ADLAI
Adlai sitting alone an enjoying his dinner. Adlai feels the most at ease when he is by himself and often sneaks off to get that alone time. Not even the whispers seem to haunt him on nice, sunny days like the one depicted below.
As Adlai felt a surge of confidence in his chest, the people heading his way shrunk at his approach. Adlai first presumed it was he who caused them to cower, but he learned the truth when he followed the contemptuous gazes of the populace.
Coming into town from the same direction as Adlai were a troop of gray-clad guard. These men were all fair in feature and they carried a domineering intent.
Despite their uniformed attire, these men were nothing of the sort. Rifles dangled from hand and slung without care, and callous remarks were hurled at the populace on the pretense of well established power. They aimed their rifles at any bystander they saw fit and, when the people panicked before a false shot, the gray-clad guard let out a callous laughter.
"Another Warden patrol? That's the seventh in the last two days," said a passing citizen.
"Ugh," replied a second. " I wished they would just disappear. Who cares who they're looking for. The guy that killed those goons deserves a medal."
"Shh! Not so loud you two." a third responded. "Come on. Let's just hurry by."
Adlai heard the banter of the trio, and watched as everyone made way for the soldiers. The cacophony of day-to-day life soon became a whimper as the entire slums bent around the patrol. Only Adlai lingered in the center, for he did not recognize the gestures of those who urged him to get out of the soldier's way. When the Eldest Arbitor finally found his wits, it was too late. Warden were upon him.
"Coming through!" shouted a soldier.
He shoved Adlai aside and the young man fell onto the trail.
"Whoa there, kid," said the soldier. "I know I announced our squad with a little base in my voice, but there's no need to fall all over yourself." The soldier walked on, catching up to the rest of his squadron who laughed with shared satisfaction. "Who am I kidding," said the soldier. "These people love to bathe in the dirt."
"You probably just made his day," said another.
"What can I say? Serving the slum rats is all in a days work for a Warden soldier," he responded.
The two men looked at Adlai as he struggled upright when they both saw his lost limb.
"Oh wow, I didn't know that one was a cripple!"
Both soldiers began to laugh again .
"That's enough, you two!" The command came from the captain of the squad. As Adlai looked up, he saw that their superior was a thin and grizzled man with a pistol on his belt and a knife on his boot. The captain ordered the patrol to halt with a single wave of the hand. He then saw to the stragglers himself.
"For what reason are we here, gentlemen?" Said the captain
"Sir, to search for The Slum Town Slayer, sir!" yelled one soldier.
The captain seemed unsatisfied.
"...Umm...And his brother, sir! Both are believed to have originated from the slums!"
The captain looked between the two soldiers and shook his head. "...Good enough. For this side of The Divide, anyway."
Adlai heard everything. He then looked to the soldiers and saw their captain staring him down. Adlai saw no amusement in the leader's expression nor the eyes of compassion. He just looked at Adlai, as if studying him. Perhaps the old man acknowledged him in some way or maybe he was simply suspicious. The eldest Arbitor could not tell. The old captain left little to interpret.
"Get back in that poor excuse for a formation. No more distractions." Said the captain.
"Yes sir! Sorry sir!" shouted the duo.
Despite the reprimand, the amused young soldiers exchanged snickering grins. After all, what was there to feel bad about? The scold did not come from their treatment of Adlai, only in their brief dereliction of duty. Smiling at the victory, the soldier that shoved Adlai raised his dirty boot.
"Next time stay out of our way, you dirty sooty," said the soldier.
A kick followed the insult, but Adlai caught the boot. He then twisted the soldier's foot with such force that the pop of the joint was heard in every direction. A number of residents had been watching the commotion from afar, but none made their attention obvious. That changed when the soldier's cries rang throughout the block.
The patrolling Warden soldiers were frightened. Had the people they oppressed had enough? Surely this thought flashed in their minds as they pointed their rifles from bystander to bystander. The panicked citizens scattered until only Adlai, sitting beside their injured comrade, remained. Branded guilty as soon as he was seen, the soldiers pointed their guns with fidgeting fingers.
"Damn peasant! What did you do to him," shouted a soldier.
