and ale numbed him.
A shade to block the light.
----------------------------------------
By the end of his first year, Shel was comfortably numb.
He and Karson lived together. They had a dark room at the Overwatch. Away from the eyes of purer souls.
Approaching their newest job, Shel noticed a disheveled man, sitting on a bench outside a row of wooden houses. He was slumped over, staring at the gravel between his feet, a worn pipe in his hands.
The young Overseer waved Karson ahead.
"I'll see you in a minute."
It had been several months since he’d seen the Dowser. The man was much changed since then. His suit was rumpled, beard unkempt, eyes red and swollen.
The man hardly blinked, staring into nothing.
Shel waved a hand in front of him, to no response.
The Dowser was broken.
The Overseer frowned.
He had never expected this. He’d felt so many things for this man over the last year. Appreciation, idolization, irritation, and contempt. But now, seeing this incorruptible figure brought so low… all he could feel was... discomfort.
"So…” He started, feeling the need to say something. “What's new, Kint?"
He cringed at the awkward line. It had been a long time since he’d shown any empathy.
Kint hadn’t noticed, however.
"Is... Is everythi– Are you okay?" The Overseer stammered, crouching before the hunched over Dowser.
This time, Keen seemed to register the words.
He looked up, meeting Shel’s eyes.
The boy flinched.
Those eyes…
Wide with despair, pleading for answers. They had a tenuous grip on reality.
One of the man’s cheeks twitched. His face fluttered between emotions faster than a humming birds wings.
"I--" The broken man started. "You... you were right, Shel."
He paused, looking out into the Shroud. Distracted by something far away.
"Right about what?" The boy pressed, "What was I right about, Kint?"
The man turned back to him, mouth settling on a smile, eyes devoid of hope.
"It’s not real… None of it’s real…"
An intense sadness shrouded the Dowser's face.
"We are sheep..." He twitched. "The prophet is dead, and we are sheep..."
He checked over his shoulder, before leaning in close.
"The wolves are tending the herd." He whispered, laughter overtaking him. A sick, twisted laughter.
Shel’s brow furrowed, unsettled.
The suffering, the guilt from this man made him very uncomfortable.
Seeing such a Stalwart man brought so low. He’d imagined this day several times. Thought he might enjoy it.
But now… Numbness reigned.
He laid a hand on the Dowser's shoulder.
"Let's go to the Overwatch after this, eh?” He soothed, giving a half-hearted smile. “I'll buy your first round."
----------------------------------------
Shel thought he would feel better once he stepped on the job site, but he didn’t. He couldn’t shake the Dowsers' haunted eyes.
His discomfort only grew as he journeyed down the dark entryway, entering a small living area. There was a sense of familiarity to this place. A lived-in quality, like long forgotten joy.
It was unnerving.
He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d been here before.
There was a wood stove in the far corner, faced by two comfortable leather chairs.
He stumbled, feeling an intense pressure in his mind. Like someone was pushing against it. Trying to get in… or break out.
His crew mates crouched in front of the two leather chairs. Below them, a cinder of soul was being buttoned into a black tarp.
Shel heard a crackling sound, like crushing chips, as the Overseers moved the body into the bag.
A lock of raven hair fell from the side of the bag as they lifted the body.
His mind shuddered, consciousness warping. A realization rushing toward him like a tidal wave.
"Thanks for the help." Feen scolded, shouldering past.
"Shut up, Feen." Karson chided, "Lovitt, Shel. Check the other rooms for a Sinner. It's gotta be around here somewhere."
"Right." Lovitt nodded, looking around.
Shel did not respond. He knew this scene. He knew it… like a memory…
Because it was a memory.
His mind shifted. Memories crashing back.
He was Kint Archaedis, Inspector of District 13.
He looked around.
This was a dream. It had to be.
Another twisted dream…
He didn’t know this Shel Darint person, but he knew this house. He knew this scene.
He’d lived it a thousand times. His moment of ruin. The day his world shattered.
How could he not remember it?
He knew the moment, beat by beat.
He'd stabbed her here, standing by the furnace.
Kint knelt down, touching the dried blood on the floor.
She bled out here, that pitying look on her face.
In shame, he'd thrown his knife away… there.
Kint looked to a space under the chair and frowned. Where was the knife?
A door opened behind him.
Where was the knife?
Kint furrowed his brow.
This wasn’t right.
Where was the knife…
He searched frantically…
Where was the bloody knife?
His eyes widened.
Right… This was a dream. A dream like the one he’d had the night before.
Not a normal dream… so things would be changed.
But, what–
"Oi" Lovitt exclaimed, surprised. “What’s this?”
A cold sweat broke out on Kint’s forehead, fear lancing his heart.
Something had changed…
He turned, looking at Lovitt.
The man stood by Nessa’s door, shadow darkening the bedroom wall.
Where was the knife?
"No..." The Dowser muttered, eyes wide with panic.
