ACHIM
By venturing through the woods and vaulting across rooftops, Achim made it to the heart for which the realm was named: The Shining City of York. The buildings here stood so tall they touched the clouds, their surfaces so mirror smooth that the reflections in them glowed. As the dark boy scaled the glass spires, he recalled the few times he had been so high. Only sheer cliffs offered such staggering verticality, but rock faces did not glimmer in the sun like the city by the eastern sea.
For the wild-wandering youth, the sudden flash of reflective light often blinded him at the worst of times. He staggered amid those suffocating heights and slipped from one well-polished surface to the next. When Achim just barely stuck the landing of an easy 40 foot vault, he spat over the edge. He looked down as the spittle disappeared into the deep drop, then he looked out.
There were so many tall towers, each no doubt filled to the brim with ten times the population of the average village. It was cramped, suffocating, and completely overwhelming. Achim never thought himself to be claustrophobic, but for the wayward wanderer to be in the midst of such clutter and to be tasked with searching through it? Achim sighed. "Maybe having help wasn't such a bad idea after all," Achim thought aloud.
He thought of that girl. Why had she been so incessant? Achim gleaned his own reasons but none were particularly flattering. On one hand he considered her some bored bimbo, too rich to realize the reality of what she was asking and far too wealthy to care. Achim also considered that she might be some fledgling pervert.
Odd preferences towards certain physical proclivities were not uncommon in The Wilds, at least not in the dangerous circles Achim often walked. The Sire came to mind; he and his harem of girls far too young to be there of their own accord. Fetishes aside, Achim saw nothing in himself that the girl might have liked. The only exception might have been his eyes. In fact, it was always the eyes.
Either way, no matter what reasons the girl had, Achim presumed them all short-sighted and faulty. They had to be. The moon-eyed boy simply could not create a rationale within his own mind that said otherwise. When he thought of her, he thought of a fool, and what hope could a fool offer him?
Achim did not need help. He only needed his roughened hands, his hardened feet, and that desperate drive that pushed them beyond their limits. It did not matter how daunting the task before him. The labor of looking for one he himself had lost was not meant to be easy, and it wasn't.
In truth, Achim looked upon the clustering spires with tired eyes. His will was devoid of hope, but the difficulty of his search hardly mattered now. Only the toil was truly important, and Achim needed no one for that. Certainly not Naomi Saint Caitlyn.
After a moment of thought, Achim settled on how he would search for his brother. He soon slid down the concrete-canopy and spun toward the pedestrian stream below. As he moved, Achim was a blur in motion. A flash of darkness in a city that basked under the summer shine. Not even those who spotted him could claim they did so without questioning their senses. Skidding along the walls, the boy leaped between alley ways until he found a perfect vantage. From there he spied from his shadowy nook and watched the people of the inner city in order to learn their norms. He repeated this process every so often, vaulting, skulking, and watching until his assessments had been satisfied. Hours were dedicated to his covert vigilance, but, by the end, Achim found himself groaning. The people of this realm were not to his liking.
The pedestrian seas in which he peered were full of self-important faces and self-indulgent sauntering. Moreover, his dark skin, dark hair, and dingy attire would have quickly rendered him a blemish, for a large portion of the inner cities denizens bore a complexion far fairer than his. It was not an utterly damning observation, at least not in isolation. The Wilds were full of enclaves that remained closely-knit under the pretense of many factors; skin tone included. That said, the presence of the wall to which this city seemed to rely told tales of an unwelcoming population. Alas, he was not the only one with his dark features.
Amid the sea of fair skin were a few who shared Achim's complexion. It gave him hope that he blend, but he quickly encountered a problem. As he observed the citizens like him, Achim found that they had a disposition beyond what he could imitate.
Across the city he watched those sharing his likeness complete thankless tasks. Their work required constant strain and said strain exhausted not only their bodies but their wills. As a result, these men and women dropped their heads on instinct and listlessly waded in a mass of people that had been designated their betters. The resignation burned upon their hearts was revealed in their faces, and a simple change of clothes could not hide that collective dejection that Achim lacked. He understood though, in his own way and for his own reasons, but Achim knew he could never truly blend. Of course, this one problem of several.
There were other factors that kept Achim cautious, but none were as pressing, or as oppressive, as the gray-clad guard. They were clearly a policing force within the wall, but beyond The Divide, Achim observed a cruel, military force in those that wore their uniforms. The influence of this gray guard extended no further than the realm itself, the ruins include, but boy were they intrusive. As he wondered what they might have known, Achim cursed as he thought of The Sire. "I shouldn't have just killed all of them." Not just the Sire and his assistant, but everyone who bore witness.