"Don't move or you're dead," screamed another.
A bullet spray landed at the tip of Adlai's toes. He scampered backward. People scrambled and screamed. Adlai was overwhelmed.
"Don't shoot! D-Don' shoot," Adlai pleaded.
"Kill him," said the injured soldier.
Eyes darted and rifle tips bounced between the bodies that flew by. Everyone would soon be fair game in the frenzy. Adlai could see it, and, worse still, some of the soldiers, with that malicious shine in their eye, wanted nothing more.
"I can't see...Screw this, let's just kill'em all," said a voice from the troop.
And with that, fire sprang from the barrel of his gun. A flurry of bullets splattered into the rocks on the ground, the plants in the garden, and the wood on the walls until blood was spilled. A woman was hit. Red bled into her clothes after the bullets grazed her arms and shoulder. It was only a graze though, for the soldier's deadly spray veered into the air. Death had been dodged because Adlai, without thought, saw fit to plant his fist into the gut of the gunman.
After the initial strike, Adlai used a second punch to launch the soldier off of his feet. The soldier fell high into the air before he plummeted into a heap of construction. City dwellers and slum walkers alike gawked at the feat. Rifles went limp. The injured soldier fell silent. All eyes traced back to Adlai, but he was surprised as well.
"...It's really him! It's The Slayer," said the injured soldier. "This is the guy! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"
All the rifles went up again, then a bang. The smoking gun was a signal, a signal that cast the rifles down. The captain, who fired his signaling pistol, whittled the hairs along his lip before shoeing the citizens away.
"Hurry up and go hide," he said to the people. "And you..." The captain pointed his gun to the injured soldier. "Crawl your ass out of the way if you don't want to get swept up."
Once the citizen and the injured soldier had cleared that wide dusty road, the captain fixed his eyes on Adlai.
"Just to be clear, young man. I figured you might have been the one that caused that nasty injury my soldier suffered. But since I didn't see it..." The man threw up his hands and shrugged.
"Your men were gonna shoot at everyone," Said Adlai. "I stopped them."
"I would have gotten everything under control. But, that was for me to do. Not you."
The captain holstered his gun, but formed his hand into a finger pistol. He set aim at Adlai, and his riflemen followed his lead with the rise of their weapons. The click of the safety signaled imminent danger, but the command to fire had been stayed.
"For the record, boy, I do not condone the behavior of these goons. Teasing and picking fights is not behavior becoming of the Warden name, this side of The Divide or otherwise. But you?" Said the captain. "You were way out of line. Even if you weren't the brother of The Slayer – and I had a hunch you were - assaulting one of the realm's finest is an offense punishable by jail time at the best of times." He cleared his throat and began to pace. "You see, the people around here know better. Sure. Things aren't always fair, but they know that whatever they have to deal with in the shadows of that wall there is far better than the fate they would find in The Wilds beyond the ruin. Think about that for a moment."
Adlai had been tranquilized by the captain's words. There were curiosities to be found in the information given to him, but those were other thoughts for another day.
"How do you know about my brother," said Adlai.
"How do I know him?" The captain scoffed. "The Slum Town Slayer has a bad habit of leaving bodies in his wake."
"...I see. I understand." Adlai said.
"Interesting that you do." Said the captain.
The old man pinched a thin cigarette out of his pocket. He then set the stick between his lips. A lighter was flung open, and the flame was set upon the smoke. He inhaled the fumes, before blowing out the bitter plume.
"First reported by an informant outside of The Divide, we were told of a boy who could rip through your entire body in less time than it took for you to blink," Said the captain. "It was said that he took out an entire band of mercenaries good enough to hack-it out there in The Wilds, simply because he didn't like the pay his employer offered. After dispatching his peers, he then killed a few of Warden's men for the fun of it. Both of those incidents were two days ago. Yesterday though, The Slayer entered the city just over the wall you see there, and proceeded to loot our stores and kill a decorated agent in cold blood."
"...I'm sorry," said Adlai.
"Are you now," the captain responded. "Look here, kid. Our group here protects the realm from outside threats and influences. Threats like your brother." Said the captain. "Now forgive me for assuming, but it would seem that you and him are of the same kind."
