《The Bright Side to Reliance》 One -- Dain: A Violent Change of Scenery Another earth-shattering roar reminded Dain that, despite only being an hour past midnight, this was the worst day of his life. The ground shook, his heart breaking with every painful jolt of his limbs. His breath was catching but he threw himself forward. His feet slammed into the pavement, desperate to put some distance between himself and the monstrosity behind him. The lead up from the past few weeks was a growing simmer of bitterness and frustration in him. The East Side Steel kept pushing hard on the Trinities¡¯ territory, thanks to a new supply of modern machine guns. Expensive, and probably provided by one of the bigger players. First they shot Jimmy, then Two Bites. It all came to a head when they murdered Allison¡¯s sister. The Trinities were whipped into a fervour by their leader, Jimmy, as he led those alive to the east side for a revenge shootout. Unfortunately, the Steels were ready. The moment Jimmy veered into position, bullets rained into the car, pelting like massive hail against the steel. The crew leaped out, took cover where they could, and opened fire. Dain remembered the acrid smell of gun smoke and mingled with blood, overlain with the animal-like sounds of snarling humans. He had shot, near blindly, at a dozen or so other gunmen along with his four brother-in-arms. The explosion of bullets sent concussive rings through his ears, shattering his thoughts. He seemed to move out of pure intensity, on strings, as he let loose bullets towards the windows. Jimmy screamed, thudding against the ground. Dain grunted, shouting in pain, as a bullet scored his leg. He tumbled, his leg muscle partially shredded; looking around, grimacing in panic as his companions slowly died from impact shock and organ failure around him. The frequency of cracks in the air slowed. The bullets stopped. The stillness in the air seemed tense, electrified. Shallow breaths escaped Dain¡¯s lips, gulping for air as the adrenaline rush slowed and his wound started to take over his thoughts. Unable to crawl, or walk, empty of bullets and of friends, he waited for the inevitable inspection and elimination from the other gang. He could hear their voices, thin and distant. What were they waiting for? What seemed to be silence at first grew more tense, thicker, as if the air itself was vibrating. Then Dain could hear it; an undercurrent of sound, like a deep wave slipping in and out of memory. The sound grew thick and overpowering, washing over everything with a low-pitched buzz. The static-like sound grew louder and louder, vibrating the air with such intensity that Dain¡¯s rib cage and heart trembled under its force. Overtop, resounding out, a metallic wail mixed into something horrendously animalistic burst through. Although seeming distant, the sheer force of the scream thrusted Dain upwards onto his feet, his brain fully charged into flight mode. The scream repeated, infintely nearer. Ahead of him, the sky and air seemed to flicker, to warp, and suddenly there was a 50 metre-tall monstrosity standing before him. He had to crane his neck upward to take in its massive details. It seemed wreathed in slimy shadows, as if trying to peer through murky swamp water. Its red eyes blazed with such redness Dain could pinpoint them despite the sharp angle. Another scream, ear-destroying, heart-stopping, tore through Dain. His body reacted. He bolted away. Metal sheering, brick crumbling, and humans screaming in sheer agony mixed in the distance as Dain fought for more distance. He tore through the street, his rhythm ebbing and flowing. Blood rushed through his ears, the sound of his heart pounding in his head. He could feel as much as hear each lumbering footstep, the Behemoth terrifyingly fast for its immense size. Another step slammed closer behind Dain, prompting him to push his burning muscles harder. His breath burned his lungs, sharp pains in his sides starting to fester, and his body trembled violently as he pushed further. He sprinted, his stamina flagging as the Behemoth neared behind, its tell-tale, bone-breaking scream signalling its victory. His whole life was worthless, he thought bitterly, reminsicing on the futility of poverty, of the loss of his mother to cancer, of the alcohol-fuelled beatings, the drugs, every moment of pain and weariness he had to experience to earn his place ¨C none of it mattered. Every ounce of meaning in him raged with defiance. Anger, fuelled by decades of experienced pain, surged through him. Dain could feel it coursing through him, like an electricity of emotions charging his body. Dain rose to his feet, strong, steady, but his resolve immediately melted under the assault that the mere presence of the Behemoth rendered. It had an aura, like a pressure of unthinking malevolence threatening to engulf him. Pressing upon him, Dain fought the urge to succumb, to falter. There was no thought of fighting such an obstacle of pure destruction. Dain spun around, once again, to flee. He started running before visually drinking in the wall before him. He faced a thick, long hunk of a building with multiple stories and a blank face. The windows hung tantalizingly just barely too high, two stories up. He could jump. The thought was crazy, but he felt strong, strong as the electricity tingled through him. The sensation was beyond powerful, pain lancing through his fingertips and toes along with his heartbeat. He was running, feeling fast, sprinting fast. The world sped past him, and he felt light, gazelle-like as his arms pumped. The grey wall loomed in front. Something snapped within him as he leaped. Gravity let go of him as he went bounding upward. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Dain smashed through the fourth floor window, shock mingled with pain as glass shredded through his coat and pants. The embedded shards jostled, further tearing into his tender muscles. Grunting, he ignored the pain, focused on breathing and the immediate need to escape. Blood dripped onto the carpet as he lurched forward. The thrill of energy he had felt was seeping away, seeping out as more and more blood escaped from him. He half walked, half crawled through a darkened hallway. The building shook, walls crumbling, supports snapping, as the beast rampaged from the outside. Dust clouds blinded him and filled his lungs. Choking and coughing, his foot caught and he fell. The dust settled a bit, and he caught a glimpse down the hall. It was so close; the bleak lamplight seeping through a gaping hole of a missing window. Could he make it? Hope against hope, he started to crawl. His breathing was uneven, ragged. Sticky liquids ¨C his own blood ¨C smeared on his chest dragged him even slower, scraping against the thick shag carpet. Each moment sent blinding signals of pain coursing through him, but he was even closer. The dim lamplight glowed like the sun, shining like a beacon towards dawn. His arms shuddered in protest, shaking and sweating so that he slipped three times from the window sill. On the fourth, his trembling grip maintained, and surely, slowly, he slipped his arm over the edge and out. His leg followed, and with enough weight, gravity took over. Pulling him and tossing him unceremoniously to the ground below. Dain mewled pitifully, inaudible over the crack of his back and bones shattering against the ground below. At least, he thought bitterly, consciousness fading, the Behemoth was gone. He could no longer hear its terrifying cries as darkness smothered and took him into its depths. --------- Dain eyes fluttered open, groggy and disoriented. Also, he was alive. He bolted upright, tossing a warm, russet-coloured cotton blanket aside. He laid in a plain bed in a small, impersonal room. The dresser, mirror, and sitting chair was tidily set up with comfortable shades of dark reds and deep greens in the walls and furniture. A door to the side presumably led to a bathroom. ¡°Where am I?¡± Dain muttered aloud. It felt good to hear his voice. He was, miraculously, well. He was tender from a body-wide bruise bruise, but his skin had mostly mended all the cuts, abrasions, breaks, and the bullet wound. Testing his feet, finding his body strong, he sprung out of bed and left the room. He was in a tight hallway, carpeted, with a line of doors on both sides of the wall that matched the one he left. The door swung closed behind him, shutting with an audible click as it locked. The hallway ended in a tight turn and down a set of steep stairs, guided by an old, chipped-paint metal wiring railing. The buzz of dozens of voices, some jovial, many clearly drunk, rose up to him; the din was familiar and inviting. Dain rounded the final step and came into a large room, featuring a long bar to the left of him. The room was packed with booths along the wall, padded seats stretching long to accommodate large parties. The centre of the room was filled with an assortment of mismatched tables and chairs. A familiar set of rounded stools lined the bar. The room was busy, filled with a wide variety of patrons. Dain¡¯s eyes nearly burst, his jaw hanging slack, drinking in the sight. They weren¡¯t human. They couldn¡¯t be; some were massive, standing a metre taller than any person. Some had thick, fluffy fur. Others had vibrant-coloured skin. Some had horns, others had protruding fangs. A rainbow of eyes; Green, blue, red, gold, like gemstones in so many colours, from faces unlike anything he had seen before. These exotic and fantastical people were acting like regular, uncouth drunkards. The incongruity brought Dain back to reality. They were just people. He walked up to the bar, still looking back and forth, eyeing the bartender as he neared. Across the back wall, dozens of liquers, spirits, and mixes were displayed against a brazen backdrop of gaudy lights. The bartender was tall, portly body wrapped in an apron, with dark blue, mottled skin that reminded Dain of a frog. His light blue eyes didn¡¯t match, one off-colour to the other, beadier than the other. Sometimes, they blinked separately. He held a glass in hand, pouring a requested beer from the tap. ¡°Um, hey,¡± Dain started, feeling awkward when he caught the man¡¯s attention. ¡°Could you-?¡± The bartender spun on him, glaring at Dain as he cut him off. ¡°You¡¯re awake, are you?¡± He chewed out, his accent thick through his bulbous lips. ¡°Quick turnover. Haven¡¯t had a human like you, survive a Behemoth, and all what not. Real lucky, boy, you¡¯re real lucky.¡± ¡°Where am I?¡± ¡°Shouldn¡¯t matter to you. You¡¯re alive, and safe. You¡¯re lucky some of big boys found you. Brought you back safe. It¡¯s time for you to mosey on. Forget this whole thing, while you can. You¡¯re one of the lucky ones.¡± ¡°Come on,¡± Dain broke in, his voice rising in anger. ¡°This is bullshit. Tell me what¡¯s going on.¡± ¡°You took a wrong turn, boy, got stuck somewhere you don¡¯t belong. It¡¯s time for you to go back. Percy¡¯ll show you the way out.¡± With a sharp gesture, a hulking, ashen-grey man with sullen yellow eyes walked over from the shadows near the doors. ¡°Percy, it¡¯s time for the human to go. Take¡¯m for me.¡± The bartender promptly ignored the two, returning to the line of frustrated customers that were stockpiling. ¡°Percy, come on, tell me where we are, what is all this,¡± Dain asked. ¡°Help me out here.¡± Percy said nothing; he placed a massive hand over Dain¡¯s shoulder. Pressure signalled Dain with an ungentle squeeze; he grunted in pain and started moving. Percy forced a quick pace towards a plain, steel door inlaid in the wall. The door swung open easily. Holding it open, Percy gestured, partially tossing Dain forward with a savage push. He fell past the entry. The door swung closed behind him. There was no handle on it. This door, apparently, was only for exiting. The room was small, occupied only by a single, spiralling staircase. It rose several stories, at least. Dain sighed, and started the arduous climb up. It was dull, plain walls and plain stairs, the rhythm of his feet and breathing helping him sort his thoughts. He was free, in a cosmic sense. Everything seemed unreal. His old life was totally shattered. His friends were dead; everything that still mattered to him, his makeshift family. He had seen untold horrors, peering into the Abyss and coming through the other side. What was he going to do now? Reaching the landing, seeing the door, he walked out of the cramped space into the glorious openness of the streets. Usually he hated the everpresent stench of the plastic and gas plants, constantly breezing in from the water, but today it was like being greeted by an old friend. Stupid, he thought to himself. He had no friends left. The bitterness, the loneliness and emptiness was starting to settle on him. It seemed pointless. Hunger and survival won over his depression. His stomach grumbling, he turned away from his existentialism brooding. Most bars had food, he thought hungrily. He turned around expectantly, hoping he might sneak in for some grub. There was no bar.Where the back entrance had been stood a squat, ancient coffee shop. Its tattered and faded sign proclaimed, ¡°Cafe near the Bay¡±. He looked into the windows into the dark interior. A few shabby booths, a stainless steel counter glinted in the thin light. Further