Whoever the gray guard were, they had enough resources to occupy both sides of a wide, densely populated territory. Achim carefully presumed that it might impossible to avoid them. So what did he do when faced with an unavoidable problem? He hung back, and observed.
The gray guard occupied both sides of The Divide, but Achim quickly noticed that they were not created equal. Those patrolling this side of the realm were different. Where Achim could describe the sloppy forces in The Alleys as nothing more than ruffians to be avoided, those who wore the same uniform within the wall were professionals.
Their pressed appearance was the result of countless hours preening over their uniforms. Their black boots often glowed and their belt arrangement of pistols and gadgets were identical across the collective. The men and women who donned the gray did not just look better then their rim-dwelling counterparts, they acted with a poise that spoke more of their skill than any amount of boasting the slum patrols did. The Alleys may have been given a dusty band of state-sanctioned brigands, but no expense was spared in the inner city. The guards here were sharp, and, to make matters worse, they were looking for something.
Achim gathered all of this information as he pilfered the sprawling metropolis of what he needed. Thanks to his abilities, he easily acquired a number of thing on the sly. The constant surplus made it a simple task. Machines were used in order to prevent theft, but not even their artificial senses could not capture the boy when he did not want to be seen. He would enter a store in stealth, peruse at an inconspicuous pace, then vanish alongside what he had taken with him. The machines were quick enough to catch the stolen goods as they rushed through the checkpoint, but Achim was gone long before anyone knew what happened.
Store clerks assumed that their machinery simply malfunctioned, but Achim took extra precaution by limiting his roguish acts. Three times would be his final count. Three thefts that activated three sounding alarms in three distance locations. It would not have been impossible to detect the imprints of a pattern, the likelihood was too low for Achim to seriously compare. He was one kid, one ghost, amid a vast sea of bodies, yet, as he counted his spoils, Achim noted the scouring eyes of the guards in gray.
Achim groaned. The dark boy then retreated into the alley depths, where he lent himself time to think. With a hand on his chin, he began to pace those dirty narrow channels.
"Alright Achim, what do you have?" The boy leaned against the wall with a list in mind. "A large region, two zones within that region, and an organized group of soldiers who might be looking for me."
Achim mulled over these factors with a pensive expression. None were encouraging, but he had to think of something. "How am I supposed to find Adlai in this huge place if I'm forced to watch my back?"
A voice emerged from the urban commotion and it was close. "Watch your back? Now why would you need to do that, kid?"
Achim looked up, alerted by an approach he failed to detect, and found not one gray guard, but two. They had been stalking the darkest parts of the alleys with a pointed look aimed squarely at him. The dark boy pinched a glare and groaned before dragging his hands across his face.
"Sorry guys. Just talking to myself," said Achim. That was the only response he could come up with in the moment. That, and the idea to hide his eyes by turning his head.
"Really? This is a strange place to be huddled up, kid. Not to mention that there have been recent reports of an undocumented outsider nearby . Some one suspected to be from beyond the wall. You know that big wall meant to protect us?" Said the gray guard.
"Hard to miss," Achim responded.
"I could imagine," the guardsman snickered. "Kid, it's dangerous to be here by yourself. Come with us and we can escort you to safety. Once you're in the clear, we'll come back to the alleys and look for the bad guy everyone's worried about." The man approached Achim and extended a hand. "My name is Warden Agent Rolland. Nice to meet you, kid."
Achim examined the hand with only a glance before stepping backward to maintain distance. Sweat was dripping from his brow, his gaze glancing for easy escapes. How the hell was I not able to hear them? Achim could only wonder. His heart was too startled for his brain to think. "Uhh...My mom told me not to talk to strangers," said Achim.
What sort of stupid excuse is that, Achim thought to himself. The boy had been so flustered by the guard, he completely forgot that no easy escape was needed for him. All the while, the guardsman continued to close the distance between them.
The second agent on scene did the same from a distance, her eyes fixated on Achim as she crept along the alley edge until both paths were blocked. She also seemed to be whispering something beneath her breath. Did she have some sort of hidden communicator, Achim thought. Calm down. Focus. Achim honed his ears and caught the whispers of his exact description and a name: The SlumTown Slayer.
"Well shit," Achim said with a sigh.
"Bingo ," said Agent Rolland.
The man flipped a switch and charged forward to apprehend Achim, but, before the boy even had a chance to respond, two pops of pistol fire rang deep inside his ear. The whiz of bullets instantly followed and a crashing sound burst from the concrete at the tip of Achim's feet.