He moved quickly, pushing the larger man aside. He burst into the room with a dreadful momentum.
Kint froze.
His eyes drank in the familiar room. But his mind struggled to process the scene. His pulse beat like a drum through his ears, teeth grinding.
"What is this?" Kint said, grinding out the words.
He blinked hard, shaking his head. Trying to clear his vision
"I don't know..." Lovitt replied, concerned. "I've never seen this before."
"This isn't right." Kint said, taking a careful step forward.
"Yeah..." Lovitt replied, "Looks like they forgot to cook it."
Kint glared at the man, rage flooding his veins.
"No.” He growled, pointing at the scene. “This isn't right. This didn't happen."
The seasoned Overseer looked at Kint, confused.
"I'm lookin' right at it, Shel..." Lovitt said, concern in his voice. "They just... forgot to burn her..."
'Her'... Kint shuddered at the word.
What his eyes were seeing and what his mind could comprehend finally met.
"No..." He convulsed, dashing to the bed. "This isn't real."
The pale skin, jet black hair, freckled cheeks...
The Stalwart Knife planted in her chest...
His knife.
"This didn't happen." He said, voice shaking.
He reached out, touching her arm. Icy cold lanced through his hand.
It felt so real.
"Nessa." He pleaded, "God's, Nessa!"
He reached out with his other hand, grabbing his daughter's lifeless body, shaking her.
"Nessa wake up!”
“Prophet above!” He cried, “Nessa wake up!"
"Boss!" Lovitt yelled behind him. "Get in here! Shel's cracked!"
"Oh Prophet!" Kint moaned, embracing his daughter.
Cold despair ripped through him as his cheek touched her frozen flesh.
The clatter of boots stomped behind him.
Tears flooded his eyes. He felt a dull pain against his chest as the handle of his knife pressed into him.
"What have I done!" He hugged her tight. “I didn’t do this!”
A set of strong hands grabbed Kint by the shoulders, trying to pull him away.
He would not let go.
Another set latched onto his daughter's body, prying her from him.
"Nooo!" He shouted, "I can't lose her! Not her too!"
"Snap out of it Shel!" Karson yelled, ripping the lifeless little girl from his arms.
Lovitt stumbled back as Kint lost his grip on the girl.
"I didn't do this!" Kint screamed, desperate.
"We know." Lovitt grunted, wrenching him toward the door.
Feen added his hands to help pull him away.
Kint watched as Karson set his daughter down in a sitting position on the bed, her back against the wall, knife protruding from her chest.
The redheaded overseer returned, rushing to subdue him.
Kint's eyes widened in horror, as his daughter's lifeless eyes opened, revealing dark crimson pools beneath.
A familiar rictus smile split the little girl's lips.
"You!" Kint spat, rage overwhelming him.
He redoubled his efforts, pushing against the hands that bound him. Clawing himself forward against the strength of the two men.
"Get out of her!" Kint roared, spit flying from his lips.
Karson reached him, pushing against his chest as the other two pulled him toward the door.
"God's Shel." She grunted, "What's wrong with you!"
"Get out of my daughter!" He screamed, throat raw. "Get out of my head!"
Kint felt one of his feet slip as he tried to pull himself toward the laughing spirit wearing his daughter's face. The crew shoved him against the hallway wall, Lovitt and Feen pinning him to it. The laughter followed him out of the room, taunting him, fueling his bestial anger.
"Get out of my head!" Kint shouted again.
The dark wooden door slammed in his face.
----------------------------------------
Kint shot upward, sitting straight in his bed, breath coming in gasps. He put a hand to his chest, feeling the thumping anger slow within him. His hand slid against skin covered in sweat.
"Another dream..." He murmured.
The gray light of morning spilled through his window.
It was just another dream… Another terrible dream.
What was that thing?
Those red eyes.
What did it want with him? Why was it showing him these things?
"Papa...?" A hesitant voice came from the doorway.
Kint looked up sharply to see his daughter, face full of worry, cheeks flush with life.
"Nessa!" He sighed, relief flooding his voice. "Come here."
He beckoned her over, pulling her into a hug.
"You're sweaty, Papa." Nessa noted, though she did not shy away.
"I... I had an interesting dream." Kint responded.
"Was it a scary dream?" She asked, pulling away.
"Yes." He admitted.
"Were there monsters in your dream, Papa?"
Her tone was serious.
"Yes." Kint replied, solemn. "Terrible monsters."
"Did you fight them?"
"No." He said, "Not this time."
"Would you?" She asked.
His brow furrowed.
"Would you fight the monsters, Papa... For me?"
The image of Nessa with sharp crimson eyes came again to his mind…
He did not falter this time.
His lips curled into an earnest smile.
"For you, Nessa..." He spoke, voice laden with meaning. "I'd fight the whole world."
She smiled.
He pulled her into another embrace.
As he held her, his face grew stern.
The time for coasting was over…
He needed to take steps.
He needed to move forward.