Futuristic Erabus IC

A long exhale...

Hathom relaxed his form and took a better look at his work.

"Nothing but headshots. Well done, Mr. Long."

The former soldier allowed a smile to cross his face as he turned to the man who spoke to him, "About as well done as this prototype. Truly, it is very impressive. How soon can these firearms be finalized?"

"By the end of the month if there are no complications, Sir."

Hathom hummed as the numbers ran through his head. He took another look at the new line of firearms that Onyx, a company he founded and helped develop, was going to be putting out. A rifle and two handguns.

The rifle was the OX Velko Marksman Rifle. A high powered, semi-automatic rifle with firepower that rivaled an anti-material rifle. Out of the three, this was the one with the most issues. By most, he meant one. The rifle kicked a bit too much for a semi and the firepower needed to be toned down.

The handguns were practically flawless. The OX Mark I Zephyr and the OX Derelict. The Zephyr fired basic ballistic rounds for handguns. What made it impressive was the fact that it made nearly no sound. The ear popping Crack! Firearms made on average was reduced to what suppressed pistols sounded like in movies decades ago. The Zephyr could replicate that level of silence without a suppressor. With one, it was complete silent. The only sound made was when the bullet thudded into the target.

On the opposite end, the Derelict fired high powered magnum rounds as if they were 9mm bullets and the noise matched it. During the simulation, he put a hole the size of baseball In the back of a thug's head and it felt like the bullet would have just bounced off the helmet. The recoil was so low that it genuinely surprised him.

"I think the Derelict is by far my favorite."

"Well Sir, by all means."

Hathom's eyebrows rose in question and the representative answered the non-verbal question, "The Derelict is a finished product, Sir. We just needed your approval to start mass production. This is the first finished model and you can have the honor of having it."

"Hm... well thank you very much. I appreciate the gesture."

"No, thank you. You funded us and helped us get off the ground. Now, we are in the black and that is in large part thanks to you. The least we can do is let you have first dibs."

That got a hearty laugh out of the former soldier. He nodded gratefully and grabbed the Derelict and its custom holster for concealed carry.

After double checking to make sure there wasn't a round in the chamber and a full magazine, Hathom gave his farewell and stepped out into the clean streets of Ghorra. His driver was already waiting with the door open. Outside the entrance doors stood his bodyguards and old squadmates, Ethan and Stahl.

"Everything quiet out here boys?"

Ethan responded with an obviously over exaggerated salute, "Yessir. No rich thugs or miscreants in sight here, Sir!"

This drew a snicker from Stahl and resounding "Fuck you." From Hathom as they all shared a chuckle and climbed into the luxurious six seater. Normally, a bottle of chilled champagne or wine would be waiting for people of Hathom's stature but....

well...

They were made of more stern stuff. So sterner drinks were called for.

They shared a glass of high grade whiskey together and while the bodyguards made jokes and quips with each other, Hathom busied himself by looking out of the window and thinking of the meeting he had in an hour. A lawsuit had been pressed against one of Long's restaurants. Specifically, an employee that had been accused of sexually harassing a customer and food critic.

It seemed the more influence he gained, the more people tried to sue for dumber and dumber reasons.

“ALL ABOARD!” Anzen yelled, waving his arms. It wasn’t everyday he held a fancypants party on his yacht. The party was going to be a rager, all the way until they got to his nightclub in Ghorra. It was one of the ways he kept his appearance, also it helped him get some intel on his potential targets. He stood on the side of the dock, letting his guests on.

“Come on come on, we don’t got all day!” He said, shuffling the last of the people up the ramp leading to the yacht. He had some of his henchmen poised as waiters and other staff. He then began clamoring up the ramp himself, though for a brief second he seemed to flicker, like his body was glitching out. “Champagne and entertainment for all until we reach the Lawless!”

Meanwhile, Anzen was already at the Lawless. He was pacing back and forth in his office, which was on the topmost floor of the ten-story building. He repeatedly tossed the golden gem up in the air, alternating which hand caught the glowing crystal. He used a clone of himself to stay on the yacht, only to keep up appearances. Hearing a knock on his door, a large grin curled on his lips.

“Who is ittt?” He asked, doing his best to imitate a female while he made his way to the door. Pressing the button to allow it to open. Two men stood in the doorway, with one holding a box. Clapping his hands together, Anzen reached for the box. “Christmas came early for me baby!” He said, jumping in place slightly, unable to control himself. He ran over to his desk, putting the box down. “Oh, right..” He picked up a device off of the desk, pressing a few buttons. “Your money is in your account.” Pressing another button, which slammed the door shut.

Hastily opening the box, he pulled out a sleek, metallic bracer. He had it custom made in order to fit the Lux Capacitor, which he opened up and put the gem inside. He’d then slid the bracer on his right arm, covering up most of his forearm. He held his right palm open, which then a jagged, hardened blade made of condensed light appeared. “Oh shit, I’m totally badass now.” He said, while stabbing at the air a few times. Waving his hand, the light blade dissipated and he looked back into the box. He’d then pull out a small capsule, which contained a poison made on Earth.

“Oh yeah, this’ll work.” He looked at the liquid, swishing it around the capsule. The liquid was going to play an integral part in taking another name off of his list.

A few hours later he heard the loud droning sound of the yachts horn. Stepping into his changing room, a few moments later coming out wearing a rather basic tuxedo. Though he looked the part of a businessman, he kept his signature black beanie on over his messy, blonde hair. By now everyone was too drunk to realize he hadn’t been on the boat at all. Walking out of his office he stood on the balcony overlooking the entrance to the nightclub, waiting for the real party to start.

Sounds and colors of varying levels seemed to float before Narson's consciousness. The colors shined forth with a dim brightness peculiar to dreams alone, and shifted from white, to red, to green, and black. Thunderous silence filled his ears, similar to the way rain sounds when one is underwater. He felt nothing, and there was a void of rational thought in his mind. All that remained was the shifting colors, that gave way to differing shades like sand being rolled back in the wind. The only sensations left to him were sight and sound, and even those he could not control. For he knew this could not be reality somewhere in the back of his mind. There was a wrongness to this world, and though he could not reach his memories, Narson was almost certain these visions and his world did not match.

The pattern of switching colors suddenly stopped, and then crackled away like fire eating at paper. A clear yellow color came to replace the reds, greens, and blacks, and it brought a stinging pain. He blinked, drops of moisture starting to gather in his eyes. This was light, right? Of course, what else could it be? There was nothing else that could be so beautiful and intense in quite the same way.

