Michael hit the ground hard and felt the air escape his lungs. Gasping for breath he managed to look around, he recognized his surroundings: a clearing in the middle of a forest, with a lake nearby.
He stood up shakily, his mind still reeling from his encounter with the man. He had so many questions, but he knew he wouldn't get any answers from him.
But he did get something from the man. Advice. Without a second thought, he turned around and sprinted towards the way he had come from.
In seconds he reached the treeline, dodging trees and leaping over rocks at the edges of the forest. Once he was deep enough he took a chance and turned around.
The obelisk was barely visible through the shrubbery, but it was enough to reveal the four men approaching the obelisk. He prayed they hadn't seen him sprint. There was a chance as he made sure to keep the obelisk between himself and their camp.
They reached the obelisk, looking around. One of them split off and spent a minute walking around the obelisk. Then, suddenly, he knelt down, touching something on the ground.
He stood up and walked over to the other three men. They talked and then split in two pairs, the first heading off, neither towards him nor to their camp. The second however walked straight into Michael's direction.
Then it clicked, they knew. The first pair went to secure the gate and cut him off and the second, with the man that knelt down, was supposed to track him down. He was trapped in here.
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Michael's heart rate skyrocketed as he realized he was now being hunted. He retreated deeper into the forest, stumbling over roots and rocks as he tried to come up with a plan, his mind working through the limited options he had.
Look.
He could try to outrun them, but unless there was another exit out of here, they would just hound him down. Besides, he was cold, hungry and tired, it was just a matter of time until they caught up.
Stop.
He could try to hide, but he doubted he could stay hidden for long with the way they were tracking him.
Wait.
He could fight, but he knew he was outnumbered and if they were anything like the captain, outmatched. They were also armed, with cudgels and axes, while he wasn't. He didn't want to risk getting injured or worse, killed.
Michael.
He needed a plan. A way out. And fast.
Andrei.
He stopped dead in his tracks, he has not heard that name for a long time. Who said it? He quickly looked around, but there was no one, the forest was silent.
He needed to calm down, he has not taken his pills for a long time. It was a really bad time for one of his episodes to start. But... this was something more now. It never spoke to him directly. Was his broken mind trying to tell him he missed something?
Michael felt a sudden rush of fear and uncertainty wash over him. He knew he couldn't afford to lose control now, not when his life was on the line. But the voice inside his head, it felt so real.
Andrei.
Michael felt a sudden urge to explore this voice, to find out what it meant. But he fought against it, telling himself he couldn't afford to take any risks.
Look.
In.
But the voice persisted, growing louder and more insistent. Michael felt his resolve breaking, and he knew he couldn't ignore the voice any longer. He needed to look inside himself. He wished he knew how.
Michael closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. When he opened them, he was no longer in the forest. He stood in a small room, surrounded by blank concrete walls.
He looked around, confused, but then he noticed the cabinet and the board with many sheets of paper pinned to it. The room was illuminated by a small light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Michael cautiously approached the board, his eyes scanning the pages intently. He felt a sense of deja vu, as if he had seen this board before, but he couldn't quite place where or when.
Michael's eyes widened as he took in the board, realizing that each sheet listed a different trait. His traits? He recognized some of them, like Logic and Empathy, but others were completely foreign to him. Savoir Faire? Shivers? Inland Empire? What did those even mean?
Each sheet had small holes punched into the margins, most of them the same amount, but some with different numbers. Michael couldn't quite make sense of it, but he had a feeling that it was important.
Michael wondered if this was some sort of a puzzle, a clue left behind by the voice in his head. A puzzle made by a crazy man, for a crazy man.
He began sorting the sheets based on the number of holes punched through them, placing them into separate piles. As he worked, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. What was the purpose of this puzzle? And who had left it for him to solve?
As he sorted through the sheets, he began to notice something strange. Some of the traits listed on the sheets seemed to be interconnected, almost as if they were different aspects of the same thing.
He couldn't quite explain it, but as he looked at the sheets of paper, he felt as if he was piecing together a puzzle. A puzzle that would help him understand himself better.
Michael realized that the number of holes may represent how developed each trait was. The more holes, the more developed the trait. He wondered if this was a way to help him understand himself better, to unlock his true potential.
There was one trait, that unlike other had only a single punched hole, he set it aside for now, deciding to sort it later through process of elimination.
Finally done, he looked through all twenty-four traits.