past, the street continued, a pitted and scarred stretch of asphalt. He sighed, shaking his head. The bartender was right. It was time to go back. He wasn¡¯t quite sure where he was, but thought that the apartments he spotted in the distance were a good place to start. In the dead of the night, Dain marched into the heart of the city. A thin moon kept him company, peeking in between thick smatterings of clouds. Two -- Gavriel: Wake up and Start your Day It had been a cold day for February; blustering, vicious winds had torn down several posts on his farm. Gavriel¡¯s farm was a ramshackle affair of an unsteady barn filled with several cows, a coop and three rambling fields of maize. They had met him on his property. They played no games, gave no pretenses. Two dozen vehicles carrying a small army stormed onto his property. The dust and noise intermingled with the protesting moos of cows. At least 100 soldiers piled out, bristling with machine guns and armour. They had surrounded his home, trapped him and his partner. He had little choice. Why had they come back for him? Gavriel couldn¡¯t fathom. He was past his prime, and even his contemporaries had surpassed him. He had already helped them build an empire from blood. Reliance was known world-wide as a military force to be reckoned with; a powerful ally for some, a deadly tsunami for others. Gavriel was sure he had escaped, sure that they would move on. The seasoned veteran, was perplexed, unfearful as they pistol-whipped him, taking too long with his thoughts. Blood trickled down his face, swelling. Three soldiers pointed guns and urged him into their truck. Maybe he could escape later, he had thought then, as they bound him and his eyes, and drove for a short while. Gavriel hadn¡¯t counted on them injecting him with a material that would put him unconscious. How long ago had that been? His brain was too disoriented, disconnected from time. Sitting up at the edge of his bed, he shifted focus and took in his surroundings.There were no windows in the room, only flat panelled walls. A door was set into a transparent wall, the outside dim with tubes of harsh florescent lights stripping down the white corridors. The click of heels rang dully in the distance. The sound grew louder and sharper until in front of the window marched a white-coated middle-aged woman. Her hair was pulled tight into a no non-sense bun, her eyes peering through glasses at a clipboard as she marched into the room. A blank, distracted look on her face morphed into terror when she realized Gavriel was awake. She wiped the shock from her face an instant after, but her eyes shone wildly. The adrenaline surging through his body awakened him physically. Instinct kicked in, and he launched himself off the bed. His muscles felt like jelly and he nearly toppled over, landing heavily. The nurse screamed, rushing toward the door. Gavriel was lightning-quick, grabbing her from behind and ripping the pen from the clipboard to point at her neck in one flowing movement. She struggled for a brief moment before slowing, freezing, realizing her predicament. ¡°Keep still,¡± he ordered. His voice was course and broken from disuse. ¡°Tell me the date.¡± His voice was coarse and broken, long unused. Her voice trembled; she stuttered, ¡°August 2nd, 2054.¡± Six months, unconcious, instead of just killing him. Why would they bother? The puzzle pieces didn¡¯t match up. Dread filled him, and he knew the answer to his next question before asking. ¡°Where are we?¡± Her frail voice whispered, ¡°We¡¯re underground, under the city.¡± More harshly: ¡°What city?¡± ¡°Reliance.¡± With one word, he was sent whirling back into the past again. A flood of memories struggled, and one broke through to the surface. He was 21 when he first entered the city, nearly 40 years ago. The North was frigid then, with November turning on the heels towards a deep winter. He had stood on the precipice of the tallest building, towering over a sea of construction vehicles feverishly working to ward off the chill. He swept his eyes eastward. Back then, the vew to the bay was clear. The waters were pure, untouched; glittering and beautiful shades of grey. The water was like a diamond, shimmering under the soft light of the cloud-covered sun. He stood, watching this, the wind whipping through his jacket and clothes, stealing his breath. Beside him, his new commander also took in sight. Rage took him back to the present. He was here, again, in this festering cesspool of a stratocracy. He believed he had escaped; twelve years without any contact, living free from their oppressive military agenda. Twelve years free. He held the nurse tightly from behind with one arm and nudged her forward. ¡°Start walking. You¡¯re going to lead me to the elevator and take us up.¡± She shook her head emphatically. ¡°I ¨C I can¡¯t,¡± she said brokenly. He said nothing, only pressing the pen deeper into her neck. ¡°Move.¡± They marched into the hallway, towards a distant turn. Their steps echoed loudly, ringing against the walls and almost drowning out the sound of her heavy breathing. As they rounded a corner, they faced a row of doors and a closed elevator. Gavriel indicated with his free hand, and shoved her towards it. With a quick swipe, the doors squealed open and revealed a generously large elevator. The two stepped on.This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Ground floor.¡± She shook her head; ¡°This elevator can¡¯t stop on there, only the first floor.¡± Dangerous. This underground hospital was designed to cage him forever, keep him in stasis. They would know of his escape almost immediately. What building were they under? It didn¡¯t matter how dangerous it was. There was only one way to go. In moments he stomach-pulling sensation of the elevator pushed them down as they rode upwards. It was a long ride, nearly two minutes before he exited, still holding his hostage tightly, as the doors opened wide into a spacious room. The ceiling was high, the room well-designed but spacious. Dozens of workstations and cubicles lined the right wall while a large koi fountain and comfortable seating arrangement adorned the left. In the centre was a large ring kiosk. The walls were painted a comforting green, and soft splashes of colour emphasized the plants and natural d¨¦cor. Gavriel noticed some of this, before noticing what was occupying the rest of the space ¨C dozens of hard-eyed soldiers working, suddenly rising, arming themselves with pistols, rifles, and other heavy armament and levelling it in his direction. Gavriel searched the room, frustrated to see only one exit ¨C several doors, large with big push bars, all the way on the opposite side of the room. A mere 20 metres, but in between was a sea of guns of death. He was out of choices, out of time to choose. He pushed his hostage forward and took steady steps towards the exit, feeling the heavy gaze of violence waiting patiently. His eyes caught the eyes of a soldier, taking off their mask, releasing a matte of sweaty grey hair around their temples and burning brown eyes. Gavriel froze entirely. The past decade barely touched him; Jacob looked youthful, powerful, and commanding. His fiery eyes matched the cruel and confident smile he levelled at the escapee. ¡°Oh Gavriel, you should have stayed asleep,¡± he laughed, casually marching up. Gavriel gripped the pen so tightly it snapped in his hand. ¡°Why?