Lifting up his hands, which felt weak and uncontrollable, he swatted away the light and caused a crashing sound, which then brought his ears to start ringing. His vision was now marred with static, the kind that fills one who starts moving after a long period of stagnation. After rubbing a bit at his eyes, however, he was able to get a clearer view of his surroundings.

He was in a small room, which looked to be six paces in length and just tall enough for a 6 foot man to stand, if he stood in the center. The roof appeared to be made out of some sort of stained brown cloth, and patched up with miscellaneous pieces of tarp. Other than the moth-eaten air mattress Narson currently laid on, the only furnishings were two upside-down milk crates next to a wooden table small enough to be a child's plaything. Along with the miscellaneous beer cans and plastic trash strewn on the floor, was a broken lantern, which was probably what Narson had knocked over. The only place that had any sort of care attached, was the left side of the room, where several plants were being grown in a black irrigation pipe. The opening in the wall where a door should have been was only covered with a few seed strings, which were currently blowing outwards in the wind.

"What...the hell?" Narson asked incredulously, trying to push himself up. He quickly realized the issue with this, and slumped back down onto the mattress. There was an unbelievable amount of pain coming from his chest and legs, along with a sore on the back of his head.

At that moment, all of his memories came rushing back to him. The message sent by his friend, Katherine, to come meet her in Desetto. His purchase of a used car and departure from the farm. All the feelings of hope, excitement, and joy at finally leaving Millwood turning to pain and misery as Katherine revealed her true colors. The frustration and helplessness that filled him as he had to watch Katherine and her gang steal all his possessions, returned as well, and Narson felt both a physical and emotional pain in his chest.

So what had happened to him after that? Try hard as he might, no other memories resurfaced, which meant he had probably blacked out. Why was he here then? He fiddled with the strings of his hoodie, then realized with wide eyes that he hadn't been wearing a hoodie before. Whoever had brought him here had probably put it on him, which explained the offensive reek permeating from the fabric.

"This just keeps getting better and better." Narson sarcastically muttered, then resolutely pushed himself up again. Immediately he almost blacked out from the pain, but putting a hand out to lean on the wall, he managed to steady himself. His grey eyes were steely and determined, as he refused to simply sit around and wait for something to happen. He needed to contact authorities, inform them of his situation, and get a ride home at the very least. He'd heard rumors about Desetto's lawlessness, but surely they couldn't be entirely anarchical, right?

A soft, rustling sound from the seed strings suddenly caught his attention, and Narson looked up to see a man walking towards him. Dressed in nothing but a tank top and jeans dangling loosely from some rope, the figure seemed to be on the cusp of death. His arms and fingers were almost skeletal in their thinness, and black hair hung from the man's head in greasy matts. His skin was grey and greasy as well, which caused Narson a great bit of concern.

"H-hey there, buddy, you're in no shape to move around." the man said, before Narson could say the same. "You've been...knocked out, for...for..." The man broke off, counting off on his fingers four times before finishing. "Two days."

"Two...days?" Narson repeated blankly, weakness starting to settle in again. He had promised his parents he'd call them every night when he left...how terrified they must be right now. And wait, if he was out for two days, did that mean...he sniffed the air, and sure enough, caught a certain distinctive scent. Oh man, as if his situation wasn't humiliating enough.

"Yes, two days. And you're lucky it wasn't longer...I don't have enough food or water to feed myself, let alone a stranger." The man's voice was weirdly deep and strong, with a harsh yet sympathetic lean to it. The voice and body were so unnaturally mismatched, that it caused Narson to shudder a bit. He seemed genuine enough though, which caused some confusion on Narson's part. How could a man as crushed in poverty as this, have been so willing to assist Narson? Surely there was something he wanted in return.

"Why did you help me?" Narson asked, distrust evident in his voice.

The man simply laughed in response, though it was more like rhythmic coughing. "It's the golden rule, boy. There have been many times...oh yes, dozens of them, where I've had to rely on the help of a stranger. I'm just paying back those debts by helping you." He paused for a bit, then added "But I'm afraid I can't shelter you for much longer...I'm nearing my end, and you'll be too if you stay here." As if to prove his point, the man suddenly slumped down onto a milk crate, his limbs shaking arthritically. With a bitter smile, the man said "You keep that hoodie though...you'll need something to keep those injuries hidden."

Throughout the man's long speech, Narson sat mutely, wondering how to react. It seemed entirely impossible that someone could be that selfless, but nevertheless, here this man was. Guilt settled deep inside him, and using the wall for support, he forced himself to stand.

"I...thank you." He said stiffly, feeling stupid the moment the words left him. A simple thank you wasn't enough to truly express his gratitude, and he wished to say something, anything, more to his benefactor.

"I won't forget this...uh, what's your name again?" Narson asked, casually putting his hand into the hoodie's pocket. He felt something cold and metallic inside, and pulled out what seemed to be a golden earring.

"Ted." the man answered back wearily. "Oh, and you keep that trinket...never could pawn it off, but maybe you'll have better luck." His eyes already had a red layer around them, and Narson realized that his thoughts were only partly his own.

"Well, thank you again." the boy responded, slowly finding his way out of the room, and off into the sunlight.

Taking a seat on the railing of the balcony, he watched as the people began streaming into his nightclub. He held a megaphone in his hand, and began speaking into it. “Welcome all to my first annual very important non-poor people party bash extravaganza! I sure did do my research, and I got a little somethin’ somethin’ for everyone. If you know what I mean.” He said, cackling. “The best part is….wait for it..” He then began drumming on the rails for a few moments, bringing the megaphone back to his mouth. “I paid off the cops! You heard it here first folks! How can we have a rich person party if the those pesky law enforcement officers get involved. Hell, some of them might even be here!”

Now, as much as he didn’t like killing, there was someone who wanted these business people gone, and they paid him a pretty penny to make it happen. While he wasn’t going to take a name off of his list tonight, he was indeed going to pad his bank account with fat stacks. His very own crime syndicate wasn’t going to fund itself. Leaping from the balcony, he landed on his feet, knees bending slightly to account for the impact. He’d then began shaking his guest’s hands, making small talk as he went from person to person.

He had mostly everything cleared out, the prestigious club resembled a large office. The guests had found themselves in their little cliques, taking seats at the many tables that were strewn about what was the dance floor. Some of his staff walked around, offering hors d’oeuvres and various drinks, along with other substances. Anzen stood in the middle of the room, clapping his hands together. “God, I’m awesome. What kind of mastermind would plan something like this? Me, that’s who.” He said, speaking to people passing by.