INTELLECT 4 PSYCHE 3 PHYSIQUE 3 MOTORICS 2 Logic 4 Volition 1 Endurance 3 Hand/Eye Coordination 2 Encyclopedia 4 Inland Empire 3 Pain Threshold 3 Perception 2 Rhetoric 4 Empathy 3 Physical Instrument 3 Reaction Speed 2 Drama 4 Authority 3 Electro-Chemistry 3 Savoir Faire 2 Conceptualization 4 Esprit De Corps 3 Shivers 3 Interfacing 2 Visual Calculus 4 Suggestion 3 Half Light 3 Composure 2
He has decided to name the groups Intellect, Psyche, Physique and Motorics.
All in all, he seemed like a fairly balanced person, but the matter of Volition troubled him, why was it so much lower than the rest of the traits in its group? The word was foreign to him, his knowledge of the English language insufficient.
He wondered if the puzzle was a way to help him develop this trait, to unlock his true potential. But how was he supposed to do that?
Michael rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. He needed to think, to find some sort of direction. He couldn't afford to waste any more time in this strange room.
He began to pace restlessly, his thoughts spinning around when he spotted something that hadn't been there before. Sitting atop the cabinet was a small metal paper puncher with the number three engraved on its handle.
A chill ran through him as he stared at it. He glanced at the cabinet and saw that it was locked and had a key in it. He tugged at the doors but they wouldn't open. Shaking off the eerie feeling, he returned his attention to the traits board. Yeah, better not to open that for now.
He couldn't help but think of the captain and his mysterious abilities. Was this how the captain had gained his powers? Was this part of touching the obelisk? Was captain's mind speaking to him as well? Did he speak to the man in white?
He couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to make a huge mistake, but something inside him urged him to try.
With a deep breath, he placed the Volition paper carefully on the board and punched a hole through it. As he removed the paper, he couldn't believe his eyes. The hole had appeared not only on Volition but on every single trait in the Psyche group.
Removing his hand and checking the paper puncher, the engraving now read two. Right, so this was a group paper puncher. If the captain truly increased his abilities this way, he needed to use it carefully, getting the most out of the remaining two holes.
Michael stood there, contemplating the best approach to take. He knew he didn't have much time, and he needed to choose wisely. He couldn't afford to make a mistake.
He looked at the four groups, trying to figure out which one would be the most useful in the upcoming riots. He knew that he needed to be strong, both physically and mentally, in order to survive.
He thought about his current traits, and which ones he needed to improve upon. He had a decent balance of Intellect, Psyche, and Physique traits, but his Motorics were lacking.
Hand-eye coordination, perception, reaction speed, savoir faire, interfacing, and composure. These were important in surviving a scenario just like this, but something told him that would be a wrong choice.
He was being followed by two men, with two more guarding, presumably, the only entrance into the area. If they had these abilities as well, and Michael was inclined to believe so, then he was in trouble.
The one kneeling down near the obelisk probably enhanced his Motorics, right? It would make sense for a tracker to have high Perception. And it would also make it impossible to
Although the others, he had no idea. But it might be wise to assume the worst case scenario of them all putting everything into Physique, which would make it nearly impossible for Michael to fight or outrun them.
There was no way he was making his way out of here by fighting, running or hiding. But what other options remained to him?
The answer was talking, he needed to talk to the guards.
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Michael knew that talking might not be enough to get him out of this situation. He needed to be prepared in case his pursuers were not in the mood to talk. He decided to head deeper into the forest, and start preparing some makeshift traps.
He searched for materials to make traps that could slow down his pursuers or at least give him some time to escape. He found some sturdy tree branches and vines, and began tying them together in strategic places.
As he worked, his mind raced with different scenarios, trying to predict his pursuers' movements and plan his traps accordingly. He set up a pitfall trap with sharp sticks and rocks at the bottom, covered it with branches and leaves, making sure it was well-concealed.
He moved on to setting up tripwire traps, tying vines between trees at different heights, making sure they were hard to see. He also made some simple snare traps, using branches and vines to create loops that would catch a foot or a leg. He placed sharp rocks everywhere he suspected a man might stumble after tripping himself on one of these.
He was even lucky enough to find a sharp decline covered in rocks, most of them unstable. Slowly crawling his way down, he marked the ones that could bear his weight easily in his mind, the rest would turn the decline into a rock slide. With sharp rocks, carefully prepared at the bottom. Finding a small hill he placed a small pile of rocks at the top as throwing ammunition.