¡± He shouted, frustration and anger boiling out. ¡°Why not just kill me?¡± Jacob¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°I told them it would never work. You were always too smart for your own good. I knew we couldn¡¯t keep you on ice forever.¡± His smile returned. ¡°I¡¯m glad you woke up when I was on duty. I¡¯m glad I¡¯m the one who gets to kill you. I¡¯ve learned so much since last time. Let me show you.¡± The pressure on his brain was immediate. It was like a weight smothering his thoughts, pressing upon his brain, enveloping his mind. It was crushing and painful. It was blinding and beyond all comprehension. Gavriel fought, fought desperate to think, to keep moving, but the intensity broke his concentration and weakened his balance. Gavriel maintained some control, his arm still tightly held to the woman, his last life-line against the very real danger from bullets, but he wasn¡¯t sure it mattered. Gavriel was dying from acute brain haemorrhaging. The pressure was greater, more intense. He could feel the insides of his brain tightening within his skull. Pure redness filled his vision, waxing into a thick blackness. The acrid taste of death of bile choked him, and he lost himself. He succumbed to darkness. Laying face down, he felt a familiar gentle cold. Opening his eyes, he saw snow. Bewildered, he climbed to his feet. The intensity of the noise and pain was gone. He was standing in a wide, snow-covered field. Snow, quietly falling, fell around him in thickly. The heavy precipitation obscured his sight, and he saw only clouds and a path of round stones that led outward into the depths of the curtains of snow. The air felt pleasant rather than frigid, like a gentle breeze on a warm day. Mingled with the gentle sounds, footsteps brushed lightly. A thickly cloaked form emerged from the obscuring squall. ¡°Fair meeting, friend,¡± they called as they approached. The hood shadowed their face, leaving only unreadable grey eyes visible. ¡°Where is this? What happened? I was dying, am I-?¡± ¡°No,¡± the being interrupted. ¡°I have taken you within, to save you and speak with you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand any of this,¡± Gavriel gestured emphatically. ¡°Where am I?¡± ¡°You will be within for a short while. Listen to my words. I have saved you from death, and I will tell you more. Your son is here, close.¡± ¡°My son?¡± A flash of memory: He saw his son as he last remembered him; a gangly boy of 11, all legs and arms; dark tousled hair, an olive complexion, and a fierce face stamped with childish defiance. The image was distant, faded; lost in the past, half a world away. Gavriel shook his head. ¡°How do you know this? What is this?¡± It was too much, too unreal. The sensations, the world around him, seemed like a drug-induced fever dream. ¡°You will be without soon. Luck and destiny have come together. When you awaken you will be able to escape. Gavriel ¨C search for your son, search for the boy, and remember Mercy.¡± The snow seemed to grow thicker and thicker, cutting off his vision. The cloaked figure faded from view; and the gentle sounds of the winter wonderland faded. Abruptly, the wail of sirens and the concussive force of an explosion nearby rocked him out of his dreamy state. He was prone, back to some sense of reality. His head ached and groaned in protest, but he found himself working his body up. The sound of gunfire ran loudly from multiple directions. Dust wafted thickly, filling his lungs. After a few wheezing attempts he got above the table line and looked about. Gavriel was amazed ¨C the front of the building was torn open, two monstrous arms, each the size of whales, swept through the room. Total chaos reigned; soldiers let loose deafening volleys of gunfire. Nearby, someone was lobbing incendiaries towards the hands. Several people had shotguns. The world shook as a rocket exploded. The fireball seared his vision, stealing the room. He instinctively ducked, diving below a table. He still caught an intense wave of heat and force that sent him sprawling. His shirt and pants smoked as he clambered back up. Though smoking, the monstrosity seemed mostly undamaged and angrier. With incredible speed, the beast swept hard fists through the nearest soldiers. The crunch of their flesh mixed with screams, blood spurting out as they broke upon impact. Gavriel¡¯s instincts launched him forward when he saw the opportunity. He ran, vaulting himself over the desk, pitching left and down when he could see, in the corner of his eye, a man toting gun towards him. The spray of bullets went wide overhead as Gavriel tumbled and rolled back into a run. Fire licked his feet. He dodged around the smouldering desks, chairs, and splintered hunks of sticks and trees. Gavriel picked up speed, sprinting towards the ever closer yawning maw that stretched the front of the building. The monster¡¯s wide, murky black chest filled most of the hole. Gavriel spotted a small spot of light in the corner; a safe haven. The building walls grumbled, squealing as structural beams and concrete snapped haphazardly. He threw himself forward, desperate for more speed, desperate to escape. Blocks shattered around him, slapping him with rocky debris. His whole body screamed in anticipation, sensing the impending implosion. It was time to escape. The shattered lip of wall, opening to the welcoming darkness of the city, beckoned. Gavriel jumped the remaining five feet, hearing the ceiling crash behind him. The crushing blocks sent a shockwave that threw off his dive. Tumbling wildly, he slammed into a protruding pole and landed heavily into a tall stack of pallets. Wood and splinters tore through him as his body smashed through, cracking the hardened wood down several layers. His head spun, eyes swam in red. His brain was reeling from the physical and mental assault. Gavriel lay there, gasping for air, until an earth-shattering roar