Making his way over to the corner table, he pulled up a chair, spun it around and straddled it, placing his arms over the back of it. Leaning his head down, sky-blue hues scanning across the older gentlemen at the table. “Hiya, what’s crack-a-lackin?” He asked, sitting up on the chair, drumming his fingers against the back of the chair. “Banger party, am I right? You know for a filthy, disgusting night club this place cleans up quite nice.” The men just looked at him, dumbfounded. Obviously they didn’t understand how someone of his caliber could get any of these important figures all together. “So, whatcha talkin’ about? Huh? Huuuh!?” He asked, leaning over the chair and the table, swinging his head from left to right, looking at them all dramatically.

“Well…” The bald male started first. He was in his fifties, and was a CEO of a pharmaceutical building located in Denbourgh. “We were discussing the recent attacks, and how they’re bad for business.”

“Hey now, speak for yourself!” Another male spoke, this one a bit younger. He was a bit pudgy, though having the money to not care what you do will do that to you. This particular male made his wealth selling security systems, using the terror attacks as a way to sell more units. “My profits have increased by over one-thousand percent. You’re just in the wrong business is all.” He said, and a couple of them laughed.

“Oh shit, one-thousand percent? That’s like...a lot of percent!” Anzen said, his eyes widening. “Wow, here I thought I was doing all hunky-dory selling booze and letting people shake their asses here after 3 A.M.” He was the only one that laughed at his joke. “And what about you, comb-over man?” He pointed to the oldest man, whose face twisted into a scowl. “What? You think you can hide it? What did you do for your rags to riches story?”

The male stood up, slamming his hands on the table. He was obviously insulted that his shitty comb over was noticeable. “Just who do you think you are? I make one million dollar deals a day, and you own a place where degenerates flock and do god knows what in here. While you parade around like some sort of autistic shrieking monkey, I’ve been putting together a counter-insurgency team to stop this nonsense!”

Anzen held his hands over his heart. “Ouch, right in the feels man...Okay I admit, I’m a little jealous of your comb over. One million dollar deals a day huh? You must be some sort of bigshot, wow. Compared to you I’m just...Anzen.” He said, standing up from his chair, kicking it to the side. “However, I am the GREAT Anzen.” He said, throwing his hands in the air, waggling his fingers. “I do magic tricks. I made a building and hundreds of people disappear. Including one of our up and coming politicians. I’m like a real regular Houdini with my disappearing act.”

At this point other people heard the commotion, and started to get a little freaked out. By now some people put two and two together, realizing that he was the mastermind behind the attacks. Some people tried to escape through the exits, though they were already locked and barricaded. Comb over man took a step back, pointing at the blonde haired wonder. “It was you!”

“Guilty!” Anzen said, a light blade conjuring in his palm. He then hurled it through the air, stabbing into the chest of the male. The blade dissipated, leaving the crimson life-blood pouring from the male’s wound. “Welcome to the jungle, baby!” He said, whistling. His men then brandished their weapons, mainly melee weapons and a few silenced pistols. The large room was now in chaos, his men slaughtering the helpless victims. Anzen then stepped forward with his right foot, grabbing the back of the bald males head with his right hand. Bringing up his left, which had a conjured light blade, he drove it through his throat, leaving him to choke on his own blood.

“Nothing personal, business is business, am I right?” He asked, letting go of the man watching him grasp at his throat. He then pivoted on his right foot, spinning around to hurl the blade at another trying to run. “Wabam!” He shouted, the blade whirring through the air, sticking out of the dude’s spine. “God, I love this thing.” He brought his hand to the bracer holding the gem, grinning.

Despite the carnage, the slaughter only took mere minutes. Anzen had the last of them cornered. “Eww..what’s that?” He asked, pointing to the male’s crotch, which was obviously wet. “Gross, dude. Totally disgusting.” He said, scrunching his nose.
“T-t-that power….You came from Earth? No...it was sent to you.” He stammered, dropping to his knees. “Someone must have some sort of agenda..sending that thing to a terrorist.”

“Uh, probably? I dunno, man.” Anzen said, squatting down in front of the male. “Though, thanks for the memo. I’ll send it to the office and see what they have to say.” He then stood back up. “Now...what was that line? Carpe Diem? No...that wasn’t it..Hakuna Matata...Oh, I remember.” He straightened himself, attempting to stare menacingly down at the male. “Hasta la vista, baby!” With a flick of his wrist and a wave of his arm, he lopped the male’s head off.

Turning to his men, he let out a loud yawn. “Jesus, killing on an empty stomach totally blows. Get some cleaners in here and make sure it’s spotless!” He said, making his way to the stairs, walking up to his office. “Take a couple of days off, bye bye now.” The door to his office opened, and closed once he stepped inside.

The afternoon sun was blindingly bright, causing Narson to wince and shift his eyes to the ground. Feeling weakness beginning to return in his legs, he stumbled forward until his hand met a solid object, then stood still so his eyes could become accustomed to the light. The painful pouding in his head was increasing, and the amount of blood rushing to his head was enough to flush away all rational thoughts.

After a few more seconds of severe blinking, he had enough wits to survey his full surroundings. Looking up, he noticed that the object he was leaning on was an aluminum trash can, and that a graffitied brick wall stood before him. Looking to his left, he saw the crumpled tarp and cardboard mess that comprised Ted's shelter, which seemed to be tied to an old wire fence. It looked highly delicate, and Narson wondered how long the man had made do with such a scanty location. He then turned his attention to the right, where the brick-laden alleyway showed a path to the deeper corners of Desetto. Peering into the mysterious depths that stood before him, Narson felt a temptation to run in the opposite direction. Past Ted's hut and to the desert, in a desperate attempt to find his way back home. But he wasn't stupid enough to make a decision like that...having driven for hours on the road from Millwood to Sinde, he knew that he'd die of dehydration long before he could find his way out of the sandy wasteland.

Putting his hand back into the hoodie's pocket, he felt the coldness of the gold earring, and was comforted by it in a way. The sensation of something solid helped to root his thoughts on his current situation. Right now, the most important thing was finding a mode of contact either between him and his parents, or some form of authority. Ted had already given him plenty of assistance, but without any weapon to defend himself with and being barely able to walk, he was a sitting duck for more gang attacks. And if there was anything Narson truly hated, it was being defenseless.

