When you can't go through a wall, go around it. Unfortunately, trying to bypass the makeshift palisade quickly proved impossible. On the next street over stood the very same construction with yet more men guarding it. The same on next one and the next and so on. Whoever these people were, they went through a lot of trouble to cordon this area off.
He tried looking for alternative entrances, only to be met with boarded up windows and doors. Having no clue who or what awaited behind them, Michael decided against forcing his way in, at least for now.
Michael had no idea how much of the coast was actually walled off, but there was no way whoever these people were controlled the entirety of the inner city's beaches. Not only would people not respect such a large area being inaccessible, it would also restrict their ability to fish in Lake Michigan.
Observing the barricades for several minutes and seeing no weaknesses in the structure or guards, he decided risking asking locals about it. He understood the dangers of talking to the homeless and poor, the way with which they would seek an opportunity to alleviate him of whatever he might own. The men at the barricade presented an unknown threat, and it was best to approach it carefully.
Tracing his way back to the nearest camp of tents, Michael spied a group of five people encircling a humble campfire at the edge of the campsite. They huddled together and from the way they dressed he guessed that two of them were women, the remaining three likely men.
He made his way closer to their little campsite, stepping into the light of their campfire with hands raised. The men reacted immediately, standing up and straightening, trying to make themselves seem as big as possible. They took a few steps toward him, only enough to put themselves between him and their two female companions who hid behind them.
"What do you want?"
Up close, the men's faces looked gaunt, dirty and haunted, results of malnourishment and the conditions they lived in now. Despite that they observed him with guarded looks, more than ready to risk conflict with a single person to protect their belongings.
Michael took a step closer but kept a safe distance. "I don't mean harm," he said, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "Do you know anything about the barricades around here?"
One of the men looked up at Michael suspiciously, sizing him up. "Why do you want to know?" he asked, his voice gruff.
"I'm just curious," Michael replied, trying to keep his tone even. "I've been trying to get through, but I can't find a way."
The man before him licked his lips anxiously, taking a step closer to him, "Are you crazy?! Don't go poking your nose where it doesn't belong!"
Why did questions about the barricade evoke reactions such as these? Did these people have personal experience with guards at the barricade?
Michael took a step back, trying to keep them at a distance so he could run if needed. "Alright, alright! I understand," he nodded, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. "Are the men guarding those barricades dangerous?"
The man in the lead stomped his foot, frustration now creasing his brow, "Are you not listening?! I told you to stop asking questions!" He started walking closer.
This was getting out of control, and quickly. "I don't want any problems!" Michael took steps backwards, he didn't want to have to fight them. More importantly, he didn't want to releases Andrei to do so again.
"Then why were you bothering us, huh?! You are not getting anything from us!" The leader's eyes were wild, darting every which way, making sure it was just the four of them.
"I am sorry for bothering you, I just needed some answers." As Michael retreated, he stumbled over curb, almost sprawling on the ground before he managed to catch himself.
That was apparently the wrong thing to do, as the guarded looks in the men's eyes were replaced by predatory ones. The one in the lead reaching a hand behind his back, "How about we get even for helping you then?" He drew a knife, a small serrated kitchen thing, meant for cutting bread not flesh. "Give us every-"
Michael didn't wait for the man to finish his sentence. He turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The homeless men gave a halfhearted chase but gave up soon after. He stopped to catch breath, once again thanking god for his long legs.
"You can only deal with dregs of society from a position of power."
He almost jumped, not expecting to hear Andrei's voice. It's been a while since his prisoner last talked to him, and this was from his own volition, to boot. "Yeah, we both know how it ends when you do it."
"In getting what I want?" Andrei's smug voice remarked.
"More like with people getting hurt." Michael's accusatory tone sounded over his ragged breaths. This run would have barely winded him days ago, but the events of recent days kept piling up, and the time he allowed himself to rest was getting shorter as well. And that was despite putting an extra point into Endurance back in Tevatron.
Apparently, he setup a perfect comeback for Andrei. "It looked like you were about to get hurt back there."
Michael grunted in annoyance, his prisoner always had the best of reasons to come back out. This time it was to make fun of him. "I had everything under control."
"Aha, is that why you got all your questions answered and they didn't even pull a knife on you?" Andrei's questions was positively overflowing with sarcasm.
He really wasn't in the mood for his past's bullshit right now. He needed to figure out a way to get on coast. From there, Michael didn't know. He would need to get a ship somehow, but he has never sailed before, and he doubted crossing Lake Michigan was possible in a row boat.
"Just admit it, despite whatever fancy stats you might have, I am better suited to this environment."
Was he trying to get him to give up control once again? For this? "I have the same experience you do, we share our memories of the past."
"There's a difference between having memories of something and living, understanding, it." Andrei's voice was firm, but Michael could detect an undercurrent of outrage. He hated being reduced to a pile of experiences for Michael to shift through as desired.
"I don't think you ever understood the actions you took." He was tired from this pointless argument with his past self, it would lead nowhere as it always did.
"I always did what was necessary for us," the outrage in Andrei's voice was evident now.
He was trying to get a reaction out of him, to bring him down to his level. "Us? Necessary? Hardly, you only ever cared about yourself, never anyone around you."
Despite being fully in reality, Michael was somehow aware of Andrei's fist slamming into the metal cabinet door of his metaphorical prison. "You wouldn't understand, you weren't there when it all started."
"Enough!" Volition coursed through his voice as Andrei was muffled in his prison. For a second, Michael couldn't believe what happened. He had never managed to push back his nemesis on his own, only ever with the help of the medicine he was prescribed.