recharged him. He climbed out of the broken mess, landing on the pavement. He counted his blessings; gingerly testing, he found minor sprains and injuries, at least nothing that would keep him from a fast limp. The monstrosity was immense, terrifyingly huge when seen in scale with the buildings. The thing hadn¡¯t noticed his escape, it seemed; its total rage and destructive force was focused wholly on the building. He lumbered away, aiming to cover as much distance as quickly as he could. The cacophony of the battle echoed deep into the city. Even after twenty minutes and several turns, the wild screaming still clung to him. The memory of the sound would cling long after, haunting him on sleepless nights. Almost an hour later, he found his way to a transit stop. The palely light, shoddy booth seemed like a haven to him. He collapsed in a seat, letting all the pain and emotions burst to the top, overwhelming him. Deep exhaustion settled on Gavriel as he waited. The next bus would arrive around dawn, enough time to rest and think. He was alive. He had escaped death, escaped their prison. With the help of a mysterious stranger. Everything jumbled together, every unreality, squeezing his brain with incomprehension. His head ached, and he tried to let go of all thought, settling into comfortable nothingness. He would figure it out later. One thought kept resurfacing. The image of his son. He needed to know the truth. If Nathaniel was here, he had to find him. Sleep enticed him, as he grasped at consciousness through the night. The soft grey of dawn finally greeted him, the bus rolling to a stop in front of him. Blinking against the darkness within the bus, he found a seat. Sombre street lights slipped by, like dreams of fireflies fading into oblivion. Three -- Dain: Friends in High Places Dain shielded his eyes from the sun. He had set out in the early morning; it took several hours to retrace his steps through the East Bay. The route back was unfamiliar after nearly a month had passed by. He looked again upon the ¡°Cafe On the Bay¡±. Dust laid heavily, visible inside the sills as light shimmered in the edges. Sweating profusely, Dain was grateful to finally escape the brutal July heat. Sun blindness was amplified by the dimness of the interior and it took several moments for him to take in everything. Dark wood panelling and simple art adorned the walls. At the far side was the granite counter with a surly-looking middle-aged man staring out Five tables sat in the centre of the room and four booths along the wall. All were empty save one booth. With some shock, tempered by expectation and inflamed by anticipation, Dain walked up to the booth. Three individuals sat in the booth, nursing drinks and lounging. The youngest looking man, no more than mid-twenties, was rather ordinary; he had lanky dark hair, unreadable eyes, and a dishevelled look to him. There was a patch of yellow from an old food stain on his grey jacket. The second was a woman, striking and exotic with jet black skin. It seemed; if he could touch it, he was sure it was sure he would find a soft, velvet-like fur coat. Her sharp smile and bright red irises extinguished the idea. Her face was lined but still youthful. She, at least, seemed somewhat amused. The last man was by far the most impressive. He was twice the size of Dain, standing well over a metre taller. The massive being had burgundy coloured skin, seeming to glow from a fire within in the light streaming through the windows. He sat in a massive specially designed chair, wide enough for two regular humans. Two massive horns protruded from from the back of his head, curving towards his nape before combining into one straight hook into his spine. Similar shaped bony spears protruded from his wrists to his fingers. He was beyond excited, but after weeks of living in his dreams and considering the possibilities, their sheer presence in person intimidated him. He froze and stood gawking. It was their turn to survey him and they scanned their unexpected guest. Dain was a scrawny runt. With a mop of dark red hair, small grey eyes that were too close to a sharp nose and a sharp jawlines, Dain made all the appearances of not quite hitting late adolescence despite being 20 years old. Wearing his favourite grey shirt combined with his treasured jeans, Dain made a rather ordinary impression. ¡°Do you need something?¡± The woman asked, eyebrows raised, finally breaking the silence. Dain gaped for a second before starting. ¡°Yeah, yeah, you can help me out, answer some questions. I need to know what happened to me.¡± ¡°Of course!¡± Exclaimed the red giant. His voice was like the sound of distant thunder rolling. ¡°You¡¯re the person rescued after the last Behemoth attack. Come, come here, sit with us.¡± He beckoned to a space in the booth. ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Dain looked around, now feeling trapped in his predicament. Whatever notions he had before, they were just fanciful dreams; these people had a hard, dangerous look to them. He didn¡¯t have much of a choice, he decided, and sidled in to sit across from the man and woman. ¡°I¡¯m Gary,¡± said the red giant. The woman continued; ¡°I¡¯m Izzet, or Izzie.¡± The third looked down his nose, his voice like frost: ¡°You may call me Iabenoske.¡± Dain winced inward; he would never remember that. ¡°My name¡¯s Dain. Nice to meet all of you, um, people.¡± Izzet laughed heartily and Gary smiled gently. Iabenoske seemed to be perpetually scowling. ¡°Yes, Dain, we¡¯re still people. For the time being, as long as hope prevails.¡± ¡°Yeah, okay,¡± Dain responded. ¡°But can you tell me what happened to me? I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m not crazy. I have to know what all of this is, what happened.¡± Gary slurped heavily from his mug. ¡°You know, it¡¯s a long explanation, difficult to understand everything. I¡¯ll do my best. Let¡¯s start from the beginning. ¡°Earth is two worlds tied together ¨C the Veil and the Val. The Veil is what you would call just ordinary, regular, physical Earth. The Val is our home. The Val is often called the Shadow world; it¡¯s a reflection of physical Earth.¡± ¡°And the Behemoths? Those are part of your home?¡± Dain interrupted, awe-filled. Gary inclined his head sadly, drinking deeply. ¡°Yes Dain. The Val is toxic. It¡¯s poisoned, and it¡¯s been dying for the past 8,000 years. ¡°The Val isn¡¯t like Earth; it¡¯s created from metaphysical energy; the energy flows out from the life river, energy created from the perpetual movement in the cycle of life and death. ¡°When the Val became poisoned, it poisoned everything within it; the plants, the animals, the people, all succumbed. In different ways, it parasitized us and turned us into monsters. Most animals mutated through the overpowering toxic energy. We call them Shadow Beasts, and the worst of them are the Behemoths.