He stood still in the alley for a bit longer, trying to match his breathing and pain so that he could manage his injuries while he moved. When he felt confident in his ability to feign painlessness, he placed both his hands in the hoodie pocket and began to move forward. He smiled, proud that he had mastered an ordered sense of walking in such short time. Sure, his right leg was trailing slightly behind his left, but it was such a small detail that he didn't think anyone would notice.

Coming to the end of the alley, Narson became even more self-assured in his actions. The street was almost entirely empty, with only a couple people ambling around in drunken fashion. If his eyes had been more experienced or keen, he might have seen that there were actual several faces peering at him through the shadows and broken windows of nearby buildings, but to him, the place seemed abandoned. He continued to stride forward, even going so far as to start whistling. What had he been worried for, the streets were quieter here than in Millwood! Surely that meant they were less of a threat, right? Noise symbolized commotion, conflict, and inordinate amounts of people. So then, as a conclusion, this place must be less of a danger.

Well, he was partially right. Seconds, minutes, and then hours passed as Narson commenced his movements towards the heart of Sinde. The sun started to move lower in the sky, and still Narson heard not even a whisper. However, by this point he was finding the silence uncanny, and longed for the hustle and bustle present in most cities. He had only ever been to Millwood's city before, and witnessed it during the busy harvest time, so he had little to compare Desetto too. As a result, all of the quiet started to throw off his senses. He began to think everything had been a dream, from the point where he got Katherine's phone call to his current walk through Sinde's streets. He pinched himself sharply, shook his head, and finally broke into a run.

As he took off, the unkempt houses and tenement buildings started to whizz by in a flash, like a painted picture that was roughly smushed by an untrained painter. The sun continued on its descent, but in even slower movements than before. This confirmed to Narson that he must be in a dream, and he tried to rush by faster. He only self-consciously realized he had the earring clutched inside one of his fists, and a small, inset turquoise stone was directly touching his skin.

It took an unnaturally long time for Narson to tire, his footsteps finally fading after forty minutes of running. He then collapsed onto the ground, taking several deep breaths. How had he managed to maintain his stamina for so long? Was it truly because he was in some illusion? But if so, why hadn't he woken up yet? He had possessed some strange dreams in his childhood, but they usually ended after he became conscious of his dream-state. And why hadn't his wounds hampered him in some way? They hurt like the dickens before, but earlier he had remained unmarred, almost like the pain was on queue.

Turning on his side, he noticed a bent-up sign above him lit solely by a night lamp. Mosquitoes and moths fluttered in large quantities among the sign, almost obscuring the words, but he was just able to make out what it said.

"Torcido? How the hell did I get here so fast?" he gasped, rising into a sitting position out of pure shock. Having studied an Erabus map in great detail for many school projects, he knew Torcido was a good twenty-five miles away from Sinde, and fifty miles from Edin. Something unnatural had happened, and whatever it was, terrified him. Had the whole meeting with Ted nothing but a fever-dream, and was he really waking up here? No, the hoodie and earring were undeniable proof of that event. Then what possible explanation was there for him coming here?

Narson didn't have time to mull further on these questions, however. There was a distinct revving sound that started up close by, which drew closer and closer to Narson's location. Dark laughter and curse words followed as well, and Narson was able to make out three figures driving to him from within Torcido. Two of them were on motorbikes, while the one in the lead rode a hoverboard.

With a grunt, Narson struggled to move himself, but in vain. Whatever stunt he had pulled earlier had taken most of his energy, and it was all he could do to stand. When he finally made it to his feet, he found himself completely surrounded by the night drivers.

"What have we here?" the leader, an albino-man, toyed a knife between his fingers while shooting Narson a smirk. "You look a little lost, puppy-dog."

"Ha, more like a bxtch than a pup." the second man, a buff and dark-skinned being grinned through a face that showed joy, probably at the prospect of beating Narson up.

"But one that has nothing we need." the third figure, a girl clad all in leather, scoffed at the other two. "Why don't we keep moving, it's a long drive to Sinde."

"Not just yet, there's something about him that seems important." The albino leader shot him a quick look, then noticed the clasped fist which still held the earring. "Hey there, why don't you show us what'cha got? Surely a miserable wreck like yourself has nothing of value to hide, right?"

Narson had been standing in stiff silence while they began conversing, all his limbs tensing as soon as he saw them. The girl and leader were utter strangers to him, but he could have sworn he'd seen the big man in Katherine's group when she'd jumped him. It didn't seem like the man had recognized him yet, which probably had to do with the dirt and discoloured complexion on Narson's face. But he knew he'd be in serious trouble should the man realize who Narson was, and inwardly cursed his bad luck. When the leader asked to see the earring, Narson quickly revealed it, then balled his hand around the object again. "It's nothing important, just a cheap trinket." he said, hoping that would be enough to get them to leave him alone.

"Then you won't mind forking it over, would ya?" the man leered, obviously enjoying the discomfort he was putting Narson through. "Come on, a pup like you has no need for minor keepsakes, and I think it will go well with my collection of spikes."

Widening his eyes as he heard the man's demand, Narson shook his head, trying to back away; but coming to a halt as his back met with the second man. The albino pushed Narson back, and the redhead fell onto the ground hard. The two men then started to send several hard blows onto Narson's back and chest, pain shooting through him with each kick. The girl stood apart, obviously annoyed, but not doing anything to stop her comrades either.

"UuuUGH," Narson coughed, a line of blood falling down his cheek. The world was growing dark, his vision of the grey street, harsh yellow lamplight, and dark buildings twisted with the raucous laughter of the two above him. Pain, confusion, and loud ringing noises became a residual hum, and strangely enough, the only thing Narson could feel was the metal hidden within his fingers. Through half-lidded eyes, he allowed it to slide around, until the small turquoise stone touched his skin again.

Instantly, everything around Narson became clearer. The two men kicking him, the woman standing off, the small square of light afforded them all were set back into focus as his pain subsided. Coughing out a few more drops of blood, Narson grabbed hold of the albino's leg with his free hand, and jerked him forward so that he fell on his rear.

"You bxtch!" the second man roared, starting to send a punch straight for Narson's face. A bit of alarm showed on the teen's face, but somehow he was able to dodge the blow by merely sidestepping. He then sent a punch of his own for the man's face, sending him rocketing forward fifteen feet and into the wall of a nearby building.

Narson took a second to stare at his palms, wondering how he had managed to retaliate so well. By all rights, he should be the one knocked out right now. But he had once again summoned forth a mysterious source of speed and strength in order to face his problems. Deciding that he would focus on these strange skills later, he turned to the girl, who was looking at him like he'd just sprouted four arms.

