The Symptoms

Place Your Bets

It had been a week and a half since our encounter with Ruth, and no matter how much Lucas and I discreetly asked around, nobody seemed to know where he was. He had left without a trace and not a penny to his name, so he took his chip out and transferred his money into cash. I had done the same thing a week prior today, along with Lucas, and he had been staying with me, sleeping on an extra comforter and pillow that I managed to find in the back closet of the Treasure Tavern. We had gotten him proper clothes that didn't betray that he wasn't actually from The Slums. Meanwhile, I guided him on how to act in front of the citizens. Needless to say, I wasn't doing any better. Nausea was almost constant, and my head hurt so bad that it was hard to get up most days. Thanks to the wrapping, my back and torso were healing up very well, and the wound was reduced to a faint scar. However, celebrating over that felt futile as I constantly spaced out, feeling like I was getting nothing done.

Then again, I didn't know what to do. How on earth were we supposed to find a cure for an incurable disease? We didn't even leave my apartment much, fearing being recognized by the people in the streets. I felt hopeless, faded, and weak. As I fumbled with the gears of my hovers, an eager voice disrupted me from my deep thoughts.

"Blair! You'll wanna hear this!" Lucas hollered as he tumbled through the door, his hair disheveled and his face sweaty from running. He peeled off his mask and huffed in exasperation.

"You won this year's marathon? Good for you-" I started sarcastically.

"Just shut up, read this, and listen!" he scolded, taking a slightly crumpled napkin out of his pocket and shoving it into my hands hurriedly. I looked at him in pure confusion. A napkin?

"This better be a written apology for breaking my hovers..." I grumbled unhappily. He scoffed and rolled his eyes, gesturing to me to open it. I gently unfolded the ring-stained napkin to reveal a series of notes that seemed to be in Lucas's handwriting. It looked like nonsense, talking about a secluded location in the outskirts and something about 'The Blood Savages.'

"Uhm, what the hell is this?" I asked bluntly. He sighed and started to explain.

"I was out looking for more information about Mr. Ruth but came across something else that seemed promising and might be hitting two birds with one stone. An infected man was being escorted out of a bar, and he kept screaming something about 'The Blood Savages.' He had on the same ring as Mr. Ruth. I assume they are the same organization that's been infiltrating the walls of Edoris."

"How so?" I asked, his enthusiasm peaking my interest.

"The ring had a depiction of a poppy on it, right? It's their little twisted trademark. It has to be. From what I heard from this guy screaming, they experiment on savages-" I interrupted him by holding my hand up.

"Hold up, you're saying they're experimenting on their own kind?"

He nodded. "And they seem to be on the verge of a breakthrough by breaking down what that man said. They're trying to break into Edoris for answers, but I can't be too sure..."

"That's great! I mean...not great. But it's great that you got this information. Thank you. Is there anything else?" I inquired. He scrunched his eyebrows together as if trying to remember something specific.

"He kept screaming about how the Blood Savages were the answer. I think he meant the cure by the way he was implying it. So if my common sense is working today...they have the cure to Phantom."

I sat silently momentarily, waiting for his words to fully soak through. I actually had a chance. A chance to live, a chance to survive. And if I found the cure by some miracle, the targets would be off both of our heads. We could quite literally save the world if we got this information.