A/N: This is more of a transition chapter that will act as the build-up for the next two episodes. This chapter in particular was meant to be longer but as I was writing it I decided to split it in half, the first half being consistent with Alex and her thoughts and impressions and the second part will have Erron taking the lead in the storytelling and in the perspective of the narrative.

After re-reading chapter 3, where I began to explore the concept of a sense of humanity that still persists deep within Erron, I took my time to finish reading Desperado, the marvelously written fic by Hell on Training Wheels (read her, the woman is a beast) - I was leaving a review for her and suddenly the same concept of humanity crossed my mind – there's a certain human condition even in those characters that are not humans. So in this chapter I decided to explore it in depth. Hope it doesn't turn out to be boring so… bear with me. Thank you all for reading and see you next chapter.

Arc I

Chapter IV

Icarus

"I have come to believe that the whole world is an enigma, a harmless enigma that is made terrible by our own mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth."

Umberto Eco ― Foucault's Pendulum

When she woke up it was midday, and the thick sensation in her mouth disgusted her – her lips were numb and her jaw felt rigid, perhaps too rigid. Alex rubbed her eyelids with her hands as she tried to focus her vision then yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Then she looked over her shoulder and noticed his absence: Black was gone.

She cursed under her breath, her consciousness fully awake by the solemn realization of her new-found solitude, then sat on the bed where she stayed motionless for a while. Her eyes traveled from her own hands, now resting helplessly on her lap, to the chair placed right next to the only window in the room where all his belongings should have been.

After a moment, she stood up and walked towards the doorstep when an unexpected sight made her stop in her tracks, her feet now anchored to the floor – a shiny, tiny glowing piece of metal was stuck in between two floorboards a few inches away from the bed. She walked back, kneeled down and took it: it was a silver coin, an unevenly shaped, brand new golden coin. She let it rest in the palm of her right hand, her skin sensing its obnoxious weight: it was Black's.

Money, she thought – it was the only way he knew how to get things done.

She sighed; the indignation caused in her by his poor exit had now been intrinsically mixed with the turmoil of feeling low and used. Then she noticed it, a second coin, barely visible, shinning sarcastically from under the blanket that was kissing the floor. She took it, too, and closed her palm creating a fist – a fist infused with a fierce she could not extinguish nor vent because the one causing all those feelings was nowhere to be found. She laughed, bitterly, still sensing the weight of the two coins nesting heavily inside her tight fist: the son of a bitch had left her all alone, and she hadn't even had the courage to tell him why she needed him so badly. She was infuriated; her mind was a razorblade corrupting her thoughts and clouding her judgment. Was that money some sort of a thank you, maybe? Or even worse, maybe those coins had just simply slipped from his pocket and they were no more than a reminder of what she was: something left behind, something forgotten, buried in the maze of yesteryears and oblivion.

And to think she had even allowed herself to think that perhaps he could have helped her.

And to think she had even allowed him to undress her with his eyes – with his sinful, wrathful eyes. To think she had even thought about submitting herself to the trial of his hands, to the verdict of his most ulterior hunger because if nothing ventured, nothing gained.

She closed her eyes as she breathed in and out, trying to calm herself down. There were noises coming from the outside, a crescendo of whispers and voices combined with the sound of countless feet moving, marching nonstop. She stood up, curious, and opened the window – a crowd was walking down the street, all of her neighbors were there, the only and most familiar faces she had in Outworld now that Harry was dead. She frowned, not really sure of what was happening. Then she placed the golden coins in her pocket, grabbed a large, black pashmina with which she covered her head and walked out of the house.

The moment she was out in the streets she immediately started to feel like she was being swept along by a tidal wave composed by a thousand faces. Alex quickly stretched the edges of her pashmina and managed to cover her shoulders with it, making her way through the crowd.

"Where are you going?" she asked an old lady that was marching by her side.

"To the palace. The Kahn has an announcement to make," the woman replied before getting lost in the immensity of bodies surrounding her.

Alex tried to turn around and get back home instinctively but it was too late – the crowd was acting like a thick, impenetrable wall that would force her to keep going no matter what. She lowered her head, trying to make her undeniably Earthrealmer appearance fit amongst the countless Outworlders walking around her. The rumors were spreading as those anonymous, restless voices continued their song:

He's back.

He's alive.

He survived all alone in the jungle, injured, starving, and now he's back.

He made it.

He's back.

She tried to focus on the indistinctive chatter but there were too many voices playing tricks inside her ears – the only thing she was certain of was that they all were talking about the same person: Black. He was making himself visible; the bastard – she thought – was showing the rebel-seekers that he was no prey. Suddenly a hand grabbed her by one of her shoulders and Alex turned around quickly, her hand a perfect fist.

"I guess we'll witness the return of the prodigal son…" an unfamiliar masculine face told her using the most charming English accent – another Earthrealmer who was visibly unhappy with the situation. He was tall and young and, like her, had chosen to cover most of his features under an old rag. "The Kahn must be happy now, all of his closest hooligans will be reunited, isn't it delightful?" he added.