"Okay, what the actual fvck?!" she yelled, then backed away and put her hands up as Narson walked closer. "Look, dude, how 'bout we call a truce, aight?"

"Fine by me, but try to rein in your friends next time." Narson said, with an evident scowl. Just because she was the most reasonable out of the three didn't mean he was going to start being buddy-buddy with her.

Turning towards the abandoned vehicles, Narson grabbed the hoverboard and hopped on. He decided it would be sufficient punishment, both considering the lack of technology readily available in Desotto, and the expense purchasing such a craft would be quite considerable.

A burst of laughter emerged from the girl, and Narson turned to give her the stink eye. "What are you laughing about?"

"You, you look ridiculous! Do you even know how to ride that thing?!" the girl laughed, doubling over from mirth.

"I don't have to answer that." Narson muttered, turning determinably to the board. There was some sort of boosting method available on the back, and lightly applying pressure, Narson suddenly advanced at a crazy amount of speed, leaving the girl's cackling far behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After five failed attempts at stopping the hovercraft, Narson finally stopped before an empty alleyway. Half stumbling, half falling off the hoverboard, he carried it with him to the trash-strewn back street, barely daring to hope that he could find a true refuge here. If there was anything Desetto was teaching him, it was that nothing could ever be explained or expected. Though he had always envisioned his chance at finding adventure and leaving the monotonous routine of life in the Grasslands, he couldn't help but miss the normalcy of home.

Numbly pushing aside a large pile of cardboard boxes, Narson snuggled in between a trash can and wire fence very similar to the one he had started by near Ted's house. Piles of green ooze and questionable waste material covered the ground and sides of the trash can, but it was the most secure location he was going to get in Desetto. As he drifted into a weary sleep of pain and sadness, he thought of his family, and dreamed of seeing them again.
OST

Narson’s dream had taken an odd turn, in the fact it portrayed normal scenes instead of the usual inordinate ones. It was almost like reality and dreams had switched places, and consistency was naught but a forgotten concept.

He imagined for the second time, and certainly not the last, that he had never responded to Katherine’s request for help. Instead, he stayed at home, filled with pleasantness, joy, and familial care. At first, it seemed wholly beautiful, as no life-endangering problems presented themselves there. However, despite his relief and gratitude for the safety and love in his surroundings, the old sense of emptiness within him had returned. The dream-days all blended into each other, with monotony and routine ordering his every action. The imagined days turned into weeks, months, and even years, with Narson losing all control of his choices. After his parents passed, he stayed on at the farm, and simply watched as his sisters were able to pursue all their goals.

In the blink of an eye, the dream’s image disappeared, like a colored coverlet withdrawn from a dark hole. All was dark, and a whispered voice with an indistinguishable accent called out to him.

“What do you wish for?” ​

What did he wish for? Well, that was a stereotypical question. However, he somehow understood its true meaning. For so long, all he had wanted at home was a chance for adventure. And now that he had left home and experienced raw danger, he wanted to go back. So what was his real goal? Did he simply wish for an exciting event, but within a secure environment? He could have attained that by simply remaining at home and trying to wrestle with his neighbor’s bulls.

Obviously, just seeking out adventure was too generic and broad. Narson needed to narrow it down, but the 19-year-old was still too naive to have a clear cut vision for his life. Racking his mind for anything he could say to answer the entity within his dream, he felt a nudging sensation poking at his ribs and swiped away the dark cobwebs of sleep.

“Leave me alone…” He groaned, his eyes still part-closed. When he widened them all the way, he quickly realized that his hidden location had not been as secure as he thought. A menacing looking figure stood above him, with a gas mask that looked similar to soldiers in historical videos from old Earth. The poking had been done with the scabbarded edge of the sword, which was still pointed at Narson.

​

Quickly shuffling his feet and using the wall behind him to stand, Narson stuttered out “Wh-what? You’re asking for m-my help? What do you need me for, you don’t even know me!” as he said this, he slipped and almost fell on the waste beneath him, barely catching himself on the slimy edge of the nearby trash can lid. His vision wavered in and out, as Narson had maintained several major injuries and had gone four days without food and water.

​

Saka tilted his head to the side as he watched Narson get to his feet in a hurry. This wasn’t an incorrect or strange response but it certainly took the gas-mask wearing lad by surprise. Pushing off of his legs, he took a moment to get to his own feet. Narson slipped as he backed away toward the wall, which was immediately taken as a clear sign that he needed more help than originally anticipated.

“You’re right. I don’t know you. I’m not here because of that. But I take it that you’re homeless because you’re out here sleeping instead of in a warm bed. Are you from here? Because it very much does not look like you’re from here.”

He quickly reached out to reappropriate the person opposite of him so that he was standing up straight. Immediately after standing him up, Saka took his hands off of Narson. It was surprisingly hard to articulate a good reason for this random person to come with him, but if he could just get the slightest bit of information out of Narson, then he could more easily offer him something of value for his cooperation. It was easy to tell, first and foremost, that this person was not from Desetto. Sure, he spoke the language, but not with the same dialect. Saka reached into his pocket to remove the small pouch of gold coins.

c: “Saka what the hell are you doing?” The young man paused as the captain asked. She had been watching him untie the bag.

“Aw, C'mon! He’s probably hungry. Shouldn’t we at least help him?”

c: “No.”

“Listen.” Saka pointed at Narson. “I was going to give you some money for food but my boss won’t let me. There’s no way to say this in a way that doesn’t sound insane, so either take my offer or leave it. I have food, money, and shelter. You have a gem, called an artifact, somewhere on you. If you come with me, I will feed you and get you some fresh clothes. I’ll even pay you and bring you home, wherever the hell that is.”

The young man crossed one arm over his chest before placing one on the top of his head.

“You know, come to think of it, we’ve been tracking you for about an hour. Obviously, you don’t have a car otherwise I assume you’d be sleeping in it. Well, unless you really like floor goop…” Saka moved his hand to the back of his head. “We had to redirect our flight. You traveled from Sinde to here on foot? That fast? You have to be in possession of an artifact. If you don’t come with me I’ll have to take it. And I really don’t want to take it. So, um. Give me like two days? We need to make a pit-stop in Ghorra, then we’re heading to Denbourgh. After that, I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

​

Narson simply nodded at the man's comment on his homeland. The length between the Grasslands and Desetto was exactly why his parents had originally protested against his trip there, saying that all sorts of things could happen before he reached Katherine, let alone actually getting to the remote location. But Narson, being the stubborn force that he is, resisted against them saying he was old and strong enough for the journey. How foolish he had been. Now that he had experienced all the worst kinds of people, he understood the sage advice of his parents, and wished he had listened to them before.

