Conundrum

Chapter 14

      Lance didn't bother taking a discreet route, rather opting for the most direct, and consequently the one that attracted the most attention. Short gasps and the shutters of cellular cameras followed him as he pushed past a sea of warm coats and heavy sweaters, but he hardly paid them any mind. If he lingered at all, he'd have the police to deal with as well and he didn't have any time to do so.

      The address rattled against this skull once more and echoed in his brain, reminding him over and over again of his horrible failure to protect. His jaw pulsed with how much pressure he was holding his mouth closed. Why was it always the good that had to suffer? The young man didn't have to do anything that night. He could have just kept to himself and walk away, but he chose to intervene and save him from those men that night.

      That young man was a diamond surrounded by the blackest of obsidian and now that obsidian was now threatening to take over. It was Lance's job now, to help fight the darkness off. The address may have been a reminder of his failure, but it was also a signal of hope.

A signal of hope that he wished would not be crushed by the damning fist of reality.

      He took many different turns and side streets, all of which were a messy blur, until the population grew thinner and the city became dirtier. Upturned trash bins lay across broken and unkept asphalt; the garbage occasionally skittered along with the wind that blew through the narrow walls.

      Gravel crunched under his booted feet as he walked further and further into the pocket, him shivering with the newfound cold that resided there. No streetlights or lamps stood anywhere, giving the alley a deeper sense of foreboding he could feel in his bones.

      Minutes before leaving his home, he had decided, with the advice of Pidge of course, to investigate the first match they'd found. They both decided on it for different reasons than the other, but Lance didn't really think about that too much. All he needed was a lead.

      Lance rubbed his gloved hands against his bare arms. Goose bumps had scattered across every inch of his exposed skin. Then he froze, his hands clutching tightly to his arms and his feet firmly planted to the ground.

He blinked once. Twice.

The wind moaned.

      Something he couldn't describe with words filled his body to the brim and he began to shake as he took in everything that he saw.

      Undisturbed and frighteningly peaceful, the alley rested in all its disgraceful elegance, presenting a piece of spray-painted graffiti that matched the art he'd seen in the video. Only the colors were a brighter shade against the stupidly happy sunlight.

      He took a timid step forward at the sight of what he knew was the rusty and blotched color of old blood scattered around the short spit of rocky land. "Pidge?" his voice shook as he spoke into his tiny hidden microphone.

Her voice was devoid of emotion. "I see it, Lance."

      He let his hands fall from his arms and he clenched them into fists. Steeling himself, he walked over to the largest cluster of dropped blood. Kneeling to look at it, he let go a large, shaky breath. He pressed his finger into the gravel and shifted the little rocks.

      Lance picked up the one with the most blood on it and tucked it away in a little bag. If the current lead turned out to be nothing, Lance hoped to all the gods that the blood could at least find out who he was.

      Closing his eyes, he stayed crouched. Another gust of wind whistled through the alley and bit at his cheeks. It was cold, even in his specially made material that was made for weather like this. If the young man were still in the same clothes, or some similar to it, Lance couldn't imagine how he would be feeling.