"The only thing that matters, in the end, is that we're all piling up in the same shithole," Alex retorted softly, not wanting to be heard by the wrong audience. They went on marching side by side in silence for a few more moments. As they got closer to the palace they began to notice that the crowd was euphoric, they were loud and happy, and excited – Alex suddenly reflected in the same low tone she had used before: "The bastard cheated death, so what? He has been doing so since the 1800s." She looked around her - her gaze was sterile and empty as if she couldn't share nor understand the poetics being offered to her. It all seemed like a carnival of lost souls, a rare demonstration of power and submission that she was being forced to witness. Her fellow Earthrealmer was nowhere to be seen now, presumably lost in the crowd.

He's back.

He's alive.

All of a sudden the crowd stopped marching and a line of guards became visible from where she was standing – they were informing the citizens about the itinerary they were supposed to take from that point on now that the mass was about to enter the Emperor's courtyard. They were organized and armed in case a riot should arise. The people quieted; listened to the carefully chosen directions they were given and obeyed, creating a never-ending queue consisting of no more than five people in a row. They walked into the courtyard in silence, all eyes pointing to the Emperor's balcony. Alex looked over her shoulder, taking in the view. They were intrinsically human. No matter if they said Earthrealmers were inferior in comparison to them, they were the same thing - docile, pliable, malleable beings in the eternal quest of finding something better, something greater.

The monumental figure of the emperor emerged from the shadows of the balcony and walked towards the crowd. He seemed satisfied as he placed his hands on the railings; his voice was stern yet full of wisdom.

"Today our family is reunited," Kotal began as his personal guards, the selected group of picturesque individuals, placed themselves a few steps behind him. "Today we show all those remaining rebels that are still out there that we're stronger, and that we won't give up so easily." The emperor continued as he pointed his index finger to the sky, the gesture was a battle-cry, spurring his followers. They were chanting his name now, praising their emperor to the skies for the imminent good news they were about to hear. Alex was trying to make her way through the excited crowd, nudging people as she got closer. There he was, standing right behind the emperor, flanked by Ermac, Reptile, Ferra and Torr. "It is with pleasure, affection, and esteem that I welcome you back home," the Kahn concluded as he turned around to shake Black's hand. The crowd went wild now that the rumors had been made official – the mercenary had cheated death. He was back. He was alive.

Black waved his hand to the crowd, shyly but proudly – it was obvious, even to the most ignorant eyes, that he was the sort of man who had always tried to avoid the limelight because he didn't like the attention but that was a special occasion: he wasn't just embracing popularity; he was sending out a message. After a few seconds, the emperor and his personal guards retreated to the inside of the palace and the crowd began to disassemble slowly as people started to walk the long way home. Alex took a good look at the now-empty balcony as if expecting to see Black once more.

"There you are," the English accent brought her back to reality, "been searching for you all over the place." The young Earthrealmer was approaching her, a widened smile on his face. "Can you believe it? They were celebrating the bastard!"

Alex eyed the boy speculatively.

"Black, I mean," he clarified, "they are happy he's alive -" he rolled his eyes mockingly "when they should be terrified that such a monster is still around."

"I know." She said as both of them started to walk away from the scene.

"Did he saw you?" the boy asked, causing Alex to stop. "I thought he would say something, not a speech but a thank you, you know? After saving his life." His eyes were cold and menacing. He was one of them.

Alex tried to run but it was too late, the man grabbed her from behind using one of his arms, his other extremity was busy signaling a guard to come over, "greedy piece of shit," he said to her face as the guard noticed them. "I finally found her." The boy said to the guard, the English accent had vanished from his diction, "this woman has been stealing food from my family for ages now. And she's an Earthrealmer," the treacherous boy sentenced, as he took the pashmina that had been covering her. As exposed and confused as she was, she couldn't even find the strength to articulate the simplest of words – she just stood there, her eyes widened with disbelief. The guard took her firmly by her arm and walked beside her, as they were headed towards the palace.

"I didn't do it," she said softly, almost to herself, as the guard finished registering her. It was pointless, she knew, to even try to defend herself even if the accusation was false.

The guard walked her to her cell and left her there, all alone, in the dark room. The coldness and the dampness of the place were truly unsettling. She sat in the old, battered cot and covered her face with her hands: she was a woman, an Earthrealmer and they had found the gold coins she had in her pocket. Of course, it wasn't much in terms of money but in Outworld, golden coins were exclusively for the richer families, individuals in high political positions and official guards and workers of the palace. The rest of the citizens used a different currency – different in terms of material, not in value since the scale of bills and coins was the same for everyone no matter the social stratum. As tears started to stream down her face, she recalled Black's visage as he waved at the crowd: she felt helpless, hopeless and all of her plans were vanishing now – her body light and full of sorrow was giving up gradually as the euphoria following the events of the afternoon had slowly started to disappear. The distinctive sound of metal against metal made her open her eyes: it was another guard, tapping a silver tray against the bars of her cell. He handed her a piece of old bread and a cup of water.

"I demand to have a word with Mr. Black," Alex said.

"Prisoners don't make demands." The guard answered coldly.

"The golden coins you confiscated from me…" she began, sipping the water "you know they don't belong to the man that claims I'm a thief,"

The guard eyed her suspiciously, looking taciturn as if he was afraid to join the dots and see the bigger picture.

"The coins are Black's," she said.