Seeing the masked man put something in his hand, Narson cautiously stepped forward and moved away from the wall, genuine curiosity adding slight strength to his unsteady state. There was some sort of communicator, that emitted a small glow to show it's active presence. The man held it with a palm made of some strange steel-like substance Narson hadn't seen before, and a red gem was barely visible within the metal folds of the hand. Once again Narson wished his sister was present, as her knowledge regarding different types of mechanics would be quite useful to have.

He turned his attention back to the man as he spoke, raising an eyebrow incredulously at his hasty explanation. "You're collecting gems to save Erabus? What does it need saving from?" While Desetto was certainly filled with locations in desperate need of renovation and repair, he didn't see how the world required a full-scale change or cause. Growing up in the Grasslands, the only problems he'd faced were minor disagreements with family and friends, and the occasional haggler trying to buy albernain for less than it was worth. But none of the grand issues that were evident in the past, like oppressive military power or wide cases of famine were present right now. So what reason could this man's organization have for bringing these gems together?

The figure responded by explaining his own personal connection with the group, and a voice within the communicator expressed annoyance at his words. Narson was still filled with confusion and mistrust about the whole situation, however. The man seemed nice enough, and was certainly offering more than he needed to. After all, Narson was weak and weaponless. If he truly only cared about the gem, he could have easily overpowered the redhead and stolen the earring. However, he had stuck around and tried his best to answer Narson's queries, which he respected. At this point, the only thing stopping Narson from simply agreeing to accompany him were slight personal misgivings. He had rushed to rash judgments in the past, and they always led to compromising outcomes for him or others.

But at this point, as he wobbled around and fell back to leaning on the wall, he realized that he had no other recourse to take. Another day remaining in the desert without water would mean his imminent death, and he was too sore to move himself in the speed he had used before. He still had the hoverboard of course, but he had next to no idea of how to use it or how much fuel it required to take him to Millwood. To make matters worse, he could feel the beginnings of a fever, as his skin went from feeling like layers of ice to endless palates of burning flame.

The last comment about needing a shower pulled Narson out of his introspective thoughts, and he actually laughed at the statement. It felt odd to express any form of joy when he was in such a miserable state, though it also felt refreshing in a way. It provided a much-needed sense of relief from his mindset of hopelessness, and he was able to firmly respond to the man's question now.

"You're right, I have no real way to leave Desetto. In all honesty, I still have many more questions...but for now, I shall agree to come with you." He said, hoping his words didn't come off as overly reserved or aloof. Narson was definitely grateful for the assistance they offered, and at another time would go above and beyond to extract words of praise. But considering his continued suspicion and fragile mental condition, these positive statements would have to wait.

The man then headed down the alleyway, checking both sides of the alley's opening. Narson presumed he was verifying that the coast was clear, and stumbled forwards to follow his path. He was finally starting to notice the permeating stench in the air, and his nose crinkled up at the disgusting odors and miscellaneous waste strewn around. "You were smart to come with a mask, wish I had one." A light edge had returned to his voice, as he decided to purvey the current events with a calm rationale instead of a constantly worrisome one.

Nodding again as the man ushered him forward, Narson suddenly realized he hadn't even introduced himself. This man, whom the voice on the controller had referred to as 'Saka,' had offered to facilitate food, water, and transportational assistance to a complete stranger. Narson felt more faith in the ethics of the masked man, and a smile drifted onto his face.

"By the way, my name is Narson Crowley. I heard you were referred to as 'Saka,' so I'm guessing that's your name." He left the statement open, allowing the man to clarify if Saka was actually a codename or his actual title. Then, realizing that 'Saka' was focused on leaving the alleyway and heading towards their destination, Narson backed away in embarrassment and resolved to stay quiet so he wouldn't be a cause of distraction for the man.

"Listen, Mr. Woods..." Hathom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in clear irritation. This backwards, merry go round conversation had really been trying his patience. "The 'I'm sorry but business just hasn't been going well' excuse only works 2 or 3 times. It has been 7 months that the earnings you have made have been in the red. I have had this same exact conversation with you 7 times and everytime, you give me the same story."

Hathom leaned back into his chair and folded his hands together. "Look at me, Mr. Woods." The smaller, older gentlemen obliged and the fear in his eyes was practically dripping out of them in the way of tears. This man was cracking...

"I helped your business get started, I have supported you and your growth, I gave you advice when you needed it, and I have kept your business afloat after seven months of near nothing, Mr. Woods. This show of good faith and trust seems to have backfired on me...." Now Hathom sits up and leans forward. The frustration on his expression spelling out everything he needed to say without saying it, "...And yet, I have absolutely nothing to show for it... I'll be frank, Mr. Woods.

"I want to know where the hell my money is going."

The man in question visibly clammed up. He might as well have pleaded the fifth.

When his question was met with silence, the sound of a long sigh filled the ambience. Hathom stood up and his bodyguards flanking either side took a step forward. It wasn't necessary nor did Hathom ask for such action but it certainly did look intimidating. So much so, the Riley Woods looked as if he was about to be physically assaulted.

Hathom gestured for Woods to stand. When he didn't, he did the same gesture again but slower. It was received as a threat, apparently, because he bolted right up after that. The former soldier started eyeing up his client now.

The money wasn't going towards clothing. That was obvious. In a city like Eindra, he was actually under dressed. His complexion looked horrible. So, it wasn't on beauty or aesthetic surgeries. His mind didn't seem any sharper either. So, mental augments were out of the question. His eyes maybe?

Hathom looked to Ethan on his left, who nodded and stepped closer to Woods to scan his face. Riley visibly shrunk away but Ethan was having none of it and forced him to look up. A quick scan revealed that his eyes had not been augmented or replaced by cybernetics either.

"Arms."

Ethan rolled up the client's sleeves and sure enough, he was clean. No drug track marks. A quick search revealed there was nothing on his thighs either. All evidence pointed to the fact that he had not spent this money on himself. At least, not visibly.

"We've looked at the records Mr. Woods. We know that business has been going somewhat well. Maybe it's not the best business in Eindra but it is a successful one based on the number of people entering and exiting. I even hired a P.I. to make sure that this place had traffic and people actual purchased your goods."