"The next one goes through your torso," said the female warden agent.
"Damnit," Achim growled.
His attention was divided. One agent was armed. The other was charging. Which needed to be dealt with first? As he deliberated the two, Achim had a third option thrust upon him when the advancing agent ripped off his gray blouse and threw it over Achim's head. To blind and subdue; that was the tactic as far as Achim could read. Focus. Focus focus focus. The word was recited in Achim's mind over and over again. And then, MOVE.
The dark boy reclaimed his senses and saw through the tactic the instant it was implemented. He saw the jacket fly in slow motion, caught it, and cast it aside. The ruse failed, or had it? Just as the first obstacle was cleared, the advancing warden agent sent his fist flying toward Achim the moment he came back into the boy's immediate view. He had him. No. It was but a graze, one that left Achim and both guards dissatisfied.
Not even the mercenaries from the Sire's Estate managed to touch Achim with their bare hands, and there were so many more of them. These two were different though. They were dangerous, and they kept attacking. How many more of them were already on their way? The thought was a concerning one, even for Achim.
As the male agent unleashed a flurry of attacks, the flustered boy struggled to parry his bullet-like punches. The man staggered after a single misstep but reapplied the momentum of his fall into a twirling back kick. The boy dodged, but the agent spun into another assault. His foot went flying and Achim's chest was its final destination. He was hit and the force sent the boy skidding backward, but he did not feel the pain. It was then, after absorbing a direct blow, that the dark boy remembered himself and smiled.
"Is that it," Achim snarled.
"Sooty has thick skin. Good thing that was just a warm up," said the winded agent. He then pulled a dagger from his boot and twirled the blade before affirming his grip and leaping into the next fray.
His attacks were effective, masterful even. Of that, there was no doubt, but Achim had gained the confidence he needed and was gaining more as he weaved between each blade strike like water. Every punch was avoided, every kick deflected, every slice dodged. The agent's efforts were wasted, and he was slowing by the second. Achim could feel it.
"Break off," shout the female agent.
Achim looked at the woman.
"Signals not for you, kid!"
The outburst hooked Achim, effectively stealing back the attention the female agent had previously seized. Achim saw the man wind up for a knife strike, a strike he was pressured to parry. Alas, it was a feint to ruin Achim's rhythm. The close-combat agent side chopped the in the neck, before pulling back. Bang went the pistol. It was a single shot to the kneecap, and Achim felt his femur ring when the bullet blasted the bone atop the joint. He fell to the ground, pained and choking.
"Ha! Nice shot, Dimes," said Warden Agent Rolland.
"Thanks, Rolland," said Warden Agent Dimes. " You okay?"
"I think I sprained my hand chopping the little twerp, but it's nothing dinner after work won't fix," the agent responded.
"...You guys are good," Achim said in a hoarse tone. "But don't pat yourselves on the back just yet." He pulled his hand away from his injured knee only to reveal that his pants was all that had been punctured.
"He was shot in the knee but isn't bleeding," said Warden Agent Rolland.
"Focus, Rolland," the woman commanded. She then adjusted her aim, placing Achim's head in her line of sight. "Listen kid. We know you're from outside The Divide, and we know what you did," the woman shouted. "Come quietly! Or you'll have all of Warden breathing down your neck until you're captured, chased out of the realm, or dead. You decide."
"All this over stealing some food and clothes? Give me a break," Achim snarked.
"Play dumb all you want, kid," said Agent Rolland. "Your clock's ticking. We hold you here long enough and there won't be anywhere for you to"--
"Agent Rolland," His partner shouted.
The man gave her a look, but her face alone said that he had spoken far too much. The outburst was all that was needed for Achim to guess "Reinforcements, huh?"
"The two of us are all we need," said the female agent. "Now surrender or I'm going to fill you with holes. Do you really want that? Would your family want that?"
Achim laughed. "Funny that you ask that, lady. Because I just think they might."
Achim may not have intended them to do so, but his words scrambled the agent's clear and clever minds. They did not fathom what he had said. They couldn't, but their hearts hesitated as they made the attempt. In the time it took for them to question what Achim l said, and wonder what tortured travels had brought him to their realm, the dark boy weaved between them.
Warden Agent Dimes pulled the trigger only after Achim was out of sight, and the bullets ripped through nothing but dust and alley debris. She adjusted her sights and searched frantically for the moon-eyed menace, but he was gone.
"He's gone. He's gone! Agent Rolland, we need to hurry and get eyes on him or"--
"Agent Rolland might have some trouble with that," said Achim.