"Me and Achim are nothing alike," Adlai growled.
"Try not to take offense. I'm just stating what I observed," said the snickering captain. "...Rumor has it that monsters exist outside of our little bubble. I once called the legends crazy. The people who touted them as gospel were even crazier in my eyes, but seeing is believing."
With a gaze aimed at the unconscious soldier buried beneath the construction, the captain gave a slow nod.
"It is indeed."
"What do you want," said Adlai.
"To fight fire with fire," said the captain. "Truth be told, you don't seem to like your brother very much. Maybe he's wronged you, like he did my people. If so, we can help you bring him to justice. You do that and you'll be living the high life kid. An endless list of perks offered up on a silver platter by the rulers of the realm themselves. So, what say you?"
"No." Said Adlai. "I can't. I shouldn't."
The captain raised a brow. "Come again?"
"I'm sorry." Said Adlai. "I just can't do it."
"Why, Sure you can." Said the captain. "I can tell your feelings for your sibling run deep. Hell, I can surmise that you probably despise him completely. You want him to get his just desserts, don't you. To get back at him for doing whatever it is he did to make you feel this way?"
"...I-I would. I do,"said Adlai. "But still..."
The captain felt a shift in the air. He then looked to his men and his soldier readjusted the grip of their guns. They then took aim.
"But what," said the captain.
"I'm sorry, but it's you." Said Adlai. "Because you and your men are like him. Like Achim."
Adlai stepped forward and the balance of power flipped. The frightened soldiers cried for this captain's command, but the old man remained composed.
"We're too much alike eh? Shame," said the captain. "You could at least say thank you. I didn't have to hold this conversation, and I definitely do not have to give you an offer." The captain drew a circle with his finger and the Warden rifleman surrounded Adlai on staggered lines of sight. The mission was back in motion. Capture or kill, or, more accurately, just kill.
"Achim. That's what you called him right? Your brother's name?" Said the captain. "Well, what's yours kid? I'd like to have it for the records."
Adlai did not answer.
"...So, you're done talking then? Shameful indeed, but what should I have expected from a kid who just doesn't know how the world works," Said the captain.
Adlai exploded into a fighting stance. "You and your men are bullies." Said Adlai.
"Just like your brother?" Said the captain. He unholstered his pistol from his belt and slung a shimmering blade from the strap along his boot. As the old captain eased into an attack stance, he smiled. "Such a petty thing, these sibling rivalries. Last chance boy. Help us, or"—
"Shut up," said Adlai.
The captain smirked. "Someone has something to prove. Take him down, boys."
The first shots were fired, but these men could not shoot a moving target. Adlai danced between a blitzkrieg of bullets, and, as he avoided every pellet, he felt a hint of pride. Like his brother before him, Adlai Arbitor was a blur that struck his foes decisively. Blow after blow sent the soldiers crashing and as one, two, four men fell, victory seemed assured. Perhaps he could be just like Achim. Perhaps he could be more.
Adlai smiled but his momentum was immediately disrupted when the captain rushed into the fray. The eldest Arbitor found himself fumbling around the competent combatant, for the skinny man had a knack for weaving into Adlai's blind spots. Worse still, the old man was hitting him dozens and dozens of times.
Like a swarm of bees on a bear, these men were relentless in their assault. No quarter was given in the zone of battle. Bullets flew, blades flung, and Adlai was beginning to falter in the maelstrom. For every shot that imploded upon his skin, for every jab of the shattering dagger, Adlai lost confidence. The damage he sustained was near nonexistent, but it did not matter to him.
Adlai envisioned Achim and how smooth he proved to be in combat. How could he , the younger brother with no one to teach him, be so superior? Adlai was taught to fight. He toiled for hours, sometimes days, so why could he not move the way Achim moved? Eventually Adlai succumbed to the weight of his failings and he simply gave up. He refused to dodge even the most direct attacks and soon stood as a sponge for the soldier's assault. Of course, they too were in crisis.
"What the hell is this kid made of!?" So many fruitless stabs, so many discarded shells of bullets. "Why won't he bleed," the captain shouted. When his knife blade split against Adlai's hide, the captain slammed the hilt into the ground and screamed at his men.