Was it the power of the stats he had spent? After all, his Volition seemed to be tied to his inner struggle in ways more intricate than the weird status, Price Paid in Sanity. Perhaps their power over one another was directly reflected by the difference in their Volition?
If that was true, Andrei could catch up easily. Michael had not forgotten about his three unspent points. On the other hand, he doubted his nemesis desired to continue their conversation nearly enough to throw away whatever advantage he believed hoarding the points might have.
But most importantly, what other unknown effects could Volition have?
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Eventually, Michael managed to pry some information from a different group of recently made homeless. They had no idea who or what the men guarding the barricades were, but they weren't violent at first sight. On the other hand, they would, under no circumstances, allow entrance to anyone. Trying to enter forcefully meant provoking a forceful response. Apparently, more than one group tried and ended up being trashed.
All in all, it did not bode well for his chances of getting to the coast, but at the very least the possibility of talking to the sentries was now on the table. They themselves might shine some light on the situation.
Some time later, and considerable amount of observation, Michael identified the border barricade with what he deemed to be the least aggressive protectors. Before attempting his approach, Michael scouted out best ways to run should things get heated. Recent events taught him that exit strategies were usually the most important part of any plan.
With a deep breath, he approached the barrier that stood between him and his goal, staying out in the open where the guarding sentries could spot him easily. And they did, at about 50 paces, Michael saw the first of the sentries stand up and stare at him from the top of the barricade.
As he stepped closer and closer, Michael kept an eye on the couple of sentries visible from below. Their eyes tracked his approach, yet remained vigilant about anyone else that might be sneaking in the shadows. He stopped a little more than 10 paces from the barrier, waiting for their reaction.
He didn't have to wait long as a new head popped out from behind the barrier. "What do you want?"
Michael had no clue whether this man was designated as their speaker or whether he was simply the first to speak out. It made him feel at a disadvantage, to not even know how organized these people were. "I just want to talk."
The head that talked to him turned to someone out of his sight and muttered something Michael could not hear, likely discussing the merits of talking to him at all. Whatever the result of their conversation, the head turned back to him. "Wait, we are coming out."
His plan was already going off rails, he hadn't really expected them to entertain his request this easily, much less actually coming out to speak face to face. For a moment he considered bailing, but this was an opportunity he couldn't quite pass up. He just hoped they really were coming out just to speak rather to apprehend him.
Not a minute later, three men climbed off the barricade. They moved nimbly and with confidence, showing that this wasn't the first time they climbed the unstable construction. Once at the bottom, they arranged themselves in a triangle, with the man he spoke to previously in the lead.
Despite that, it was another that immediately drew Michael's attention. On the talker's left trailed a tall, strongly built man, and danger screamed in Michael's mind. He walked with confidence and predatory grace, his hand hovering near a short sword at his hip.
Micheal regretted not running off while he had the chance, there were still plenty of other barricades where he could have tried the same.
The men stopped a couple of paces away from Michael, the one in lead speaking up, "So, what did you want to talk about?"
He had prepared himself for this type of questioning, it wouldn't do to start the conversation by revealing he needed to travel through what they considered their own territory, something they supposedly allowed no one. "I lived in western part of the city, but my relatives lived on the coast. I decided to move to them, for protection, but I found..." he gestured towards the barricade, "this instead. So I was wondering what it's all about."
The men in the lead paid close attention to him as he spoke, and after he was done shared a quick look with his fellow sentries. He cleared his throat before proceeding in official tone, "The coastal areas of North Side, Central and South Side inner city have been cordoned off on orders of police chief and city council."
Huh, so some authority remained in Chicago. Although the purpose of this cordon evaded him. Was the city council incapable of holding onto the entire city? It was quite possible, with limited police force that couldn't really stand up to gangs of Chicago, holding onto a smaller but important part of the city was their best bet. The fact that they chose the coast was likely inspired by access to Lake Michigan and the fact it would mean barricading one less side.
Their de-facto leader continued, "Until those orders are rescinded, passage through the..." the man threw a look at the makeshift barricade behind him, cringing slightly, "cordon is only possible on business from CPD." With that his attention returned to Michael. "Will that be all or do you any other questions?"
Now, how was he supposed to make it through? Anything he could make up on the spot would likely not pass the inspection of these men, but it didn't need to. After all, all of these barricades had the same orders. "I guess that means I can't contact my relatives?"
The officer, or so Michael assumed, in front of him had a conflicted look on his face, like he wanted to help but couldn't. "I am afraid not." But he added hopefully, "At best you could leave a message with us, maybe one of us can stop by at their place once we are off duty."
Michael's face lit up with false hope, "That would be great, could you perhaps tell Arnold Jenkins that I am trying to reach him? He lives at, uhm..." a moment of panic seized by Michael, but somehow a suitable reply was filled in by his brain. "actually, I used to drive there using address saved in my phone's GPS..." he finished with a despondent look.
The cop before him scratched his year awkwardly, but didn't push the issue, "Well, I can't promise we can find him like that, but if any of us meet Arnold Jenkins we will relay your message."
Michael breathed a fake sigh, "That's all I can ask for, thank you officers."
The man smiled, responding with a slight nod, "It's no problem, and we aren't police officers, just volunteer helpers."
Michael filed that piece of information for later perusal, returning the sentry's nod. "Regardless, I thank you. I will return back home until this resolves itself."
Two of the man's companions already turned back to scale their barricade, returning to its safety, while the man he talk to gave him a quick wave before joining them.
As Michael walked away, he wondered how he was going to impersonate a police officer on official business.