The warden agent crumbled to the floor, limp from a swift blow to the chin that neither agent had seen. As the man fell, Achim caught the agent by his hair just before his face hit the pavement. Achim smiled with his eyes before dangling the unconscious man before his pistol-toting partner.
"You know, lady. I was seriously considering just talking to you people, but this little city you call home has left a really bad taste in my mouth." Achim patted his kneecap as the pain began to subside. The boy then flexed his palm and reached for the agent in his clutches. It seemed a benign act, but his partner saw death dripping from the dark boy's fingers. "I'm over this," said Achim.
"Wait," the agent pleaded. "D-D-don't hurt him! Please!" She holstered her weapon and raised her hands high. "You beat us. Just tell me what you want."
"Oh, so now you wanna talk?"Achim spat a loogie to the side and stared the woman down before raising his chin so high that his condescension was clear. "Whatever. You're just biding your time for the rest of your goons to get here, right?" The dark boy flexed the muscles in his hand and a sliver of static danced between his fingers. "If you really want to talk though, fine," said Achim.
"Thank you. Thank you so"--
"Drop all your weapons and cut on your radio so everyone can hear me." Said Achim. She looked at him in shock, but the dark boy drug out her fear by hovering his death hand over her partner. "Do it or I'll kill him."
"I will," said the woman. She tossed her gun and pulled out the communicator conspicuously hidden beneath her collar. The warden agent then clicked and locked the speaker into place, allowing full audio feedback. The line was open. "It's ready," said Warden Agent Dimes. "Should I inform the"--
"Toss it here," Achim commanded. The woman knelt and slid the radio over as it buzzed with the sound of concerned allies who pleaded for her exact location. Alas, the people on the other end would not get the reassurance they sought.
Achim picked up the communicator and held it close to his lips. "Whoever can hear me, listen up. I have two of the gray guys you sent after me. They're my hostages. My hand is literally on Agent Rolland's throat so don't try anything funny." Achim placed his hand on the nape of the man's neck and squeezed. "I have a list of demands. All you need to do is listen until I ask for an answer. First: Stop all reinforcements from converging onto my location. If see a gray coat, I'll rip out this guy's spine."
"Please! No," said Warden Agent Dimes. "Y-You have my word. Our word! We won't"--
"The demand is not for you to answer, lady. It's for the people on the other end of the radio." Achim pushed the man's head into the ground until his face began to grind against the pavement. "Either they answer real fast or I paint the concrete with this guy's face."
"A-all warden agent's, please cancel my request for reinforcements," the agent pleaded. "B-block off the alleyway! Ensure that no one stumbles upon us by chance! Please!"
Achim held the radio out so that the request was cleanly captured. He then thanked the crying agent before speaking to the communicator again. "What do you say, radio people?"
The radio in hand, once loud with the chatter of an unseen legion, had now gone so completely silent that Achim wondered if it still worked. He shook the radio a moment before he scoffed.
"...You have ten ten seconds to answer," Achim said. "10...9...8..."
The dark boy pressed against the back of Agent Rolland's head and flattened his hand against it as if he were a cook cracking an egg. Achim could feel the sturdy bone structure bevel beneath his strength. It then began to give, cheekbones popping and teeth cracking as a result of the increasing pressure. It started with a soft snap one could barely imagine, until the collapsing thunks cascaded as l solid bone was slowly reduced to flesh jelly.
The helpless agent screamed as the sounds of cracked skull ravaged her ears, and Achim held the radio close to the torture so that all of Warden heard the sounds of a slow death. Still the boy counted.
"3...2..."
"Enough of that!" A voice had finally burst from the radio. "I am hear to listen."
Achim lifted his hand upon hearing the demand, and lifted Agent Rolland's head by the hair to see the results of the sluggish response. The dark boy whistled at the bloody sight. From skin grafted by uneven pavement, to an erect nose irrevocably bent backward, the man was left disfigured.
"You sure did take your time," the dark boy scoffed. "Agent Rolland has a bit of a nosebleed, but he should be fine." He then dropped the man's head and let it hit the hard ground. "So about those reinforcements. Are they still on their way, because I'd hate to follow through and be forced to wash my hands of blood for a second time in a week."
A voice emerged over the radio channel. It was the same one that demanded Achim to stop. "...This is the Warden General Speaking. I am in charge of all of Warden's forces within York's borders. You requested that we halt all reinforcements, correct?"
"I did," said Achim. "Your soldier here asked too."