Hathom took a seat once again and the client practically collapsed into his. "I know you are earning money as normal, Woods. I also know that you are lying about the numbers. I also have an inkling as to WHY you are lying to me. Why you have been lying to me for almost a year now."

Hathom sighed again before continuing, "Starts with a K and ends with Ov. Am I right?"

Riley Woods was silent for a very long time. You could only see the ghost of a nod after what felt like a lifetime of silence.

Hathom shook his head, was on his feet and leaving out the door in a heartbeat. "You won't need to worry about them anymore Mr. Woods. Just make sure business goes back to normal by tomorrow. Understood?"

He didn't wait for a reply.

------------------

"The goddamn Krestnokov's have some balls coming after the people I employ. They have already lost out 3 times before. Are they trying to make a 4th? This is a waste of my damn time!"

The former military fished his phone out of his suit pocket and dialed his lawyers to tell them that the Russian descended family was at it again with their foolish blackmail tactics. Officially, they were a wealthy, influential family that everyone wanted to be friends with. Unofficially, to anyone with some kind of influence in Ghorra, the Krestnokov's dabbled in some underhanded tactics to get what they couldn't get legally.

There had been a minor dispute over who acquired the property rights to start a business where Mr. Woods currently operates and the Long family came out on top. Legally, of course. It seemed like the rival family had been biding their time before they finally started bleeding the business and trying to get it shutdown so they could buy it once it foreclosed.

Hathom found it comical how stereotypical it was that the Russian descendants from Earth somehow managed to form a "modern" mafia/mob and simultaneously irked him that criminals like them were able to make such success through questionable-at-best means as they were.

"We might have to tighten security around you until this blows over again, Long." Stahl commented, breaking the silence in the limousine.

"Probably. Contact our head of security. Make sure he dispatches a small group to protect Mr. Wood's establishment. I have a feeling once they start losing the legal battle again, they may try to hire some lowlifes from Desetto to burn the place down."

"Yes, Sir."

Narson's first instinct when Saka came to help him walk, was of course to push away. He hated having to depend on others, and would often work especially hard in the mornings back home so that his dad didn't have to assist him. However, even he realized the full vulnerability of his senses, and thus feebly allowed the other man to propel him forward.

Despite the ringing pain in his limbs which escalated with each movement, Narson had to admit that there was a certain comfort in letting someone else make the decisions. Though he liked to consider himself as the rebellious type, he had never disobeyed the command of his parents to enforce his own will before. Sure, there were small occasions where he kept sleeping when they told him to wake up, or he'd spend hours playing on his PGD (portable game device) instead of doing his chores. But none of these occurrences had contained life-or-death consequences. All the confusion and split-second actions of his time in Desetto had put tension on his mind, wearing it down like chopped fruits turning into jelly. So it was nice to have someone to rely on while waiting for his senses to return to their full functionality.

Though the sun of Desetto was currently hidden behind clouds of night, Narson still felt the odious heat rather strongly. As he and Saka left the shadows, the bright true harshness of the desert temperature met Narson's skin, and he put a tremulous hand up to his head to wipe away beads of sweat. Thankfully Saka was able to keep them aright, and they were able to avoid losing their balance on the worn cobblestone. Idly, Narson wondered how the other man could bear this temperature. Sure, he had a mask which might provide some metal insulation, but the skin-tight black clothing must attract a ton of sweat. After all, Narson was just wearing baggy sweatpants and a white hoodie, and to paraphrase his father, still felt "as hot as hell's back kitchen."

While the faintness of his present state felt like a curse to Narson, it helped to alleviate the silence between the two, as the boy was much more concerned with being able to see than any awkward tension which may have been between him and Saka. The minutes seemed to blend together until he scarcely realized how much time had passed, and he only slightly noticed when Saka rested him on a chair inside a restaurant.

After a few blinks, his vision adjusted to the light within the establishment. There were red and white hues, which were brash colors yet still somewhat homey. And though the A/C wasn't the best quality, it still provided some relief from the stridulous atmosphere outside. Narson let out a wearied smile, then closed his eyes and bathed in the comfortableness provided here.

Saka soon returned, and slid a water bottle over to Narson. The redhead instantly opened his eyes and perked up, almost ripping the bottle cap in his excitement to finally have some hydration. Within thirty seconds the water was gone, and a new light shone forth on Narson's features. True, gulping all the water down at once wasn't the smartest plan, but it did wonders for his emotional and physical state. He still felt the sores and bruises on his body, but now he was able to divide his attention to Saka a little bit more. Narson quirked an eyebrow as he saw the man hesitant to fully take off his mask, and wondered if there were some deep scars or mysteries hidden within the upper part of his face. There could be a simple reason, like wishing to avoid possible enemies in Desetto, but Narson's overactive imagination dispelled such a logical explanation immediately. It was more fun to come up with absurd theories than commonplace justifications.

While Narson let his thoughts run away with him, Saka played a game on his phone, and their food promptly arrived after a few minutes. Saka didn't notice right away, and with a quick look of mischievousness Narson dived his fingers into the bag and removed a burger, scarfing it down just as voraciously as he'd finished his water. By now his energy had fully returned, and he was able to sit in a less slumped position as before. Looking for more items of consumption, he had just taken the salad container out of the bag before Saka looked up and noticed the bags. Shamefaced, he laughed a bit awkwardly and stood, taking out a fork so he could eat and walk. "I'm all ready to go...oh, and thank you for the food!" He was starting to blush a little, hoping this man wouldn't think he lacked all proper manners. Narson then followed Saka's lead out of the store, with stronger steps than he'd used to enter it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Narson's confidence dampened slightly upon entering the ship. While it certainly was not the biggest aircraft made in these times, for someone who had only traveled in minivans, it appeared to be quite the impressive vessel. With an airlock hatch, pilot's wheel and a variety of mechanical panels and buttons, the steel-laden walls before him were both imposing and wondrous. Narson was already thinking of dozens related to piloting such a craft, before he saw the other person on the ship, and was shocked into silence.

The presence of a woman onboard wasn't that surprising to him; he had already heard the female voice ordering Saka, and he had 'met' (watched and read about) several powerful female characters. However, there was something about the woman here that felt different. He was picking up on a distinct sensation, one he received when wandering too deep into NSFW websites, and felt his face begin to turn red. Thankfully, he was spared from bursting into a rather stupid remark by the ship's intercom, which released a lengthy message about their incoming destination.