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. He paused, thoughtful. His eyes peered into the distance and his face drifted into sadness, as Gary lost himself in memories. Dain furrowed his brows and chewed over his thoughts. ¡°Okay. So where is it? Where was I?¡± Izzet interjected, shaking her head. ¡°It¡¯s in the same place; it¡¯s on a different energetic level. It¡¯s not like travelling by space; we travel our energy, through tension between conscious and unconscious energy inside of us.¡± Dain growled in frustration: ¡°That doesn¡¯t make any sense.¡± Izzet shrugged. ¡° How can I explain such a fundamental thing, part of our instinct, part of our being? We travel, and we call ourselves Travellers.¡± How can no one know about this? No one her face adetached amused yet focused Along this street, 3 kilometres up and 4 down, is the Edge. It¡¯s the easiest place to reach the Val, where the Veil and Val are the closest in Reliance. Every day people like you, who accidentally connect and become trapped inside. If we find them, we help them get out.¡± ¡°Through the red door.¡± Dain said automatically, recollecting the stairway, the shift from the exotic world to the mundane. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s how we send people back. And they leave, and go back to their lives, and try to forget that it ever happened to them. ¡°What they don¡¯t do,¡± he leaned down, his face closer to Dain¡¯s, ¡°is find their way back. We¡¯ve told you enough. You tell me why you¡¯re here.¡± Dain thought back through the past month. He had returned after his ordeal to his home. It was empty though, filled with memories of everyone he had recently lost. The Trinities were his brothers, his friends for the past two years. They meant the world to them. His entire life, his goals, wrapped around finally pushing the East Steels out and taking a slice of the Bay for themselves. Why did worlds have to collide, to change everything? Underneath it all, he had felt an itch. It started the first day, just a little bite under his skin. He couldn¡¯t quite place where it was. It ebbed and returned, stronger each time, becoming like a fire on his soul. It was something beyond his skin, something that couldn¡¯t be scratched. He knew what he was feeling; he had seen it in a few people, alcoholics that were forced to freeze-dry by the police. They said it was a toxin that had infected the Val; but Dain understood what was happening to them, what was happening to himself. The Val itself was addictive. It was a drug. The sensations, the moments of fear and power, the intensity of energy, the memory heightened by sweet dopamine. And he suspected there was more, more that he could reach. It was like if he could touch electricity, he could be powerful. Dain said none of this; instead, hesitating, trying to form a response. Gary had locked his eyes with Dain, watched the interplay of his turbulent thoughts cloud the young man¡¯s face. ¡°You already feel it?¡± he spoke softly, and sighed. ¡°You touched the Val too strongly. It¡¯s got you in its grip. You need to stay away from the Edge, maybe move across town. I hear they¡¯re developing a new district in the north; good place to start. Lots of good construction work, other jobs; you can find a spacious apartment at a good price in the area, too.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he responded emphatically. ¡°I can¡¯t go back. I¡¯ve never felt anything like this, felt so real. It¡¯s like everything before was the dream, and now I¡¯m awake. I can¡¯t go back to sleep. I¡¯m here, I¡¯m awake.¡± Izzet stared, incredulously. ¡°You¡¯re out of your mind; you¡¯re sick. Our people are dying. There are Behemoths and Shadow Beasts everywhere. Have you ever seen someone you love die in front of you? Or worse, have to kill your friend when they went mad and tried to kill you? Day after day, we¡¯re trapped in a world of madness.¡± ¡°Idiot,¡± Iabenoske muttered, and Dain nearly jumped, surprised after his long spell of silence. Iabenoske continued to observe seemingly everyone and nothing while frowning. Izzet inclined her head in acknowledgement. ¡°Finally agreeing with me. Take Gary¡¯s advice, and get out.¡± He jumped out of his chair, frustration and anger boiling out. ¡°Fine, whatever! I¡¯m out. But you told me where the Edge was. If I fell in before, I can do it again,¡± he shouted, stalking away. Gary rose. The chair gave a low moan, and he was up, nimbly rushing forward and stopping Dain with his massive girth. ¡°I thought you told me to leave,¡± Dain grumbled. ¡°You going to let me leave?¡± Gary rose a hand. ¡°Slow down. Do you know how old I am? I¡¯m 108 years old, Dain. I¡¯ve spent my whole life trying to save people, to protect people. We¡¯ve all worked harder than you can imagine to make lives for ourselves. ¡°If you¡¯re really determined to do this, I¡¯ll help you. I don¡¯t want to see you get yourself killed. If a Behemoth didn¡¯t scare you off, nothing will.¡± Dain¡¯s eyes widened, his face jubilant. ¡°Really? Thanks Gary.¡± Gary laughed, a sound like boulders rolling and crashing heavily. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet Dain. The Val is beyond dangerous. Even with my help, it¡¯ll be difficult. Probably deadly. ¡°This is your last chance. Are you sure about this?¡± Dain was already nodding. He was resolute; he felt he had reached a state of revelation, like he was reaching towards destiny. The sensation was profound, and unsettling. Gary clapped him on the should, friendly and, unintentionally, jarringly painful. ¡°Come back, sit in the booth with us. Our lunches should be here in a minute, but when Gus comes back he can take your order too.