As a last thing he prepared a weapon, he couldn't do much better than a stick sharpen with a rock but if he was lucky he wouldn't need to use it.
When he was finished, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. He knew that his traps were not foolproof, but they would give him a fighting chance.
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Michael sat hidden behind a large rock formation, his heart racing with anticipation. He had been walking for hours, constantly checking his surroundings for any sign of his pursuers.
He had managed to set up traps all along the path, hoping to slow them down or injure them enough to give him an advantage. But he knew that he couldn't rely on them entirely.
He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He needed to conserve his energy and focus on his plan. He had to convince the guards that he was not a threat and that he meant no harm.
He glanced at his makeshift weapon, knowing that it wouldn't do much against the guards if they decided to attack him. But he held onto it tightly, it was his only defense if things went sideways.
He waited for what seemed like hours, his eyes scanning the surrounding area for any movement. Finally, he heard footsteps approaching, and he knew that he had to act fast.
As the two guards came into view, he stood up slowly, his hands raised in surrender. They stopped in their tracks, their eyes scanning him carefully.
Michael took a step forward, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. "Please, I mean you no harm," he said, his tone calm and steady.
The guards exchanged a brief glance before the one on the left, a tall and muscular man, spoke up. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he demanded, his hand holding a cudgel in front of him. A mean thing, wooden stick with iron branding at the end, meant to beat someone into submission by breaking their bones.
"My name is Michael," he replied, keeping his voice steady. "I live in the area. I heard the CPD needed help in the city so I set out to volunteer but then I saw you entering into this area. I wanted to catch up and warn you, there's been a lot of bandits coming and going here recently."
The guards looked at each other, exchanging silent words, and then turned their attention back to Michael. "You expect us to believe that?" the one on the right, a short man with a crooked nose, snorted. The tracker, with an axe at his belt.
Michael took a deep breath, giving them his prepared answer. "Look around you," he gestured to the dense forest. "Do you see any sign of life here? No animals or birds, nothing. That's because this area is dangerous. The bandits are attracted to these parts because it's easy to hide here. They could be watching us right now, and we wouldn't even know it."
The guards shifted uneasily, their eyes darting around the forest. "We have orders to secure this area," the muscular guard said, his grip tightening on the cudgel. "We can't just leave because of some unsubstantiated claims."
Michael nodded, understanding their position. "I understand, but I can assure you that I'm telling the truth. If you stay here, you're putting yourselves in danger. And if something happens to you, the CPD will never know what happened."
The guards hesitated, but Michael could see the doubt in their eyes. "Let me help you," he said, taking a step forward.
The tracker, who had been silent until now, spoke up. "Care to explain why your tracks were the only ones we found?" he asked, pointing at Michael's footprints in the soft ground.
Sweat started running down his back, he hadn't though about that. "The bandits might not have gone to the clearing in the middle at all, they could be anywhere in the forest."
"Ah, is that so?" he stepped closer. "Well why haven't we found any tracks at the gates either?"
This was not going nearly as well as Michael wanted it to. He tried not to fidget, but now that he was off script, his lying tells were showing. "The bandits might be hiding their tracks to avoid pursuit."
"Oh, right, we all know how afraid they are of the ex-cops with sticks, right?", the short man was almost upon Michael, his hand slowly lowering to his axe.
"Come on Bernie, he doesn't know anything, and we might actually need help if the gangsters are around here," the tall one interjected himself back into the conversation.
"This punk is lying, don't you see it?", Bernie turned towards his companion.
The talks were a bust, but Michael saw his chance. Stabbing his makeshift spear straight for Bernie's stomach, he hoped to cripple the scout right here and now. His friend would be helpless without him on his trail.
But part of the Motorics groups was Reaction Speed and Bernie obviously had a good one. He twisted his body sideways, a deadly stab that could have left him bleeding out opening his side instead, dark red blood welling out and staining his tunic.
He screamed in pain as Michael took the opening and turned to flee as Bernie was reaching for his axe. Michael didn't wait for the other cop to process what happened and sprinted straight for the trees.
Not a second later after he entered the treeline, an axe whizzed right past his head, flying off into the brush.
He didn't turn back to check if the other cop was following, the loud thuds and crunches of branches were all the clues necessary.