"Wow, all the way to Ghorra..." Narson breathed in a tone barely above a whisper. He couldn't believe he was going to another big city. He had gone there only once before, when it was Lydia's tenth birthday and his parents had taken the family out to the beach. However, that had been thirteen years ago, and his only memory of the place was being bitten by stingrays and having his pocket change stolen. Hopefully his impression of the place would improve with a second visit.

He returned his concentration to the conversation between Saka and the woman, having the bad luck to hear her comment about the salads in Desetto commonly having cockroaches. His stomach turned a bit, and he let out another nervous laugh. It was Murphy's law that the one time he'd eaten vegetables without complaint, they would also have accurate health concerns. Well, it wouldn't help to think over the matter too much.

The last few minutes before he fell asleep were a bit of a blur. The woman asked to borrow someone's thumb for a nail-painting experiment, and both him and Saka swiftly declined. Narson wanted to ask Saka about his reasons for using the mask, about piloting the ship, and the details regarding their artifacts, but the man walked over to the pilot's seat before Narson could get the words out. The natural solution would be to follow him and commence conversing there, but Narson decided to rest up instead. Stretching out on his seat, Narson hardly felt the coarseness of the stiff cushioning and the occasional swaying of the ship. When compared to sleeping on the streets in a back alley, the seat's roughness felt like a feather-down mattress.

For once Narson had a dreamless sleep, and was able to rest soundlessly until the chiming notice of the commander awoke him. Sitting up, he ruffled his unruly mop of hair and yawned, feeling almost entirely rejuvenated. Though the bandages around his injuries were nothing but Ted's crass rags, they had somehow worked as proper insulation to his wounds and avoided infection. Taking off his hoodie, Narson began to unwrap some of them, thinking that openly healing would be better at this point then letting dirty scraps continue to close his sores.

Narson looked up as the woman approached him with a greeting, a smile clear upon her face. "I'm Selene Ola, it's nice to meet you sweetheart."

He was momentarily cut off from responding by Saka, who handed him an earpiece. Fumbling slightly with the device, Narson somehow managed to get it on and turned to Selene with a returned grin. "Nice to meet you too!" he said cheerfully, revealing just how effective his rest had been. His spirits had definitively returned, and fortunately all the social weirdness he'd felt the evening before had vanished. "I'm Narson Crowley."

Narson recognized that it was probably odd to cut off his response so shortly, but he wasn't certain what else to add to his introduction. Through his strong yet somewhat tenorous voice, and the way he seemed both overly informal and reserved, it was probably evident he was from the Grasslands, and Selene seemed to have very perceptive senses. Maybe Narson was imagining things again, but he thought there was a peculiar glint in her eyes filled with confidence towards him and Saka. Surely she noticed some certain feature that was impervious to the two of them.

As they softly landed into the ship's docking bay, Narson realized that Saka giving them the receivers was probably a cue that they should be leaving soon. Running back to his chair, he threw on his hoodie, checked that the earring was still in his pocket, and then snatched the hoverboard he had taken from the thugs earlier. Though it had only been about thirty hours since the incident, his fight with the three gang members and use of the earring's power seemed so long ago. The events were as far away as the wisps of a dream, swirling around the subconscious in forms just out of mental capacity.

Walking back to Selene and Saka, Narson drew a hand in front of his face as the door to the loading bay opened, revealing a wide swath of light. He ran a hand erratically through his hair, hoping he didn't look too scruffy since the populace here were so well-to-do. He wished he had thought to take a shower or at least wash his face, as the dirt and smog of Desetto was still visible on his clothes and face. While he was grateful for Ted giving him some clothes, Narson had a feeling no amount of washing would remove the residual scent of drugs wading off them.

The intercom in his ear buzzed, as the commander gave a tip about the artifact to all three of them. Narson hoped that meant the commander expected the three of them to go together, as he had no intention of traveling through another big city alone. The chances of him getting lost were rather high, and if more shady people tried to approach him, at least there would be safety in numbers.

Thankfully it seemed like Selene and Saka expected the same thing, as the two began heading off in the same direction simultaneously. Narson decided to follow silently for now, though he hoped they would have some opportunity to appreciate the oceanfront while here and not just focus on business. His skepticism towards Ghorra was melting away, as he saw the bright blue sky, crystal clear water, and elegant white buildings around them. The cloudy sky and beautiful landscape mirrored each other in both hues of color and openness, seemingly inviting all around to revel in their magnificence.

His reverie was broken by the distant image of a girl throwing water onto passerby below her, and Narson's eyes widened at the sight. It was of course unusual to see someone controlling water with their hands, but it was the usage of these powers which really startled him. It reminded him of something his sister Lydia would do, and he instinctively started walking towards the far-off figure, interested in who the devious girl could be. He looked back at Saka and Selene, curious about what they thought. It looked like Saka had already noticed and was currently conversing with the captain via earpiece. When he finished, he simply began to walk in the direction of the water fountain, and with a quick shrug to Selene Narson followed him.

Narson had more time to reflect on the beauty within the architecture around them as they walked. The buildings had all been constructed with symmetrical shapes in mind, with triangular roofs, diamond-shaped windows, and gracefully sloping curves and columns as well. There were small patches of grass which were also formed in various shapes and sizes, some even organized in patterns like flowers and moons. The white brick floors of the city were sparkling clean, and all the alleys were edged between bunches of flowers and ornate wire decorations, so they seemed both stately and welcoming. However, the centerpiece was the grand town square's fountain, which the girl stood on top of.

Saka began to walk up in a serious manner, one hand on his hip. Sadly his imperious demeanor was quickly spoiled, as he was only able to get two words out before being splashed in the face. Narson covered his mouth to hide his grin, finding the girl's antics amusing.

“Will you do the honors? I could use a lift.” Saka said, turning to Narson with a smile whilst also pointing to the rooftop where the girl was running. Narson hastily nodded his head, clutching the earring with one hand before turning to Saka. With his free hand, he opened his palm, allowing Saka to step on it. Once he did, Narson pushed it up with enough speed for Saka to easily reach the roof, the artifact's strength alleviating any possible pressure from Saka's weight.

After helping Saka up, Narson put down his hoverboard and turned it over, looking for the power switch and then turning it on. Stepping aboard, he held out a hand to Selene with a playful grin. "Ready to go? I'm still not sure how this artifact-thingy works, or how to fly a hoverboard, but we can't let Saka have all the fun!" Waiting for her to board the hovering device, he hurriedly sped off as soon as she joined him, using the adrenaline of his hoverboard to speed up the wall and push up to the ledge where the girl ran.