"Well I am afraid I cannot do that," said the voice. "And before you ask why, I want to inform you that it is standard procedure for each and every agent to back one another in a time of crisis. While some may be stopped by your performance, others are, without a doubt, hot on your heels as we speak. It is a simple matter of personal principle. Even me issuing a 'cease and desist' will not stop those with the will to apprehend you. Especially not after such a malignant threat. They will do as they please. They have been trained and trusted to do so."
Achim's brow pinched. "Sounds like you're making excuses."
"On the contrary. It is merely a statement of facts. Unless, of course, you do not truly wish to be informed of the circumstances in which you have found yourself," said The Warden General.
Their voice was methodical and matter-of-fact. Achim could have conjured any number of reasons to distrust the figure at the end of the line, and yet the way they spoke simply seemed honest. "We may negotiate other things, if you wish," said the general.
Achim groaned. The truth was that had hoped to halt all backup because he had realized that he might not be able to fend off more than two of these inner city agents at a time. Even if he had regained his confidence, caution was key. He needed a deterrent.
"If you can't stop them, then I'll kill whoever shows up," the dark boy responded.
"You may make the attempt," said The Warden General. "But you will find my agents to be a tenacious group of men and women. Those in the inner city, more so than most."
Achim sighed. He was gaining no ground. "And the pedestrians that will get caught up in the crossfire?" Said Achim. "What will you do when your goons get here and the fight spills into the streets?"
"Is that a threat?"
"More of a strong possibility," Achim replied.
"I see. My 'goons' will do their best to prevent civilian casualties, though it is understood that some deaths are unavoidable in the pursuit of security," the radio voice replied. "Now is there nothing else, or have you exhausted your terms?"
Achim was being toyed with. The last question confirmed it. With a swarm of agents surely converging, Achim thought to cut his losses. He had learned enough about the civilians and the guards who surveyed them, but perhaps not all avenues were lost.
"Just one thing," said Achim. "I'm looking for my brother. He's older than me, sort of looks like me, and is named Adlai Arbitor. I assume you already know what I look like so..."
"Perhaps," said The Warden General.
"I'll take that as a yes. In any case, I'm only here to look for him. Don't bother me unless it's about that. Do that and no one has to die. Understood?"
"...Your message has been received," said The Warden General. "Is there anything else? You seem to be in far more of a hurry than you were before. Is everything okay, or are things simply not going the way you thought they would?"
"Everything's fine, thanks for asking," Achim snarked. He showed his captives a smile, but his brow began to drip with a nervous sweat. "Spread the word, Warden General. I'm sure you guys can use the same methods you used to find me in order to find my brother too. Happy hunting."
The radio sounded with a response, but Achim tossed the device into the wall with such force that it splattered against the surface. He then let go of his hostage, dusted himself clean, and quickly looked for any emergent forces at every roof and corner. No one yet, but Achim heard the scrambles of citizens in the distance.
The city was so layered with sounds that no amount of ear honing allowed him to detect any agents that might have been advancing upon his immediate location. No wonder they were able to sneak up on me so well, Achim thought. He was more of a sitting duck here than he had ever been, and he needed to leave.
"Wait," said Warden Agent Dimes.
She shouted after Achim as he walked away, and rose to step toward her target. Her fear of the brutal boy still loomed. Achim could see it in her trembling fingers, but the agent bit her own tongue to push herself along. Achim stopped, a little annoyed and a little impressed. As he might have guessed, this was the corralling result of The Warden General's steadfast tone.
"We cannot just let you roam free," said Warden Agent Dimes. "Not after your string of murders on the other side of The Divide."
"Give it a rest, lady. I'm not in the mood right now,"said Achim.
"No! I 've seen what you can do. I-I've seen how callous you are." The woman ripped a hidden blade from her sleeve and brandished a badge with a six-pointed star. "When anyone comes from beyond the wall, especially threats like you, it is our duty as Warden of the Realm to stop you!"
Achim watched the woman from over his shoulder with a narrowing menace. His consideration had been spent and he had even less time to waste, so he beckoned the woman forward with a hand oozing static power.
"Then why are you still standing there," hissed Achim." Come at me or get lost."
"Very well then," said the woman. She then said a small prayer. "For my city. For my family. For my"--
Her head was in Achim's hand before her final word left her lips. In its place was a fountain of red and bloody rain. "You were taking too long," the dark boy said. Achim then tossed the head aside and looked upon his works with a glint of spite and gloom in his eye. "Either way, I bet that'll show your Warden General."
. . .
Thanks for reading yet another chapter. I am in the process of going through some of these chapters to add art as well author's notes at the end. For now, you get Achim in his travelling attire.