"Keep shooting! Concentrate your fire and break that thick skin of his! Aim for the neck, the head, the heart! All of his vitals! Do it!"
They did as commanded until they could do so no longer. The rifles had been emptied of all ammo.
"Hurry up and reload!" shouted the captain.
"W-we only have one magazine," said a soldier. "W-we didn't think we'd need it for—"
"You didn't think you'd need them!?" The captain went red with fury. "YOU IDIOTS!"
The captain clawed at every pocket on his uniform until he retrieved four pistol magazines. He shoved the first into the feed of his firearm and stomped toward the sullen Adlai. The captain then pressed the blasting end of his pistol against Adlai's forehead and fired. Numerous bangs blasted into that air until only the clacks of an empty chamber were heard.
The captain looked, but, when he discovered that Adlai only suffered a bruise on his forehead, he hurried to reload. Again the captain shot Adlai at point blank range until his weapon was emptied, but Adlai's bruise only slightly deepened. It ultimately took four full magazines for the skin to finally break, but, when Adlai bled, no red was seen.
The liquid that slithered from that small wound was not red, but black. When the inky slime splattered on the ground it painted the pale sediment a disturbing hue of pitch. The captain lost himself. Horror rendered his weapon heavy, and it clacked against the road after its uselessness became undeniable.
"J-just what the hell are you," said the panicking captain.
"I'm a failure," Adlai whispered.
"What?" Said the captain
"I'm a failure," Adlai cried. "All this power given to me. All my training and for what?!" He wiped his eyes and smeared the black blood into his tears. "If I can't even beat you people, how can I beat my brother?"
"What?" The captain was frightfully confused.
"You were right," said Adlai.
He spoke, but not to the captain. Not to anyone. Only the whispering beast.
"I need your help. I will give more. M-more of myself, if it means fixing things. So please..." A prayer was made. A bargain. "Do with me as you will, and help me make the world right. Starting with them."
"What the hell are you saying, boy?" Said the captain. "...You want to accept my offer now?"
The skin beneath Adlai's cloak sizzled. A shroud of smoke then lifted from his form, and the eldest Arbitor rose with the scolding plumes.
"...My God," said the captain.
He and the surrounding denizens that lingered in the area felt an ominous coming. Everyone felt a sizzling chill, but only those gifted with the sense knew that the thing on the approach was truly insidious. The captain was one of these gifted individuals.
"I-if you kill us all now, boy, all of Warden's forces will come for you. They'll come and they won't rest until they've succeeded in hunting you down, just like your brother."
The captain fell backward in a cheap attempt to escape, but the fuming form before him allowed no such mercy. As the black blood boiled on Adlai's skin, less than a second was taken to seize the captain's neck, crush the flimsy structures, and cast him into the distance. Gravity did the rest. When the crash was heard, no one went without flinching. His subordinates only ran to him after a long processing period. Their captain was alive, but soundly defeated and severely injured. A collective relief swelled among their remaining ranks, but now was not the time for catharsis. That privilege was reserved for the Yorktown citizenry.
Pouring from their hidey-holes, slum walkers of all kinds felt their eyes bulging at the defeat of their oppressors. Adults cheered, elders clapped, and the children dove-tailed off their triumph. Cries went high as the thugs limped back to the outpost from which they spawned, but when the crowd turned to their savior he was already a figure against the morning horizon.
They did not care if Adlai did not revel with them, for the justice he introduced spoke for itself. Forgotten were the sinister sensations that weighed down the air. Discarded were the memories of Adlai being the source. None of them recalled the deathly prelude to this moment, so no one registered the reason for the hurried retreat.
Adlai was shaking, raging, thirsty for blood and starving for carnage. Such was the risk when he gave himself to the black blood. No longer could he tarry, not while his body boiled and his fingers itched for broken limbs and burned flesh. He would not subject the innocent to such torture. Not even the guilty deserved such medieval treatment. No. Such torments were reserved for one. In the throes of his vengeful mind, the whispers spoke the name of their target. Achim Arbitor.