¡± The normalcy of eating in a shabby restaurant contrasted starkly against their exotic faces. The constant threat of the Val, both unreal and the most threatening, imminent danger ever, hung over Dain. It chilled him, dredging up anxiety and fear, and excitement. The smell of roasted red pepper, garlic, and seafood wafted out of the kitchen. Stomach grumbling, realizing he hadn¡¯t eaten since yesterday, Dain¡¯s thoughts turned to lunch, and wondered hungrily if his companions would cover another steak and cheese for him. Four -- Gavriel: The Key to Success lies in your Business Associates Leon sighed, his keys slipping from his hands and clattering to the ground. Shifting the bags around, he awkwardly scraped them from the ground, and with some deft twists sank the key in its hole and swung his door open. He burst past the opening into his apartment, stumbling and dumping his grocery bags. He growled in frustration, letting out a short scream. It had not been a good week for him. On Monday he was fired from his job. Sure, Leon had been selling trade secrets through the dark web, but who could blame him with his low pay? Someone squealed to the bosses and it was all over; he was thrown out. No severance, no pay for that week, and he was blacklisted from all reputable companies. His troubles compounded further when on Wednesday, his only two permanent customers ended their contracts inexplicably. And, finally, today he had bussed across the city to spend the last of his money on groceries. His anger explode. He kicked a can of beans that had rolled under his feet. He went to seek the only solace he could. He sought his computer. He marched into his bedroom and immediately froze. A man, elderly with a crop of thin white-silver hair tied tightly at the nape of his neck and plain dark eyes set against tanned skin, sat on his computer desk. ¡°Good afternoon.¡± ¡°What the fuck? Who are you, how did you get in here?¡± Leon was frothing with rage. He almost ran forward, in a testosterone-fuelled assault, but held himself in check. ¡°No one would buzz me in, so I climbed the wall, came through the window,¡± the elderly man answered mildly. ¡°Wiggled the window open. Now I¡¯m here. My name is Gavriel Rencoux, and you must be Leon (name).¡± ¡°Get, the fuck, out of my home!¡± Leon shouted, pointing. Gavriel raised his hands defensively. ¡°Relax. I just wanted to talk business with you. I popped in to make sure you were legitimate, and I have to say, I¡¯m impressed.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± The mention of business had piqued Leon¡¯s interest, and his anger was beginning to subside to curiosity; plus, he was getting distracted by hunger. ¡°All this.¡± He indicated the mass of complex machinery. ¡°I don¡¯t know much about computers, but I know enough to tell this is homemade, and it¡¯s built well. Your boss said you were a genius, but like I said, I¡¯m impressed.¡± Leon¡¯s anger had fully dissipated. He motioned him to get off the desk, shoving himself into his computer chair. Swivelling, he snuck his hand into his desk and pulled out a chocolate bar. He munched on it while the man left the desk, sitting neatly in the open window sill. ¡°So,¡± He said noisily through bites, ¡°What do you want, exactly?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for my son, and I¡¯m hitting walls. This city¡¯s too big, and there¡¯s too many obstacles with everyone breathing down my neck. I need good information. Your boss told me you were stealing information and selling it. Is that a side gig for you?¡± ¡°Something like that. So you just need me to look up information online? We could work something out. But next time, you have to use the door.¡± Gavriel smiled. ¡°Deal. It wasn¡¯t a fun climb up here anyway.¡± ¡°Who are you, exactly? You climb 11 flights up a damn wall, break in just to talk to me. You¡¯ve got to be crazy, or desperate, or something.¡± Gavriel shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re not a fan of the government, are you? Me and the government have some bad blood. They fucked me over, they imprisoned me, and I¡¯m sure they kidnapped my son. At least, I¡¯m going to find out. Nothing is going to stop me.¡± A smile broke across his weathered face. ¡°And you¡¯re going to help me. My name is Gavriel Rencoux.¡± Leon tossed the crinkly empty wrapper into the garbage can, noisily heaving in satisfaction. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss my rates.¡± -------- Leon sent a request out to the cell network. It would take some time, he said. Each cell was made up of a small group of members, like him, that gathered information. Messages were relayed through the network. Information passed back safely this way, though it could take some days for the cell with the needed information to respond. That¡¯s how Leon explained to Gavriel a week ago. While waiting, Gavriel returned to more conventional methods of gathering information. He started hitting the street: spending time in homeless shelters, making up excuses to hang out in police stations, riding the subway for hours. He learned little bits on his excursion, but not enough, like having a few pieces without the rest of the puzzle. He mostly updated himself on the state of the city, the government, and the military.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The population had ballooned since he had left those years ago; all told, it was over 12 million people. No longer a military base and beyond an overcrowded, run-down refugee camp, Reliance had blossomed into a true concrete jungle. The city-state¡¯s economy was thriving. A new oil refinery was being built across the river, affectionately called the Little Bay. The city was filled with jobs and new opportunities. All in all, it was a waste of his time. Frustrated, as the evening turned late on a Friday, Gavriel left the fifth police station he visited in the week and decided to change his tactics. He had a new plan. He would drown his sorrows in alcohol. The police station was well placed, close to a strip of avenues and streets holding the city¡¯s seediest and most crime-riddled section. Searching the street up and down, he found the perfect place ¨C an ugly little dive named The Gash. It¡¯s garish neon tube light name, in bold multi-colours, burned brightly above the dark windows and interior. He sauntered in as the noise slammed into him. He pushed forward through a thick crowd, their faces muddled in the dark. Strips of neon lights in bright, eerie blue and a backdrop at the bar made the room seem unearthly. The chatter was rough, loud, and mixed with crashes and uproars of laughter. With a few well-placed elbows, he shoved his way through the thick press and came out the other side to the bar proper. The bar was small with only four stools and space for the bartender behind. The young woman¡¯s goth style and variety of studs on her face was enhanced by the unnatural blue light. ¡°What can I get you?¡± She asked, shooting him a quick glance. ¡°Whisky on rocks, thanks.¡± She poured deftly before he had finished speaking, handed him his drink and took his bill in one neat motion before gliding away to another customer. Gavriel drank deeply, feeling the warm, familiar sensation of whiskey burning his throat. He sighed contentedly as the fuzziness seeped in. It felt good to let go, for a little bit. He drank again, gulping the last of it, and bought another drink. All of his jumbled thoughts seemed to loosen. His guilt was overwhelming him; he was sure his son was trapped in the city because of him. Yet, he couldn¡¯t overcome the fear that the vision was just a hallucination. Greater still was his intense dread that it was all real. If that behemoth was real, then what else was out there? What else would haunt him like that behemoth? It had seeped into his thoughts, threatening him in the back of his mind. At the very least, Leon had not laughed at him. He listened to the whole encounter with rapt attention, confirming all the details with reassuring professionalism. He needed to know, to help him completely with his information search. Leon stated thousands of people claimed to see them every month, though he had never seen any. Gavriel breathed heavily. He was pinning all his hopes on some slacker with a computer. He had no connections, no knowledge about the city, nothing left but a few rentals and a load of cash. ¡°Hey fella, you look down. Need a hook up?¡± The voice at his right was low but pointed. A young man with hooded eyes and a gaunt, stretched look had sidled in beside at the bar. His body, with a puffy blue vest, was disproportionate to his thin head and arms. Perched on his stool, he glanced side-eyed at Gavriel and smiled. His pupils dilated in and out chaotically. ¡°I don¡¯t need drugs,¡± Gavriel responded. ¡°What I really need is some firepower and know-how.¡± The dealer¡¯s face lit up. ¡°Yeah, yeah! I can help you with that. My buddy Jahmet, he knows a guy. It¡¯s all quiet-like, he sells good stuff, just what you need. He helped me out,¡± He winked, pulling back the hem of his vest to reveal a pistol handle. A wide grin split Gavriel¡¯s face. ¡°What are we waiting for?¡± He said excitedly. He finished his second drink and leaped out of his seat. The younger man remained seated, staring into nothing while his expression blanked. He shook his head violently a moment later, as if to reboot his brain. Gavriel watched him with some incredulity as he stumbled out of his seat. He remained hopeful and followed his instincts, knowing the value of a good, under the table, arms dealer. They exited from the assault of noise, heat, and sweaty stench of a swarm into the refreshingly quiet and warm night. The street was dark enough that faint starlight could be seen over the Bay. The stars swam through the night, filling Gavriel with an unusual sense of peace as they walked on. ------- The nondescript door in front of Gavriel was locked. Jahmet, the trusted informer he had met, had described the odd, scratched in symbol of three crossing waves, faint, almost invisible if you were not careful to search for it. Tossing a look left and right, the alleyway was empty. Assured, he rapped his knuckles seven times quickly, three times slowly, five times quickly, and two times slowly. The door swung open. A heavy set black man, wearing a slick blue business suit and round sunglasses, beckoned him into the dark passage. ¡°Password?¡± He demanded. ¡°Five green geese,¡± Gavriel provided. The porter turned silently, heading further down the passage, following a set of stairs to the basement floor. Gavriel hurried after him. The smell of mustiness and dust crept into his nose, heightening his sense of anticipation and carefulness. The stairs creaked as they exited to the main floor. The basement was spacious and well-lit, clean, and filled to the brim with weapons, incredible and wondrous and vastly unusual items of every sort. He looked around as he went through. Pistols, machine guns, rocket and grenade launchers, shields and riot gear, knives, swords, a wide variety of explosives, medical equipment, other mechanical units he couldn¡¯t fathom; the room was absolutely stuffed. His mind boggled at the sheer intake of merchandise. The proprietor was obviously pleased at Gavriel¡¯s reaction; the portly man, tall and stately with a shock of short jerry curls and a bright white teeth. The dangerous look in his eyes gave his smile the look of a predator. The image of a puma flashed through Gavriel¡¯s mind. ¡°Welcome, welcome. It has been long since I have seen a new face.¡± The man had a thick northwestern African accent. ¡° I am Yusef. Please, your name?¡± His words were jovial enough, but his tone underlined the threat. Yusef did not like strangers. ¡°I¡¯m Gavriel Rencoux. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you Yusef. I¡¯ve been looking for help and I think you can help me along a little. I¡¯m looking for my son, and I¡¯m almost completely sure the military is involved.¡± His tactic to use blunt honesty paid off. Yusef¡¯s smile warmed, and he came up with a strong clap on Gavriel¡¯s shoulder. ¡°My friend, to be caught up with the military, that is so dangerous. You are sure you can afford such risks?¡± ¡°I can afford anything I need, Yusef. I promise you that,¡± he replied, catching the double meaning. He patted his pocket in clear indication. ¡°I think you and I will be able to help each other very much. ¡°Do you sell information, too?¡± Yusef laughed, clapping his hands together. ¡°Whatever I know, I share with my good friends, my friends that know how to be open with their hearts and wallets. Be open with me first, friend, so I may be open with you.¡± Gavriel smiled. ¡°Let¡¯s see what we can find.¡± After rummaging, he picked out several sharp switchblades, a long hunting knife, two --- pistols, five loaded clips, and two pagers. Taking one final look through the jumbled mess, he stumbled upon a treasure trove of high quality grenades; compact enough to fit in his palm, the RN-10 had enough concussive force to blow out the walls. He picked up three of those; a little firepower could come in handy. While walking, Gavriel explained his predicament. Yusef seemed sympathetic; he mentioned several of his own children and grandchildren. Had they not been surrounded by a stockpile of heavy weaponry and explosives, he might have felt completely at ease with the personable man. Their discussion turned to business, but Yusef knew nothing about Gavriel¡¯s son; he had little else to share other than his reassurance that he would be able to help more upon Gavriel¡¯s return. He was ushered out soon after, followed closely by the stone-faced porter. The sky above was bruised, a bridge of deep red clouds overlaid by purple stretching across the twilit sky. As the sun dipped further, the intense fire soured into a sullen indigo. It matched his ego; bruised, he was failing to find his son, failing to come to any terms of justice or retribution. Anger simmered on the edge and he pushed on, walking quickly through the cooling night to burn off his steam.